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floralseokjin · 5 years ago

Text

;good2me (m)

Hoseok has been your friend and one of your roommates for over a year. That’s fine by you. In fact, most of the time he’s getting on your last nerve, even though you love him half to death. He’d agree. But soon you both find out there’s a very thin line between friendship and potential lovers... Are you prepared to cross it?

pairing; jung hoseok x reader (slight kim seokjin x reader) genre/warnings; friends to lovers (idiots to lovers), roommate au, bartender! hoseok, romance, bearable angst, a small infidelity, some mature content, implied smut words; 15,351

author’s note; i started watching new girl again and got inspired by jess and nick’s relationship! Late, but for hoseok’s birthday 🥺💖

“Ohhh!” Hoseok hollered as you walked into the living area, looking up from where he was sat on the couch, flicking through the television. “Mama’s looking sexy!”

“Thank you. She is,” you said, trying to put on your best sexy voice. You did a little spin, before squeezing your cleavage up. “Got a little breast on show. A little booty if I bend over at a ninety degree angle.” You didn’t bend over the whole way, but he got the picture.

He laughed, genuinely amused. “What is the occasion?”

Trying to keep your bashful smile away, you failed. Big style. “Seokjin’s taking me out on our very first official date.”

“Where to? Somewhere fancy no doubt.”

“It’s a surpriseee.”

You were giddy. Had been all day. You and Seokjin were finally happening, after all this time. Three months ago it seemed impossible. You had met in a quite unsavoury way, as in, you’d been determined to go out that night and have a one night stand. The one night stand had sure happened, but make that a multiple night stand.

It was just casual sex for a few weeks. You didn’t know much about one another—more detail would mean this thing would just get deeper, and it was supposed to be the most casual of casual. You had come out of a longterm relationship at the start of the year, nearly 30 and very unsure what to do now when it came to dating. You’d met a couple of guys along the way, but you kept making the same mistake. You kept getting into relationships with them. You were sick of being Serious Sue, you wanted to be Fun Fanny. The nickname wasn’t the most desirable and you quickly stopped announcing that to potential hook ups you found at the bar. (Hoseok said you were giving off vibes you really didn’t want to be giving off.)

Seokjin was a bit of a closed book back then, you didn’t know his story, why he wanted to keep things so casual. The guy was super sweet, really attentive and amazing in bed, but you didn’t pry. He hadn’t asked for your history, so you didn’t ask for his. Until you found out he was a doctor. A kid’s doctor. Or if you wanted to be official, a paediatrician. The dude was actually perfect, and that’s how you started to fall.

It didn’t end well. When you confessed your feelings and implied you wanted more, he took off. He was sorry about it, apologised profusely, but he still left. You were heartbroken. But not just because of the rejection. It was because you’d fucked up again, wanted something serious, even though you’d sworn this thing with Seokjin was just a hook up.

You managed to shake your dark mood, but you couldn’t shake the fact it felt like Seokjin was the one that got away. The one who was husband material if the situation had been different. It still felt like that nearly two months later when you ran into him at a Christmas party. However, to your surprise, he came at you with a thousand apologies. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d let go. He couldn’t concentrate the regret was so deep. He’d just come out of a shitty relationship when he’d met you, he’d gotten hurt and the idea of getting into a fresh relationship so soon had half frightened him to death. But the truth was he really liked you and wanted to be with you. He wanted something serious now, but he totally understood if you told him where to go.

You very nearly did. You’d put your heart on the line once and he’d stomped all over it. Maybe it was just the stubbornness in you, seeing as you’d secretly held out for this. You’d needed time to think and Seokjin understood. It was actually Hoseok in the end who’d encouraged you to give it a shot. He knew you were frightened of getting hurt, but you deserved happiness and Seokjin could give that to you. (The dude’s perfect, were his exact words. And rich. Bag him now, before I do.)

“Well, have a great time,” Hoseok grinned, taking a moment to get another look at you. “You look stunning. He’s gonna be blown away.”

Your phone dinged in your hand. It was Seokjin, he’d just pulled up. “That’s him now.” Your voice was an unusual pitch. All high and excited. You were nearly at the door when you stopped, remembering what you wanted to tell Hoseok before you’d gotten distracted. You turned back. “Thank you again, Hobi.”

He groaned. “Quit thanking me. I just gave you my opinion. You’re the one who made the decision.”

You nodded, smiling softly. You were a broken record by now. “I don’t think I’ll be coming home tonight so don’t wait up.”

“Ew.” He wrinkled his nose, feigning disgust. “Get out of here!”

You laughed and opened the door to leave. Yeah, you were big style getting laid tonight. “Have fun with the guys!” You called, managing to get a grunt in reply.

Living with three males was interesting, to say the least. Definitely not how you imagined seeing in your thirties. But when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. Life had dealt you a lot of lemons (Read: blows. Lemons = blows) these past twelve months. The breakdown of your eight year relationship had resulted in you moving out of the home you shared. Living with your best friend Joy had been fine at first, but it was always a temporary thing in your mind. That’s how you found yourself here, in loft 4a, living with three guys. Your mother had always told you not to trust an ad on Craigslist, but she lived 100 miles away. What she didn’t know wouldn’t harm her.

There was Hoseok, of course, who you were closest with. It didn’t make any sense, most of the time you were like chalk and cheese. He was hard to read, kind of judge-y on a bad day, but somehow he got you the most. Maybe it was because just before you’d moved in he’d gone through his own similar breakup. Another long term relationship with a woman you’d meant once when she was picking up some of the things she’d left at the loft. You hadn’t known him well back then, but now you did, and you’d seen first-hand what the separation had done to him. It made him insecure. In himself, in his capabilities and in his job. He worked in a bar down the road, had for a few years after he dropped out of law school, and even though he’d never said it outright, you think that was the parting dig Minah, the ex, had left him with when she’d walked out. But despite that, Hoseok could be fun and easy to be around. That’s why you liked him the most. Because he’d always made you feel comfortable. Right from the beginning.

Next, there was Yoongi. A radio host for the local station in your area. You might think he was aloof if you didn’t know him any better, but the guy was very much similar to a cat. Slight in his affection but that just made it all the more sincere. You’d never forget the time he’d kicked out this lame-o you’d thought you were exclusively dating, when in fact it turned out he was seeing three other girls too. Yoongi found you in tears in the living room, jerkface trying to apologise for the misunderstanding. He was out on his ass in under five seconds. From that night on you knew to call him a friend, much to his chagrin. He was a big softy really, and very loyal. That’s why Joy had fallen for him pretty early on. One introduction, a few weeks later and Bam! They were an item. There went her vow to never date a guy shorter than her. Plus, Yoongi was very smug about dating a model. Thought all his Christmas’ had come at once. But yeah, they were very much in love now. Pretty sickening really…

And last but not least, there was Namjoon. He was the brains of the group. The only one with a master’s degree, and the only one with a “proper” job. A high school science teacher. Well, technically you were a teacher too, but it wasn’t particularly the same when you taught a bunch of adults creative writing. Namjoon was the sensible one. The one who kept the lid on everyone’s antics when they were in fear of getting out of control. Although boy could be erratic when he wanted to be. More often now that the woman he’d been dating on and off for six months had finally ended things. Heartbroken Namjoon was not fun. Nor was the depressing music he played at 2am in the morning. But you were there for him because you loved him. You, Hoseok and Yoongi.

3 guys, one girl. Best friends until the end, living in loft 4a.

Ew. It could be a sitcom.

“I don’t understand why you had to meet me outside,” Hoseok said to you. “I work here, it’s not like this place is new to me.”

You hummed, not really wanting to answer him, but also severely distracted. It was a good few weeks later now, winter was pretty much over, life had long and resumed after Christmas. In fact, it was the middle of February and today was Hoseok’s birthday. The last but one of you to turn the dreaded three-oh. You were pretty nervous right now, inside the bar a whole bunch of people ready to celebrate. Hoseok thought it was just you, the guys and Joy joining him for a few drinks… There was minor detail you’d left out and ignored: Hoseok hated surprises.

Walking through the bar entrance first, leading the way for obvious reasons, you were met with darkness. Hoseok stopped dead behind you, and you heard him mutter oh, god, aghast. Your stomach dropped out of your ass but you flicked on the lights, yelling SURPRISE! with the rest of the partygoers filling the dingy room.

“Happy 30th birthday, Hobi!” You exclaimed, hugging into him slightly. You pulled back, a grin on your face, eyes wide as you tried to gauge his reaction. He wouldn’t make a scene, surely? You watched with slight dread as he tried to stretch one across his face too. His eyes were piercing though. Piercing into you with complete and utter disbelief. You then watched as he turned his head and addressed his guests. “Thanks, guys. What a lovely surprise…”

Frick. He was definitely using his fake voice.

“What is this?” Hoseok hissed at you. He’d finally been able to corner you an hour in, and you stood huddled together by the restrooms. “I told you I didn’t want a big deal. You said it was just going to be a few lowkey drinks at the bar!”

“It is,” you insisted, before muttering that next part. “Just with an added 20 more people…”

“I don’t even know half of them!” He looked around the room, and you joined him.

Okay, you had to admit, after the first five people you’d added to the list it was pretty hard to think of more. In the end you’d had to improvise. Invite acquaintances or just even friends of a friend… You wouldn’t admit that though. “Sure you do,” you shrugged. “There’s Yoongi and Joy.”

“She’s your best friend.”

“There’s Namjoon.”

“They don’t count.” He frustrated. “They were supposed to be here! It was just supposed to be them!”

“There’s Mrs. Choi from our building–”

“You invited a 60 year old lady to my birthday?”

She had a soft spot for him. Of course she should be here. “There’s Brian, your-your boss…” You admit by now you were struggling.

“He’s just here because he works every night.”

“There’s…” You glanced around again, desperate to see a familiar face of Hoseok’s. Finally, you found someone. “THERE’S NARA!” You shouted pretty loudly, excitement taking over. She drunk at the bar a few nights a week. Hoseok had become a little enamoured.

He jerked his head in her direction. She was sat in a booth with Yoongi, Joy and Namjoon. The latter chatting away with her. “Oh, my god. You invited Nara?!”

“Of course I did. You like her.”

“No, I don’t.” He was quick to refute. “I don’t like her. How do you know I like her?” He was also quick to give in.

“You find a way to bring her into conversation every single time. Ask Yoongi.”

He sighed dramatically, rubbing his his temples. “Well, that’s just great. Now she knows I’m 30. She knows I’m old!”

“Shut up,” you scoffed. “She’s close to 30 too.”

His head shot up. “You know her age?”

“Yes. I know a lot about her.” You smirked, feeling powerful. “In the five minute conversation we had while I was inviting her, I found out way more than you have in the past three weeks you’ve been into her.”

“I like to take my time.” He fumed. You were close to bickering, you could feel it. Hoseok said you were a butt-er in-er. You took control of things that weren’t your job. This was probably a classic example. However, this time around he relented. He wanted in on this info. He lowered his voice, leaning in. “What did you find out?”

You shrugged, pretty nonchalant. If it wasn’t his birthday you’d make him pay you ten bucks for the facts. “Her surname. Her age. Where she was born. She prefers cats over dogs. LOVE that,” you exclaimed. Hoseok rolled his eyes, speeding you up with hand motions. “She’s only had one serious relationship in her life. Kinda like me. Although, who knows now that me and Seokjin are an item.”

You found yourself easily on a tangent. Your relationship with Seokjin the biggest distraction in your life right now. Things were going amazing. Just over six weeks in and you were finding that domestic bliss you and your ex never had.

“I don’t care about your life. I care about mine.” Hoseok rudely interrupted. “What else did you find out?”

You glared at him but replied. “Not a lot after that. Bottom line is I love her. We’re a lot alike actually.”

“No, you are not,” he insisted, a little bit of nausea in his face. You knew better than to get offended. “Hey, how did you find this all out in five minutes?”

You tipped your shoulders. “People feel comfortable around me. They can open up, y’know?”

He grunted in response, before his eyes widened in horror, thinking of something. “You didn’t tell her I like her, did you?”

“No,” you scoffed. “What do you take me for? An idiot?” The look he gave you was a yes. You rolled your eyes and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re going to tell her. Tonight. That’s why I invited her.”

He swallowed, now looking scared. Talking to girls was never his forte. The last “relationship” he’d had since the big breakup had lasted four weeks. He had a lot to learn. You tapped his back encouragingly and he gave you a tight nod. Damn, maybe he really was about to get his flirty flirt on with this woman. You smiled at him and he looked around the bar one last time, shaking his head with a chuckle as he realised something. “God. You threw me a party at the bar I work at.”

When would you ever win?!

An hour later you were making your way back to the apartment. Hoseok in tow. You wanted to convince yourself it was because you could see the party wasn’t his style at all. You mean, you could see that, but the real reason you were in the elevator right now was because you’d been hit with another, even better idea. In fact, you wished you’d just thought of this first.

“They’ll be fine back there. They won’t miss you,” you tried to reassure Hoseok, stepping out into the hallway.

“Gee. That makes me feel so amazing on my birthday. Thank you.” Sarcasm all day, everyday. You didn’t deserve it. “Thank you for gathering a bunch of strangers to celebrate that I am one step closer to death.”

See? It hadn’t been that hard to get him outside and convince him to walk you home because you were feeling a little lightheaded. It was like taking candy from he baby. Hoseok was dumb.

“What happened to you?” You glared his way. “The guys always tell me you were so full of life before I moved in.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think you’ve answered the question yourself there.”

You tutted, letting it go over his head. “Thirty is not bad, at all. I turned it a few months ago and I’ve just felt amazing ever since.”

“You cried all day.”

Goddamnit. “They were happy tears. Now,” you changed the subject, because yes, he was calling you out, but also he was pulling out his key, about to let himself in. You pushed him to the side, grabbing yours from your purse. “Just let me go do it,” you announced loudly. Almost like you wanted someone to hear you. “Just getting my key. Pushing it in the lock.” You continued the description. “Arriving home!”

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” He was bound to be suspicious. You weren’t exactly being discreet.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, now pushing the door open.

“Nothing? I—

“SURPRISE!”

Hoseok didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, door swinging open to reveal the guys. Namjoon pushed forward to slip a ’30 Years Old’ banner over his head, and he had the audacity to glare at you.

“I specifically said don’t make this birthday a big deal and instead you throw me TWO surprise parties in the span of a couple hours.” He was in disbelief. “Don’t you listen to a word I say?!”

“This is a better one though.” You whined. “The one I originally should’ve planned. It’s just friends.”

“Hi again,” a little voice sounded from behind Namjoon.

“And Nara.” You grinned, watching Hoseok’s face light up a little. “See Nara came. I invited Nara.” Success. Namjoon had followed instructions. Get the woman into the apartment.

Hoseok finally smiled at you, stepping inside the loft. “Nara came! Hi, Nara!” You’d take that as his seal of approval then. This place was much better for getting to know her. He’d failed miserably at the bar, you wouldn’t allow it here. You were going to play matchmaker tonight.

“Baby!”

The sound of Seokjin’s voice in the hall distracted you, and you shrieked a little when you saw him walking towards you, dressed in all black. “Yay, Seokjin! You made it.” He hugged you straight away, landing a kiss on your lips.

“We managed to get someone else in for the night. I escaped.” He cheered, still holding your waist as he turned his head towards Hoseok. “Happy Birthday, man.”

“Thanks, Jin,” he smiled, before shooting a misplaced compliment. “You’re looking very handsome. As always.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing a little as Seokjin pulled a confused face at you. “Ignore him, he’s already a little buzzed.” You still didn’t understand Hoseok’s obsession with your boyfriend’s looks. But the guy wasn’t wrong, Seokjin did indeed look very handsome tonight. As always.

You glanced around the room, Yoongi and Joy had managed to put up some balloons and a banner in record time after you’d frantically text them the plan half an hour ago. Alcohol stood on the dining table, a few snacks in bowls. Definitely Joy’s doing. You clapped your hands. “Music please! Let’s get this party started!”

The room erupted into cheers.

“Okay, I have an idea,” you yelled into the room. It was over an hour in now. This party was popping, much better than the one happening in bar you bet. You were drunk. Not wasted or anything, but definitely merry. “Let’s play spin the bottle!”

You’d already played Pass the Balloon, thinking of games from when you were a teenager in desperation as you tried to hook Hoseok and Nara up. The balloon one was going well until Namjoon and her had found themselves in some difficulty. Then it was just a wasted ten minutes as you watched them fail to give in. At least Joon was having fun though, it had been a while since you’d seen him have fun, let alone laugh.

“We’re not in high school,” Hoseok grumbled from beside you.

Nara piped up from the kitchen. “I think’ll be fun.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Cool.” Hoseok soon changed his tune. “I think it’ll be fun too. Cool.”

“Great!” You took the bottle Seokjin had been drinking from and swigged the last bit much to his amusement. You hadn’t told him what you were up to yet, but he was going along with your crazy ideas anyway. He always watched you with fondness, which was sweet considering he also called you the wackiest person he knew.

“Everyone, get in a circle and sit!” You ordered. They listened. You grabbed Hoseok just before he took off. “You, come here.” Dragging him out into the hall that lead to your bedrooms you tried your best to whisper. “Sit next to Nara.”

“Huh?”

God. Was he dumb? “I’m helping you here. Setting you up.”

“I don’t need you to,” he exasperated. “I got this.”

You knew for a fact he didn’t “got this”. “It’ll be your turn first, birthday boy n’ all.” You carried on like you hadn’t heard him. “Spin it ever so slightly.”

“That’s so obvious.”

“You want to make it obvious.”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine.”

You smiled in triumph, grabbing him by the arm. “Remember: ever so slightly!” And with that you dragged him towards the circle. You were pretty feisty when you needed to be.

“It’s Hobi’s turn first because he’s the birthday boy,” you told everyone as you pushed him down between Nara and Joy. You sat to Nara’s left; convenient to keep an eye on everything, plus you were next to Seokjin too.

“It’s so cute how you call him Hobi,” Nara commented, leaning into you with a smile.

“Oh, really?” You were a little caught off guard. “Everyone calls him that. No big deal.” You tried to think if that was true… You must’ve heard it from somewhere else why would you have started calling him that…?

“Are there rules?” Joy asked.

“Yes! Rules!” You suddenly realised. You racked your brains. Hoseok and Nara couldn’t kiss in front of everyone. That would just be odd. Hm, maybe this was too obvious. “Whoever the bottle lands on, that’s who you kiss! But there’s a twist. It has to be in my closet.”

“You got cameras in there or something?” Namjoon piped up, Nara laughed loudly.

“No,” you said slowly. “Because it’s the biggest. You can’t come out until the deed is done.”

“Isn’t that like seven minutes in heaven?” Yoongi asked.

“Yoongi, just shut up and listen.” Why couldn’t people just be excited? You were trying to hook up their friend! “It’s not like that because I don’t want people having sex in my closet.” You nudged Nara and giggled. She slowly laughed back, a little confused. You caught Hoseok shooting you a look but ignored him.

“Kissing only,” you continued. “And we need photographic evidence.”

“What?” Hoseok sounded like he was about to run off any moment.

“Just a quick pic,” you shrugged. If truth be told, you wanted Hoseok to have the memory of when you set him up with the girl of his dreams forever. That way he could always thank you.

“Is the guy to girl ratio a little skewed?” Yoongi pointed out. “I’m not kissing Joon.”

You ignored him. “TONGUES.” You shouted instead, clapping your hands. “Almost forgot to specify: tongues!”

“I’m not tonguing anyone bar my girlfriend.” Yoongi was adamant.

“Whatever.” You sighed. Didn’t he realise this wasn’t about him? You didn’t care who he tongued or didn’t tongue. It was about who Hoseok tongued!

You stretched over and handed the bottle to him. “Hoseok, spin.” You were careful not to use your, no, the, nickname. There was nothing cute about it.

“Okay. Kinda nervous.” He was practically shouting. If this was his way of trying to sound casual, he was failing. “Don’t want to mess it up.” Thinking about it, this was a very stupid idea. He was about to spin a bottle four inches to the left. You watched feeling a little sick.

The sick feeling turned to one of horror in a nanosecond. You watched in slow motion as the bottle passed Nara. It wasn’t four inches, it was eight. He’d landed on you.

“No.” Hoseok spoke into the room. The denial was strong. “No. No. Nope. No.”

You could hear the room cheering. Yoongi laughing, saying something about how amazing this was. The game had backfired on you. But in truth you weren’t really listening, too busy having a minor breakdown.

You looked at a Hoseok. “No.” He said it back. You looked around at everyone else, eyes wide. In denial and begging for someone to say you didn’t have to do it. “No. No. HA,” you forced a laugh. “I have a boyfriend. I can’t kiss anyone else.”

“If you were going to make me kiss Joon, you’re kissing Hoseok.”

“Baby, it’s just a game,” Seokjin chuckled, hooking his arm around your shoulders. “It’s fine.”

“No.” You were adamant. “I would call that cheating. Wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” Hoseok piped up. At least someone was on your side. No one listened to him.

“Relax.” Seokjin rubbed the back of your neck. “Come here.” He dipped his head, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss before pulling away and winking. “That’s to remember me. Now get on in there!”

The guy physically hauled you up. You perfect boyfriend had no problem with this. Damn him. Damn him for being so reasonable and laid back. Yoongi made a beeline for Hoseok. The glee on his face was pretty frightening.

“To the closest! To the closet! To the closet!” The chanting wasn’t necessary, but it happened any way. Frog marched into your bedroom and pushed into the closet. Surrounded in pitch black before you reached for the light switch.

“You overshot it,” you hissed.

“I was under pressure!” Yelling in whispers was hard. “You do not know how stressful it was!”

You groaned, rubbing your hands all over your face. “Don’t do that you look like The Scream.” Hoseok commented.

You shot him a look before stomping your feet and pointing a finger at him. “I can’t believe this. You were supposed to be in here with Nara!”

“Why the hell did you sit next to her?”

“I don’t know. To keep an eye on you!” In hindsight it was a very bad idea, but what would have happened if you hadn’t? Hoseok would be in here with Seokjin? That was even more weird!

“You guys kissing yet?” Yoongi asked through the door. You could almost see his Lenny face.

“Oh, god,” Hoseok muttered. He sounded faint.

“Yeah. We did it!” You yelled back. You were getting you both out of here. “Was super wet. Hoseok has a freakishly long tongue. Yuck.”

“Hey. No, I don’t.”

“Send the pic. Did you take a pic?” Yoongi sounded way too excited.

Shit. The stupid picture?! Why did you even come up with that rule… “Oh, would you look at that. I didn’t hit the button. Oh well, doesn’t matter,” you shrugged, moving to turn the door handle. It didn’t budge. Almost like someone was holding it shut. “Hey, let us out!!” You yelled.

“No evidence, no escaping.” That was Namjoon. He sounded overly amused.

“Namjoon!” You shrieked in surprise. You twisted and tugged on the handle, hoping you he would relent, give up so you could get the hell out of here. “Let us out. Let us out! I’m claustrophobic!”

“Kiss and take the pic!” Joy shouted.

Joy?! That was it! Friendship over. Come to think of it, where was Seokjin? Maybe you could appeal to him. He’d give in surely. You were about to open your mouth when fresh chanting started. “KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!” It was so loud you swear you’d wake up with a noise compliant. But more importantly, you could hear Seokjin’s voice along with the rest. Goddamnit. You were really going to have to kiss Hoseok.

You turned back to him, defeat on your face. He’d been oddly quiet since you’d tried escaping. “Let’s just do it,” he shrugged.

“What?” You mean, you’d been planning on saying the same thing, but you’d thought it would take some cajoling.

“Get your phone out. Let’s just get it over with,” he told you. “You want to get out of here, right?”

“Okay.” You nodded, telling yourself it would be fine. “Yeah, we’ll just kiss. It’s no biggie.”

“Nope, no biggie.” He stepped closer. You were suddenly sweating. It was really hot in here and you swear the floor was shaking because of how rowdy they were being outside.

“Hey, remember when I saw your boob that one time?” Hoseok laughed. “It popped right out of your towel when you were talking to me as I brushed my teeth.” He made a popping sound to emphasise, his hand flopping from his chest in an unnecessary reenactment

That had actually been particularly mortifying for you. Especially seeing as it was only a month into living with the guys and you’d just flashed a boob accidentally. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He looked at you, releasing his mistake. “It doesn’t. Just if I’ve seen your boob, I can kiss you.” There was no correlation at all. You wanted to point that out but now he was a few inches from your face. You were going crosseyed trying to look at him. “Okay, let’s do this,” he murmured.

“Ew. What did you just do?” You startled, stepping back.

“Huh?”

“You licked your lips.” He’d licked his lips and moved forward. He was about to put his wet ones on your normal ones.

“Of course I did. Do you want dry lips?”

“Yes! I want dry lips,” you insisted.

He pulled a face, more than puzzled. “These things can get pretty chapped, but ok.” Before you could say anything else he had his hands on your face, lunging closer with his eyes closed.

“No. No.” You ducked from his grip, darting to the other side of the closet. Had it always been that small in here? You used to think it was massive.

Hoseok sighed. “What now?”

“You cupped my face. You did this thing with your eyes.”

“What, closed them?!”

“Don’t kiss me with your eyes closed.”

“So you want to be staring at each other the whole time?” He thought you were crazy. Could tell by the tone of his voice. He exhaled, voice calmer when he spoke again. “You don’t want to kiss me, do you?”

“Of course I don’t. It’s weird as hell.” You caught the look on his face. “Oh, come on. You cannot be offended. Does the idea of kissing me not gross you out?”

“No, it doesn’t gross me out. That’s a bit drastic.”

God, he was not guilt tripping you right now. It worked anyway. “Fine! Let’s kiss.” He looked startled, probably feeling dizzy by your back and forth. “C’mon. Kiss me, Jung.” He didn’t budge. You started chanting. It was the only way. “Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!”

“Ok, okay.” He yelled over you. “Shut the hell up.” You continued. You always did like pissing him off.

In a split second he was in front of you. “Come here.” His cupped your face again and you instantly shut up. Your eyes were locked on his, and in this pretty dismal lighting he looked beautiful. It made your insides feel funny. For a moment there you caught yourself puckering. You caught yourself actually wanting to kiss him, and then in the blink of an eye it was gone. Almost like it never happened. He murmured your name and pulled away, shaking his head

“What?”

“I can’t do this,” he admitted. “It’s too weird.”

“Ha! See!” You were triumphant. “It is weird!”

He shook his head again, chuckling quietly. “No, I mean… This is not how it’s supposed to go.”

“What?” There was silence. He didn’t try to elaborate. “Supposed to go?” No matter how much you tried to make sense of that, nothing worked. “How’s it supposed to go, Hoseok?”

“Forget it. I didn’t say anything,” he tried to backtrack. “It came out wrong.”

“Hoseok.” He didn’t tell you. He just stared at you, unable or unwilling. “Hobi—p”

“You guys win.” You were interrupted as the door burst open, Yoongi grumbling like a giant baby.

You blinked rapidly, not used to the bright lights. Everything felt a little weird, like you’d been in that closest for years. You walked out first, not looking behind you. You felt a little shaken up. You couldn’t explain why.

Seokjin wrapped his arms around your shoulders and laughed. “We were sick of waiting.” He smelt of beer and his eyes were unfocused. You hadn’t realised before but he was drunk. Way more than you were.

“Get back in the circle,” Namjoon ordered, leading the way. God, this game was still going to continue? You’d all be here until tomorrow morning. “You guys are spoilsports.”

“What’s a little kissing among friends?” Yoongi piped up, which was rich coming from him. “Okay, Nara’s turn,” he said once everyone had gotten back into place. She took the bottle eagerly. “Spin it, girl!”

You all watched it go. You totally forgot to pray it landed on Hoseok until it was too late. The room erupted into cheers and wolf whistles as it stopped and your heart sunk.

“NAMJOON!!” Yoongi yelled. “Get it, Kim!”

You shot Hoseok an apologetic look.

“Hey.” You said, stopping by the sofa where Hoseok sat. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

It was a fewhours later, the party was over and you were in your pyjamas ready for bed. Seokjin was already tucked up on his side and you’d just gone to get a glass of water. You didn’t want a headache in the morning. You were surprised to see Hoseok still awake and in the living room.

He shook his head, laughing a little. “It’s fine. I actually kinda enjoyed it in a strange way.”

“You did?”

“Yup. What better way to see 30 in. Trapped in a closet with you.”

You laughed at his silliness, making your way over to the sink to fill up your glass. You gulped the water down, thinking to yourself. You didn’t care if he was just trying to make you feel better. You were still relieved he hadn’t totally hated it. There were worse people to be stuck in a closet with. You hoped.

As you placed the now empty glass down a faint banging appeared. Like something hitting against a wall. It got louder and then slowed away. “What’s that?” You asked Hoseok, turning around and genuinely puzzled.

“Oh, that,” Hoseok chuckled. “That’s Namjoon and Nara. He’s giving it to her good. Real good.”

Your mouth dropped open, just as the banging re-emerged. Yes, it was definitely coming from his room. His headboard. Then the guilt kicked in. “Oh my god. Hobi, I’m so sorry.” How had this happened? How had you not seen the signs? It was pretty obvious now, thinking back, Nara had been totally into Namjoon. All that hushed talking, giggling and touching. The game of spin the bottle. That girl had rigged her own spin for it to land on him. Only she’d been a good shot. Hoseok on the other hand…

Hoseok raised his hand, brushing your apologies away. “He asked for permission. He needs this.” Maybe so. This was the first woman Joon had shown an interest in after Sookie. Hoseok was too understanding. “Besides, I oddly don’t care.”

Or maybe not.

“You don’t?” You instantly kicked yourself for prying. Prying and being nosey had been the downfall of this night. Yet here you were itching for more info.

“Yeah, I just…” He trailed off and shrugged. “Maybe I don’t like Nara that much. It was just a stupid crush. No big deal.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to ask what made him change his mind so suddenly? Made him realise? But that seemed inappropriate. You nodded instead, letting him know you got it, and turned to leave. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he called. “Hold up.” He jumped up and you turned to face him again, waiting like he’d asked. “I want to say sorry too. I made that weird. The game.”

“Oh.” The closet. The awkwardness had slowly disappeared through the night and now you had a sickly feeling it was about to come back. If the look on his face was anything to go by.

“What I meant was,” he was talking slow, a little stunted. “If I was ever going to kiss you, it wouldn’t be like that. Because of some stupid game.”

His words took a moment to process. Perhaps you had another hundred questions to ask but they seemed impossible. You should just take what he said and accept it. The game was over and you’d never play it again. You’d never get in a closet with him again. You felt strange, but you didn’t admit that. Instead you smiled. “Okay.”

That feeling was creeping back. The one from the closet, when he’d been holding your face and staring into your eyes. The one where he’d looked so good under that weird yellow light. Hoseok was handsome, you’d always thought so, but in a way where you’d never actually thought of it, if that made sense… In that closet, you’d thought it.

“Come on, I’ll walk with you,” he told you, interrupting the butterflies in your stomach. You walked side by side, down the corridor. Your rooms were directly opposite one another. Had you pointed that out before?

You stopped when he did, forcing yourself to say something. It was just Hoseok. You talked to him all the time. You yelled at him all the time. And laughed, and fooled around. He was your friend. “I promise I’ll make next year’s birthday better.”

He smiled gently, head tilted, voice soft. “You don’t have to promise me anything. Night.”

“Goodnight, Hobi.”

You made to turn, hand nearly on the door handle, but then he pulled you back. One hand reaching for yours, the other curling around your waist. Your mouths met in such a rush you didn’t realise until you felt the warmth of his tongue. It was passionate and eager. The kind of kiss you see in the movies, where no one comes up for air, where their bodies move on their own accord.

There were no thoughts, just feelings. The feeling of how good this was, and how much it took your breath away. The feeling of his lips on yours and how you should’ve been feeling them a long time ago. The feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, clutching you tight, and yours around his shoulders, holding him close.

When you finally pulled away, no choice but to, you were trembling. Boneless. Hs breath fanned across your face and you were sad. You wanted more. You wanted to kiss him all night. Slowly, more deliberately, you pushed your lips against his, savouring the feel. He kissed you back just as softly before breaking away for good.

“That’s how it would go,” he murmured. He was breathing heavily. “How I imagined it to be.”

And that he was gone. To his room, door shut.

You stood there dazed, lips tingling and you brought your fingers out to touch them. There was silence all around you, and slowly, the haze began to lift. In its wake brought panic and guilt. Seokjin. Your boyfriend was asleep just behind the door.

What had you done?

You got hardly any sleep. Your brain wouldn’t switch off. The guilt twisting your gut, even more so when you kept thinking of the kiss and how good it was, and how short lived it was. Seokjin centimetres away from you, clueless. You rose early. Everyone else was still asleep, the loft silent. Still in your pyjamas you poured yourself some cereal and sat on at the counter, munching away sombrely.

Hoseok was the first to wake up. Of course. You should’ve just stayed inside your room, but you couldn’t bear to be near Seokjin. He strolled into the living room casually, making his way to the kitchen. You tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped because you didn’t know what it meant. Were you angry, panicked, something else?

“Good morning.” He greeted casually.

Angry. You were angry. It rushed up your body. How dare he be so casual. As if nothing had happened. “Seriously? Good morning?” You retorted. He was making himself a coffee. “What’s good about it, Hoseok? You kissed me last night!”

He gave a little shrug. “I know I did.”

You were flabbergasted by his gall. Had to force yourself to continue. “Well,” you stared at him. “Aren’t you going to explain yourself?”

“I already did.” He spoke simply. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to show you how I would kiss you.”

Nope. You weren’t feeling guilty over this any longer. Not when he was acting so unfazed. He was the one who had kissed you. This was his doing. And he didn’t care at all. “To what? Prove a point?” You demanded.

He scoffed, dropping a teaspoon into the sink. “No, not to prove a point.” He turned to face you, back leaning against the counter. “I wanted to kiss you.”

Your mind was beginning to reel. “I have a BOYFRIEND,” you said slowly, unable to keep a lid on your anger. “Who I had to sleep next to last night.”

Right on cue, Seokjin came from around the corner, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes. You froze, feeling instantly sick. You hope he hadn’t heard anything.

He hadn’t. He smiled when he saw you both, making his way over. “Morning, guys.”

“Seokjin, hey,” you breathed, feeling a little trembly. You pushed your bowl away, not hungry now. You caught Hoseok’s eyes.

“Morning,” he nodded, turning to look at Seokjin but averting his gaze.

Seokjin leant down and kissed your cheek, rubbing your shoulder. “Did you sleep at all last night? You were tossing and turning like crazy.”

You felt yourself panicking. You needed to cool it. “Ah, I think I was still pumped from the party.” You laughed lightly.

Seokjin joined in. “You guys sure do know how to have fun. I think I’ve drunk more in these past two months than I have in my entire life.” You heard Hoseok gave the lamest laugh back. It sounded more like a scoff and you shot him a look.

“Hey, wanna go to the zoo today?” Seokjin suggested. You’d been on about going for weeks now just hadn’t gotten around to it. “I’m not due at the hospital until tonight.”

You forced yourself to smile. Hoped it seemed natural. “I’d love to.”

“Perfect,” he grinned, reaching to kiss your lips. They twinged, and you remembered the feeling of Hoseok’s mouth. You were also very aware he was a witness to all this. You pulled back quickly. “Wanna shower first?” Seokjin asked.

“No, it’s okay. You go.”

You couldn’t bear them to be alone together. Hoseok was acting weird, you didn’t trust him not to tell Seokjin. As it would have it though, by the time you looked across at the counter, Hoseok was gone, already walking off back to his room.

“What’s wrong?” You asked Seokjin as you made your way into your room. You’d showered straight after him. Gotten dressed in the bathroom because you did not fancy bumping into Hoseok wrapped in a towel. Even though you had many a time.

Seokjin looked a little sad, you could tell by his face straight away something was up, and delayed, you felt dread begin prick at your spine. What if Hoseok had told him?

“Bad news. They need me at the hospital.” He sounded guilty that he had to let you down.

While you felt instant relief. He didn’t know about the kiss and your guilty conscious was happy you wouldn’t have to spend all day together. You felt terrible at the realisation. Maybe you should just tell him what happened. But… not like this. Not today. You were a serial put-er off-er.

“That’s okay, it can’t be helped,” you told him, making your way over to the bed where he sat perched on. You rubbed his shoulder. You both liked doing that to one another. Thinking that made you sad. “I feel bad for you though. You haven’t had a proper day off in weeks.”

It was true, Seokjin worked harder than any person you’d met before. You didn’t know how he did it. More sadness filled you. You couldn’t explain why. This time it wasn’t the guilt over the kiss, but something else. Everything had changed.

“You’re cute,” he smiled. “I’ll be fine. Always am.” Those words stuck with you. “I’m sad we can’t go to the zoo. Rain check?”

“Rain check,” you nodded, smiling slightly.

“What will you do instead today?” He asked, before chuckling. “Hoseok’s here all day. Keep him company.”

Your eyes widened. “You’ve been talking to Hob–Hoseok?” Damn that nickname. He didn’t deserve to be called Hobi.

“Yeah, while you were in the shower.”

Change the subject. “I think I may hang out with Joy.” It was the weekend after all, and Yoongi had work this afternoon and then he was going out for drinks with some coworkers. Joy would be free. “We can have a girly day. I could stay over maybe.” You were babbling. Trying to make this believable even though it wasn’t a lie. “Face masks, pillow fights, all that sleepover stuff.”

Seokjin looked at you funny and laughed affectionately. “You’re really trying to relive your high school years, aren’t you? You’re cute,” he repeated. He always called you cute. He wrapped his arms around you waist, pulling you a little closer. “—and weird. That’s why I like you.”

Yes. Sometimes you did think you were a little bit “too much” for Seokjin, but he always seemed so endeared by you. Usually this kind of talk made you happy, but you felt strange inside. Like everything was slowly dying. Seokjin kissed you, it didn’t bring you back to life. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Promise I’ll be free.”

You forced yourself to smile. Any more and your lips would start aching. “Can’t wait.”

He rubbed his nose against yours, voice low. “You can come over. Maybe we can play seven minutes in heaven…”

You giggled, but in your mind you couldn’t stop thinking about your kiss with Hoseok.

“Hoseok kissed me last night.”

It was a few hours later, not even twenty four after the kiss, and you were finally telling someone about it. You weren’t built to keep secrets. Joy knew that. She knew you the best out of anyone. She’d been your best friend for over twenty years. That’s why it was her you told. Curled up on her sofa you blurted it out. No lead up, no ‘Hey, can I tell you something?’ Just straight out with it.

She turned her attention away from the television, a look of confusion spread all over her face. “During the game or?”

You breathed out. “After. Once everyone had gone home.”

Her eyes widened, but she spoke slowly, as if she was trying really hard to understand. “I’m confused. Was it a drunk thing?”

“I don’t know why he did it,” you admitted. If you had a solid answer maybe you could get your head around it more. “He said he wanted to show me how our first kiss would go.”

“Hold up.” Now Joy had come to life. Still in shock, but needing explanations. “He imagined a first kiss? Does he like you?”

“No,” you exclaimed, pulling a disgusted face. “It’s Hoseok. Me and Hoseok.”

“Do you like him?”

Was she crazy? “No.” But that sounded too mean. “Yes. I mean, of course I like him, he’s my friend.”

“Christ. He kissed you,” she muttered, shaking her head a little in disbelief.

“I kissed him back.” Had you left out that minor detail? It was all very well saying Hoseok kissed you, but you’d let him, and you’d kissed him back just as hard. The memory had your insides feeling funny again.

Joy looked a little in stunned. You didn’t blame her. You and Hoseok kissing? His mouth on yours, his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth… You needed a cold shower. Where was your guilt now?!

“What was it like?” She asked hesitantly. Curious.

“Really good.” You couldn’t lie. And you couldn’t keep the truth in. You just needed to be honest with yourself. “I’m so confused. Joy, I cant stop thinking about it. I’m so mad at him but it was just so… It was just so hot. But out of this world. Like, I saw through time and space, and it was Hoseok doing it!” In what world did that seem realistic? He was your friend!

“Damn, Hoseok has game.” Joy sounded half impressed.

You sighed sadly. “I think it was the best kiss of my life but it can’t be because…” There she was. The guilt. She settled in your stomach, heavy and sickly. “Seokjin. I have a boyfriend. One who I’ve liked for the longest time.”

You remembered how much you wanted to make it work with him while things were still just a hook up and how heartbroken you’d been when he’d told you he couldn’t give you that. How confused and kind of mad you were when he found you again and confessed his feelings and how happy you’d been when you’d given him another chance. When Hoseok had encouraged you to give it a try. Nothing made sense. Everything had changed after one kiss.

“Are you going to tell him?” Joy asked.

“I don’t know. I was going to forget the kiss ever happened but I don’t think I can do that,” you admitted. Seokjin deserved the truth, but selfishly, more than that, you couldn’t live like this, so conflicted. It wasn’t black and white. You’d kissed Hoseok back.

“Just think it through, okay?” She told you gently. “If you tell him it’ll make things awkward. You’re friends with Hoseok. You live with Hoseok.”

You didn’t think Joy got it. You didn’t think you got it. You couldn’t forget about the kiss. That’s why you had to tell Seokjin. “No, I should tell him.” Your voice was a little shaky. “I kissed Hoseok back. It wouldn’t be fair to blame it all on him. Seokjin needs to know.”

You slipped through the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. You turned left, towards your bedroom and began creeping. It was past midnight but you still wanted to go as undetected as possible, praying Namjoon and Hoseok were in their rooms already.

“Hey.” You winced when you heard Hoseok’s voice, freezing. “I was waiting up for you. Where were you all day?”

You turned back slowly, trying to make your voice sound as neutral as possible. If truth be told, the last person you wanted to have a conversation with right now was him. “At Joy’s. I was going to stay over but Yoongi got drunk and she had to pick him up.”

“You were going to stay over because of me?” He asked. You stayed silent and he sighed your name. “Look, I’m really sorry I did this. Made things awkward between us. It’s the last thing I want.”

Your jaw tightened in anger. Then why the hell had he kissed you? “I don’t feel awkward. Do you feel awkward?”

“I feel a little awkward.” He admitted, hands in his pockets. You stayed a few feet apart. “You left the house all day to avoid me.”

“I’m not feeling awkward. I’m feeling…mad.”

“Mad?” He had the cheek to sound surprised. “At me?”

“You kissed me when I have a boyfriend.” You explained like you had to. “Did you not think of the consequences?”

He lowered his head, sheepish, yet he still didn’t apologise. “Are you going to tell him?” He asked instead. “Just don’t.”

“What?” Your voice was low, anger rising.

Hoseok shrugged. “Just forget it ever happened.”

“Forget it ever happened?!” You exclaimed. “I can’t.” You shook your head, the memory of the kiss pushing its way back into your head. No. That wasn’t why. “I can’t lie to him. You’re asking me to lie to him?”

“It’s not lying, it’s just not telling him something happened. He’s oblivious to it anyways.”

“What the hell?” You couldn’t begin to explain why you felt so frustrated. So offended. “I can’t do this.” You voice shook. You were blowing up. “I was happy before last night. Like really happy, and now everything is ruined because you kissed me!” He stayed silent. You couldn’t read his expression.

“Like jeez,” you laughed in frustration. “It doesn’t make sense, Hoseok. You were encouraging me to give him another chance and now what, you like me?” You mocked, instantly regretting it by the way his face fell.

“Is that funny to you?” He scoffed. “Is the possibility I like you so hilarious you feel the need to laugh in my face?” Oh no. “Or are you laughing because it seems so crazy? Impossible?”

You could feel the dread prickling your skin, but all you could do was watch him in horror. “I like you.” The way he said your name afterwards made something inside of you long. You pushed it away, because otherwise your legs might give way from under you.

“I like you a lot. Way more than a friend and I don’t know for how long.”

You couldn’t speak. Just watched him struggle to find the right words himself. “It-It’s just one of those things. You came into my life like a bulldozer and I kept thinking, how had I gone through nearly thirty years of my life not knowing you?” He scoffed. “It sounds stupid, but it’s true. Slowly I just began thinking maybe one day it’ll be our chance. It wasn’t urgent. Just kinda there in my subconscious. Most of the time I didn’t even think about it.” He shrugged. “I was okay with waiting. Okay with watching you date other guys because it wasn’t our turn yet. One day,” he sighed. “One day it would be, and I’d get to kiss you like last night.”

The kiss was back behind your eyes. The feeling of his lips, the taste of his mouth. The touch of his body. For some reason you were angry.

“That game messed it all up and I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry for kissing you. I won’t apologise for that.”

“No.” You finally said something. It was final, but your voice shook. “No. You can’t be doing this right now, Hoseok.” You pointed at him, accusing him. “I’m happy. For the first time in a long time I was happy. I like Seokjin. He’s the first guy I’ve really felt something with since Seungwoo. Do you know how important that is?” He should understand that more than anyone, with what happened with Minah.

“You expect me to throw it all away because one day you see yourself with me? One day?!” You were a goddamn after thought. One of those pacts friends made. If we’re still single at 40 we’ll get married. Was that what you were to him? You blinked away frustrated tears. He was one of your best friends and that’s how he saw you?

“Oh, please,” he sneered. He sounded hurt, but mad. You’d never seen him angry before. You hated it. You’d bickered many times, but never to this level. “You’re always choosing shitty men.”

“You’ve known me for a year!”

“Yeah, and in that time it hasn’t been great,” he scoffed. You thought of the handful of men Hoseok had witnessed you date and cringed. He was judging you. Two could play at that game. Childish or not.

“Oh, and you have such a great taste in woman. If I remember correctly, one robbed you after you slept with her!”

“That could’ve happened to anyone!”

Whatever. “Seokjin is not a shitty man!” He was kind, and sweet, and probably way too good for you.

“You were his fuck buddy for weeks and when you told him you had feelings for him he ran away only to come back with his tail between his legs. He had his chance and he blew it. You deserve better.”

“You were the one who told me to go for it!” You exasperated. He wasn’t making sense. He was the one who encouraged you to give Seokjin a second chance. Without Hoseok, you wouldn’t be together right now.

“I regret that now. What more do you want me to say?”

Really? You stared at him. “I want you to say you don’t know anything.”

“I don’t know anything?”

“Yes, you don’t know anything about anything.” He just said things, did things, without thinking of the consequences. He was thoughtless. “Seokjin might’ve been the one, but now it’s all ruined!”

“He’s not.”

Fuck him. He sounded so sure. What did he know? “It’s ruined because of you!” You shouted in frustration. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel.” All you could remember was the kiss. “I was happy and now I’m not.”

“Well I’m sorry for making you unhappy,” he sighed. “That’s what I do.” He threw his hands into the air and laughed bitterly. “I’m sorry for thinking me and you could be something great. I’m sorry for not having my life together. Not being rich, or for not being devilishly handsome—which I may add,” he shot, “is freaky. No man should be that beautiful!”

For god’s sake. What was he trying to do now? Guilt trip you? “What are you going on about? Those are your insecurities. I don’t care about all that stuff.” Was he trying to say you were shallow?

“Of course you do,” he insisted. “Seokjin has it all. What do I have? Nothing. I’m 30 and work at a bar. I dropped out of law school and forget to shower some days. I don’t own my own home. I live in a loft with two other guys and you.”

You? Why did he say it like that? For someone who supposedly liked you he wasn’t doing a good job of showing it. From the seems of things he didn’t like you.

“Do yourself a favour and just don’t tell him. Forget about me and be happy. Fall in love with him, marry him, have tons of super pretty babies.”

Jaw tight, you sneered. “This is why we wouldn’t work out.” You told him. “You’re childish.” He wasn’t relationship material. He wasn’t what you were looking for. “You’re selfish. You’re mean.”

He scoffed. “I’m mean?”

Your bottom lip wobbled, eyes filling up. “Yeah, you really are.” And then you stormed off. Down the hall and into your room. Just in time to hide the tears that slipped down your cheeks. He couldn’t see you cry. He couldn’t see he’d gotten to you.

He yelled your name, calling you back, sounding regretful, but you didn’t listen and he didn’t follow you.

The next morning you didn’t see Hoseok at all. He was either in his room when you finally emerged from yours, or he was already at the bar. You were thankful either way. You didn’t think you could handle facing him. You were still so mad, but more than that you were upset. Confused.

You showered and got ready with a struggle. Forced yourself to go grocery shopping even though you had no appetite for food, and then you just tried to keep yourself distracted. You caught up with some marking that needed to be done by tomorrow, meal prepped for lunches and tried to seem normal around Namjoon who was milling about the loft too. Then Seokjin messaged your asking if you still wanted to hang out this evening. You replied yes with a heavy heart.

On your way there you’d convinced yourself that you weren’t going to tell him. Yes, you had kissed Hoseok back, but he was the one that had made the move. You could forget about it with time. You could be happy with Seokjin again. Your guilty conscience would go.

But sitting with him on the sofa, his arm looped around your shoulders and his soft laugh rumbling in your ears every time something funny happened in the movie you were watching, you realised something. The only reason you didn’t want to tell him was because you wanted to spite Hoseok. You were being selfish. The same thing you’d accused Hoseok of last night.

Seokjin deserved to now, whatever the outcome. For him, for you, for Hoseok…

“I kissed Hoseok.”

It didn’t sound like your voice, but you’d said it.

You felt Seokjin move and you automatically wriggled out from under his arm. He paused the movie, looking back at you with a bemused expression. “You kissed him?” He laughed slightly. “Why didn’t time say? We would’ve left you out sooner.”

He’d mistaken what you meant. Just like Joy. You closed your eyes softly, sadness filling you. You wanted to say yes, in the game more than anything, just not to hurt him, but that wasn’t the truth. You’d kissed Hoseok off your own back and you’d enjoyed it. “No,” you said softly. “We kissed after the party. Later on when I went to get some water. He kissed me, but I kissed him back.” You didn’t take a moment to pause, needing it all to be out.

Seokjin was silent as he absorbed the information. Shocked being a given. Finally he said something. “You kissed him while I was in the loft too? In your bed?”

When he worded it like that you felt sick. You nodded sadly. “I feel terrible, Seokjin. I do. I just couldn’t not tell you. Hoseok said to forget it ever happened but I… It–We…” You fumbled over your words and took a moment to compose yourself. “We argued last night and I’m just… I’m really confused.”

Two nights ago everything had changed. You’d been in this perfect new relationship. It had promise, it was going somewhere and you were over the moon. Then the kiss had happened and you hadn’t been able to see a future with Seokjin anymore. No matter how small.

His face was unreadable as he looked at you. You wanted him to get mad. You wanted him to yell at you and tell you how much of a horrible person you were. You deserved it. But that wasn’t his style. Instead he breathed out some kind of little laugh. “There’s no need to be confused. I get it now. You like Hoseok. Of course you do.”

You were too surprised to even think about refuting him. Of all the things for him to say, you had not been expecting that. “Seeing you guys together,” he carried on. “You always bicker, get on one another’s nerves, but now I see it.” He chuckled. Sadly amused. “It was chemistry. You two just bounce off one another so well. I don’t know, maybe you’re frustrated too, mad you’re not together.”

You let his words sink in. Trying to think of every interaction you’d had with Hoseok since you met him. It was pretty much an instant connection. You’d always thought so, but did that really mean… You couldn’t let yourself think here. In front of Seokjin, after you’d just confessed to him. But everything was flooding to the forefront of your brain, and it was hard work trying to stop it. There was no point trying to deny it. Not now.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” you told him instead. Meaning it sincerely. You hadn’t even realised anything yourself. Not even when it was right in front of you. When Hoseok was telling you he liked you.

He smiled sadly. “Better for it to happen now, right?”

“I really care about you, Seokjin. These past few weeks have been amazing. Even before, when we were…” You stopped and shook your head. “You’re the best and I’m really sorry.” You truly did mean that. No matter how lame it sounded.

“You’re a really great girl, remember that,” he told you. “Maybe if I’d figured out my feelings months ago things would be different, but then again,” he shrugged, “maybe you’re just meant to be with him.”

Meant to be with him. Hoseok. Were you meant to be with Hoseok?

Seokjin took you hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m done,” he murmured, his eyes kind but firm. “I don’t want to be second best.”

You had déjà vu. You were slipping through the door again. This time you didn’t try to creep into your room though. You made your way into the kitchen, needing a glass of water. Just to take some time for yourself, needing to find some clarity. You found it as soon as your eyes landed on Hoseok walking from the direction of the bathroom. Everything fell into place, began to make sense.

He stopped dead when he saw you, awkward and probably panicked after last night. “Hey,” you said gently. “Where is everyone?” It was strange for the loft to be so quiet on a Sunday night.

He cleared his throat. “Namjoon has Nara over, Yoongi‘s still over Joy’s place.” He was already beginning to walk away. “I’ll be out of your way, just going to bed.”

You opened your mouth to call him back. You had so much to say, but… But was tonight a good time to start? Your head was still whirring. Sadness and guilt over your breakup with Seokjin but you also felt giddy at the sight of Hoseok. You wanted to say sorry for the argument, for all the things you said, and most of all you wanted to tell him that you—

“Aren’t you supposed be staying with Jin tonight?” Hoseok had stopped, turning back with the afterthought. “Namjoon mentioned it.”

He didn’t need to explain himself. You didn’t care how he knew. You didn’t care about a lot right now. Only one thing. “He broke up with me,” you replied. “I told him about the kiss and now it’s over.”

Hoseok’s eyes bulged, visibly shocked. “What? Didn’t you tell him it was my fault?” He walked over to you. There was still a distance but it was a start. “No,” he muttered. “Why would he break up with you? It’s not your fault.”

Sweet, caring Hoseok. You smiled at him, the words that left you almost bubbling into a laugh. “It is.”

He looked mighty confused. He was probably thinking you’d lost it right now. You hadn’t. You’d only just found it. You took a deep breath. It was now or never. “It’s my fault because I like you too.”

Silence. He looked stunned. It seemed strange to say it out loud but also sort of invigorating. Nothing made sense in this world, bar one thing. Your feelings for him. You laughed, more words now rushing out. “I really like you. And I don’t know for how long. Maybe from the beginning,” you shrugged, “maybe from the kiss. I don’t know.”

You’d been trying to pinpoint the exact moment on the ride home. Going through each memory you had with him in an attempt to understand when it happened. There was no real answer. It had snuck up on you, wanted you to be oblivious. And you think that was how it was for him too. Why last night had been so confusing.

You were mad at him because you liked him too. You were mad at him because you thought he didn’t like you enough. He didn’t like you like he thought he liked you. God, you were a mess. Your thoughts weren’t making sense. What were you trying to say?

“I don’t know,” you repeated. “My head’s a mess and I really have a headache right now.” You rubbed your temples and then remembered something. “I also have a flat tyre. I think I drove over a nail on the way here. I don’t know how I’m going to get to work tomorrow morning.”

“You could borrow my ca—

“Hobi, I don’t care.” You interrupted, laughing again. You felt funny, like you were floating. It felt good to call him that again. “I don’t care about anything right now, except you.” His eyes flashed at that, something changing on his face. He moved forward, closer to you. The counter was the only thing that separated you now.

“I don’t understand anything and I’m really confused, but I know one thing,” you insisted, finally giving into the urge that had been raging your body for nearly two days. “I really want to kiss you.” You swallowed, tasting the memory of him. “Again. I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. It was the best kiss of my life.”

He rounded the counter in the blink of an eye. He’d stayed silent for the majority of your confession, except for offering you his car, the idiot. You almost laughed again; why was he so sweet? Yeah, you would’ve laughed if he didn’t look so irresistible right now. So serious, so desperate, so intense. He was breathing heavily, almost panting, eyes blown black.

“Can I kiss you now?” His voice was rough, broken with desire.

You parted your mouth to reply. To say yes, to say please, to almost beg, but his lips were already on yours, hands cupping your face. Hungry, needy, eager. He pushed you against the counter your back was to, and you let out a gasp, maybe more of a moan. He took the opportunity to swipe his tongue against yours. He tasted like toothpaste. You hated spearmint, but now you loved it.

You grasped him, letting your hands roam over his back. You wanted to touch him, feel him, never let him go. You grabbed the corners of his t-shirt with your fists and pulled him closer. He stumbled forward and your head feel back against one of the overhead cupboards. You didn’t care, clung to his mouth as he tried to pull back and check on you. “Don’t stop,” you whined against his lips.

He chuckled but it trembled, probably had something to do with the way you were pressing your body into his. He gave up in the end, needing to get his hands on you too. He moved to your waist, hands gripping around the small of your back, holding you tight and pushing just as much into you, because he wanted to feel you against him too. To get as close as possible because there had always been a stupid, unnecessary distance between you.

You felt hot, a little sweaty and out of breath, unsure how a kiss had got you this wrecked. It was just as good as his birthday—no, better. It was better because now you both knew what you wanted.

“Hey—I know—this isn’t r-really the–mm–time,” Hoseok was trying to speak but he couldn’t stay away from your lips long enough. Words blurred and getting caught short, but you just kissed him more furiously. “But I really f-feel guilty about—last night. All the–the stuff I said–”

“It’s fine,” you got out, but it was enough to begin distracting you.

He pulled back successfully, gazing at you, eyes warm and sincere. His breath fanned across your face. “I just feel really bad about all that stuff I said about Seokjin. He’s a good guy, I just—

“Let’s not speak about him now,” you interrupted softly. You took a deep breath, slipping your hands up his sides to rub his back. You were both coming down from that high slowly.

He sighed weakly. “Yeah, I know, I just,” he paused, struggling, before giving a small shrug. “I was jealous of him.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. But now Seokjin was back in your head. The guilt was still there. Of course it wouldn’t go immediately, no matter how understanding he had been. But these emotions were conflicting. Plus, you knew you and Hoseok couldn’t be this simple. There was still so much to talk about. From both of you.

“We need to talk before anything happens, right?” He read your mind. You smiled and nodded, feeling a little sad.

And right at that moment a familiar banging appeared again. You caught Hoseok’s eyes and you both burst out laughing. Trust Namjoon to ease the moment.

Hoseok pulled you upright, wrapping his arms around your waist now in a slight hug. You wrapped yours around his neck and he grinned. “We should go on a date tomorrow. We can talk then.” Your eyes widened. A date? Hoseok didn’t do dates. Not proper ones anyway.

“I want to to this properly.” Again with the mind reading, you smiled to yourself. “I’ll take you out for dinner and we can, I don’t know, talk about what this means.”

You grinned, Namjoon’s headboard still hitting the wall. “I’d really love that.”

You were giddy all day. Couldn’t concentrate in work. You were still replaying last night in your head. After the kiss you’d watched some television together, like you always did on Sunday nights. You sat close, but not entwined, too afraid Namjoon would pop out of his bedroom—hopefully fully clothed. You couldn’t explain why that fear hadn’t been there when Hoseok had your back against the counter, but whatever, you weren’t ready for the weirdness that would unfold, nor the conversations that would need to be had. You hadn’t even talked it out yourselves yet.

That was for tonight. Hoseok had text you just gone midday to tell you he’d gotten his shift for tonight covered and he’d booked dinner at a restaurant for 8pm. After that it had all felt too real. You were nervous, scared and excited all wrapped up into one. You were going on a date with Hoseok. Your friend Hoseok. The one who you’d bumped into this morning in the kitchen. The one who’d handed you a coffee with a shy good morning because he couldn’t say anything else with Namjoon rummaging around in the fridge next to you, totally oblivious.

And later on, once you were home, getting ready for the date was a whole new experience all together. You know, living with the guy in question and all. You bumped into one another in the bathroom, brushing your teeth together with awkward giggles. He met you outside of your bedroom once you were dressed, eyes wide, cheeks a little flushed at the sight of you. Maybe the fact you were dressed up for him now turned him speechless. “You look beautiful,” he’d managed to splutter finally.

He didn’t scrub up too badly himself. He was in a shirt for one. Loose at the neck, no tie, but a shirt nonetheless. And dress pants. Where exactly was he taking you? You didn’t have time to ask because you had to ninja your way out of the loft before you got caught.

Dinner started off awkwardly at first. Stumbling over words, small talk drying up, lots of nervous laughter, but gradually you both found your groove. How could you not? It was you and Hoseok! All the history and chemistry you had didn’t just disappear because of one date. You were soon giggling together when you noticed a man accidentally walk into the women’s restroom. Childish, yes, but who cared? That’s who you and he were.

By the main course you were both ready to open up, talk about you guys and what this meant.

“I’m sorry about yelling the other night,” he apologised, pushing some spinach around his plate absentmindedly.

You gave a little shrug. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I was mad at myself more than anything.”

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Blame yourself.” He looked across at you. “You were mad because I kissed you when you had a boyfriend. I mean, it was a pretty dick-y thing to do and I feel really bad about it.”

You smiled, that meant a lot to you. It was a complicated situation. The suddenness of it all the sole problem.

You didn’t want to talk about Seokjin. You didn’t want to compare the two men, even though throughout the day your mind had tried to. In all honestly, both were very different, but both were good men. There was no winner, there was no loser. It just happened that you couldn’t ignore this chance with Hoseok. Not when he had been there first. Maybe looking at it now, you and Seokjin were different kinds of people. Maybe the relationship wasn’t as perfect as you’d thought. Not your perfect anyway. It could’ve worked out yes, but you knew he deserved someone better than you. Someone different to you.

You realised something at that moment. Seokjin had always found your quirkiness adorable, but Hoseok found it normal. You didn’t know what that meant, but it made sense in your own head. It made you happy. You were here, in front of one another, on a date. Nothing else mattered.

“If you hadn’t have done it we wouldn’t be here right now.” You told him. It was no good just thinking everything in your head. You needed to tell Hoseok some things. You wanted to tell him how happy you were. “On a dateee.”

He laughed, relaxing into his chair. “We’re on a date!”

He couldn’t quite believe it still. You laughed at how cute he was being and looked around. “You chose the fanciest place.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, looking a little sheepish. “Did I go over the top? Feel like I did.” He stopped and then laughed. “I hope your heels aren’t too high, we gotta run outta here when they fetch the bill.”

“Hobi,” you whined. He didn’t need to make a joke like that. Then you thought of something else. You hoped he didn’t take you here because he thought you expected it. Any restaurant would’ve done. “Hey,” you said softly. “I hope you don’t still believe all that stuff about you just being a bartender.” He shrugged a little sheepish. “I teach adults how to write fiction and I’m not too hot at it. Half of them are failing.”

He chuckled at that, picking up his glass of wine. “I think the problem probably lies with them not you.”

You looked at him, needing him not to laugh this off. You wanted him to see you didn’t care what job he had. “My point is, my job isn’t all that glamorous. It doesn’t have to be.” You thought he liked his job. It should never be used as something to separate you.

He sighed softly, giving in. “I’m sorry I laid all that stuff on you. They’re my insecurities not yours. It’s just after… Just after the breakup with Minah. The stuff she said to me really stuck.”

You reached for one of his hands, grasping is fingers. The warmth was all you needed. “I get that.” You still had some insecurities left over from your breakup with Seungwoo, but with Hoseok none of those things mattered. “I’m sorry for calling you childish, and selfish.”

“And mean. Don’t forget mean,” he joked.

“And mean.” You looked away sheepishly, before realising you needed to look him in the eyes for this. “I don’t want you to be insecure around me. I like you for you.”

He chuckled quietly, squeezing your hand. “Thank you.”

“I think it’s cool that you work at a bar.” You wanted to lighten the moment now, shrugging. “But maybe that’s because of the free drinks you give me.”

He laughed, both of you pulling your hand back to carry on eating. “I’m actually not allowed to do that, but you’re so pretty how could I not?”

You felt your cheeks flush at his casual remark. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Very much so. Plus other things…”

You smiled shyly. “I find you pretty too. Huh?” You noticed the face he pulled. “Is that not a good thing?”

“I’m not pretty,” he baffled.

“Are too.” You insisted. You’d always thought so, especially when he smiled. “I think you’re sexy too. Very sexy.”

“Oh yeah?” He seemed to like that one better. “What’s so sexy about me?”

You looked down at his wine. It wasn’t the right alcohol, but it made you remember something. “I like the way you drink beer. You gargle it a little.”

“I do?” He looked puzzled.

“Yeah, you do, and I don’t know, it’s kinda hot.” He looked chuffed at that. “What about me?” You added.

“Hm,” he thought out loud. “It’s not really sexy, maybe a little misogynistic,” he laughed, “but I like when you struggle to open things. Like that bag of chips last week. When you ask for my help, I don’t know, it makes me feel good about myself.”

It made him feel good when he opened a bag of chips for you? You awed loudly. “That’s so sweet, Hobi.”

He scoffed, a little embarrassed. “Oh.” He remembered something. “I like when guys mistake me for your boyfriend.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? I like that too. And vice versa.” You had never been able to pinpoint why in the past. It was usually gone before you could even try to explain it, but it had still been there. Numerous times. You’d just been clueless.

“Isn’t this scary?” You asked. It was new and exciting, and you were happy, but it was also weird to be here. Sat opposite your friend, your roommate… the man you had feelings for. The man who up until a few nights ago, had a crush on another woman. No wonder he hadn’t really cared when Namjoon asked if he could bone Nara. And he, well he was sitting opposite you, who up until last night had a boyfriend. Talk about whiplash. This was crazy.

“It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” he admitted.

“We’re like best friends, but is it because we’ve always had feelings for one another?”

Hoseok upturned his shoulders. “I honestly have no clue. It makes sense, but…”

“But at the same time it doesn’t?” You finished for him. He nodded. If he had never kissed you that night, then this wouldn’t be happening right now. Maybe it would’ve never happened. You would’ve kept missing one another. The moment never there for him and you probably oblivious until it was too late��

But that wasn’t the case now. You were both here. Suddenly and maybe not in the best of circumstances, but you were here. That’s all that mattered. Was there really such a thin like between friendship and lovers? You tried imagining kissing Namjoon but couldn’t do it. It made you feel weird. Not the same weird you’d felt locked in the closet with Hoseok.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have already but I can’t ignore these feelings I have for you.” Hoseok explained. “I’ve been repressing them for so long they’re uncontrollable.” He chuckled.

“Same. I think.” You were beginning to realise that love didn’t have to punch you in the face immediately for it to be the real thing. “If I ignore how I feel about you I’ll spontaneously combust. I know it. I will.” These feelings had hit you full force and now you couldn’t ignore them even if you tried.

He chuckled at your passion. “I don’t want you to spontaneously combust.” A thought popped into his head. “What will Yoongi say? Namjoon?” He groaned, rubbing his temples. “What do we even tell them?”

“Maybe we won’t tell them for a little while?” You suggested. You didn’t want to share this new, uncertain thing with other people just yet. The loft wasn’t the best set up in this situation. “Just until we work out what’s going on between us?”

“Like keeping it a secret?”

“I know it’s not ideal but I don’t want to mess this up.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “If we try and fail our friendship could get ruined. That terrifies me, Hobi.” You wanted to be honest here. All cards on the table. “I love you a lot. I don’t want to jeopardise anything.”

“Hey, hey, nothing will get ruined, I promise you,” he reassured, reaching for your hand with both of his. “We’ll take it as slow as you want. This is new and if we do it properly then everything will be okay in the end.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Whatever the outcome. If we decide to move forward or decide to just stay friends, we’ll be okay.”

Maybe that’s why you’d never realised your feelings for him. Why he’d never said anything. Your friendship meant too much to one another. If that was ruined somehow it would kill you both. But it didn’t have to be like that. If you both saw the potential danger, you could avoid it best you could. You shouldn’t be thinking of the potential end if it was only just the beginning.

“You’re right,” you smiled back.

Letting go of your hand he relaxed back into the chair again. “But for tonight, let’s think of this as a new thing. It’ll take the pressure off us.”

“How do you mean?” You asked, curious. He had a giant smirk on his face.

He shrugged. “Maybe we met on Tinder. Decided to go for a drink.”

Oh. Okay, you saw where he was going. A little bit of make believe. That sounded fun. You and Hoseok always messed around like this. Why would it change? “Yeah,” you nodded, getting into it instantly. “We liked what we saw. I liked the way you dress.”

He snorted. “You hate my dress sense. You told me I dress like a twenty year old hipster.”

“I like it!” You insisted. You mean, in your defence you’d only said that because he’d said you dressed like a granny. He’d started it.

“Thank you.” He was satisfied, you both could commence. “I liked your glasses. Reminded me of the librarian kink I had in high school.”

“Eww.” You wrinkled your nose. “Weirdo.” You both laughed loudly.

“Goodnight, pretty lady. I’ll see you in the morning,” Hoseok murmured. The night was over, the loft was empty, the guys probably already in bed, when you got back and you both walked down the hallway to your rooms, stopping outside to say goodnight.

“Lame,” you scoffed, but he could tell by your face you loved it. “Night.”

He leaned in for a kiss. It seemed like he was trying to keep it brief, nothing like last night or two nights before that, but no matter how hard he tried, it lingered. It was painful pulling apart and walking into your bedroom. You knew he was trying to be chivalry, and patient, and whatever else, but there was an itch inside you that screamed to be relieved.

You pressed the back of your head up against the door, closing your eyes and taking a few breaths. Praying the desire you felt would ebb away. You heard movement from the other side.

“Slow, we should take this slow.” Hoseok almost whined from outside.

You opened your eyes immediately and flung the door open. You were on him in an instant, kissing him eagerly. Thankful your rooms were the other side of the loft from Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s. There would he no explaining this, and you didn’t want to share this with anyone else yet. Not to be careful, not just in case, like you’d originally thought, but because you were selfish. You wanted Hoseok for yourself.

“I really want you. Like so bad,” you panted, hands all over his body. You wanted him out of his shirt. Out of his pants. Thoughts and images jumped into your mind. You were a woman possessed. “I’ve waited too long already. Please.”

“Don’t beg like that.” His voice was so low, maybe even a growl, and it did things to you.

You didn’t want to take this slow. Everything was already perfect. No matter what had happened to get here, it was all perfect now.

You couldn’t wait a moment longer. You needed to be with him.

“Pleaseee,” you said purposefully.

He growled this time. For real. “I said don’t–ah, fuck it!” You exclaimed out loud as he picked you up from the middle, legs dangling alongside his as he walked into your room. He let go and cupped your face tight. He was breathing heavily. “I really want this, I really like you. I’m sure of it. Now that this is finally happening. Now I finally had the guts to make a move. This is for real.”

You blinked. “Forreal for real?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”

And then he was kissing you again. You never wanted it to stop. With shaky hands you took his and began to lead him backwards towards your bed…

*bonus*

“Morning,” Hoseok smiled from above you.

You’d only just woken up, eyes still blurry, but you rubbed them and rolled onto your back. “Good morning,” you smiled back.

He rubbed his hand over your waist under the covers, now grinning like he couldn’t stop it. “We did that.”

You were still naked. So was he. What a thought. “We really did that.”

“Twice.”

You hummed, reliving last nights antics. It was just so natural. The sex you mean. No awkwardness, no nerves. It was just…perfect. Giggling and messing around, just like you were as friends. Nothing had changed. Only now you were probably going to be bumping uglies on the regular… It was only right to make a new suggestion now. “Wanna make it a third?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughed, dipping his head to kiss your neck. You let yourself sink, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment until you remembered something.

“Wait, wait—!” Your eyes flew open. “What’s the time?”

Hoseok stopped and looked back, craning his neck to catch the time on your alarm clock. “Twenty past 7.”

You groaned. “I have a class in 2 hours.”

“Uhh,” he started awkwardly, pecking your lips. “This is new n’ all but I don’t want to get your hopes up so early into this. I will never be able to last two hours. You’ll be fine. You won’t miss class,” he chuckled.

“Shut up,” you groaned, kissing him just to roll him on his back. The thought of leaving this bed today was depressing. “I’m just going to call in sick anyway.” You told him, pulling away.

He stroked his fingers through your hair, smirking. “Oh, a bad girl, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes. If he wanted you to be bad, you could be bad. “Get a condom, Jung.”

#hoseok fic #bts fic #hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:good2me

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thefanficdude · 3 years ago

Text

The Winter Months: OCTOBER, Part 3

3 days passed. 2 more until the snow came. Wilbur was making his rounds with Phil to check up on the progress everyone had made. Nobody yet knew about the letter they received nor the information on George. They’d all asked, for sure, but Wilbur was waiting for the right time to bring it up.

As for the fight Wilbur and Phil had, they didn’t apologize to each other yet, or even talk about it. Again, Wilbur was looking for the right time. He had been all over the place the last few days checking on everyone and making rushed preparations, so he didn’t have any time to sit down and properly discuss it. There would be much time to do that during the winter when there wasn’t much else to do. But right now, he needed to be a leader rather than a son.

Wilbur went to the Community House and stood in front of the door, a silver bell hanging quietly beside it. The day before, Tommy went to Wilbur.

“I think it would make sense to have a bell to ring when you call meetings instead of someone running around the whole village.” Tommy had said. Wilbur agreed it was a good idea, so made the bell himself using the metal from a broken sword. He looked at the bell now and took hold of the string that hung just below it. It didn’t take much force at all to make a sound loud enough that the whole village would hear.

The ringing was soft like the sound of a fairy yet just as loud as a man yelling into the wind. It worked quite well, but Tommy would never shut up about how it was his idea in the first place.

Eventually, doors started opening and people started walking towards the Community House. Wilbur walked in and took his regular seat, adjusting his hat while doing so. This wouldn’t be the same as other meetings. He knew as soon as he rang the bell.

One by one they came in and took their seats, yet not a single word was spoken. The rushing of preparations had not only made everyone exhausted, but also made dread and worry a constant feeling. So no one spoke, for nobody even had the energy to sit up straight on the benches they sat on. But even though no words were whispered, everyone understood the silence and accepted it. They knew the exhaustion everyone was feeling because they felt the same, even Wilbur.

Once everyone had arrived and sat down, Wilbur didn’t speak for another two minutes. He was silently thinking, calculating, and planning all at the same time while staring into the flames of the large fire in the center of the room.

“Will,” Phil put a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. Wilbur looked up at his father. “Everyone’s here. You should start now.” Wilbur sighed as he looked at the ground and closed his eyes for a moment, but a voice made him look back up.

“It’s been getting more and more cloudy, Wilbur,” Eret said. “I don’t know about you, but I think it might snow a little earlier than you thought.”

“We have two days left until it snows. I know that to be true, you have my word,” Wilbur said. “But because you’ve started the conversation, let’s start off with you.” He put his hands on his knees and stood. “Eret, Tubbo. Update on your tests.” Eret cleared his throat and stood as well.

“Tubbo and I have made amazing discoveries and have successfully found a way to make plants grow the same amount in a single night that would normally take half a week.” Eret looked down at Tubbo. “We’re in the process of moving our current plants to the new soil.” He looked back at Wilbur. “They’ll be ready in exactly 2 days, right in time for the snow.” Wilbur nodded.

“Perfect,” His gaze shifted to the other side of the room. “Tommy, Niki. I hope you also have good news.” Niki and Tommy looked at each other. Niki was the first to look away as she stood. Tommy crossed his arms and stared at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Niki started. “We didn’t find much.” Wilbur took a breath as his thoughts scattered. Their job was the most important and without their success… Wilbur put Tommy in charge of that because Tommy always got everything done, no matter what. He was surprised about the outcome.

He looked at Tommy and noticed something wasn’t right. Wilbur stared at him.

He’s going to hate me, I failed him, we’re going to starve, it’s my fault, why can’t I breathe, don’t cry, don't cry, don’t cry.

Tommy’s thoughts were more scattered than Wilbur’s.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said his name softly, yet Tommy looked up like a child who’d just gotten in trouble at school. “You did the best you could and I’m proud of you for that. I don’t hate you.” Tommy’s eyes widened, but his expression soon turned sour.

“Were you in my fuckin brain!?” Tommy accused. Wilbur stuttered.

“Well- maybe, but i noticed something was wrong so I-”

“Fuckin hell man, I can’t even have some privacy in my own goddamn head!?” Tommy looked away. He was more than pissed in an angry way. Somehow, there was the smallest bit of sadness. He was pissed off in a sad way, if it’s even possible.

“Sorry Tommy,” Wilbur apologized. “I just wanted to help.”

“Yeah well, you didn’t.” Tommy responded. Everyone went silent. Wilbur took a quick breath.

“I was looking for a good time to tell you all this, but I guess that time will never come.” Everyone looked at Wilbur. He took another breath. “You’ve all been wondering where George has been. Phil received a letter not too long ago stating he had left us… and joined Dream.” Everyone was shocked. After a moment of silence, whispers filled the room and questions came up.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Tommy asked.

“Is he ok?” Niki followed.

“Will he attack us during the winter?” Tubbo piped in.

“Enough!” Wilbur put up his hands and everyone went quiet once more. He looked at Tommy. “I didn’t tell you all sooner because I didn't want it to distract you from your work,” His gaze shifted to Niki. “I have no idea if he’s ok or how he’s doing. And…” Wilbur looked at Tubbo. “I don’t know. But we need to prepare for the worst.” Phil looked down. “But that’s why I called this meeting, to tell you all. And now you know.” Wilbur looked at Phil, but he didn’t look up to meet his eyes. Wilbur looked at everyone else instead. “Please continue to do your jobs until snow comes. Meeting dismissed.” Wilbur sat down and everybody left the Community House one by one in a hurried manner. Phil looked up.

“You said you’d tell them about the letter.” Phil said.

“I did,” Wilbur responded. “And I told them everything they need to know, nothing more.”

“Keeping secrets from my people never goes well in my experience.”

“They aren’t your people anymore.” Phil finally met Wilburs gaze. Oh, how badly they both wanted to just attack each other and prove a point by brute strength. But after a couple seconds of aggressive eye contact, Tommy ran back into the Community House.

“Wilbur!” Tommy was out of breath like he’d been sprinting for 5 minutes straight. Wilbur became concerned.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” He stood up.

“You were saying we needed to prepare for the worst?” Tommy reminded through heaving breaths. “I think we just hit the worst.” Tommy pointed outside and Wilbur walked out.

There was no denying the cold air that hit Wilbur’s face like a good old smack, but he looked up at the sky. Grey clouds covered the normally blue sky in a thick depressing blanket that was so heavy, even light from the sun struggled to get past. But the worst was yet to come. Wilbur put out his hand in front of him and eventually small white flakes landed and melted on his skin.

The first snow.

Wilbur looked into the community house.

“Phil, you need to get up there and keep an area of sky clear for Eret.” Wilbur looked at Tommy. “Tommy, go to Eret and tell him Phil is opening up the clouds. After that, go to everyone in the village and ask if there’s anything you can help with.”

“Yes sir,” Tommy responded as he ran off. Phil came out of the building and stretched his wings.

“I haven’t flown in a while,” He said, preparing himself for takeoff. In the blink of an eye, Phil had left the ground and was now soaring among the falling snow. From a distance, one might’ve confused him for an abnormally large crow. Wilbur watched as Phil hovered just above the greenhouse. Phil raised his hands and in one quick motion of his arms the wind did as he commanded, moving the clouds and creating a crack where the sunlight could get through.

Tommy got to Eret at exactly the right time, because at that moment Eret stepped outside the greenhouse and lifted his hands towards the opening. The sunlight moved from going eastward to shining right onto the greenhouse. Both Phil and Eret were struggling to get their abilities to last as long as possible.

Wilbur walked back to his house, locked his door behind him, and closed any and all curtains in his bedroom. He went to his desk, grabbed a rolled up piece of paper and sat on his bed to read it. Wilbur had read this letter nearly a hundred times already, but he needed to read it again. He needed to make sure one last time that he read it correctly.

On the letter, a few words stood out because they were underlined in red ink. It read THE WEEK OF THE FIRST SNOW.

Wilbur realized shit was about to hit the fan, and for the first time he didn’t know what to do about it.

#dsmp #dreamsmp #dsmpfanfic #dreamsmpfanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy #action

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cyberstabbing · 4 years ago

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my brain is going bounce bounce between Super Awesome Rad stuff and Uh Oh This Is Bad and uh anyways suicide mention below (on mobile so can't make it under the cut)

---

today someone jumped in front of a train at the subway station my friend was at on her way to meet with me. the whole train line had to be shut down for an hour and it got pretty chaotic, people and ambulances everywhere. not that rare, unfortunately. a guy in my friend's (that same friend, actually) swim club jumped off a bridge last summer, just a block away. people laughed, told him to "do a flip!" and filmed the whole thing which then got posted online. he was 22. people suck.

back to today's thing, though. i was really worried that the person who jumped was one of my close friends. she's suicidal and has tried to take her own life several times this past fall/winter. some of it has been her trying to jump in front of trains. last place she tried was just two train stops away from the one today. so i texted her. just a "hey what are you up to?" she didn't answer. i wanted to call her but i was afraid of what i would hear (or wouldn't). i followed the news story on all the news sites i could think of. i checked reddit and all the seedy forums that sometimes have ppl that were at the location with insider info. i texted friends with parents employed at the local hospitals to see if they knew anything about the persons age/gender. nothing. so i tried not to think about it because i had so little info. and besides, what are the odds with the number of suicidal people, right? which i unfortunately know because my mom works with that rn.

anyway my friend texts me two hours later saying she just woke up from a nap. thank fuck. thank god. shit. the relief i felt. like it was really in the back of my mind. i was preparing for the worst. i was backtracking through our conversations from just a few days ago, looking for "signs". combing through what i remembered her saying. just ... shit. fucking awful.

i'm so glad she's okay but at the same time she isn't okay she's depressed and has been for a long time and she's not getting much support from her family or from the lacking mental healthcare system. and this forced me to think about her possible passing and SHIT. i can't handle that. i feel like i'm mourning her in advance. we were best friends in high school yet we were never the types to talk about our feelings. i know she has other friends for that, and i know she has two people she's relying on for support the most while she's going through this. but i'm still so scared. today was just awful. i don't cry a lot anymore these days but when i got home the waterworks just started even though my paranoid ass kept telling me it was performative as always (to who??? i was alone???!!).

i'm also thinking of all the people who heard about today, who immediately texted/called their friend or family member who they worry about. and the relief when they get an answer on the other end. but i'm also thinking of the person or people who didn't get a reply back today. who's calls didn't get though. or maybe they got a call from an unknown number. i don't really know how it works.

i feel like i do a lot of perpetual waiting for calls like that. i know i'll never be ready for what i'll hear, but the knowledge that it's coming, the call to let me know that a loved one has died, is coming, it's always in the back of my mind. another close friend to me has a brain tumor. she's made it clear that we have to be ready for the worst, and so i'm left waiting for (dreading) that call. my grandmother, i found out last week, is apparently very sick. so i'm waiting for that call as well.

but i even worry for my friends and family members who aren't sick/at risk. i keep having dreams about my little sisters dying, and the aftermath. in all the scenarios i've run through of various people in my life dying suddenly (including myself), it never goes well for everyone else around them. i always see it as something driving people apart. because of the pain. i don't know if that's true, though. i've seen the opposite. i guess that's a good thing? i read somewhere that suicide rates in america dropped considerably right after 9/11, because suddenly everyone was reaching out to each other to make sure they were okay. reminded of mortality.

the last call i got wasn't a call at all. it was my mom waking me up early in the morning, and then a somber conversation around the dinner table, everyone sobbing. no one made eye contact.

the call before that wasn't a call at all. it was 5 missed calls while i was at work, and then a text from my dad framed in a way that suggested that he though i already heard the news from someone else. i still had ten minutes left on my shift and i finished it in a daze. reality didn't hit until weeks after the funeral.

the call today turned out to be just a close call (ha-ha *sobs some more*) but fuck i hate living knowing that i one day will have lost everyone

anyways happy valentines day if anyone's reading this. gonna crash now.

#mine #suicide ment

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0x1ashtyn · 4 years ago

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A Letter For You...

I forgot my diary when I went to get coffee today so I'm going to type. I'm trying to be happy these days. Even when things are crashing and burning around me, I'm smiling. I keep telling myself the answers and solutions are in my hands.. hopefully this will manifest into being true (see, positive talk aha). But even though I'm okay most days and aren't brought down by my thoughts it doesn't mean they still don't run wild. I'm thinking a lot as my life is in a shifting period. I've moved to the big (expensive) city. I've slept on my friends' couch and finally found a place (I can't afford) after my first Christmas away from home. I've been looked down on and called manic or irresponsible and even stupid for doing this so spontaneously. I came here with no plan, no job, nothing. I packed a suitcase and left. I needed to run, I finally understood that feeling now. I always thought of moving to the city when I was growing up. My best friend and I would plan it together in media class when we were 15, but I always planned it as a plan, not an escape. Life happens, unexpected circumstances arise, pain comes and sometimes doesn't heal as easily as a bruise does, it’s much deeper than that. For me there was blood, a lot of blood, so much that the only thing that could stop it was a 3-hour plane ride. A whole new life, a rebirth without physically dying.

So here we are. Today I've decided to share my deepest thoughts and struggles of growing up in the 21st century with you. Welcome my 20's. Here's my story, I hope it can comfort you and feel like we are in this together and you can find strength to carry on too despite every reason to surrender in defeat. I also hope that when I fall, you fall, we all fall, we can come here. I know and I'm sure you know the feeling of falling onto the cement instead of someones arms after a hard day. I will be your arms, and if you don't feel any of that, that's okay, I'm happy enough to speak up for the ones of us who can't. So, mock me all you want, I will wear the embarrassment proudly.

Here's the part that we all dread on the first day of school whether it's out of anxiety or just pure annoyance of this stupid activity, I shall introduce myself. A name to the fallen words. I shall not run from the mistakes and dark parts inside my heart with you guys, my name is Lina. I'm 21 and I can now proudly say I live in Sydney, Australia. I'm finally in the place I've always wanted to be. Living the "girl goes to the big city and becomes everything she's always been destined for" dream. I've been here 3 months now. It's currently 11:02 on a Thursday morning. I'm jobless. I have no source of income and I made the actual reckless decision to rent a place I can't afford. But like, if not now? when? I don't regret coming here, I would rather struggle here then where I was. I am thought currently studying so hopefully I will be able to find my feet soon.

It might seem empty, my introduction, but that's the point. It's that whole blank canvas thing, this is my new start. I guess I could tell you my hobbies and things like that but it really is true the whole blank canvas thing. Along the way somehow my body turned to survival mode and I've forgotten how to live. I've forgotten something as simple as walking. How? Literally it's the only thing that is certain about why we are here. Life. Living. I've forgotten. I don't know how to have fun, like what to do and things like that yes, but even if I get myself up and somewhere to do things, I can't even enjoy it or I'm left there constantly checking in with myself trying to figure out if I'm having a good time or not because I'm in this constant defence mode to the world. I can't let my guard down; I can't let myself be hurt again. Nothing has ripped my heart out more than when I first saw happiness in the flesh only to see the flame burn out before I could feel it's warmth on my skin. I haven't seen it since. It makes me wonder if it was all just a dream. An illusion I made as a naïve little kid. This could sound dramatic but if you've had this feeling you understand the arm bar you keep up ever since at moment. Not completely shut off by the idea of life but not completely jumping at the idea of participating either. So yeah, I don't have fun. I can't remember the last time I genuinely enjoyed myself so much to create a memory for later. It's okay, I haven't had fun in a while and I'm still alive. You can't really miss what you haven't had right. plus, school takes a lot of energy for me. I'm up at 6am and back home by 7ish in the evening. This is enough to keep me busy.

This is actually what inspired me to write today. I now have 2-3 hours a day with myself to think thanks to these long train rides and overly deep and emotional Korean songs I listen to on my way to school. I want to cry a lot these days. No particular reason as to why, the urge just creeps up slowly throughout the day until it's taken complete control over me before I can even realise it. By then I don't have a choice. I just let the tears go. I'm very much well aware it's okay to just cry. My heart must feel heavy for reasons undiscovered yet. So, I will let my body try fight it off naturally in tears before it gets out of hand just like it would with the common winter cold. I'm also at this point where I sit in coffee shops and whisper conversations to myself.... this is totally not good. I even laugh at my own jokes.. THEY ARE EVEN FUNNY. Like why am I telling myself jokes in the first place ? It's kind of cute in a way I guess.... maybe not aha. I need friends. I TOTALLY need friends. I've never been good at not really the making friends part, more like not good at keeping the friends part. I always leave so then I can't feel the heart break of them seeing my broken parts and not liking me anymore, seeing me as "too much of an effort" to be around. Now because of this I've never been close to anyone. I have never had a friendship last longer than 2 years because by that stage you should be getting to know each other on a deeper and personal level. The forming of a committed relationship as one may say. You know what that means, I am and have been professionally told I have an underdeveloped social cognition for someone 21 years of age. And fun fact, this is actually a narcissistic trait. I have learnt that just like everything else in the world even narcissism has a spectrum, so I'm not the whole "I'm better than everyone else" kind of narcissist, I just have more of the inability to socialise part which we all commonly know would come from the ‘superior complex’ associated with narcissism which THANK GOD I don't have. I’m slightly too depressed to ever feel that way. So, I guess you could say I'm a little sad. I think we all are in this day and age. That's what I'm hoping this letter (?) can help with. Being alone in this world goes against all of our primal animal instincts. We are physiologically made, wired in our brains, to be in a pack, so without that we feel vulnerable and weak, as if we would not survive in the wild. So, I don't know, I guess if you are feeling the same, or in a similarly made structured boat, I guess I'm saying come here. Come to me, come to the others who I know will find this page because this here is the pack we belong in, it's meant to be. I will try my best to be a comfort for you to tell your stories to. Rip them out and give them to me instead, I shall take your burdens away happily and I'm sure others will too. We can be in this together. So, for now, read this, read it as a hug. Respond. Tell me your story, I want to hear every word you ever say. It’s beautiful. We shall grow together. This is a safe place for you to come to when you aren't sure where to turn. Use me. I promise I will be here and I will do everything in my power to turn your scars into works of art. Thank you for coming today and reading this. Have a wonderful morning, afternoon or evening. Hug yourself tight for me. And I mean it. It's not stupid. And I will talk to you again soon.

- Lina over and out.

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the-archetype-of-civilization · 5 years ago

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Forgotten and Cast By the Wayside (Drabble/Vent)

I just woke up from a 3 hour nap, something that I should’ve been at least a little bit refreshed from (despite how embarrassing it is that I’ve slept for 3 hours and accomplished none of what I wanted/needed to do today), but I don’t feel that at all. I have a headache and me eating my dinner late didn’t make it go away.

I didn’t feel good today. Physically, I’m fine. Mentally? Not good.

Today I felt like crying at work today, so occupied with my own thoughts that I wasn’t sure if it was because I hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, because I barely slept at all, because I really was feeling my loneliness hard, or because it was all three.

I feel like I can control my emotions and know the difference of when I’m tired and hungry, because I would just be annoyed or hangry. I wasn’t. I was every bit as depressed and alone than how I was before.

I felt forlorn.

–

Ender stared at the coordinates for so long, he wasn’t sure if the image was burned into his brain for how long his eyes were glued to it. This was it. His past made real. And he really was considering to do it. What would he gain from this? What could he possibly achieve by going back? Reopening old wounds isn’t something that he (nor anybody, for that matter) would be comfortable doing at all. Especially one where it’s a dead planet.

He would see things that he didn’t want to see. Go to a place that he should never witness. Find things…that are best left buried. Was it worth all the trauma? Was it worth all of the pain he might inevitably endure?

He needed to confront it. Here and now.

Ender starts to flip up the switches as the Theseus’ engines and quantum entanglement reactor light up and hum to life. The door was opening. He pushes the lever forward as a large a blue portal opened up in front of him into another world of stars. He breathes out a heavy and shaky sigh as he pulls the ship through.

–

There’s a lot of things that I kept thinking about today that probably didn’t make things better (which is a great mindset to have, right?). One of them was an essay that a mutual sent to me about…what kind of person I am. I can assure you that none of it was good. I had it stowed away somewhere, to remind me never to forget that you can’t let people walk all over you, say whatever they want, nor think things for how they think you are when you really aren’t.

It was hard not to, I can assure you of that. What if they were right? What if I really was this awful person that was merely using them for my own gain? Back then, I was so upset to read that and the more that I thought about it, I had gotten so angry and rage-fueled. I wanted to scream at work, in my car even, because I was so angry at that. I wanted to scream so loudly that they would hear from where they were, to know how much needless pain they caused me when I showed them nothing but kindness. But…I’m glad that I received it, in the end. It showed that I did respect myself. That, in some way, I loved myself. And it made me grow as a person. I’m indebted to it, as painful as it was coming from someone that I admired and loved.

During those few months when I got a new job, things seemed to be going right and well for me (with its realistic downs, every now and then). I had been getting better pay, had some good friends and met new ones, I was starting to write a story on FanFiction that I was really motivated and happy to do, and, somewhere down the line, I was inspired to think about making my own video game (one that I had thought about and fleshed out in some way, shape, or form). Things were great.

Now? Not so much.

–

This was a mistake, he thought to himself. I should never have come here to this…hallowed ground. The planet was right there in front of him, covered in white and grey. No blue, no green, no brown, just those two mute colors that he fully well expected to see from a planet experiencing a nuclear winter that wouldn’t end for years to come.

Flying over the planet, he inches the ship ever closer like he was drawing out the inevitable. He made up so many excuses: would the ship be able to withstand the radiation? Were the shields strong enough to withstand it? Would his armor even protect him from the radiation plaguing the entire planet? The answer was yes, of course. But it didn’t make him all the more willing to go down, for reasons that weren’t because of what he listed.

As he inches close to the planet, the large and grey planet loomed in front of his windshield like a siren singing a haunting song to his doom. A cursed liturgy of the millions that perished during and after that accursed genocide. That needless genocide. The storms raged and swirled around on the planet’s surface unforgivably, blizzards burying and drowning out whatever life could ever live on the land. As Ender pulled the ship in closer to the atmosphere, the storms would continue to rage on, making Ender’s neck sweat hard and his brow drenched. His throat became dry, and yet he swallowed hard as he gazed at the many maws of the never-ending maelstroms that would open and close, waiting for him to jump in. Waiting for him to accept.

He hyperventilates a bit as he felt his head become heavy and lightheaded, holding his forehead as he felt the sweat form under his palms. This was a bad idea, something that he should never have done. He needed to turn back, to get away from this tainted planet as fast as he could and never come back. Feeling tears well up in his eyes, he looks down at himself. He needed to. He had to. He knew he had to. If he didn’t make peace with this…he’ll always be in perpetual torment of this place. Forever.

Wiping some stray tears from his face, he bites his whited lip as he grips the throttle and pulls into the gaping maws of the blizzard-ridden planet.

–

I don’t want to point this at anyone in particular (but then again, it’s not like they are on this website to my knowledge), but I could narrow it down to another individual that brought me my mental encumbrance. I remember I was writing my story on FanFiction and there was one reader that seemed to be interested and followed my story for a bit. But, one day, he decided that my silence on projects and lack of updates was the last straw for him, and he left a rather…brusque review. One that was very critical of my work and how I operated rather coldly and without any personal OOC comments on the progress of it.

Even if what he said about my story was true, it killed my mojo for writing. Completely. And it left me doubting myself and my work. While I did update and make an OOC post about my plans and the reviewer followed up with an apology, the damage was already done. And my mood and buzz for writing something that I loved and cherished was killed instantly, by some piece of shit twat that thinks his opinions on products were profound and of the highest mindset in terms of what FanFiction has to offer. But I think it killed more than just my writing, it killed everything else. It killed my sense of purpose.

I lost my motivation to do anything and everything. To be a better person, to keep myself on track, to do what I needed to do, to learn new things. I had forgotten and abandoned all of it over time once it was all taken away from me. I felt so worthless and I started to have pity myself again. Pathetic, right?

And where am I right now, you ask? Not any better than where I was before, I can tell you that much.

–

The ship shook and shuddered as it descended through the storms, hearing thunder and seeing snow flood his windshield. Thankfully, his ship was powerful and was able to withstand atmospheres that would tear humans apart in a matter of seconds. It didn’t make his descent any better. A part of him hoped that it would be so brutal and ruthless to control that he would leave, but his ship’s shields was taking all of it rather well. And it made a pit in his stomach.

There was no ground that he could see, even when he was below the clouds. The snow drowned and flooded his screen without mercy, the fog covering what landscape there may (or may not) have been. And the more he perused and observed the surface, the more dread he began to feel. He drew closer to his coordinates by the minute and it felt so wrong.

The closer he got to his destination, the more unrecognizable the land around him became. There was no familiar valley or hills that he had grew up on, no houses, no trees (of course not), no anything that would even remotely remind him of this once…sacred place. And he only knew that things were just going to get worse, his head and body starting to sweat as he felt himself whimper a bit with every moment he was here. This was true agony for him. Merciless trauma.

Once he had arrived, he lands the ship as his right leg was bouncing on the floor impatiently and nervously. This was the worst idea he could’ve possibly come up with and decided to do. He storms out from the helm as he was panting intensely from whatever await him outside. Putting on his armor he heads out to the landing pad and looks at the switch. He stares at it for so long, knowing that only pain and anguish would await him outside. His armor could brave the weather…but he wasn’t strong enough to find what lay ahead. He knew it for a fact.

…I’ve come this far…

He pulls the switch as the nuclear winds flooded through the dock.

Today was something that I felt hard. Something that I thought I was better at ignoring and knowing fully well wasn’t the truth. But it was something...that seemed tangible to me, and something that drew a horrible realization. I felt so alone, today. I care about people way too much more than others do about me. I tried messaging some friends on Discord, hoping that they were doing well. They replied...but that voice in the back of my head is too convincing for my own good.

It felt like I was bothering them, annoying them with my presence. They probably had better things to do and wanted to be left alone by some stupid idiot that was being an annoyance on their lives.

Whether this was true or not, it hit me that...I don’t think anyone really cares. No one cares. About me. I had never felt more mortal and alone than in those moments at my work. That, truly, my presence didn’t matter to anybody or my friends. Don’t mistake this as suicide, because I would never do that. But...if I disappeared tomorrow, would anyone really notice? Would anyone ever look for me? Would anyone actually care that I was gone? How long would it take before they noticed that I’m not there anymore? Not just on Discord, but on Tumblr. Does anyone really care?

My existence is fleeting and I don't see a point of me being here. Why am I here? And it was at that moment that my suspicions about myself were true: I’m just a forlorn, forgotten, unwilling hermit. I try to help and console as many of my friends and strangers as I can, because it’s what I enjoy doing. I enjoy making people happy and trying to help them through their problems. But they are so quick to move on with their lives...that I’m left behind. And that’s all I’ll be good for: a counselor.

I’ll still be in my cold, empty, barren head even when I invite myself over to other people’s problems. My sense of purpose and belonging only happens when I rudely invite myself into helping other people and initiate conversation first. And although there are a small few that would take the chance and the time to talk to me, it still feels like they do it out of principle rather than because of genuine interest. No one would even bother to talk to me first, invite me to places first, or join in on my sessions willingly.

I haven’t felt more forsaken or abandoned in my life.

“Radiation levels: extreme. Adjusting radiation intake” his armor computer chimed.

Ender didn’t feel anything when the winds blew through. And the blizzard quickly piled up near the end of the landing pad. But it didn’t worry him...his head was filled with too many other worries than something as trivial as this. He takes a step forward, then pulls it back as he sighs heavily. He had to. He just had to.

He takes a few steps forward and continued to slowly walk until he was outside. The blizzard and winds lightly pushed and rolled over him, but that was thanks to his armor. If he didn’t have this on, it would have sent him flying. He looks around him, seeing the grey snow-covered landscape of the familiar hills and valleys completely changing whatever it may have been before.

Home.

The grey clouds and storms coated the entire horizon all around around him, seeing nothing but a barren wasteland with no sky or stars to be seen here. Hallowed ground, indeed. Ender pulls out his wrist pad to find the coordinates. It was a short walk away. And God, did he want to retreat. But he had already come this far...he had to make his amends.

Trudging through the snow, he makes his way over to that place...his house. The very place where he was born and raised in. Looking up from his wrist pad, there was nothing of the sort here. No house, no anything. Just a pile of snow that had covered this now hundreds-of-years old planet. He felt some tears well up in his eyes as he looked at it. His home was gone, this place buried under the weight of a world that refused to move on. A world that refused to accept humanity and ignore their menial and needless gripes against one another.

Ashen snow of a dead planet.

He goes over to where his house would be as he takes a knee and leans his head down. Nothing here to remember what this place was when the nukes dropped. Nothing at all. And it hurt him, to know that his past, his childhood, whatever made him happy, was completely burnt away to a crisp and buried under this cursed snow. He sighs shakily as some tears coursed down his cheek.

Ender gently places his hand on a part of the snow as he hangs his head down. He missed them. He missed his family so much. His mom, his dad, and his sister. They had all wasted away here...what happened when the missiles were coming? Did they brace themselves? Did they try to hide? What did they do?

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you guys...I’m...I’m so sorry...” he muttered and barely could speak out, his eyes welling up even more as he hung his head lower.

Then...he felt something under his hand as it sunk into the snow. Something solid. Tangible.

I was weak.

And I still am. I let these stupid emotions get to me when I know better than to let it happen as it has so many times. It’s hard for me to control my emotions when I’m...so emotional, you know? I really feel things for people, sometimes overtly and sometimes not so overtly. Not many people would agree with me on that, I’m sure, but I’m telling you how I see myself.

I hate myself so much, sometimes. I hate that I care so much. I hate that I let myself get this way, just venting and talking about shit that no one couldn’t give less of a shit about. I hate using a story that I’ve wanted to write for a while about my muse (my Gary Stue, honestly) as an excuse to vent over shit that I’m sure many have glossed over.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s the only way I know how to be upfront and honest with people. And...I wanted to create something different, experimental. To see how I would feel about writing a pivotal plot point with my muse, as well as myself, I suppose. I enjoy writing stories, but who reads them? Much like the death of Keats, who mourns for Adonais? I’m not proclaiming myself to be anything special of the sort, but who cares? No one does. I just talk into a void, hoping that it’ll answer back. And it might not ever.

Ender is a muse that I really care for, one that I feel like I’ve grown up to be like almost as much as he has with me. But we all like to roleplay as those that we are not, right? He gets all the ladies (with their permission and consent, of course), he travels and goes to wherever he wants endlessly, and he gains friends and lovers wherever he goes. I don’t believe that I’m that at all. I’m not bold, I’m not brave, I’m not flirty, I’m not saucy, I’m not adventurous, and I’m certainly not strong. I’m me, the same person I’ve been for 9 years since I’ve made this blog.

I’m still me...

What was this under his hand? It felt...soft, but also hard. It was bizarre, but also frightening. Perhaps a piece of debris? Ender grabs onto it firmly and pulls it out from the snow. It was a decent clump of something, covered in snow of course. But he couldn’t make out what it was. A rock?

He starts to brush it off to see what it was. The more he brushed it, the more he saw of what it was.

Sometimes I’m not proud of this blog or my muse, either. I feel like he can be a one-trick pony for smut. But I enjoy smut. I enjoy loving and being loved. Also, it’s fun. Because it’s something that I’ve only experienced doing a few times in my miserable 25 years. And I enjoy doing something that promotes pleasure and happiness, rather than something depressing, something that can hurt you, or something that can destroy you. It’s also why I like fluff. It makes me happy to see him and the other happy.

He started to brush it more and notices...tendrils? What? That didn’t make sense. He brushes it some more and started to see that it was...hard. Hard, but not rocky. It was something else. And it was interlocked and linked to something as well. He started wipe it off some more until he slowly started to realize what it was.

Why am I still on this blog? It feels like I always invite myself to RP with others that don’t really care or RP with me out of principle sometimes. It feels like I’m bothering them, especially given the track record that my blog has. Forget about RPing with canon blogs, something that I always want to do and would like to see myself get involved it. But it’ll never happen, because...well, OC. And a self-insert, for all intents and purposes. And I'm still wary about asking to RP with other OCs because of said track record. You only need to scroll a little to see what I'm famous for (or INfamous for, I should say). It's dumb.

It was a hand. A skeleton hand. And it was...holding another hand. Ender felt his heart sink and tears started to well up under his eyes.

“...m...mo...mom? Da...dad?” he could barely utter out.

There was a small, deeply burnt sear on the ring-finger of one of the hands.

I don’t know why I’ve continued for this long...

“N...No...oh...oh God...oh my God...oh my God!” he sobbed out quietly until he holds the hands tightly and presses it to his helmet. He felt the tears streaming down his cheek as he sobs hard, pressing his helmeted forehead to it, hoping to feel something. But the glass protected him from whatever radiation it surely housed. To have something be between him and his parents...it was painful. He presses a kiss against his helmet as he presses the joined hands to his helmet, but he couldn’t feel anything. He hoped they did. It only made it worse for him.

His sobs descended into screams of pain and sorrow, wanting to drown out the bitter storm that drove on around him. He wanted to scream over this blizzard that flooded all sounds around him. He wanted to scream against this dead planet so it could be heard around the world. He wanted to scream so that his family could hear it in the next life...if one existed.

He wanted to be heard.

But nothing did.

#ooc #out of continuum #drabble #vent #venting

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mayleebaby28 · 5 years ago

Note

please write angsty timkon omg i would love you forever (i mean i already do BUT that’s beside the point)

And I love you Random Citizen

Tim was giggling when they came back from the beach. Theyhad the whole tower to themselves for the weekend, and they wanted to takeadvantage of it.

It had been months since they started dating, and looking back,Tim was still hopeful. It wasn’t the smartest thing the pair had ever done, butit was so much fun at the start.

Then the newness wore off, and Tim found himself getting madabout the lack of responsibility, about the refusal to grow up. And he foundhimself on the receiving end of the arguments about loosening up, having fun, actuallyacting their age.

It was nice having a weekend just the two of them, trying toreconnect and get the fun back.

“Babe?” Kon asked, pulling back from their kiss. Tim leanedforward for one more, desperate to feel that fun again. It just…

It was different now.

He still got the butterflies, but they felt different. Theydidn’t feel new and exciting, they felt worried and dreadful.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” Tim said with a smile,running his fingers through Kon’s short hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve gotsand in my hair.”

“I’ll be here waiting,” Kon beamed up at him, and that sethis stomach a flutter. He hurried to the bathroom and turned on the waterscalding hot. It felt nice against his skin, hurt in a good way as he rinsedthe grit out of his hair.

The beach was great, and he knew it was just his badthoughts ebbing at his brain again. They had so much fun running through thesurf, making out on the shore, it felt so perfect. So he tried his damndest toput the dread out of his mind as the dirt and sand flowed down the drain.

He stepped out after his hair was free of sand, feeling abit better. He started to dry it with a towel when he saw a little heart on themirror, and he smiled.

But then he remembered that he had put it there himself aweek or so prior.

That’s when he felt everything cave in on itself in hishead.

It was just one other example of how inconsiderate Kon couldbe sometimes, how dense. When they talked, Tim would ask him how his day was,but he never got asked back. And it wasn’t that Kon didn’t want to hear abouthis day, it just never occurred to him to ask.

And it was starting to wear on Tim, that he felt like he wasn’tbeing cared for like he cared forConner.

He found himself on the floor, hand over his mouth, sobbingas quietly as he could as he cried. It was stupid, he was being stupid-

“Tim?”

Kon was knocking on the bathroom door, and Tim tried torespond but a small hiccup was all that came out. Of course Kon could hear himcrying still, he had super hearing.

The door opened, and he looked up at Kon through the steam.

“What happened?” Kon asked, kneeling down on the floor withhim, reaching out to cup his face. Tim’s stomach set a flutter again, and itwasn’t a feeling he could ignore. It grew, and grew, and he was still crying. “Tim?”

Tim shook his head and Kon pulled him in for a hug.

***

He got dressed after he stopped sobbing, giving hushed apologiesto Kon as he ran to his own room with a towel around his waist.

And Kon didn’t follow him of course because he was so bad atreading his feelings. Sure, he could tell when his heart rate changed, he couldhear when his breathing was off, but that meant nothing if he couldn’t tellwhat that all meant.

He pulled on a hoodie and a pair of plaid pajama pantsbefore crawling into his bed and taking a few deep breaths.

He loved Conner, of course he loved Conner, they were bestfriends. It wasn’t like that stopped, they were still best friends, and he didn’tthink he’d ever stop loving Conner.

But there was no way he could keep being half of arelationship. He wasn’t stable enough, and Conner wasn’t mature enough, andthey were just not okay.

“Tim? Can I come in?” Kon asked, knocking on the door. Timsat up with a sniffle, flipping over his pillow so Conner wouldn’t be able tosee all the wet spots from his tears.

“Yeah,” He said, taking a deep breath and wiping his face.

“Hey,” Kon said, pushing the door open enough to slip intothe room. “What’s going on today? I thought we were having fun.”

“Fun isn’t enough, Conner,” Tim shook his head. “Today feltso perfect, I did have fun today.”

“So what’s the problem?” Kon asked, striding in to sit onthe bed beside him. “Why are you so upset?”

“Because we came back and nothing changed,” Tim shook hishead. “We can’t just pretend we don’t have problems, they don’t just go away.”

“Yeah, but Tim-“

“I think I should go,” Tim mumbled, pursing his lips.

“Go where?” Kon furrowed his brows.

“I think I need some time away from you,” He sighed, and hefelt Kon freeze.

“I mean if you think that’s what’s best-“

“No, Conner, I mean I’m going back to Gotham and I’m notcoming back,” Tim decided. “Not for a while.”

“So, what, you just leave the Titans?” Kon asked, floatingto his feet. “How could you do that? Just because we have problems?”

“No, Conner, not just because we have problems,” Tim scowledat him. “Because I need space.”

“Fine, whatever, take all the space you want,” Kon growled,stomping out and slamming the door behind him.

***

It was a few months before they ran into each other again.

Tim had cut his hair into a fade, keeping the top a littlelong, and Kon wasn’t wearing his dumb glasses.

But the difference was inside, Tim was still not right. Andas soon as he saw Kon walk into the coffee shop in Metropolis, he thought aboutdiving under the table. But then Kon made eye contact with him and smiled atiny bit before going to the counter to order and he knew he was stuck.

He’d talked to Dick, he’d even talked to Bruce, but nothingwas helping. Leslie wanted him to start taking medication for his depression,but he kept refusing.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to get better, he did. He didn’twant to be so upset all the time, he didn’t want to feel the emptiness in hisstomach and the lack of motivation.

But he didn’t want to change himself. He needed to feel thatsometimes because that was what drove him to save people and do right by them.If he was happy, if his brain chemistry was different, would he be the sameperson? Or would he finally have the strength to walk away from super hero lifeand live out his days doing what he wanted to do?

“Hey.”

Tim looked up from his coffee cup and met Kon’s eyes wherehe stood behind the other chair.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” Tim shrugged a shoulder. “How are you?”

“I’ve been alright,” Kon said as he sat down, setting hisblack coffee aside. “How have you been?”

Tim took a deep breath, stomach fluttering again.

“I’ve been good,” He nodded, and he tried to smile, hereally did, but Kon furrowed his brows and he knew it didn’t work. “I’ve beenreally, really terrible, actually.”

“Anything I can do?” Kon asked, and Tim bit the inside ofhis lip.

“Can we go somewhere?” Tim asked suddenly, and Kon blinkedat him for a moment before he nodded.

***

“You got a place?” Tim asked, glancing around the bareapartment.

“Well, temporarily,” Kon shrugged a shoulder, setting hiscoffee on the kitchen counter. “It’s winter so I don’t have a ton of farm work,and this was Clark’s but he and Lois moved to a bigger one and they didn’t wantto break their lease so I’m staying here until it’s up in April.”

“It’s nice,” Tim said, easing himself onto the couch.

“So you want to talk?” Kon asked, shedding his jacket and tossingit on the kitchen table.

And Tim was just overcome because months prior he and Konbroke up because he wasn’t mature enough to care, and now here he was caringall over the place and Tim was still just as depressed and vulnerable as beforeif not more.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Kon asked, hurrying into theliving room and sitting beside Tim, wrapping an arm around him as he started tocry.

“I’m wrong,” He sobbed, and before Kon could tell him hewasn’t, he took a deep breath. “I’m not okay, Conner. I’m really not okay.”

“What can I do to help?” The taller asked, putting his lipsto Tim’s temple.

“You can stop doing that!” Tim shouted, shooting up from thecouch. “You and I broke up, and now I feel like I made the stupidest decisionever because you’ve matured so much and I still lost my best friend!”

“No, hey, Tim,” Kon got up to grip him by his shoulder. “Younever lost me. I’m always, always here for you, okay? I’m sorry if I didn’tmake that more clear to you.”

Tim fell against his chest sobbing, holding on for dearlife.

***

When he woke up in the morning, Conner was in the kitchenmaking breakfast. There was a mug of coffee on the table by an empty plate, andwhen he looked at it, it was made exactly how he drank it.

“Hey, you,” Kon said, smiling back at him.

“Hi,” Tim mumbled, picking up the mug to take a sip. Ittasted bitter sweet.

“How are you feeling?” Kon asked as he walked over with apan of scrambled eggs and started distributing them onto the plates.

“Like shit,” Tim shook his head, setting his mug down andsinking into the chair. “I want to say thank you for yesterday, but I stillneed some space.”

“Whatever you need, babe-“

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry,” Kon said as he sat down.

“I-I’m tired, Conner,” Tim sighed. “I’m tired of being thebad guy, I’m tired of crying, and I’m really tired of pretending I’m okay whenI’m not.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Tim,” Kon shook hishead. “I love you no matter what.”

“But that’s not enough,” Tim argued, closing his eyes. “Youcan’t love me better. That has nothing to do with it. I need some space to workon myself.”

“I understand,” Kon nodded, staring down at his plate.

“If we do this now, it won’t work because I’m not happy,”Tim explained, and Kon nodded again. “In a while, maybe, but I don’t know.”

“What can I do to help?” Kon finally asked, poking at hisbreakfast.

“I need to help myself,” Tim mumbled, setting his fork down.“I’m going to go. Thank you for yesterday, and for letting me spend the night.”

“If you ever need me, just yell,” Kon said, and Tim got upand hurried around the table to kiss Kon’s forehead.

“For the record, I love you too,” He said, and Kon smiled athim sadly as he hurried to put on his shoes and grab his jacket.

***

Tim’s feet left the rooftop of the tower and he wasairborne, but he wasn’t afraid this time.

It had been a year since he’d been at Titan’s Tower, and he’dalready run through the entire building shouting for the one person he wanted,needed to see.

For once, he was excited and happy. He was looking forwardto something again. It took a lot of talking to Dick, to Leslie, a lot ofreading, a lot of exercise and eating right, but it helped enough to take theedge off. He felt like he wanted to help people for the right reasons again.

He was only falling for a few seconds before strong armswere grabbing him under his arms and holding him close, and he couldn’t stopsmiling.

“What are you doing?” Kon asked, adjusting his grip on Tim. “Youcould have died.”

“I knew you’d catch me,” Tim said, gripping the back of Kon’sneck. “I came to see you.”

“I know, I heard you,” Kon said, furrowing his brows. “Iseverything okay?”

“Everything is great,” Tim said, and this time he did smileand it felt true. His stomach fluttered as Kon beamed down at him. “Everythingis as good as it can be.”

“So you want to go somewhere and talk?” Kon asked, raising abrow.

“No,” Tim shook his head and hoisted himself up to give Kona kiss.

#timkon #Tim Drake #Kon-El #conner kent #Superboy #TW depression #TW suicidal thoughts #my fics #My writing

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doseofdeath-blog · 5 years ago

Text

It’s time to be honest and raise awareness.

This is a really hard topic to discuss. I literally took a deep breath before making a huge decision to talk about this. The following story time will be covering some triggering, taboo issues but very crucial to be highlighted in respect of Suicide Prevention Month.

Hello, I’m Alia. It doesn’t matter who has known me longer or for the past 5 seconds ago, I have been very secretive about my struggles. I’ve been so afraid to open up about my battles with my mental health. After a couple of years, I sat down and reflected how it can be unfair for me to not be honest to myself when I’m out here trying to help others. I was not helping myself and I did not want to be get better as if like I didn’t care anymore.

Back in my pre-teen years, body image/self image became a huge concern for me. I was constantly worried about how I looked and my body size especially when one comment was made on the way I looked. Measuring the size of my arm wondering when it can become smaller was one of them. It haunted me for the rest of my life. It still stayed in the back of my mind and I guess it was the start to where I am now.

At 14 years old, I started to fall in love even more with Islam. I wanted to become closer to Allah. Little did I know, I started losing control of myself when I was praying and taking ablution. It became a ritual to make everything become perfect and if I didn’t get it right, I would repeat everything up until an hour plus. I had negative intrusive thoughts of religion and other messed up things that I will never ever feel comfortable to say. I started to become this girl who panicked everytime my mom tried to leave the house even just for a few hours.

This continued until I reached 16 years old. My closest friends started transferring to boarding schools. I have never felt so alone. I started getting really depressed and nobody knew that I went home crying everyday after school. I started to self-harm because that’s the only way to inflict my emotional pain. I hated school and I dreaded the whole year going to school. Every sort of relationship I had just failed. I pushed people away and hid about all the things built up in me. As I was struggling with everything mentioned above, everything was just too much. You know, everything has an end. I finally opened up to my mother about what I’ve been struggling with and convinced her to get help for myself. I needed help because I wasn’t getting any better. I remember how I was completely done with myself. I attempted to kill myself wanting the pain to end. But I didn’t. I just ended up crying and crying until I didn’t feel anything.

I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder by my doctor at 17 years old. My first session was hell. It was hard to tell strangers about what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself. I was prescribed with antidepressants (lexapro) for 2 years straight to treat my anxiety disorder. I stopped taking them towards the end of 2015 because I was just relying too much on antidepressants to feel like I’m on the top of the world. I hated all the doctor’s appointments because I had to be honest and I couldn’t be honest because I was embarrassed of myself. Yes, I was a defaulted patient. I shouldn’t have done that because the side effects really took a toll of my life the following year.

I found love with a boy I was very much in love with the whole time we were in school. Around this time was the time I had my medication withdrawals (lexapro withdrawals). Our relationship didn’t work out because my anxiety went through the roof. I became very toxic. I lost my best friend. It was so hard to cope with it. At that point of time, I had to prepare myself for my final year of law degree in Newcastle. Everything moved so quickly.

I lived on my own that one whole final year. I felt very lonely like how I used to. felt like I was 16 again. It was winter time and my anxiety was severe. I started having random anxiety attacks in campus. at the restaurant. I cried out of nowhere and I am still thankful to this day that my friend, Megan was there through it all. I tried to make myself busy but I just couldn’t. I cried every night. I isolated myself every chance I got. I didn’t wanna see anybody. I had 2 suicide attempts around this time leading up to January 2018. I survived.

I’m still here. Whatever that was going through my brain at that moment was all blank. You don’t think about people who truly love and care about you anymore at that point. All you want is for the pain to end. You wish that it’s easy to just rip it off of your chest. But, I survived and ended up harming myself, just cried and prayed to Allah numerously to make me feel okay again. Talking about it with my best friend definitely helped me not to harm myself further. Never keep it to yourself.

Now, as i’m writing this post... I want the readers to know that I’m not ‘cured’ or ‘I’ve solved the problem’. I still struggle till this day although I can say that I am better than I used to be. Suicidal thoughts come and go especially when I feel very lonely. It’s never been easy but I try to fight it as much as I can. It will be okay. Even though you don’t see the light in the darkness you’re surrounded with right now, it will eventually come. I used to be so so negative and toxic, I wanted to be happy. I hated seeing others happy because I told myself I’ll never be like them. I’m trying to and I can see a little light coming. I tried to surround myself with positive people, messages and try to fix myself on a daily basis.

Cry if you want to. Let it all out. Get professional help. Talk to someone. Don’t keep it to yourself. Someone out there will understand. I got the help that I needed from the people I could trust. I got better. There were some rough patches but those patches made me who I am today. It made me a stronger person. A more understanding, self-reflective person. It made me realize that I need to work on myself too. to give myself a chance to try and not give up on myself.

I’m right here. I understand. Anyone who is going through something... I am willing to listen. I will never judge you because your mental health does not define who you are.

****** for another form of outlet, befrienderskl has a hotline that is open for 24 hours. They’re available to give you emotional support through a phone call or email. https://www.befrienders.org.my/

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doomedandstoned · 6 years ago

Photo

Closer to the End

Depression is my nemesis. Eventually it will kill me.

...if I let it.

By Billy Goate

Art by RusoTsig (@rusotsig)

Life's falling away from me. The visual evidence is all about. Unopened mail builds up at random spots around the room like mini Towers of Babel. Even things that normally give me great delight -- a recently delivered set of vinyl records -- lie undisturbed in their brown cardboard packages. Meanwhile, my email continues to multiply exponentially: 200 unanswered today, 400 tomorrow, 800 on the day after that (for the curious, the tally stands at 2,359 today). The very thought of opening my inbox makes it equivalent to walking out into open traffic, so I avoid it like the plague.

Meals have become simplified these days -- if it can't be eaten out of a package, forget about it. And all those empty wrappers? They, too, join the general disorder, decorating the landscape of my solitary hovel. Eventually, messages from friends and family go unread. Bills go unpaid (even when there are sufficient funds). The yard turns into a veritable jungle of tall grass, weeds, and sprawling bushes. Clothes go unwashed and hygiene is neglected for days at a time. Weekends are spent pouring over regrets about what might have been, brooding about the end of days.

As any doctor will confirm, these are classic symptoms of depression. What they can't tell you is how hopeless hopelessness can feel.

Karl Briullov - The Last Days of Pompeii (detail)

Black Sabbath’s final show in the Pacific Northwest. Usnea's album release party. Saint Vitus reunited with their first singer, Scott Reagers. The return of Sasquatch. Once in a lifetime small venue appearances by international bands, such as Cult of Occult. A rare hometown gig by Yob. Visits from Goya, Primitive Man, and countless others. Ceremony of Sludge. Even events with the Doomed & Stoned's own name stamped on them. All of these are things I've missed out on in the past year or two because of depression.

It's not that I was too down to even consider going. On the contrary, I was actively planning to go. I RSVP'd, bought tickets, and even checked out the camera equipment to film the shows. In most cases, I'd gotten dressed and readied, even told people to expect me, but for one reason or another I fell under the unyielding grip of depression and came up with an excuse for why I couldn't go. Then one day I just got tired of making excuses and stopped going out altogether.

In one case, I was halfway down the road on a two-hour trip to see Saint Vitus and Witch Mountain perform at Star Theater, when suddenly a wave of grief washed over me from head to spine. As soon as I spotted the nearest overpass, I exited, turned around, and returned home. Even shows I knew would be cathartic (Bell Witch playing their titular Mirror Reaper at a local watering hole) just couldn't cause me to drive a couple miles down the road. The few times I managed to go out, it was because I absolutely forced myself. I practically fought with my inner man all the way there, too -- teeth clenched, hands tightly gripping the wheel, rehearsing in my mind a myriad of reasons why I should just turn back and stay home.

For me, Alice in Chains captures the frustration perfectly in "Excuses":

Everyday it's something Hits me all so cold

Find me sittin' by myself No excuses, then I know

Depression has robbed me of so much. I've missed opportunities to collaborate with musicians and artists because of it. I've pushed away friends and family, until contact between us has become more and more scarce. I've even stopped celebrating my birthday. I have become a shadow of a man.

What's worse, there's been a new development: anhedonia. I remember only casually looking up the meaning of that word when reviewing Undersmile's album by the same name. Anhedonia basically means that you stop finding pleasure in life. As I browse through my friend's timelines, I find it difficult to relate to their happiness. I think quite often of the emptiness of it all, of being alone and growing older, and the ultimate futility of human pursuits. I often feel more of an observer than an actor in the great drama of life.

As you read all of this, bear in mind that I've managed to hold down a steady, full-time job for decades, right up to the present day. You see, some cope by drinking, others by eating, and others still chase the fleeting high of romantic love, but I found my copacetic in work (as absurd as that might sound). I’ve damn near worked myself to death over the past couple years, too, taking precious few "mental health days" or vacation. At one point, I stopped accruing paid time off, because I'd reached my limit and my boss had no choice but to mandate that I take two days off per month. Can you imagine? I’d been known to come into work on the weekend, rather than spend it alone with my thoughts. At least at work, I can stay distracted with something I feel makes some kind of difference.

I can't feel my life Makes me want to cry How bad i feel inside Like I wanna die

Destination unknown Wreckage in tow Depression grows I have no home

Lately, all I've wanted to do on the weekends is sleep. When I'm at work, I'm fine. I'm in the zone. I have purpose. Things make sense. I'm needed. When I'm home, I always have a list of to-dos, but no matter how busy I try to make myself, I find myself suffering with a lonely, aching feeling. It hurts to be alive. That's the only way I can describe it. So I go to sleep early -- and sleep and sleep and sleep -- without so much as the aid of melatonin. All I want to do is go to sleep and forget and wake up the next day and start fresh, hoping all of the oppressive feelings of darkness have left me. I'll sleep 9 hours, 10 hours, 12 hours is not unheard of, then curse when the alarm wakes me up to face the day. I haven't slept so much since I was a teenager.

At least some of my depression seems linked with sunlight. While the sun is out, I'm mostly okay. When I'm taking my meds, I feel possessed with purpose and I'm busy chipping away at a dozen assorted projects, networking with bands, record labels, and PR reps around the globe, auditing new records, editing submissions from my team, and occasionally summoning enough nerve to write an album review of my own. But when the sun sets and darkness takes hold, bathing the landscape in its sinister shadows, everything changes.

In the heart of winter, there is an existential dread that overtakes me when the sun sets. It's almost primitive. There seems to be no rational basis for feeling this way, unless we factor in some kind of code passed along in the evolutionary programming of the reptilian brain over the millennia. You know, that thing responsible for our fight or flight response -- the urge to either take a swing or get the hell out of Dodge.

Loneliness is not a phase Field of pain is where I graze

Saw my reflection and cried So little hope that I died

That cryptic note of horror hints at what happens when our coping mechanisms stop working for us. For me, it was burnout. I worked and worked and worked, and then I came home and did Doomed & Stoned in the evenings and weekends until I inevitably reached a point of absolute and total system overload.

We've seen a spate of deaths in recent years in the heavy music world stemming from depression. It seems to be the creative person's curse. Chris Cornell of Soundgarden. Linda Nygren of the Wounded Kings. Dozens more artist deaths are listed as "N/A" in Metal Archives, but you always wonder. Even an accidental drug overdose can owe its underlying cause to depression. Often it's hard to untangle addiction from the need to escape acute emotional pain.

Though it is tempting to buy into conspiracy theories linking suicide to pharmaceuticals, chemtrails, fluoride in the water, gangstalking, and covert government ops, it's important to recognize that suicide is nothing unique to our life and times. Narrowing the focus more specifically to musicians and other artistic types, we've had many historic instances of depression. Think Beethoven, Franz Liszt, and Tchaikovsky -- three people who pioneered much of the musical language that doom metal utilizes for expression. Each experienced prolonged periods of melancholia for various reasons, from physical malady and loss-fueled grief to unrequited love and the utter rejection of society. Arguably, Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky died at his own hand.

Perhaps it won't surprise you that many of us who have an affinity for doom metal (though certainly not all) are also at risk for suicide. A recently published study by the University of Manchester found a correlation, though not a causal link, between members of "alternative subcultures" and "the risk of self-harm and suicide." There was no definite conclusion drawn from the piece, other than to point out that a problem exists (no kidding) and that more long-term studies are needed.

I've got a notion as to why heavy music draws the heavy-laden: misery loves company. We're drawn to the mysteriously compelling ability that doom has to commiserate with our feelings, from lyrics that deal so honestly with sadness to the solace of sharing a joint with those who are on a similar path.

But sometimes depression is so severe that you don't want to go out on the weekends at all, not even for your favorite band. Before I get too deep into my own story and how I'm treating my depression, some of you may wonder why I am writing this piece and have decided to share it publicly. I can assure you, I have nothing to gain from this. I'm not crying out for help (I'm too stubborn to ask for it when needed, anyway) and I'm certainly not trying to sell you on anything.

To be truthful, I've been chipping away at this piece (currently standing at 53,726 characters) for two years. I revisit it when the depression hurts the most. It acts as a kind of release valve for me and since that's at least providing some relief, I'll keep scribbling words upon this page. So before you leave thinking this was all just a self-indulgent slab of depression porn, stay tuned. There really is more to the story, including some valuable insights I'm learning about dealing constructively with my depression and its underlying causes -- physical and psychological.

To be continued...

★ Read Part II

☆ Read Part III

Here I sit writing on the paper Trying to think of words you can't ignore

See the cycle I've waited for It ain't like that anymore

#Closer To The End #Depression #Suicide #Doom #Metal #Alice in Chains #Jerry Cantrell #Doomed & Stoned

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monstersandmaw · 6 years ago

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Footsteps in the Snow - Chapter Five

Lein and Argis begin their journey (finally!) to Windstad Manor, and Lein sees a slightly different side to his housecarl along the way.

Table of Contents | Previous Chpt

He knew, as soon as his brain remembered how to think, that no one would come to him this time. He had ordered Argis not to come in if he heard him screaming in the middle of the night, and Argis had obeyed.

Shaking in the aftermath of the night terror, Lein felt dreadful. His head was full of sawdust and his muscles ached. Drier than the sands of Elsweyr, his throat was parched, and he reached a trembling hand out of the bedside table where his dwarven cup sat. The room was utterly dark, but that didn’t bother him. He was used to moving in shadow, and his spatial memory was excellent. He found the cup faultlessly, but the shaking in his muscles hindered drinking somewhat.

He sighed. He’d had too much to drink at the inn, made a fool of himself, and worked his brain into one of its darker corners. He got like that sometimes. And it would often come upon him when he’d been drinking.

Depressed, shivering, and suddenly overwhelmed by the power in his own body, he felt hot tears prick his eyes and begin to pour silently down his face. Perhaps the true legacy of the dragonborn was to walk through the days of their life alone. Vipir was gone, and in the wake of their fleeting reconnection, Lein felt loneliness wash over him until he began to drown in it. He ached for a closeness. Only a few months ago, Valdimar had written to him to say that he intended to marry his childhood sweetheart, Iona, and was worried about the future of his position with Lein as his housecarl in Hjaalmarch.

Lein of course had replied that he was delighted that Valdimar was going to be married, and that should he wish it there would always be a place for him and for his wife at Windstad, but if he or Iona would prefer not to live in the arse end of nowhere, right on the Sea of Ghosts, known for its violent winter storms, then he would quite understand. Valdimar, bless him, had sent a letter back with the same courier to express his gratitude, and to say that they would postpone the wedding until Lein returned to Hjaalmarch and would be able to attend.

Knowing that Valdimar and Iona would be planning their wedding now that they knew Lein was going to be there by winter solstice, knowing that he would be greeted by a couple very much in love, knowing that he would have to see their close fondness every moment of every day when he got there did not make him sour, but it did make him sad. He ached for that. He ached to have someone to share everything with. To stand by his side and just hold him up when it all got too much, and to do the same for them in return.

Sleep was a cruel and fickle mistress, and she too had left him that night.

He guessed it must have been some time near dawn, and he cast a candlelight spell, shuffling blearily around his room by its ethereal, blue glow. He splashed himself in a perfunctory wash, dressed, and then headed out into the hall. He avoided looking at Argis’ closed door as he passed, hoping the man was fast asleep. He paused though, listening hard, and heard thunderous snoring coming from the other side.

Because he was feeling sour and lonely and grumpy, and his entire body was still crackling with magicka, he summoned a flame atronach and used her to light the fire in the grate. She frowned when he gave the command to ignite the logs gently, her slender body shimmering with heat like strong sun on a dirt road in summer, but she shrugged and obeyed, tumbling backwards in a lazy somersault. When she had breathed life into the little flames around the logs, she stayed beside the fire, clearly loving the warmth and the noise of it.

Lein went to the little storeroom and saw that Argis had been right about the food situation. There were a few crates for perishables but most of them were empty. Only hard cheeses which kept for years in the cool dark of the larder, and a few cured hams were left. Lein sliced these up and prepared them for the road as he had done a thousand times, laying them between the folds of a waxed cloth and rolling it up after each piece was set down in order to keep the meat fresh and tightly sealed for at least the first day of their journey. Skyrim was not Elsweyr, and the meat would not spoil that quickly in the chill air. He cut the big cheese into sections and wrapped that up too in sheets of greaseproof paper he’d got from the butcher, and he stuffed one or two other things into the bundle as well.

When all that remained were six eggs, a little soft goat's cheese, some lightly-smoked, raw bacon, and the last of the shallots, he decided to make an omelette. He wasn’t the greatest cook, not a patch on Argis, but there were a few things he could make better than anyone else. Omelettes were one such thing.

After whisking up the eggs and chopping the onions into small chunks, he realised it was still too early for food, his stomach still feeling more than a little queasy. He swallowed down the last of the cow’s milk that stood on a block of enchanted ice, hoping the softly-creamy texture would sooth the churning in his belly.

With a crackle and a pop like a log of crumbling firewood, the atronach got bored and left him. He knew it’d been petty to summon her just to light the fire, but he didn’t really care. It had been nice to have something else moving around the still living room, even if it was a creature from beyond the doors of oblivion. He sighed, and toyed again with the idea of getting a dog. Maybe one of Gunmar’s war dogs that were half-wolf, half-dog? He couldn’t stand the way Banning’s war dogs constantly barked and yipped.

Perhaps a bit of gentle exercise would make him feel better, he mused.

Heading to the clear space near the fire, his bare feet hardly noticing the chill of the stone floor, he stood a moment with his eyes closed, hands quietly resting in front of his hips. Beginning some of the patterns he had learned with the Dark Brotherhood, he started with a slow, gentle one. It was more about balance training and precision of movement than practising killing strikes, and he had always enjoyed the tug and strain of muscles. He lost himself in the motions, his body working with the fluid grace of a dancer as he shifted with the speed of glacial ice from one stance to the next.

Twice he worked his way through all twenty four of the patterns, the last being the most fiendish of all. His body came to a halt at the end of the second cycle, centred and calm, if still completely exhausted and sleep deprived, and he stood motionless in the very centre of the space. Breathing hard, sweat rolling down the back of his neck, he remained otherwise perfectly still for nearly five minutes, concentrating on the intake and exhale of breath, working with the slow and steady surety of a blacksmith’s bellows.

When he opened his eyes he found Argis standing in the doorway watching him. “Morning,” he rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, though something burned in his eyes behind the grogginess.

Lein nodded silently, inhaling more deeply as though surfacing from underwater. He wondered how long Argis had been watching him.

Argis frowned when he saw the shadows under his thane’s eyes. “Did you even go to sleep, thane?” he asked.

A soft sigh shivered out of Lein’s lips, and he nodded once. “I didn’t get much rest though.”

“More terrors?” Argis asked carefully, sensing he trod on very thin ice.

Lein nodded again.

“Does… Does anything help?” Argis asked, still speaking tentatively.

Lein shook his head. Ruefully, he added, “Actually, skooma does, but I’ve seen too many of those poor bastards shaking and twitching on the side of the road to go down that route.” He sighed. “Mostly I just don’t sleep.”

Argis shook his head, his features filling with a sad kind of compassion that rekindled a lot of the ache Lein had worked so hard to drive from his chest. Argis crossed sleepily to the table where Lein had begun his breakfast plans, and looked up at him, forced by his blind eye to turn all the way around so he could see him properly. “You want to cook this morning?” he asked in a warm, even voice.

Lein sighed. “I had thought about making one of my speciality omelettes,” he said, “But if you have something you’d rather do with that lot, I don’t mind. I was going to have a proper wash and come back and cook it.”

“I’m happy to make one for you, or to leave it. Up to you,” Argis smiled.

Lein wondered why he was being quite so polite. Perhaps Lein really had made him uncomfortable with his mood swing the previous evening. Or perhaps it really was that he knew the truth about Lein’s preferences. Yet another sigh rolled from him and he shrugged. “I don’t mind.” The weariness in his tone caught even Lein by surprise as he shuffled out of the room towards the bathroom, feeling little better than he had when he’d gone to bed.

The searingly hot bath went some way towards making him feel more like a human and less like a six-hundred year old desiccated draugr, but still, when he emerged with his white hair dripping around his neck, bundled up in his favourite fur-collared jacket, he remained about as grumpy as a frost troll. Argis had left the ingredients alone and had returned to his bedroom, though the door was open. The smell of frying cubes of bacon seemed to draw him out, and as Lein began to soften the shallots in the hot bacon fat, he strolled out and quietly stood by the table.

“Would you like some tea?” Argis asked a moment or two later.

“Mmm, please,” he hummed, stirring the onions and adding the circles of goats cheese to fry before adding the whisked eggs to the enormous skillet.

“There’s no milk,” Argis murmured as he set the ceramic mug down beside Lein. The gesture was an easy, graceful lean, and it made Lein’s insides flip weirdly. He rolled his brown and blue eyes to himself, scolding himself for not getting a handle on his crush sooner. He really was behaving like some thirteen year old girl. And now Argis had to know.

“I drank it this morning, I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t take my tea with milk, and it was thoughtless of me.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckled, setting two plates down near Lein so he could tip the omelette onto them when it was ready. “I like it either way.”

Lein snorted a soft laugh to himself at the irony of the comment. He shook his head, a strand of hair falling into his eyes. He swiped it away angrily. Argis seemed to sense that strange mood hovering above his shoulders like a wraith, and left him in peace.

With breakfast ready and smelling so good that even Lein felt like he could tolerate some food in his stomach, he cut the omelette in half and slid each bit onto the waiting plates.

Argis dug in with relish and was halfway through the hot meal before he paused to thank his thane. “This is great,” he enthused. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I can’t, generally speaking,” Lein said, picking at his own food with a lot less vigour. “Not like you, but I can do a few things.” He gestured towards his plate with his fork, “This is one of them.”

“It’s good,” he smiled, polishing off the last few scraps of bacon and standing, taking his plate with him. He crossed to the table and cut a slice of thick, white bread from the last loaf on the table, wiping it over the plate to soak up the last few delicious smears before turning to Lein and asking, “You want some bread?”

Lein shook his head and looked back at his plate. There was still more than half left. “I can’t even finish this. You want it?”

“If you don’t,” Argis hedged gently. “You sure?”

Lein nodded, holding the plate out to him and closing his eyes briefly.

“You still want to head out today?” Argis asked, practically inhaling Lein’s leftovers. It was rather sweet, really.

“Yeah,” Lein said. “Yeah, I do. I think a nice open sky and a dozen or so miles of walking will do me some good. I don’t do well cooped up in cities. I get…” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “Funny…”

Argis only nodded once, before washing the plates and beginning to do the last checks on the house. Lein stayed by the fire, lost in thought. His bags were packed, his few valuables locked in the safe or stowed in his bags, his weapons readied. All that was lacking was his usual enthusiasm. He guessed that would come back under the gathering winter skies and after a few lungfuls of Skyrim’s freezing air.

The view from the balcony, over the valley beyond the walls, took Lein’s breath away. He wasn’t a morning person on the whole, so he rarely saw the dawn in all her splendour, but that morning was particularly lovely. A few clouds hung lazily in the ripening morning sky directly above them, with a thick bank building on the horizon. The sharp tooth of a lone mountain peak broke through the rising colour of the sky with a dark shadow. Mist gathered at the end of the valley where Markarth was nestled, woolly clouds snagging on the razor spine of the mountains, and as he lost himself in the sight, Lein was relieved to feel a little hope and happiness kindle.

The world was out there waiting for him. There were larger things than his petty personal struggles. He would overcome this. He had the World-Eater to destroy at some point, after all. He sucked in a huge breath of air and turned to look at Argis, who was also smiling softly at the view.

They locked Vlindrel Hall up, and Lein’s backpack bashed against his spine on the stairs, but he paid it little mind. A few guards paced about, their footsteps barely audible over the rush of water in the gullies outside the Silverblood Inn. Some spoke to Argis, but neither he nor his thane informed them they were leaving for a long time away. No use advertising an empty house to one and all. It was still early, but one or two traders were there setting up in the marketplace. For the most part, though, Argis and Lein were ignored as they moved towards the huge bronze gates.

Beyond in the stable yard, a pair of guards trained together breath billowing in the cold air, and one yelled at Argis to come over and have a swing. Argis chuckled at her and hefted his pack up his shoulder. “Can’t today, Morana.”

“Chicken!” she yelled, grinning, and Argis chuckled back. She waved at Lein, her plate gauntlet clinking warmly. “Safe travels, and may you find softer beds than those in Markarth!” she joked, playing on the old blessing which wished travellers safe skies and warm beds.

Lein nodded his thanks and waited for Argis to begin walking again, not wanting to rush the man out of his childhood home and onto the road before he was ready.

As they passed the carriage, Kibell the driver called out to him from his seat on the top, a mug of steaming tea in his hands, and asked if he wanted a ride. Lein politely turned him down, but crossed over to stroke the shaggy bay gelding’s nose anyway, laughing softly as the horse blew warm breath into his gloved hands and nosed about, hoping for an apple. Yes, his mood was brightening.

Not for the first time, Lein marvelled at the intricacies of the stone carvings on Markarth’s outer ramparts as he walked by them. Every surface bore a chisel mark of some sort, every corner a decorative band of egg and dart or swirling scrollwork. The towers as they passed beneath them were still clad in curved sheets of ancient, riveted dwarven metal, blazing untarnished like burnished gold in the early morning light. All the while they walked, Argis kept a steady, silent pace beside him.

The waterfall at the base of the top ramparts crashed spectacularly, and little flashes of light caught Lein’s keen eyes. The dragonflies darted in and out of the spray, their iridescent bodies glinting in the light like the tower roofs above them. Nature was getting on with its rhythm, and he sucked in a great breath of clean air. His tired body seemed to fill with new vigour, and the prickle behind his eyes began to vanish.

They were not the only ones out and about at that hour, and Left Hand Mine was bustling over the river to their right, and the scrape, scrape, scrape of a bristle brush on the air told him that old Vigdis was up, sweeping the path to the Salvius Farm. When she caught sight of him, she raised the broom and beckoned him over. He didn’t have the heart to turn her down, and he indulged her in a lengthy chat about how much she missed her son, Vigdis rabbiting on and on about Leontius, and how she wished he’d make the journey to see them from Old Hroldan. When Lein noticed Argis smiling indulgently as he rolled his shoulders out, Lein excused himself and wished her well, rejoining Argis on the road.

A rangy, wire-haired mutt came loping over to them before they’d gone another few paces down the road, the short shriek of a girl following in its wake, and Lein chuckled as Erith ran after the dog. “I’m starting to wonder if we’ll ever leave,” he shot sideways at Argis.

“Toran!” Erith yelled at the dog, “Toran, come here!” but the hound ignored her completely, marching up to Lein and sticking his wet nose straight into Lein’s hand. The scratchy muzzle tickled and Lein knelt to play with his ears. Eirith laughed too, and begged him to play hide and seek with her again. “I can’t this time,” he said, and her little face fell. “I’m going on an adventure with my friend.” But when he straightened, he fished a taffy treat out of an accessible pocket of his bag for her, and took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “You look after Toran here,” he said, “And be good, won’t you. You remember what I taught you last time?”

She brought her little fists up into a pretty decent fighting stance and lashed out at him with a good jab-cross combination. He let the strikes connect with his stomach, though he tensed against the blows just in case. They weren’t half bad.

“Don’t let them get hold of you, but if they do, kick them where it hurts and run,” she said seriously.

“That’s it,” he laughed, ruffling her hair. “And don’t ever let anyone push you around. You still practising your reading and writing?”

She nodded again, her face earnest. “Pavo’s been going through some stories with me.”

“Good. You can make anything you like of yourself when you’re old enough,” he laughed. “Now, I must be going.” He scratched Toran’s ears one last time, and Argis said nothing as they left, though Lein had the distinct impression that he was looking at him more intently, as though he had just learned something new about his thane. “She’s sweet,” Lein mused aloud. “She often gets lonely there I think. Her parents work the mines, and Toran’s her only friend really. I got to know her a bit when I did a favour for one of the other miners.”

“Taught her some useful tricks too,” Argis added, eyeing Lein’s stomach where the girl had punched him.

“Yeah, well… It never pays to be too careful out here, and especially for a young girl.” He cast his eyes back at the retreating pair, cavorting around in the road again, Toran barking furiously. “And she’ll be a pretty young woman when she grows up. I’d hate to see her get hurt.”

Argis smiled again, and fixed him with his hazel eye. “Yeah,” he said, voice cracking.

Lein flashed him a quizzical look, but the housecarl only shook his head.

Neither man spoke as they walked briskly down the path, and Lein caught the whiff of wood-smoke as they neared the bridge and the signpost at the end of the valley. The sun broke gloriously above the mountains, light gilding the curved under-bellies of the clouds and filling the early day with a weak warmth. Their breath still fogged the air, and Lein took the path that led to Solitude. Up ahead they saw the signs of a Khajiit camp, the bleary eyed traders wrapped up against the Skyrim cold. Ri’saad, the elderly Khajiit sitting cross-legged on his mat, looked up brightly and purred when Lein crouched in front of him. Lein traded a few bits and bobs from him more out of courtesy than necessity, and Ri’saad murmured softly, “May your roads lead you to warm sands.”

Lein straightened with a rueful laugh and said, “I’m afraid our road leads us to icebergs and snowstorms, but I pray your road leads you back to warm sands soon, friend.”

The Khajiit nodded, tip of his tail twitching against the thick mat beneath him, but he said nothing more as they left.

Thick, heavy raindrops began to darken the earth about an hour later, and Lein grumbled, pulling up the shrouded cowl he liked to wear on the road. It was enchanted to improve his already impressive archery skills, but it served nicely to keep the rain out as they followed the wide, gushing river which carved a deep path, rushing and rumbling away to their right. A series of stunningly high waterfalls plunged down into foaming depths, and Lein felt his head spin a bit as he got too near the edge. For a dragonborn, who could supposedly ride on the backs of the great winged beasts, he had a piss-poor head for heights. Added to that was the evidence of mudslides and cliff collapses, no doubt brought on by the autumn rains. Piles of rubble, and raw-looking wounds gaping in the hillside, were clearly visible from the edge, and he rapidly found himself back on the relative safety of the paved road.

As they glimpsed the stone bridge at the end of the road, Argis grabbed him and hissed, “Forsworn, outside Kolskeggr Mine.” And he dropped down out of sight behind a boulder, leaving enough space for Lein to duck in next to him.

“How many?” Lein asked, sinking into a crouch beside him and drawing his bow from the hook on his pack, nocking an arrow in a swift, silent motion. The daedric bow, Flamekiss, crackled with magicka in his hands.

“I saw three, but there could be more,” he breathed, also nocking an arrow to his own bow.

Lein saw a movement then on the road and took aim, loosing the shaft on the exhale. The Forsworn went down with a yell in a cloud of red flames, and the other two rushed over to inspect the commotion, setting themselves up perfectly for Argis and Lein to take them out from their hiding place.

“I can’t see any more,” Argis murmured, straightening. “Wait here though. I’ll check…”

“I’m coming with you,” Lein hissed, and they made their way down the slope together. When no shrieking Forsworn hurled themselves out of the underbrush at them, they carried on their way, taking the road towards Karthwasten.

Just past Kolskeggr, the river broadened out into a rocky valley, splitting off east in one direction and north in another, the rocky promontory forming a bastion for what Argis told him was a series of Forsworn camps. Lein also knew that the Skyhaven Temple stood perched on the very top, wreathed as usual in a gloomy, dark cloud.

Beneath bare, wind-blasted trees, their branches adorned only with wet hanging moss, the two men passed in silence once more. Lein paused on the bridge below the Lover’s Stone to admire the plunging cascades, leaning on the damp stonework a moment. The dull ringing of a nirnroot caught his ears and he looked down to see the little plant glowing softly in the shadow of the bridge. He cast a playful look back at Argis, grinned, and then, to his housecarl’s complete horror, vaulted over the side of the bridge. Argis must have thought he was leaping to his death, because he yelped Lein’s name and rushed to the masonry edge, but sighed in relief when he saw that his thane was standing in ankle-deep mud just a short distance down, with the now-silent herb dangling triumphantly from his gloved fingers.

Lein flashed him another white smile, and Argis shook his head. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, still shaking his head. “I swear it, you’ll scare me to death.”

Lein only laughed and stowed the plant in his herb pouch before scrambling back up to the road again, accepting the gauntleted hand that his housecarl offered down to him. Argis’ good mood faded noticeably, however, as they neared the shadowy entrance to a cave. “Blind Cliff Cave,” he murmured. “Forsworn bastion. There’s a pair of hagravens there too.”

“I know,” Lein nodded. “Though there’s only one now, and she’s actually not entirely evil.”

“What?” he blasted, clearly shocked, coming to a dead halt. “They’re all evil.”

He shrugged, though Argis’ reaction had taken him by surprise. “Yeah, I’ll agree with you, but I had a contract from the jarl to recover his familial shield. One of the hagravens had stolen it. Petra, her name was.” Argis’ scowl deepened and he stayed rooted to the spot, glowering. “Anyway, Petra pissed Melka, her sister, off by taking over the tower and locking her up inside. I met the sister when I did the contract, and she started talking to me through the bars of her cage.” Argis was clearly still astounded, but Lein pressed on. “I nocked an arrow quick as you like, but she promised she wouldn’t harm me if I helped her kill her sister. I figured I’d give it a go – I’ve taken on hagravens before – so I freed Melka, and she gave me a flashy staff in return for my help.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t choose to go back in there, but I think that’s the only hagraven in the whole of Tamriel we don’t need to worry about.”

Argis’ huge feet seemed to have frozen to the hard-packed dirt of the road. “You helped one of them?” he hissed, breath shivering. “You know what they’re like, what they do to people… and still… you helped one?”

Lein’s eyes narrowed. “She was a useful ally in a very hairy situation,” he said carefully.

“You should have run her through afterwards,” he spat, stamping off down the road away from Blind Cliff Cave entrance.

Lein was stunned. He had never heard such acid venom from the quiet, gentle man.

With one last look over his shoulder at the bastion walls just visible in the cliffs above them, he hurried after him. With the river on their right, Lein walked along at the pace of a soldier, and Argis, equally unrelenting, kept perfectly in step along the mountainous river-gully path. His mood was black and sour as the clouds above them.

The silence that hung between them was different after that. It was awkward and sharp, like a stone in Lein’s boot, and he kept casting sidelong looks at his housecarl. Argis marched beside him, eyes locked on the horizon, jaw grinding, mouth set in a grim expression for miles until they came to the fork in the road which led to Karthwasten. Three imperial soldiers took a collective look at the two men and encouraged them to head to Solitude to join up. Lein had no interest in taking sides, and was a thane in places under both Stormcloak and Imperial control. He nodded politely at the soldiers and then continued on down the road.

They ate bread and cheese on the side of the road, barely stopping long enough to wash it down with some weak ale, and continued on their way as the day progressed. They’d barely said more than two words to each other since Blind Cliff Cave.

Smoke rose from an upper courtyard when they neared Broken Tower Redoubt, and Argis hissed that they could probably sneak past the lower battlements undetected or turn left at a cairn just before the keep, a route that would take them north instead towards the Stormcloak camp and then Dragonsbridge.

“I’d planned to go through Morthal and up that way to Windstad rather than over towards Solitude…” he said, still speaking cautiously as Argis was clearly still rattled by their talk at Blind Cliff Cave. “Which way would you rather go?”

Argis seemed taken aback by the question. “I… Why would you ask me?”

Lein smiled. “You said you’d been to Solitude but that it was a while back, but also that you’ve never been to Morthal. You might want to go to either.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“But…” Argis scowled. “But…?”

“But what? I’m the thane so we have to do what I say?” he snarled. “I’m the monster who helped a hagraven once so I’ve lost all your respect, if ever I had it? Is that it?”

Argis blinked, looking surprised all over again. He licked his scarred lips and sighed, softening, the anger draining out of him at the sight of the hurt expression plastered across Lein’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually, exhaling. “Truly, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Lein murmured, casting a glance back at the fortress looming ahead, hoping no one could see them.

“No,” Argis muttered. “It isn’t. It’s no secret that I hate the hagravens and the Forsworn with everything I am, but I wasn’t there with you in that tower. I had no right to judge you for your actions, or tell you how you should have handled it. I’m sorry.”

Lein’s mouth twitched into a smile and he clapped Argis on the shoulder. “You scared me there, big guy, with that anger of yours. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Argis’ face fell a little further and he blushed. “I don’t get angry very often,” he said, his voice rough and harsh as gravel, “But after what happened to… Something about hearing that you helped them just made me snap. I’m sorry.”

“Now’s not the time for this,” Lein said, turning back to the keep. As much as he desperately wanted to know what had happened to Argis, they had to get past the keep. “You want to sneak past, and head down to Morthal, or go to Dragonsbridge and Solitude?”

Argis eyed the keep, squinting in the flat light of the wet afternoon. Lein wondered if his eyesight gave him trouble. “What do you want to do?” Argis asked, still keeping his eyes on the castle.

“Either is fine,” he grinned.

“Alright,” he sighed. “Morthal. But I’m not sure I’m going to be as stealthy as you in this plate armour…”

Lein eased his pack down off his shoulder and rummaged around in the bit where he’d stashed his potions - carefully this time. He handed Argis a small bottle and said, “This should help…”

He looked at it with the same suspicion all Nords regarded potions that weren’t directly for healing, but he obviously decided Lein wasn’t about to give him skeever poison, and downed it.

“Come on,” Lein grinned. “You’re so quiet even I can’t hear you behind me.”

“Shut up and keep going, thane,” Argis snickered as they passed the doorway, creeping around the buttresses and making it past the keep without being discovered.

Shaking a little with built-up adrenaline, Lein stood on the cliff-top out of sight of the castle, and stared off into the distance. Argis stood beside him. “Is that Solitude?” the big housecarl asked, nodding at the barely-visible outlines of the city on the promontory.

“Yeah,” he said. “And behind that low, jagged peak there is Windstad. Morthal,” he added, pointing further east, “Is over that way.” He squinted through the rain that had been falling steadily all day. “Looks like the snows have come early this year in the north,” he grumbled as he saw white-dusted pine trees and the shoulders of the mountains banked with deep snow already.

With a sigh that mingled with the whipping wind, Lein turned away and began to walk slowly down the steep hill. He snagged idly at some sweet lavender from the roadside as they descended the blustery ridge, and he busied himself with tucking some of it jauntily into a buttonhole on his warm leather jerkin. He was so preoccupied with it that he didn’t even see the wolf in the craggy rocks to his right before Argis had snatched his own hunting bow from his back and loosed at it. It went down with a snarl, one of Argis’ ebony arrows lodged deep in its eye socket.

Lein looked up in surprise and then turned to Argis, who was calmly fitting his bow back on his backpack. When the housecarl looked up, he seemed almost embarrassed.

“Thank you,” Lein breathed. “I wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Argis mumbled modestly.

“Good thing,” Lein chuckled. “Come on.

Their progress east drew a yawn from Argis and Lein realised that while the heavy-set housecarl trained every day with the other guards, he was not used to walking long distances. “You think we should make camp soon?” Lein asked him.

Argis looked at the cloud-covered sky, squinting as rain splashed into his eyes, and he shrugged. “I’m tired,” he admitted, “But I don’t think it’s even late afternoon yet.”

“You’re good to keep going a little while longer then? We could rest up near Crabber’s Shanty,” he said. “But it’s a good five or six miles til then, and there’s a bandit camp at Robber’s Gorge we’ve got to get round first…”

“No, that’s ok,” Argis smiled. “I’m not gonna faint on you.”

“Good to know,” Lein grinned. “I don’t think I could carry you.”

Argis’ smile broadened and he looked at him more softly still. “It won’t come to that,” he said as they tramped along the curving road together. “Don’t worry. How are you holding up though? If you’ve had more than three hours sleep, you can call me a goat.”

Lein’s laughing response was cut short as his sharp eyes caught sight of a trio of dark wolves high on the hill above the path, but almost before he’d had time to register them, Argis had tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at two much larger predators stalking the paved surface of the road.

“Sabres,” he murmured.

“One each, one shot only?” Lein smirked.

“You’re on. And no extra magic.”

Lein raised his hand to his chest in mock horror. “I’m insulted!”

“Shut up, or you’ll lose our advantage,” he chuckled, sinking into a crouch and nocking an arrow in perfect synchrony with Lein.

Lein’s shot sailed through the air and thudded home in the beast’s forehead. Its mate spun with a snarl, claws digging into the road as it thundered along towards them. Argis cursed and loosed, but missed wildly. He swore and nocked another arrow, but Lein could see it was going to take him too long to aim. He already had another nocked. “Argis?”

“Do it,” he sighed. “I’m much better with a greatsword anyway.”

The second arrow whizzed and hit its mark, the sabre crumpling into the dust, carried several yards in a dramatic skid by the momentum of its charge. “Phew,” Lein breathed, stowing his bow back in its place. “Right, that’s enough, Mother Nature. I just want to get to Crabber’s Shanty now.”

Argis laughed softly in agreement. The road down onto the rocky pass in the mountains was mercifully empty, and Lein stopped every now and again to pluck tundra cotton and mountain flowers from the side of the way.

“You ever actually do anything with those?” Argis asked.

“You mean ‘do I weave pretty purple flower crowns with them’?’” Lein half giggled, skipping a couple of paces. When Argis barked a laugh in response, he added, “Yeah. This one’s got a number of uses,” he said, holding up a purple mountain flower and twirling it thoughtfully between his finger and thumb. He tapped Argis on the breastplate with it. “There was one in the potion you drank back there to sneak past those Forsworn.”

They laughed and joked, and Lein was pleased to find Argis relaxing again in his company. He wasn’t about to push him to talk about his hatred of the hagravens or the Forsworn just yet, but he would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t interested.

Rounding the corner to a crossroads as evening deepened behind the dense grey clouds, Lein caught sight of a cart standing abandoned in the centre of a crossroads, with a chest sitting in the bed. Suddenly everything felt very wrong. He froze, and then tugged Argis back behind a rock.

“What is it?” Argis asked warily, recovering his balance, though he did not pull his arm out of Lein’s grip.

Lein shook his head, fingers clenched tight. “Bandits in the rocks. I’m sure of it. Hang on,” and he cast Argis a sidelong look. “I’m… er… going to shout, but, don’t worry, it’ll be a quiet one.” He watched Argis’ mismatching eyes narrow first in confusion, and then widen when he realised he was going to witness the dragonborn using the power of the Voice.

“Why?”

“It’s a shout to detect the life-force of all living things nearby. It’ll tell me how many there are. Ready your bow though, just in case.” He cleared his throat and added, “And it might make my eyes look kind of funny for a bit. Well, funnier than they already do anyway.”

Argis nodded, but still didn’t say anything. He seemed to have gone completely mute, and Lein couldn’t work out if it was from fear or excitement.

Lein took a moment to think on the words he would need, and on the true essence of their meaning. He inhaled deeply, and drew on the dragonblood inside him, calling on the power of the Voice, channelling the millennia of knowledge and magic. He felt the words rasp out of him in a shuddering whisper. “Laas yah nir.” His vision went black as his eyes readjusted and then the scene returned to him, exactly as it had been before. The only difference was the addition of five shimmering, red auras concealed in the rocks ahead.

Without turning to look at Argis, Lein readied his bow and crept forwards. Using signs he’d picked up from guards, he signalled how many there were, and their locations. Argis tapped his shoulder to signal his silent understanding.

Loosing two arrows in rapid succession, Lein silenced a couple of bandits before they could even work out what was happening. The others ducked out of range, and he heard an arrow sailing through the air, sinking into the frost chilled ground not three feet from where he had taken up position. He knew he’d have to fight at close range soon.

Drawing his ebony sword, feeling the magicka crackling in it, he stowed his bow again and sprinted out of his hiding place and ducked as another arrow shot at him. He heard Argis yell his name in desperate warning, but he didn’t stop to look. The hilt fitted perfectly in his palm, his fingers gripping it just tightly enough to wield it with confidence. As a huge orc charged, bellowing like a wounded mammoth, he ducked beneath the blow and drove the blade deep into his belly, turning and slicing his head clean off from behind. Another arrow embedded itself in the hillside beside him, and he rolled behind a boulder. He heard Argis give a great war shout, and peered out to see the steel of his massive greatsword flashing in the dim light.

Locked in combat with a big Nord in heavy near the cart, overburdened by the pack on his back, Argis couldn’t see the other bandit along the road on his blind side, aiming an arrow straight him. The shimmering effects of the shout still half blinded him, but he pelted down the hill, stones flying as he sprinted down the road. He shot past Argis and took on the remaining bandit alone. Their fight didn’t last long.

Lein turned back towards the chest, blade running red with blood, and saw Argis leaning on the hilt of his greatsword, the point dug into the cobbles of the road, clutching at his stomach, with the bandit lying dead at his feet. Blood was running between his fingers, and Lein’s heart lurched. “Gods, Argis,” he said, darting to his side. Dropping his sword in the dust, he reached his hands out, a golden light blossoming in his palms, and Argis sucked in a sharp breath as the warm light wrapped itself around him.

"Wha-? Hey!” he coughed, “That felt good!” He staggered a bit, and Lein steadied him, beginning to laugh in relief, amused by Argis’ head-rush.

“First time anyone’s used magic on you, I’m guessing,” he chuckled. And then he realised what he was really seeing. The aura whisper was still active, and red mist swirled around him, through him, in a pattern that Lein had never seen before. It was entrancing. Mesmerised by it, he simply stared until it began to fade and he felt his eyes returning to normal again.

“Lein?”

Wide eyed, he still couldn’t tear himself away from it as the last swirls of energy whipped around Argis’ chest.

“You ok? What’s wrong?”

“I…” he breathed, faltering, feeling lightheaded himself. “I’ve never seen an aura so beautiful,” he hissed, not even caring if he sounded foolish. He blinked and stared again. He realised with a jolt that his hand was actually resting on Argis’ chest-plate, fingers splayed, palm pressed against him. He jerked it back like he’d been shocked by lightning. “Gods, I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” and he turned away, busying himself with opening the chest and exploring the contents. “Fifty two gold, three lockpicks, and one bar of refined malachite,” he murmured to himself. He counted out twenty six gold pieces and popped them into his own coin purse at his belt. The rest he handed to Argis.

The housecarl took the pouch, but did nothing with it. When Lein realised this, he frowned. “It’s yours,” he said.

“What?”

“Half of it anyway.”

Argis stared at the bag in his hands like he’d never held so much gold in one go. It wasn’t that much, and Lein didn’t understand his bafflement. “My thane,” he murmured. “I… Are you sure?”

“You fought for your life back there - and mine - you earned it nine-times over!”

“But…”

“Come on,” Lein scowled, picking up his sword and tramping off down the road without looking back. The rain was easing up now, but the road was slick, slowing his usual march to a fast walk.

At the base of a waterfall, Lein noticed the setting sun flashing off a chest tucked away beneath a tree, and slithered down the rocks, wading up to his thighs in the freezing water. The lock must have been designed by a master locksmith, because it took him a couple of goes to get it open, but he was rewarded with another load of gold, a flawless diamond, and an enchanted ebony dagger. He looked up to see Argis coming more carefully down the riverbank, his heavy frame and armour putting him at a disadvantage over Lein in his flexible metal-studded leather.

Paused on the island in the middle of the shallow river, Lein nodded up at the palisade wall of the camp on the promontory. The towers of the encampment overlooked a mudcrab-filled pool into which the river drained, and he hissed, “That’s Robber’s Gorge. We want to avoid that if we can.”

Argis nodded in agreement, and followed Lein’s lead as he snuck up the hillside, his leathers squelching horribly after wading through the river. The little hut drew into sight in the distance, just visible in the middle of the narrow pass in the mountains as darkness fell properly around them.

Lein picked his way up the river, calling back to Argis, who was falling further behind him, to watch his ankles. There were hidden mudcrabs everywhere in the soft silt, and they liked nothing more than to grab at the heels of the passers by who disturbed them.

He heard Argis trip and stumble more times than he could count, and eventually there was a louder crash and a curse as he went down. “Fuck.”

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” he moaned, with a definite tone of dejection in his voice. He dusted himself off and mumbled, “I… I just… with my eye, I don’t do very well in the dark.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Lein said. “That was thoughtless of me. I completely forgot.” He looked up at the shack and then back at Argis’ face. “Forgive me.”

In the fading light he looked surprised, but not offended, that Lein had forgotten that he was blind in that eye.

“It’s not far. I’m thinking we should camp on the far side of the hut. There’s usually a fisherman there, and I doubt she’ll share with us.” He watched Argis brushing dirt and mud off his trousers and adjusting his pack where it had shifted during his fall. Lein stepped back to him and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t bring a torch. We’re out of sight of Robber’s Gorge now. Here,” and he took Argis’ hand in his. Before he could get distracted by the smooth calluses and warm gentleness of his hand in Lein’s, he placed a ball of magelight in it, and when it hit his palm, it stuck there.

Argis turned his palm down to illuminate the rocks and then looked up at Lein. “How… How long will this last?”

“Not very long,” he said, trying hard not to laugh at the Nord’s nervousness. “And if you like, I can re-cast it when it goes out.”

“Thanks,” he said warily, still unsure about the magical light stuck to his hand. “It’s kind of freaky,” he said, wiggling it around. Lein did laugh then, and turned away to keep walking, more slowly this time, and much closer to him.

Argis still had trouble in the dark, and Lein wondered if perhaps the contrast between the blue-white glow of the magelight against the blackness was too great, still distorting the distances which he must have had trouble judging in full daylight, let alone darkness.

He coughed nervously after a few minutes and then, as Argis stumbled again on a loose river rock, said, “Look, I don’t want to patronise you, but would it be easier if you grabbed my arm?”

The housecarl sighed. In the silence behind the gesture, the magelight glimmered into nothingness and he watched Argis’ head lower, both his eyes closed. “Probably. I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re not a burden,” Lein said, stepping close to him. “And it’s not your fault. Come on,” and he touched Argis lightly on his left arm. He slid his left hand up Lein’s slender arm and held him gently between his thumb and forefinger just above his elbow.

He didn’t trip half so much with Lein to guide him, and when they reached the hut a few minutes later, they saw the sleeping figure of a woman lying in the bed, just as Lein had predicted. His hand was warm and his grasp gentle, and Lein never wanted him to let go.

“There’s a nice spot I’ve used before, just up here,” he said. “There’s a good, clean waterfall, and some sheltered rocks.”

They waded through the shallow stream and crossed onto the far bank. All was exactly as Lein remembered. Except for the sabre cat curled up in his usual campsite. “Perfect,” Argis murmured when Lein told him what he could see. “What do we do now?”

With a snarl of frustration Lein drew his bow and shot the creature while it slumbered. He felt sorry for killing it, but there was no way he was making Argis walk another step in the dark. The man was exhausted and embarrassed, and they needed to curl up themselves, dry off their clothes around a fire, and get some sleep. They could afford to take a much shorter day the next day, even though the snows were beginning to fall over the forests around Morthal.

“Do we have to sleep with the corpse of that cat?” Argis asked. If Lein had told him to kiss a draugr he wouldn’t have sounded less thrilled.

“No,” Lein chuckled. “I have an idea. It’ll take another shout though. First one I ever learned. You up for one last bit of magic tonight?”

Argis smirked. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, but sure, why not?”

The carcass of the big cat was blasted away under the power of Lein’s full shout of unrelenting force, leaving the campsite clear for them. They watched as it was washed away on the current of the river below.

Argis laughed long and loud as it spun through the air like a child’s toy flung aside, then let out a huge grunt as he took off his pack and rolled out his shoulders. “How far have we come today, you reckon?” he asked as he flopped onto the ground beside it and began to undo his bedroll from where it was strapped in a waxed sack to the bottom of the pack.

Lein undid his own and set it down on the ground in the relative shelter of the rocks. “Easily twenty miles,” he said. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow. It’s been ages since I’ve covered that much ground on foot.”

“Me too,” Argis groaned, kicking off his wet boots. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a spell for drying out clothes, have you?”

Lein chuckled. “No, but if you take your wet things off and give them to me I’ll light a fire and they can dry overnight.” He could have sworn he heard Argis mutter something about Lein stripping him, but since he wasn’t entirely sure, he definitely didn’t want to mention it. “I don’t think it’s going to rain or snow any more tonight.”

With a fire going, wearing clean clothes and with their wet ones drying beside it on a makeshift driftwood rack, they both wolfed down some more bread and cheese, washed down with fresh water and a pint each of Nord Ale, and slipped into their bedrolls. Both men lay close to the fire for warmth as the late Frostfall snows began to gather in the distance. Lein lay on Argis’ right side, close enough that if they stretched their arms out, they would meet in the middle. He curled up in his bedroll, wearing just a linen shirt and his underwear inside the thick fur-lined sleeping bag, since his trousers were still soggy from the river. Normally he’d have put socks on, but he’d been too lazy to fish them out, so he lay there with icy toes and waited for sleep.

Argis was asleep in two minutes flat, snoring softly, the bedroll folded slightly back off his chest, as though he needed to vent heat instead of conserve it like Lein. His left arm was flung up above his head, and his right bent at the elbow, hand resting on his chest as it rose and fell. He shuffled in his sleep, and that hand shifted to lie on the damp grass beside him. The heat and glow of the fire was gorgeous, and Lein tried hard not to stare at the sharp planes of Argis’ roughly-hewn face in the light of the little flames, at his long lashes, or the way his exposed arm lay elegantly over the cool grass, fingers curled softly inwards, palm up.

He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the bare skin of his arm, to feel those calluses again, to slip his fingers into Argis’ hand and feel his warmth flow into him.

Unable to bear it any longer, he allowed himself one tiny luxury. Repeating the words of the aura whisper shout from earlier, he sighed as that gently-swirling red energy filled his vision again. It twisted in and out of Argis’ body like smoke from an extinguished candle, spiralling and coiling around him lazily, richly, warmly. He stared unashamedly at him until the effects died and exhaustion washed over him.

When he woke with a start as usual some time in the dead of night, he saw that Argis hadn’t moved. Lein realised that he’d not shouted or screamed this time. He’d only awoken suddenly with that feeling of falling common to many dreamers who found themselves jolted awake in the night. Lein lay on his left side facing Argis still, and sighed. And then he frowned. There was a pressure on his right hand. He turned his eyes and looked down to where his right arm was lying on the ground between him and Argis. His eyes widened and his heart began to clang when he saw what was causing the pressure.

The housecarl’s strong fingers were clenched around Lein’s own.

His brown and blue eyes darted to Argis’ face, but the man appeared to be fast asleep. Lein couldn’t breathe for a moment he was so overwhelmed by the gesture. He didn’t care if it was an accident; he didn’t care if Argis had no idea he’d done it, or whether Lein himself had reached out for him in his dreams. What made his heartbeat thud in his throat was the fact that Argis was holding him, not the other way around.

Right then, as the unease that had woken him faded from his consciousness, that touch seemed the only thing anchoring him to the rocky hills of Skyrim, and he clung to Argis. He clung to him as sleep reached up for him a while later, letting the tingling warmth of the man’s hand guide him into a deep, and astonishingly peaceful sleep.

Chapter Six

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#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #argis the bulwark #argis #argis x male dragonborn #argis x dragonborn #male dragonborn #skyrim fanfic #fantasy #mlm #mlm story #mlm fantasy story #thane x housecarl #ghosti's fanfiction

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paramedicsuicide · 6 years ago

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First responder suicide -- PTSD, or something else?

Its 1:30am. I sit on my computer in complete darkness, having just slept for the past 10 hours. As a Paramedic in a suburb of a relatively small US city, I work 12 hours shifts for 4 straight days. I get 4 days off to recuperate after that, and at this point in my career those days are essential for my survival. Many of my co-workers are not lucky enough to be able to stop at just 4 days, and must work additional overtime shifts in order to make ends meet. The private EMS industry has relatively low wages nationwide. We are the "red headed step child" of emergency services, often hiding in the shadows of police officers, firefighters, and nurses. There is no such thing as a "typical" shift when working in EMS. There are the occasional shifts where I will sit in the parking lot of the local convenience store chain for 12 straight hours without picking up a single patient. The glow of my cell phone screen illuminating my face for each passing person to see the life draining out of my body. The boredom sets in after hour 2. My legs and butt hurt. I am hungry, but I can't tell if its true hunger or just my body telling me to get up and move. I decide to walk inside to browse the aisles of colorful treats, getting nauseous at the thought of eating "lunch" out of a gas station at midnight for the 3rd day in a row. Despite my disgust, I walk outside with 2,000 or more calories of junk food at a time in an attempt to eat myself to death. "Ill be diabetic by the end of the week" I say to my partner as I open my fudge dipped granola bar. As the career of a first responder goes on, most quickly start to pack on the pounds like a bear preparing for winter. Company policy prevents you from sleeping during your shift, so your food (if you can call it that) is washed down with 16oz of your favorite energy drink to keep you awake and ready to pick grandma up off the floor when she attempts her 2am bathroom run. I have palpitations from all the caffeine. Hopefully one day those PVC's turn into an arrhythmia and the lord takes me. "Anything to get out of this job" I say, as I polish off my second monster of the night. Morning rolls around. 50mg of benadryl will help me fall asleep after drinking energy drinks all night long. I have severe shift sleep disorder. I am depressed. I just want to sleep. I wake up ready to go after just 4 hours of sleep. Great. Another night of pounding monsters. I punch in 15 minutes early for my next shift and am assigned a call before I am even scheduled to start. I am the only ambulance available in the surrounding 15 square miles of suburbia, and that trend will continue for the next 12 hours. Call after call, I don't have time to finish my paperwork before being sent on the next run. Its 11pm and dispatch calls my unit number for the 5th time today-- "With the fire department for a 1 year old post choking". I have taken 50 calls of the same nature before and say out loud-- "Great, another bullshit call". Every day, nervous parents call 911 over the slightest cough or sniffle which eventually numbs you to the potential of a true pediatric emergency. Its never a real emergency. Until it is. Rolling up on scene after the fire department, I grab my house bag and begin to waddle towards the low income apartment building for the third time this week. I think -- "I should have brought the tablet for a signature so I don't have to walk back outside". Suddenly, a firefighter rounds the corner carrying a limp child like he is holding an offering platter. "That's not good" I blurt out , going from zero to 100 in the snap of a finger. The firefighter tells me the child was eating chicken and rice when he began to choke. As my partner digs out the pediatric bag valve mask that has been sitting unused in the house bag for an unknown number of years, I set up the suction, only to find an unresponsive, apneic child with a clenched jaw. "That doesn't make sense" I think to myself as I try to peel apart his tiny jaw without any luck. Thank god-- he has a gap in his front tooth that fits a small, 12fr suction catheter. I start to go through the motions. Is he seizing? Nope. Any trauma visible or reported? No. Mom was asked again-- and again says the child was sitting up, eating, and suddenly started choking. What is going on here? With little to be done on scene, I rush to the small local hospital, nervous that the next squeeze of the bag could lodge a piece of food in this kids airway. I am getting good air exchange but his spo2 isn’t amazing. He must have aspirated. Great news. He is now moving his arms, and his eyes just opened. Wait, why is his jaw still clenched? That's not great news. This kid hasn't made a noise. What the fuck is going on. As I roll the stretcher into the small emergency room closest to the scene, I am greeted with that dreaded sentence from the ER Physician-- "why did you bring him here and not children's hospital". I bite my tongue-- its not the time to have that fight. The kid is now posturing. A few minutes go by and the doctor asks me to get my laryngoscope because the emergency room is not currently stocked with the proper pediatric equipment. Maybe he was right. The thoughts start rushing through my head-- "they are going to kill this kid. I should have just risked it and bypassed. It was only an extra 7 minutes or so further". As I sit there and wait for the next order, new thoughts take over. "Someone shook this kid. There is no other explanation". Hypertensive, bradycardic, posturing. But mom said he was choking on rice? Where would she get that from? Hmm. She doesn't seem as concerned as a mother should be. She answers a text message while being questioned by the police. She has yet to ask anyone how her son is doing. The texts start to come in to my phone. "Are you ok?". "I hear you had a bad call. You guys ok?" "WTF was that all about?". I am fine. Any provider who plans to have a lengthy career has to distance themselves from their patients. I can think back to every "bad" call I've taken, and never once have I been able to recall processing a patients face. Its not important. What they look like is irrelevant to my job. Its the circle of life. Some people live, some people die. Its my job to try and make that circle a little bit bigger if I can. Sometimes you are successful, sometimes you aren't. You have to come to terms with that early on. Minutes after calling in service from restocking, the radio chimes my unit number again. "Cold response to the fitness center for a hand laceration". I arrive on scene to find a psych standing out front in his blue paper clothes, clearly having been to an emergency room at least once today. “Hop on in buddy-- take a seat” I say as I shake my head. We drive him 3 blocks down the street to the same emergency room we left just a couple hours prior. I am not greeted like one would expect. Not with "Hello", not with "whats the chief complaint". I am greeted with a sentence that is never good news. "Did you hear?". Our child from earlier had been emergently transferred 6 miles away to the childrens hospital by a specialty transport team. The news from them was not good. "That kid -- he has a brain bleed". My suspicions were confirmed. He was never choking. Someone hurt this kid and tried to cover it up. I know how to handle this, because its not even the first time this situation has happened to me. People hurt kids often enough that I am not even shocked. Stories like this don't make the news *for a reason*. People cant handle stuff like this. No one needs to know that savages live in apartment 3. Some people have to know though. WE have to know. Its not OK. I talk about suicide often. My previous partner was a veteran and has PTSD from being deployed overseas. He has had many friends commit suicide after returning from war, and was concerned about my mental health. That should concern me. He would ask me once a week-- "Are you sure you are ok?". My little comments here and there come off as jokes to most people. "Id rather die than come into work tonight". "Pull out in front of this semi truck-- we wont feel a thing I promise". "Stage for police? Fuck that. I hope I get shot". In reality, its not a joke. I am not suicidal at this point in my life-- I am apathetic about living. I'm not going to take my own life, but I am definitely not excited when I wake up each morning. This feeling has slowly crept up on me over my almost 10 year career as a paramedic. I tell myself daily that I need to get out before its too late. What will be the breaking point where I become truly suicidal? I have to answer one question before I leave. "Where will I go?" I am burnt out. Everyone says "go to nursing school", but the passion-- the fire inside that makes you want to help people has been extinguished for years. Where can you go at 30+ years old with a paramedic certification and no useful degree. I have made financial commitments at my age that makes starting from scratch somewhere at entry level wages an impossibility. What can I do? Where can I go? I am stuck. This job is like quick sand, and I'm up to my shoulders. If I struggle much more it will be above my head. We get to see what goes on behind the curtains of society. How much would you enjoy a magic show if you knew how the magic was performed? That is what life is like for many first responders. Members of the general public get to wear blinders during their day to day lives. There are people who post rants to facebook if the garbage man didn't put their garbage can back in the correct spot. A terrible day for a typical person is a flat tire on the way home from work. They have no idea what happens in their town or city on a day to day basis. They have NO IDEA that 3 doors down, a husband beat the shit out of his wife for the 4rd time this year and she wont tell the police what happened. They have NO IDEA that people call an ambulance from the parking lot of an emergency room because they don't want to wait in the waiting room. They have NO IDEA that someone in apartment 3 just hurt their baby and tried to cover it up. But we know. We see it all. I have talked with a lot of people who have similar feelings. Its due to me being so open about my apathy towards life. People who I see every day, smiling at their coworkers and telling war stories and laughing. You would never guess these people were at the end of their ropes-- fighting off their own demons. "Make sure they have bagpipes at my funeral". I don't try and talk these people down because they don't want help. How could I help anyways? You cant just "un-know" the things we know. These people just feel comfort in the fact that they aren't alone. I have been lucky that none of these people have taken their lives yet. I know the day is coming. Its been a long time since a co-worker has committed suicide, and the statistics say we are over-due. How will I handle it?

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itstoastytodd-blog · 7 years ago

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COLD HANDS| Prologue | Jason Todd x Fem!Reader [Soulmate AU]

A/N: Phew, we made it. Ladies and gents, i present to you the first chapter of my Jason Todd soulmate au, that I had no idea what to name so here we are. Eh, pretty sure the name will start making sense somewhere along the road (I hope). Also like I get very intense at some point but it just make people squint and laugh so, I’m sorry in advance because I tried, I really did.

word count: 1943

Warning: Mentions of parents splitting up, depression, nerve damage.

Synopsis: Jason Todd isn’t bad at love. He just doesn’t know what it’s like. [Y/N] [L/N] has spent her entire life hoping that soul marks mean forever after. A journey to discovering love, pain, each other and themselves.

The first time Jason sees her, it’s in the middle of snowfall.

Gotham rests underneath a thick blanket of of white, cold and unforgiving, and the trees are sunken to their shins in snow. The streets are unsurprisingly empty, save for a brave few who struggle to trudge their way through the snow while the rest find shelter in the numerous shops that litter the barren streets, offering warmth that seems too unsettling to be welcoming.

Jason watches from a corner on the sidewalks as the snow falls softly onto the ground, masking itself into the layers already collected. The occasional car passes by, headlights disappearing into the fading darkness slowly as it passes, and Jason can’t help but think that it’s too silent for a Gotham night. But he pushes the though aside as he struggles to keep his hands warm inside the pockets of his sweater as he leans by a wall waiting for Dick.

That’s when he sees her across the street standing underneath a lamplight.

The light overhead hits the high points of her face as she looks sideways, black hair sprawling across her shoulders from underneath a bright red beanie, tan skin flushed gently pink by the cold. The tip of her nose stands out, a darker pink than her rosy cheeks. And as unbelievably cliche as it sounds, Jason knows that years later, when he thinks his life through, he’ll think that this was the moment he fell in love with her.

His phone vibrates against his hands inside the pocket of his sweater and he looks away, momentarily distracted. It keeps buzzing as he struggles to clam the slight shiver of his fingertips as he retrieves his phone, pausing slightly to huff a breath. And when he looks back at the lamplight as he presses his phone to his ear, she’s gone. He thinks that he sees a flash of bright red against the snow from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t turn his head to follow the movement, and faintly registers Roy’s voice inside his ear, calling his name.

It comes as a surprise to almost everyone who knows him, but Jason doesn’t like winter.

It’s cold and damp and heavy, and unnecessarily slippery. The cold just makes his job a lot harder than it actually has to be, and his only job is to get things done. The cold hinders him from doing just that. At least that’s what he tells everyone.

But the winter brings back memories that Jason wishes would have been buried with him. And they weigh him down and hold him back more than the slippery floors as he jumps across the roofs, and they flash in front of his eyes and sear their way through his brain and every time he finds himself reaching out to grab onto them, hoping that it would ease the pain.

It never does. It’s always there, subdued most of the time to a dull throb in the back of his throat, an ache in his bones that he thinks he can pass off as exhaustion. And most times, Jason doesn’t know if the pain is from struggling to keep his thoughts at bay or if it’s from the changing temperature that puts pressure on the persistent nerve damage, but it still hurts, and there is this certain heaviness in the way he walks. Jason knows the others see it too, but he’s glad they refrain from making comments.

He knows that his dislike for winter stems way back to when he was still a street kid, because back then it just meant that the streets were colder and the people were hungrier. He remembers latching onto the ground floor windows of the houses in downtown gotham. He remembers staring at the blinking lights that adorn the christmas trees until his eves sting. He remembers feeling like a child straight out of a Dickens’ novel (not that he knew it then), peering through the huge windows, looking at what he couldn’t have.

Which is why he finds himself in Crime Alley, just hours before dawn breaks, unlatching the hood and settling down next to a little girl. He holds a loaf of bread and a can of soup in front of her and watches as she hesitates momentarily before reaching out and grabbing the food from his outstretched hand. The way that she tears into the loaf reminds him of himself, but truth to be told, he sees himself in every orphan in crime alley. So he sits patiently by her side in the snow as a few more gather around, and he hands them more bread and soup from the sack that lies on the ground beside him.

“Sorry the soup’s cold,” he finds himself saying, and he waits as the children look up at him, incredulous almost, with a look in their eyes that’s disbelieving, grateful and ashamed all at the same time. And Jason recognises all of them. But then they look away, not saying anything at all. He still understands what they mean.

He stays a couple minutes more until his nose starts turning pink, numb from the harsh bite of the cold. Jason distinctly feels the domino mask cling tighter to his face and he knows that it’s going to a pain in the butt to take off later. He also knows, the sooner he gets off the floor the better, be he can’t bring himself to leave now, and he finds his fingers curling into the crisp white snow, tinted gently grey, almost as it he’s trying to find the street rat Jason Todd buried underneath the heaps of snow and dirt.

He lifts himself off the ground then, giving the children one last look as he puts his helmet back on, and walks out of the alley. The children don’t stop him. They never do, but still, he can feel their eyes on the back of his head as he turns the corner and out of their sight.

He realises, as he limps back to his apartment, that when the kids see him the following morning, sans the hood and the mask, they’ll run up to him and tell him all about Mister Red Hood and his bread and cold soup, and he tries to stop the happiness that blooms in his chest. He cannot.

To [Y/N] [L/N], life has always been simple. Painful, but simple. And it shows in the way she holds herself.

Her parents sit across from her, at a safe distance away from each other, but she’d rather focus on anything else than the way they’re looking at her right now; like she’s fragile, like she’s going to break if they do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing.

The clock ticks on the wall behind her, and once she gets a hold of the beat, she can’t let go, so she finds herself bouncing her thigh up and down to the rhythm. And she knows that her mother is watching her through those big glasses that sit slightly askew on the tip of her nose, but if her mother thinks anything of her nervous habit, she doesn’t do anything to point it out.

She’ll think later, when she’s in bed at night, pondering her whole life and guessing where it all went wrong, that this should’ve been the first clue.

“We’ve decided that we should see other people.”

She expects her own reaction to that statement to be explosive. She expects screaming and yelling and throwing things across the floor and storming out of her own apartment, but none of it ever comes. Instead the dread seeps into her toes and tickles the bottom of her spine, but otherwise stays at bay as she slowly lifts her head to meet eyes with the first man that broke her heart. Because she knew this was coming. She’s known for the past eight years.

In the back of her mind she registers both of her parents staring intently at her, expecting something, anything other than the nothing that she’s giving then right now, but instead, she just nods her head, pretending that she understands, when really she just wants to yell at them to look at each other’s names scrawled on their bodies, to open their eyes and look at what they’re throwing away.

But she also knows that this has been a long time coming. And despite the way her heart clenches in her chest, she can’t bring herself to do anything.

“You can’t force love,” she remembers he mother telling her, “sometimes love runs out and you’re left with memories of what it used to feel like.”

And she remembers asking her mother when you know that it’s ended, and she remembers the pause, and the heaviness in her mother’s voice still weighs down on her till this day.

So she just nods and stares back down at her plate and hopes to whichever god is up there that she doesn’t cry. She will not cry. Not now, after all these years that she’s spent crying herself to sleep, not after she’s spent her whole life blaming herself that her parents are not in love anymore.

Somewhere in a memory inside her mind, her mother’s voice rings out in her head, and she remembers it being soft and strained and laced with something akin to guilt, but tonight it’s crisp and clear and holds all the answers she’s been seeking for so long.

You know when you feel more in love with your memories than the person standing in front of you.

Days later when the conversations of that night have faded to dull whispers in her ears, blocked out by the sound of the grinding and whirring of the coffee machine, she lets her mind wander again.

Her therapist has told her many times, every time, actually, that if the mind is a clear blue sky, it’s always there. Even when it’s shrouded in inky black and dark clouds denser that she can comprehend and even even it feels like the storm is brewing in the back of her head and threatens to flood her senses. Trying to block out the storm only makes it worse, but never means that it’s not there, that it’s not happening.

And she knows that she should probably stop trying to compare her thoughts to catastrophes but they’re so destructive in her head that she can’t think of anything else.

It reminds her of a car crash. She doesn’t know what it is but it does, in the way that she remembers every detail before and after the crash but not the actual event save for the way her skin still feels the lingering touch the flames. It stings, hissing and angry against her body.

She can’t remember the last time she didn’t feel like she was crashing.

The cold helps with that. It numbs and it heals and soothes in ways that she doesn’t think anyone else understands.

Which is exactly why when everyone else finds home in the shops that litter the streets, warm lights blazing heat upon the frozen roads of Gotham city, she stands underneath a lamplight waiting to feel the sting disappear. Waiting until the flames that lick at surface have died out into nothing at the bottom of her feet.

And when it does, she walks away from the lamplight, unaware of blue eyes that try to find her in the snow later.

On the way home, she ignores the way the name underneath her collarbone itches.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood #jason todd #batboys fanfiction #batboys imagine #batfam imagine #batfam #i need a jason todd #this is 2000 words jfc #jason todd angst #batboys writings #mentions of #nightwing #dick grayson #roy harper #kinda angsty #also like jason and kids

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concussed-to-pieces · 8 years ago

Text

Downright Neighborly; Part Two

Fandom: WWE/TNA

Pairing: Jeff Hardy/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday Crew, welcome aboard our jaunty ship once again! Tagging our usual suspects, the Prince Of Badasses @toxiicpop, Strowman's Maestro @hardcorewwetrash and the All-Seeing Polaris @oraclegazes!

(Also I apologize, but due to my laptop losing its mind every time I try to tag people I'm going to abandon the 'new tagees' list. I am so sorry everyone! D: ) Enjoy!

[TRIGGER WARNING!: For occasionally vivid descriptions of unspecified eating disorder(s) and brief allusions to drug usage.]

You supposed you could have been a little less surprised when you woke up to nothing but a note and an empty house. You ended up staying in bed most of the day, staring at the ceiling and berating yourself not only for the crying (which you couldn’t seem to stop), but for thinking that he would actually stay. Nobody ever stayed, that just wasn’t how things were in your world.

You were all alone out here for a reason.

The next few days were difficult. Calling in to work wasn’t really an option. Everything seemed to remind you of that…well. You kept thinking that you heard him, or caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. But it was just your imagination, wishful thinking.

So you rotated the fruit and swallowed your tears, and if you were a little quieter, well, that was allowed in this instance.

Just go to work, do the work, come home, go to sleep. Repeat.

You started asking for more hours. The silence of the woods around your house felt like it was crushing you on your days off so you decided that less days off were the solution. The passage of time was marked by the quiet ding of the microwave; your garden wasted away outside while you sat in the kitchen with the blinds down.

You had nightmares about Crazzy Steve suffocating you, filthy fingers pressed over your nose and mouth, about Rosemary beating your head in on the front steps with a loose brick.

And that was the worst part, waking up in a cold sweat, chest pitching for breath as you shivered and tried not to cry because you were sick of crying and no one, no one was there to comfort you.

...

When you heard the lawnmower start up one morning you thought you were still dreaming. You pulled yourself out of bed and got dressed. Movements slow and creaky like a sleepwalker, you trudged down your front steps and out into the woods.

The woods that you'd dragged Jeff through by the back of his pants, the woods you'd run through to get to safety. It felt like another lifetime ago.

You hated how your heart fell when you realized it was just Señor Benjamin, the old man offering you a friendly wave from atop the machine when he spotted you. He started making an (incredibly slow) beeline across the lawn towards you. The grass was almost mid-shin height.

“Hola, neighbor! The Hardys aren’t around at the moment, would you like to leave a message?” He asked after he’d stopped the mower blades.

You shook your head. “I was just…I mean, do you know when they’ll be back?”

“Ah, they did not give me a specific date. Mister Hardy said sometime this spring. So I will carry on managing the grounds until they get back from their Expedition.” Benjamin’s words made your heart sink and you were barely able to nod in reply.

Spring.

Who the hell just upped skirts and left these days? You huffed out an angry breath as you stalked back to your house. The anger was a welcome change from the usual misery that seemed to hang over you like a rain cloud; you embraced the hot emotion gladly. You threw open your front door and glared accusingly at the trashcan that overflowed with microwave meal packaging, the sink full of dirty silverware.

I’m alone out here for a reason and no stupid boy with stupid tattoos is going to change that shit.

You were exhausted once you were done cleaning your house, but it wasn’t the achy exhaustion of depression that had grown so familiar in the past weeks. It was the exhaustion of a hard day’s work, the kind that left you bone-tired but absolutely satisfied with what you’d accomplished. With a mental promise to fix your garden back up tomorrow, you fell into bed and slept well for the first time since Jeff had left.

Keeping occupied was obviously the best course of action when it came to staving off the sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. You fixed up your garden and filled your kitchen with garlands of drying herbs, picked more jars for preserves and kept your longer shifts in the grocery store, tried to remember to eat.

Señor Benjamin stopped in at the store sometimes for essentials, and sometimes just to talk. You imagined upkeep on the somewhat massive Hardy estate couldn’t be easy for one man to handle, but he seemed to do fine on his own.

“It is…much less exciting without the boys around.” He mentioned one afternoon, smiling in a way that indicated he was perfectly fine with that.

The days grew shorter and the chilly weather set in. Having finally saved up enough to justify the purchase, you got internet for your home usage and proceeded to look up tutorials on growing plants indoors during the less temperate months. You were determined to keep the sadness at bay even through the cold and rain of winter, doing your best to stay out of the rut of remembering, doing your best to eat.

It was hard to take baths. You felt like your ribs poked out more when you laid down, like your hipbones jutted too far. Plus, that night flooded back into your brain every time you did, and you hated crying for stupid reasons. Jeff limping into the bathroom and holding his side, the wounds on his back--

You were better off showering. It didn’t take up so much time.

You were doing fine. It didn’t hurt anymore. You forgot to eat sometimes and most days it was a struggle to get out of bed but you were fine and it didn't hurt anymore.

…

“You've grown thinner.”

You had been dreading the holidays (while denying up and down that you were dreading them). But this shit kind of made spending Christmas Eve alone pale in comparison.

Willow had the audacity to just…sit at your kitchen table. With an ornate, black and white cup of what appeared to be tea held delicately with gloved fingers. They tilted their head when you walked in the door, but besides that they gave no indication that anything about this situation was odd. You, on the other hand, were more than flustered. The last time you’d seen them, they were a bit more…lively.

“Well, sit down already. Can I get you a cup? It’s orange pekoe.” Willow said impatiently after you stood in the doorway for several minutes, mentally debating on whether you should flee screaming into the cold, dark woods or whether you should grab some religious artifact and start fucking rebuking the black-cloaked being currently residing in your kitchen. There was, however, a decidedly more civil air to them versus your last encounter. No afterimages in the corners of your vision, barely any echo in your head from their voice.

“I uh…you’re not going to eat me?” You asked hesitantly. You could have sworn that tea set was not there a second ago.

They smirked. “Do you really think I would tell you? But no, if it makes you feel better, I’m not here to eat you. I’m not allowed to touch you, if you recall.” You cringed at the memory and you could have sworn Willow looked apologetic for a split second. It was gone just as quick, turned back into a neutral expression. “Sit down.” You stripped off your wet jacket and hung it beside the door, kicked off your boots and gingerly sat down across from Willow. They gestured up at the ceiling festooned with tinsel. “You have been keeping busy.”

You weren't sure why, but their tone struck you as almost...accusatory. White-blue eyes were narrowed at you. When the hell had doing what you wanted become something that would annoy some...well, whatever Willow was? “I'm sorry, why are you here?” You bristled in irritation. The day had been long and busy, you hadn't been looking forward to your lonely evening but if supernatural harassment was the alternative...

You weren't exactly Ebeneezer fucking Scrooge, and the creature across from you sure as hell wasn't Jacob Marley.

“I am here because I was told to be here.” Willow shrugged. “You have been calling me, you keep talking about not wanting to be alone on Christmas.”

“I did no such thi-”

“You do not have to say things out loud for me to hear them.” Willow interrupted your retort sharply. “Your thoughts pull me. I have no choice but to listen. To...obey, as I do with him.” You flinched at the indirect mention of Jeff and Willow cocked their head. “Ah. There is still something in your rib cage for him. You certainly do spend a lot of time adamantly not thinking about him. Which is still considered thinking about him, I should add.”

You stood up so suddenly your chair tipped over behind you. Willow had the grace to appear a little startled. “Get. Out.” You hissed after storming around the table and grabbing them by the front of their robe. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“You...are very like him, in a way.” Willow's smirk was back. “Alone, but bad at being alone. You scream for companionship in your mind but you say you do not want it with your mouth. How do you think he found me? Being the quiet child is such a lonely existence.”

“I don't...” Your grip slacked off and you took a deep breath. “I don't...I don't need anyone. I've been doing alright.”

Willow snorted. “So stubborn.”

“There's nothing I can do about it!” You burst out. “He left me, okay, freak show? Obviously I wasn't enough of a draw to get him to stick around just until I fucking woke up! Maybe he could have explained...maybe I could have...look, I've spent so much time thinking about this. You don't tell someone you care about them and then react favorably when they slink out on you the next morning, that's not how this crap works!”

“This plan has been in his mind for months. Meeting you changed nothing when it came to that. And yet, everything else has changed. He does not waste physically, but his own ribcage aches. His timing is, as always, impeccably terrible.” Willow's mouth twisted into a frown. “Not to mention his handwriting.”

A hysterical little snicker fought free at how indignant they sounded. You righted your chair and sat back down, putting your head in your hands. “I've been trying so hard. The first couple weeks, all I wanted to do was sit around and cry and feel sorry for myself.” You confessed through your fingers, not really sure why. “But I got up, I did. Every day. I got up and I went to work and I tried to forget that idiot and his stupid fucking brother and their stupid fucking fights and violins and...” You trailed off, swallowing back your tears.

“Nothing has worked. Your body is waning. Your mind is an absolute mess.” Willow's words were unflinchingly honest. “You are alone and it hurts you much more than you thought it would because you care for someone.”

“'Cared'. Past tense.” You corrected bitterly. “I'm done with that.”

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I don't remember asking, freak show.”

“Your empty ribcage misses him.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I was there, you know. I am always here and there, though we are separate sometimes.” Willow's tone was conversational as they refilled their teacup. “After you coupled like needy animals, he laid his head on your chest and told you he didn't want to forget. And you stroked his hair like he was a child, held him to your breast. He drank deeply from you and gave you every tiny bit of messy, haphazard emotion he could muster up in exchange for your comfort.” Willow paused, taking a sip from their cup. “He is not one to prattle. He believes in actions; your coupling was him saying what he could not bring himself to say.”

“P-Please stop, I...” You had lost your battle with tears but mercy seemed foreign to Willow.

“I watched him write his ridiculous letter, agonizing over what to say without speaking in that funny way that all humans do. It is an archaic form of communication, though it seems to encourage honesty.” They rolled their eyes. “Many problems of your kind could be solved by simply speaking to one another, but where is the poetry in that?” Willow cleared their throat, folding their gloved hands beside their teacup. “I am here because you called me. I am not here to scold. I am here to say what needs to be said before you do something that would be detrimental to your health.”

Your head snapped up and you glanced at the being across from you with a fair amount of trepidation.

Willow fixed you with a stern look. “Yes, I am aware. He has promised to return, so he will. And if only for my own entertainment, I expect you to meet him head on and make him regret leaving at all. Which you cannot do languishing away in your lonely castle with your precious vegetables.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” You asked plainly, wiping your nose on your sleeve.

“Care for yourself as you see fit. But...do it better.” Willow replied. “You must present a vengeful lioness, not a floundering gazelle.” They stood, and the tea set was abruptly gone. “I will take my leave, 'get back behind my line', as he would say. I have thoroughly enjoyed this visit. Even though I did not eat you.” Their tone was playful but still sent shivers down your spine. You got up from your chair by force of habit to open the door and Willow waved you off. “I saw myself in, I can see myself out. If anything happens, all you have to do is call. Oh.” They paused in the doorway, tugging on the corner of their mask as if they were doffing a cap. “And merry Christmas, Ebeneezer.”

…

It was mid-January when you started to show real signs of neglect. You personally had known for months but having actual proof was...it was difficult.

Vengeful lioness, my ass. You thought ruefully as you stood in front of your bedroom mirror, turning this way and that. It wasn't incredibly pronounced yet, but you knew it was only a matter of weeks before your weight would drop beyond hiding in baggy clothes. This was legitimately terrifying, all the negative emotions twisted up in a knot in your sternum. You couldn't help thinking of that Alien movie, where the creature burst out of the human's chest to the abject horror of the audience.

This wasn't science fiction, however. Granted, you had struggled with your weight before, but you had been much younger. It had been easier to bounce back then. Now you weren't so sure.

You sat down on the bed, staring at your hands for a while. What if he doesn't want me? Can I even do this on my own anymore? That was your biggest fear. If you tried to be careful for this whole time, tried to keep yourself healthy instead of giving in to the little voice that told you to stay in bed, told you that you weren't hungry, only to have Jeff react poorly...

“Never want to forget how you feel, never want to forget you, darlin'.”

You straightened up. He'd said over and over in his letter that he didn't want to forget. He'd said that he would come back. He didn't know about this side of me. He doesn't know anything about me. You frowned. Never mind what people around here will say if I start showing up to work looking like a fucking skeleton.

You got up and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. All this sitting around thinking wasn't doing you any good, not when there were seedlings to water, and you still needed to eat lunch. You stared out the window over the sink as you carefully spritzed the tiny plants in equally tiny trays. It was still cold and rainy out, but the fog was promising. The ground was warming up.

Spring.

One thing was for certain, once Jeff and his kin returned all hell was bound to break loose and you were not looking forward to it in the slightest.

…

March came and you walked on eggshells for half the month before deciding that it just wasn't fucking worth it. He would show up when he would (if he did at all) and no amount of tiptoeing or overthinking was going to change that.

You slipped into a sort of...resigned state. Not so much a depression this time, but a coming to terms with the fact that you were almost definitely on your own here. You knew you could be in much worse shape, yes, you forced yourself to eat most days but...it could always be worse.

Five and a half months, almost six. You devoured all the information you could get your hands on, the digital copy of The Year-Round Vegetable Gardener residing happily on your phone to be pulled up during lunch breaks or for cross-referencing with The Edible Garden. Not for the first time you mourned your lack of nearby relatives, as you had no one to really bounce garden ideas off of. No sage wisdom from aunts or uncles, no cautionary tales from grandparents. You really were alone here.

It was...crushing sometimes. The weight of loneliness back on you all of a sudden just because you'd cared, because you'd been lonely and you believed some pretty promises of never forgetting (admittedly, you still wanted to believe them). You tried not to think about it too much, though. Your bed had been made, you and Jeff fell into it and now, with or without him, you were carrying on. If anything, you were impressed with yourself, with how far you'd gotten even as entangled as you were in your habits. I can do this.

Every day you got out of bed was another day you succeeded in trying, every day you took your vitamins, ate some breakfast and did your stretches was another positive step forward. And every day it seemed to become easier to do. No hair falling out, no dental problems (yet, fingers crossed on that one).

You were determined to live for yourself and, more importantly, your garden, as March drew to a close. Seedlings had grown into tough little plants and you rose extra early on the second of April to start the process of getting everything in the ground.

You had a new pair of work gloves, gifted to you by Señor Benjamin once he noticed your drop in weight, the older man stating firmly that, “you shouldn't be playing around in the dirt without gloves, think of your health!” His protective tendencies were more kindly than belittling, and he always had so many questions about how are you doing, have you eaten today? when he came to visit the store. It was heartwarming and oftentimes those conversations were the highlight of your day.

You pulled on your high boots, tugged on your new gloves and brought a baseball cap outside for added protection. You'd heard that anemic or underfed people could get sunburned easier. You'd heard nearly everything at this point, you felt.

You were relatively comfortable. The weather wasn't too hot yet, the long-sleeved shirt you'd put on was over-sized enough to allow you to move freely and you'd rolled up the legs of your leggings to the knees. They'd been getting a lot of use these days, seeing as how they were one of the few pairs of pants you owned that would still fit decently on your thinner hips. You rubbed the chilled skin of your stomach beneath your shirt absently as you marked where you would put things in the garden on your layout.

You were so focused you didn't hear the whine of the drone until it was practically on top of you. You watched it go zipping over your garden and all your nerves came flooding back in a tidal wave of fear. Vengeful lioness, c'mon! You scolded yourself, slowly getting to your feet. You debated momentarily on just going inside, locking the door and hiding away for the next couple of...forever. You could definitely live in the dark by yourself. It was probably a lot simpler than all those horror films made it out to be, right? And you'd never go back outside, ever, especially if--

“Darlin'?” You squared your shoulders, hands clenching tight at your sides. Behind you, you heard Jeff clear his throat. “I...darlin', can you turn around?”

“Don't call me that.” Every ounce the angry predator. Willow must be thrilled.

“A-Alright. I won't. I'm sorry.” He apologized, sounding shaken. “God, I know you're pissed with me but it's good to hear your voice.” Jeff swallowed hard. “I told you when I came back I'd fuckin' scoop you up, hold you tight even if you hate me. I know I deserve ya' vitriol but I sure as shit don't deserve to touch you, an' I'm here now so hit me with whatever you've got. I ain't goin' anywhere.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I am.” You snapped, still not bothering to face him. You knew if you turned around you would probably start bawling. You pretended to be studying your layout chart. “What makes you feel so entitled to my time, Jeff? Last I checked, you're the one that left.”

“We had to put Decay in the ground for the final time. We had to go on...well, like I said, a pilgrimage. I had a lot of things to fuckin’ appease before I could fix Matt. But I did it, he and I both did it. He's whole again, whole as he was before. I don't have the guilt of almost destroying his family hangin' over my head like the sword a' Damocles, and I'm...Christ, I'm so sorry. Please, please turn around so I can talk to you.”

You shook your head. There was a dull 'thud' behind you that made you flinch.

“Please, I'm fuckin' beggin', I don't care if you holler at me until you're blue in the face and I'm deaf as a post, please d...please.” Jeff implored. “It took me two fuckin' seconds to realize that I was going to be miserable without you, watchin' Reb an' Matt with Maxel and just achin' on the inside because maybe, maybe if I hadn't been such a jackass in the first place and busted Matt's head I might have had the chance to be happy with you. But I ruined everythin' for myself by bein' an arrogant asshole, wreckin' Matt and I hurt you. I can't even tell which one is fuckin' worse.”

You clenched your hands even tighter around the sheet of paper you held, threatening to rip it. “You could have woken me up.” You said softly.

“I wouldn't have left then. I barely managed to when you were asleep. I kept askin' myself whether my happiness was worth Matt's family bein' fucked up forever and that would ground me but then I'd look back at you and I'd just...” Jeff's voice trembled. “I...It was the hardest fuckin' thing in the world to leave you, I promise that. But I had to do right by my brother.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I-I can ask Reb or Matt to come over, you ain't gotta' take my word for it this time. Shit, I can even start from the beginning and explain everything, if you want to hear it.”

“Comforting.”

“Please, darlin', I--”

“I said, don't call me that!” You yelled, thoroughly fed up with the bullshit. You angrily turned on your heel, already in the process of gathering up more choice words to unleash.

Jeff was kneeling with his head bowed and his hands in his lap, looking like a man brought before the guillotine. Your words caught in your throat as you watched his shoulders shudder violently with near-silent sobs and mumbles of, “sorry, so fuckin' sorry”.

Vengeful lioness.

“Look at me, Jeff.” You demanded once you were sure your voice would stay steady.

He glanced up quickly, looked down, and then...slowly his head came back up, so slowly. You bit your lip as blue eyes full of tears mapped your face, as his mouth opened. “I--”

“Is it everything you'd ever fucking dreamed of?” You cut him off. “Everything you ever hoped for, Jeff?”

“I...don't understand.” Jeff said hesitantly.

“Get up and come over here.” You ordered. He bolted to his feet, almost tripping over himself in his haste to obey. He spread his arms for a hug but you shook your head, taking one of his hands by the wrist instead. You lowered it to your baggy shirt and...

Jeff flinched back after feeling the sharp jut of your hip through the fabric.

Well. That was definitely a less than favorable reaction.

His whole body had gone tight; you could feel the uneasy shift of tendons in his wrist before you dropped his hand. “Why?” He asked finally, and he had the gall to sound hurt.

Jeff was reeling almost before you even realized you'd punched him in the jaw, your knuckles and wrist alight with pain from the sudden blow. You were pretty sure you'd never been this outraged in your entire life. “You abandoned me, Hardy, what the fuck do you mean, ‘why'?!” You cried.

The look on his face directly after you'd decked him was priceless, but the look he sported now put it to shame. It was confusion, mixed with something that could definitely be described as sadness. You didn't get very long to admire your handiwork though as you found yourself embraced fiercely.

You squirmed in the tiny amount of room you had, doing your best to beat your fists against his chest. “I hate you! I hate you for leaving and I hate myself for letting this happen and I hate you for looking at me like that, I hate you!” You broke down crying even while you were still ranting about hating him, breath hitching as you sobbed into his shirt.

“Oh Jesus, oh fuckin' Jesus, no, shh.” Jeff didn't seem to notice your pitiful attempts to continue kicking his ass, cupping the back of your head and cradling you to his chest. “You're thin as a fuckin' rail, you're gonna' make yourself sick if you keep cryin', please, please.” He tried to calm you as best as he could, his own voice wavering. “I'm never leaving you again, hear me? I came over here to beg your forgiveness. I'm still beggin' but shit, let me take care of you. If not me, at least let Reb or Matt. Feel like you're goin' t' pieces in my arms.”

You shook your head, still furious. “Would s-serve you right if I d-did.” You hiccuped. All Jeff did was hold you even tighter and stroke your hair. “Serve you right if I just disappeared.”

“No, don’t say that kinda’ shit. I need you. Jesus, I need you like I ain’t never needed anybody else before. Let me help you.” Jeff pleaded, pressing his forehead to your own. “Let me help. I’ll get you healthy again in no time, I promise.” He took a deep breath. “Matt an’ Reb…they know I left you. They know and they know why I did it and Matt still threatened to kick my ass. He called me a coward, a liar, everythin’ under the sun. A total punkass for abandoning you after…after everything.”

You snorted, trying to pull away again.

“Reb said you’d be traumatized and that she was disappointed in me.” That got your attention. “I hadn’t thought about it beyond worrying if you would be sad or angry with me. You were so strong when you dealt with Matt and when you stood up to Rosemary, I-I assumed you wouldn’t really...uh…well, I figured you would just be angry and ready to kick my ass when I came back. I ain't never been the smarter Hardy.”

“You didn’t think I would get depressed and turn into a fucking skeleton, now did you?” You asked bitterly. “No, you were worried about me being 'sad' or 'angry'. At least, until Reby yelled at you. Funny how that works.”

“I’m an idiot. I’ve admitted that more times than I can count during the last few months. I’m an idiot and a terrible person for leavin’, I’m an idiot for hurtin’ my brother, I’m an idiot and a bastard for havin’ sex with you and telling you I didn’t want to forget you an’ then just. Hiein’ off to parts unfuckingknown with my shattered brother.” Jeff said quietly. “Knowing you cared about me, though…shit, sometimes that was the only thing that pulled me back up off the ground durin’ this whole thing. Knowing that you care, or at least you did before I left, an’ hoping you’d be waitin’ to kick the shit out of me for bein’ dumb enough to leave you when I came back. Fixing my brother via trial by combat ain’t the easiest shit I’ve done, but I wouldn’t change a thing about all the fights.” Jeff tapped the side of his head. “Now he and I are whole again. No more Brother Nero, no more deleting me or setting me on fire or kicking the shit outta’ each other.”

“What makes you think I care?”

“You’re still here in my arms, ain’t you?” You shoved against his chest as hard as you could and all it did was make him shift a step. “Jesus, please tell me you’re fuckin’ around.”

“I’ve lost a lot of weight in a relatively unhealthy fashion. Muscle mass kind of goes hand in hand with that.” You pointed out. You didn’t expect him to look so destroyed. “What?”

“You coulda’ died. Could have wasted away and fuckin’ died while I was off doing this. You’re so fucking strong and I almost killed you. Christ.” Jeff muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. “You threw hands at fuckin’ Rosemary like it wasn’t anything, like she wasn’t the bitch that spits acid and my dumb ass almost did you in. I…I’m so sorry I put you through this.” He cupped your face, turning it gently to the side. “Fuck, fuck, look at you.” Jeff wiped some of the tears off your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, what the hell have I done to you?”

“Please stop. I know what I look like, Jeff.” You mumbled into his shirt. “I've been doing better. Señor Benjamin started checking up on me ever since I…well, I got all gaunt and I think I worried him. I’m sure he’s over there telling Matt and Reby that I haven’t been myself.” Jeff actually released you when you pulled away this time. “I haven’t had a problem with…this, for a while.” You said, painfully slow. “I used to much more often, when I was younger.”

“Issues with eatin’?” Jeff asked, sounding confused. “You…I mean I never noticed-”

“I have been actively trying to avoid this outcome, Jeff. Doing my best. I take my supplements and sometimes I can eat, but most of the time I just…I don’t want to.” You gestured at the dirt beneath your boots. “I grow my own food as a therapeutic process. I hate wasting food so I preserve stuff and eat good, pretty-colored things and it makes it a little easier. Winter is always hard.” You shrugged. “For me and the plants, I guess.”

“Y'know, I've had...um.” Jeff seemed uncomfortable, twisting his fingers back and forth nervously before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Problems, kinda' like this. Different reasons, but I used to drop weight like a brick and...I mean, I can help, Matt too, he was around when I was like that.” He looked like he was attempting to worry a hole through his lower lip.

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you saw Matt and Reby making their way through the woods behind him. Maxel had grown so much since you’d last seen him, a bona-fide toddler now walking along with almost sure steps.

Matt waved to you, smiling broadly once he got close enough. “Hello! I…” Matt began, then paused, glancing at Jeff. “Can I have a minute alone with them?”

Jeff wordlessly retreated to where Reby waited at the edge of the woods, his shoulders slumped.

When Matt spoke again he kept his voice deliberately low. “We haven’t met while I was in my right mind. But I remember you. And I remember what you did for my family.” He sounded so normal it threw you for a loop. No strange accent or medieval-sounding words. “Jeff made the mistake of mentioning to us how he…left you. He did everything for my sake but as usual, he has all the the delicacy of a bull in a fucking china shop.” Matt met your eyes, but only just. “You…I imagine it was difficult. I’m sorry.”

“I've definitely been better.” You replied, raising an eyebrow. “You seem healthy as a horse.”

“Yes, thanks to my little brother. He...it was so hard on him, on my family. I don't remember some of the things I did, and Jeff doesn't appear interested in telling me.” Matt grimaced. “Regardless of what he did, the pieces I can remember don't exactly paint me in a good light.”

You shifted uncomfortably. Why on earth was he telling you all of this? You would give anything to just go back to your plants.

“I...I speak to you today as a total stranger. And I have to ask something of you. There is a final process to solidify my recovery.” Matt said hesitantly. “A sort of new beginning ritual, if you will. Reby and I were hoping...I mean, after all you've done for us, we know it's pretty audacious of us to ask anything of you but we were hoping we could convince you to be the Hardy's guest of honor at the ceremony tonight.”

You blinked up at the man, confused. “You...what, you guys having another bonfire or something?”

“A little more elaborate than that, but the concept seems about right. We have talked on it for a while and both Rebecca and I agree that no one is better suited for this than the one who had nothing and nearly gave everything, who kept House Hardy from falling that dark night.” Matt's face grew sad. “I am sorry we could not be present during this hard stretch that you've had.”

You waved off his concern. “I did this to myself. I'm better now.”

“Will you do us this honor, then? It will be a more...formal gathering. Rebecca has offered to style your hair, if you would like.” He gestured toward his wife, who waved and smiled.

“Oh, gosh, I...um...I don't have anything to wear, really. I've never dealt with anything too formal.” Your whole face went pink with embarrassment. “You have to understand, I don't want to make you guys look bad if this is a big deal.”

“Please, don't even worry about it. The honor of your presence is more than enough, trust me.” Matt seemed overjoyed when you finally nodded, calling Reby over with Maxel. Jeff stayed put at the edge of the woods, appearing to busy himself watching Vanguard One weave through the tree trunks.

You only realized you were staring when Reby gently put a hand on your shoulder. Maxel cooed and wiggled from his spot balanced on her hip. “Did he at least apologize?” Reby asked quietly. Matt looked over at his wife, confused at the change of subject.

You nodded, feeling melancholy close up your throat. “I punched him.” You managed to admit.

Matt, to your surprise, absolutely roared with laughter, barely stopping himself from slapping you on the back. “Holy shit, you did not! That’s amazing.”

“He asked me why I looked like this! I just…I don’t know, I lashed out. It was stupid of me.” You mumbled. “It’s been a long time. I…obviously I still care about him even if I don’t want to. I wouldn’t have walloped him in the jaw if I didn’t care, y’know?”

Reby gave Matt a look over Maxel’s head and then shifted the baby to her other hip. Maxel quieted down, eyes studying your face with that customary ‘young child’ seriousness. You smiled at him, offering a little wave. The boy thrashed, starting to put up a fuss and Reby let him stand on his own.

Maxel was off like a shot, staggering steps across the uneven terrain of your yet-to-be-planted garden. “Matt, make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.” Reby ordered. Matt grumbled but headed after his son, quickly hoisting the little boy up into the air. You watched him go, watched him interact with the protesting Maxel and you felt…you weren’t sure what it was. Your eyes burned with tears and you quickly looked away from Matt and Maxel.

Reby caught your chin before you could stare at the ground, her own eyes kind and knowing. “Jeff will be at tonight’s ceremony, of course. He’s a big part of it. I understand, obviously better than Matt does, that being around him may be painful. You don’t have to come if it will be too much for you.” She said quietly over the airplane noises Matt was making. “I understand that it’s selfish to ask you to deal with anything else.”

“I…I just don’t really have anything to wear. What if I look silly or embarrass you guys?” You asked, staunchly avoiding looking at Jeff.

Reby smiled a little differently this time. Vengeful lioness. “Leave that up to me, sweetheart.”

…

You weren't sure how to feel as Reby zipped up the back of your lone black dress. “I really want to cry but you spent so much time making my face look good.” You whispered, making her laugh.

“Why do you want to cry? You look amazing!”

And it was true, you looked incredible. You barely recognized yourself. Reby was obviously a master of her craft. “I don't think I've ever liked my face or hair this much.” You replied honestly.

Reby shook her head. “You have a wonderful face and beautiful hair. You're so silly.” She said, patting your cheek carefully. She seemed a little worried as she gave you a once-over, tugging your dress so it sat better on your shoulders. “How do you feel? Will you be warm enough in this? You can still say no, you know.”

“I...I want to go.” You said determinedly. “I mean, I'm scared I'll flub something but if you guys want me there-”

“Of course we do! After everything that you did?” Reby made a noise of disbelief. “You go wait in the living room with the boys, alright? Tell them I'll be right there. Just have to fix my contours.”

You nodded, leaving after glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time. As you moved to the stairs you could already hear Matt talking to Jeff in the living room.

“...another painting, like the one you did for my bedroom. But it's got to be big enough to hang over the mantel. Rebecca loved the theme so if you want you can just continue it.”

“Whatever you want, Matt. I...shit, I'm just happy you're back.” Jeff's voice was quieter and you paused at the top of the stairs, straining to hear. “I can't say it hasn't been rough. I would understand if Reb wanted to annihilate me.”

“She knew it was an accident, Jeff. And I assume you managed to convince her you'd go through hell or high water to fix me.” Matt joked. “I...hey, hey, easy. It's alright, c'mere.”

You heard a shuddering sob and you closed your eyes tightly, inhaling through your nose.

“Christ little bro, don't go to pieces on me just yet, okay?” Matt sounded somewhat choked-up himself.

“I ruined e-everythin', Matt, everything, they hate me and I just-”

“No way. You quit this self-pity shit, Jeff. You're stronger than that, knock it off.”

You felt that you'd eavesdropped long enough and proceeded to head down the stairs as loudly as you could to alert the two men of your presence. Maxel made a surprise appearance at the doorway of the living room, staring up at you. He looked very dapper in a bright purple shirt with a soft green vest over it, and you made sure to tell him as much when you knelt down to his level. The little boy was obviously still a bit wary of you, teetering momentarily before pulling a one-eighty turn and heading back to where his father and uncle stood beside the mantel.

“Maxel! Don't be rude, when a lovely individual compliments you on your vest, normally, as a gentleman, you say thank you!” Matt scolded, turning his son back around. Maxel waved his arms in the air, giggling at the new game Matt was apparently playing. Matt sighed, shrugging at you. “Well, I tried.” He continued to spin Maxel, slow enough that he could keep his footing. “You do look great. I guess that dress you had was just fine, huh?”

“That and all the manual labor Reby put in as far as my face goes.” You said, laughing when Matt gestured with his free hand for you to spin as well.

“Show off for us, huh?”

Suddenly feeling shy, you couldn't help the way you glanced at Jeff. The other man seemed to be in a staring contest with the mantel and you fumbled to smooth out the skirt of your dress again. “The both of you look very...” You squinted, trying to smile.

“Professional, right?” Matt winked.

“Yeah, that's what I was going to say.” Definitely not weird. Matt was wearing that familiar gray and black velvet coat with a matching pair of pants, his hair semi-tamed in a bun, while Jeff was clad in loose black pants paired with an almost skintight black long-sleeved shirt that bore strange, twining patterns on the sleeves. A white rag spattered with vibrant paint hung out of the younger brother's back pocket, but it looked less like an actual cleaning implement and more like an accessory.

You caught Jeff's eyes when he finally looked up, tilting your head to the side. “What do you think, Jeff?” You knew it was cruel but you couldn't help wanting to make him squirm, even if just a tiny bit. Vengeful lioness.

Jeff looked torn, the mumbled, “You're beautiful,” a little too heartfelt for you to feel comfortable with continuing to tease him. So you obliged with the requested turn, biting your lip. Beautiful.

“He's right, you really do look fantastic.” Matt agreed, raising his eyes to rest on something behind you. “And there is my Queen Rebecca.”

“I don't know about this dress, Matt, I--”

Matt silenced his wife's concerns with a peck on the mouth. “You are ravishing as always, my love. Never worry about that. You could wear a burlap sack and put everyone to shame as far as I'm concerned.” He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. Maxel hugged her leg, bouncing up and down.

Jeff glanced at you and you held his gaze, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he was about to say something and then Matt raised his arm to rest it on his shoulder. Jeff flinched, gritting his teeth for a split second. You watched his shoulders relax back down after a minute, as though he had been waiting for Matt to...do something.

'Matt would never lay a hand on Maxel or Reb!'

Yeah let's avoid that train of thought. You frowned at yourself.

“Alright, are we all set? I have his backpack right here so I wouldn't forget it this time.” Matt said finally, hefting the overstuffed, brightly-colored pack from its spot on the floor. He scooped Maxel up as well, his son continuing to bounce even once he was in Matt's arms.

Jeff didn't seem able to hide his smile, reaching out so Maxel could grab his hand and shake it back and forth. “Look at you go, little guy!” He grinned, making Maxel babble happily. “Almost as excited as Daddy and I, huh?”

“This will be a night to remember.” Matt agreed, gesturing to draw you close. “We must ask for a blessing before the travel. A custom, you understand.” He explained. Reby straightened out the shoulders of your dress again as Matt bowed his head, placing his hand on the top of Maxel's head. “Seven Deities, we call upon you yet again. Your loyal servants embark on a new journey and we implore you grant us your protection and strength.” Matt intoned. “I am no longer your vessel, no longer empowered as such and so I must beg a boon. Astarr, Brohare! Chall, Cohle, Gustavo! Neric, Sirko!”

He paused and Jeff proceeded smoothly, “We had ended, and now we begin again. The sun has set on one life, we beg for the sun to rise on the next. Grant us the courage we need, the will to continue, keep the ones we love safe and keep our bodies whole.” He also laid his hand on Maxel's head, over Matt's. “Protect this little one, he is our flesh and blood. Protect Rebecca, the queen of Matt's life. Protect Matthew, my brother, the master of his own destiny.” Jeff hesitated. “Protect...protect our neighbor, they have been through so much at our hands.”

“Seven Deities, I beg that you protect Jeffrey, my brother. Make us as one, and grant us victory tonight.” Matt dragged Jeff in to touch their foreheads together. “No longer master and slave, but brothers once more.”

A shiver ran through you at their words. This...didn't sound like theatrics. You wondered wildly for a moment if you were invited along because they needed a human sacrifice or something like that, but you just as quickly dismissed the notion. You'd heard elaborate prayers before. Pontificating relatives at funerals, weepy well-wishes after one too many drinks. But this...it just seemed so much more heartfelt, compared to everything else you had experienced.

Reby squeezed your hand, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.” You replied, trying your best to smile back.

You didn't expect for Matt to open the front door and grab onto one side of his patiently-waiting drone.

You narrowed your eyes, debating (not for the first time) whether you were the only person here with a decently firm grasp on reality. “What the everloving shit.”

A laugh burst out of Jeff. He'd obviously been waiting for your reaction. “I promise, it ain't as dumb as it looks. Just latch on.” He said once he had himself back under control, reaching for your hand. Fingers curled gingerly around your own and he placed your hand on the drone, nodding to Matt once he did. “We're good. You uh, you might want to close your eyes.” Jeff added to you. “Can be a little much.”

Yeah this doesn't seem crazy at all. You obeyed almost instantly, resigned to the eventuality that when you opened your eyes you were going to be in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as your alarm chimed in your ear.

There was a momentary absence of noise, around four seconds. Enough that you noticed. Then sound swelled back up, louder than you expected. It sounded almost like...cheering, but muffled and distant.

Beside you, you heard Jeff inhale and his whole body shuddered. “Christ, Matt.”

“I know, it's absolutely exhilarating. Vanguard my friend, we'll need a lift after the ceremony but until then, feel free to see the sights.”

You cautiously opened your eyes and you were greeted with the sight of a cramped hallway as the white drone zipped away. Well. This was...not what you'd been expecting on at least two fronts. “Where are we?” You asked, feeling almost like you should be annoyed with the fact that Jeff hadn't let go of your hand yet.

“The ceremony, of course! From the sound of things though, we may be a bit early. C'mon, let's find the curtain.” Matt urged, leading your ragtag group along.

I feel like two years ago, teleportation would have been more...inaccessible? Exciting? Both? You mused, grudgingly allowing Jeff to guide you while you thought.

“Ah, security! Yes it's us, of course it's us. Where do we need to queue up, I assume we're not late just yet?” Matt was speaking with a man in a black polo shirt, who nodded and gave him directions to 'gorilla position', which you assumed must have been some kind of code. Unless this was a zoo?

You had so many questions, so you finally ended up pulling your hand out of Jeff's grip. The man stopped immediately, turning around and cocking his head. Matt and Reby continued on, oblivious to the fact that they were a party of three now instead of five. “What the heck is going on, Jeff?” You whispered. “What is this place, this ceremony that's supposed to happen?”

Jeff looked absolutely ecstatic, his smile pure excitement like a small child's. “It's gonna' be great, I promise dar...I promise. It's kinda' a surprise though. Can you trust me for a little while longer?” He asked hopefully. You crossed your arms over your chest and Jeff's smile faded. “I...shit, I don't know what to do here. Th-that dress is amazin'. You in it is also amazin'. You're...you're seriously the most beautiful person I ever come across, havin' you here for this is surreal and I just--” Jeff shrugged. “Sorry, I'll shut up. M' sorry. We're almost to the right point anyhow. You'll see what's up in a minute. Promise.”

“I mean I'm not against you continuing to talk about how great I am, if you're waxing poetic.”

Jeff's grin bordered on blinding. “Is...are you jokin' with me? Was that a joke? It was, yeah?!”

“Maybe.” You answered reluctantly. “Look, Jeff, I won't sugarcoat this crap. You hurt me. You hurt me a lot by leaving, I know you at least understand that much. So I don't know if we can ever be...what you might still want. What I wanted. But...yeah, I was joking with you.”

“S' more than I deserve. A thousan' times more than what I deserve. I...thank you.” Jeff said sincerely. He held out his hand. “May I?”

You looked at him for a moment. Looked down at his hand, then back up at his face. “I guess. As long as you keep talking about how good I look.”

His fingers twined through your own, roots into the dirt. “Gladly.”

…

All the training in the world couldn't have prepared you for what greeted you on the other side of the curtain.

It was like a Colosseum of old, high walls stretching to the darkening sky, absolutely packed with people. Your eyes widened and then Jeff released your hand. The thunderous roar of the crowd threatened to deafen you, but even with that distraction you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jeff.

Bass rhythm thrummed through your whole body and the dance he started into was almost ridiculous. You got the feeling that no one else would be able to pull it off, the gyrations of his hips and the way his teeth were bared in a fierce grin changing it from strange to absolutely warlike. Matt spread his arms wide in greeting and the arena chanted something in reply, it sounded like DELETE, it sounded like HARDY, it sounded like WELCOME BACK.

A tiny hand grabbed at your own and you looked down at Maxel. The little boy didn't seem to have any issues with the sound and you wondered at that for a second before letting yourself be pulled along by the smallest Hardy. Reby had his other hand, looking every ounce the regal queen in her shimmering black gown, even with the small neon pack slung over one shoulder. The ramp down to the floor of the arena looked like it stretched for eons, but before you knew it you had reached the base, where some kind of fighting ring had been set up. Jeff boldly took your hand again, leading you to sit beside Reby. He chucked Maxel under the chin, smiled at you one last time and then moved to follow his brother.

Numerous individuals who appeared just as...colorful as Jeff and Matt were already in the roped-off ring, all of them bearing nearly-identical expressions of awe and confusion. You were more confused about the ladders, to be honest, why were there ladders? Was this going to be an actual fight? Jeff and Matt had said nothing about a fight, just a ceremony.

“Fixing my brother via trial by combat ain’t the easiest shit I’ve done, but I wouldn’t change a thing about all the fights.” Trial by combat. A new beginning ritual. “Grant us victory tonight.”

Your eyes widened as everything clicked, as Matt stripped off his coat and climbed into the ring beside his brother to the joy of the very vocal crowd. They faced off across from the other individuals in the ring, Matt making a sharp, slashing motion with his hand that ignited more calls of DELETE. It looked like Matt said, “delightful!” though you couldn't exactly hear him over the chants of THIS IS AWESOME. Jeff took up the motion, rotating in a circle so he could observe the whole arena.

You had no idea what was about to happen but you got the feeling it wasn't going to be pretty.

The enthusiasm Matt and Jeff had was electric, the crowd screaming their approval for the two men as they fought against an incredibly tall man and his lightning-fast partner, a dynamic duo of shaven-headed individuals, the strongest looking ginger you'd ever seen and a man with athletic tape wrapped around his shoulder. The goal seemed to be the two ornate belts which hung in the air a dizzying height above the ring. Set up your ladder, climb it, grab the belts. Not nearly as simple as it sounded, especially when contending with six other men.

You were on the edge of your seat as they went back and forth. The usage of ladders was breathtaking, death defying stunts performed right in front of you! You could hardly believe what you were watching. Jeff fought with his teeth bared in that furious grin and Matt couldn't seem to stop smiling himself, the two working as a seamless team even in the face of such adversity.

It all came down to a tense moment with Jeff balanced precariously at the very top of a twenty-foot-tall ladder, his arms spread wide. He touched his fingers to his lips and blew you a kiss, mouthed what looked like, “and in this moment”, then proceeded to somersault in an effortlessly graceful manner onto the large ginger and the man with the taped shoulder, sending the three of them crashing through the ladders they'd been laying on.

You felt like everything ground to a halt as Jeff laid there motionless in a heap of twisted metal and bodies. Your mind flew back to when you had found him on the lawn, doubled over and perforated by Abyss, when he came up out of the water deleted and docile in exchange for healing his body.

You pressed your hands to your mouth, barely realizing that Matt had unbuckled the belts from their lofty perch and now held them over his head, basking in the glory of their victory. Jeff finally, finally stirred, shaking his head and opening his eyes. He blinked, looking rattled, before that smile was back and he was pulling himself to his feet, doing his best to stagger back into the ring to celebrate with his brother.

Matt grabbed his arm and tugged him upright, handing him one of the belts and then pressing their foreheads together. They wore identical grins, Jeff closing his eyes and hugging his brother tightly when Matt said something to him.

They stood shoulder to shoulder and held up their belts while the arena indicated its raucous glee in the outcome of the match, a constant roll of DELETE and BRO-THER NE-RO and BRO-KEN MATT keeping the deafening volume at full capacity. Reby seemed just as excited as you were, hoisting Maxel high so he could see his father and uncle standing tall.

It is done, vengeful lioness.

You had no idea where the certainty came from, but it was ironclad and left no room for doubt. You clapped for Matt and Jeff, even managing to muster up a smile when Jeff looked your way.

His eyes flickered for a second, shifting to Willow's white-blue, and they winked cheekily at you from Jeff's body before he shook his head again and looked confused.

It seemed like everyone knew your neighbors. Then again, the arena looked like everyone had been invited to witness their ceremony so it wasn't exactly surprising. Matt gathered his wife and son up in a tight hug once he stepped out of the ring while Jeff hobbled to stand awkwardly beside you. You twiddled your fingers and peeped over at him, catching him in the process of looking away.

“So uh...I think it was a success.” He began. You could hardly believe that after all that, he was going to try and make small talk as his brother and sister-in-law celebrated with a family hug. You were glad that he wasn't expecting anything from you, but he'd pulled off something that seemed unthinkable. “Should be fine now.” He rubbed the side of his head, wincing. “Got a pounder starting but--”

You couldn't take any more of his nervous chit-chat, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him as tight as you could (hopefully) without hurting him. Jeff sucked in a breath, seeming startled. You stayed put and after a moment, his hand slowly stroked over your hair.

“Thank you for coming, darlin'. It helps if I got someone t' show off for.” His face didn't mirror his cocky words when you chanced a glance up and your heart twisted in your chest. He looked like he was about to start crying. He draped the ornate belt over your shoulder, mustering up a weak smile. “Looks better on you anyhow.”

“You're ridiculous.” Your fingers mapped the designs tooled into the leather, smoothed over the raised metal plates.

“No denyin' that.” Jeff agreed, his hand moving to cover your own on the belt. “Absolutely no denying that.”

You couldn't even believe the day you'd had. You woke up in the morning and everything was normal. Same hard time eating breakfast, same tall boots by the door, same tilled patch of dirt outside.

But now here you were, apparently in Florida, rubbing elbows with a family that you hadn't been sure you'd ever see again, a guest of honor at their most important trial by combat. Jeff's fingers were wrapped loosely around your own as he, Reby and Matt talked excitedly with three young men wearing matching outfits. You lost track of how many people you met, how many people you were introduced to as, “the hero of House Hardy.” You leaned carefully into Jeff's side, surprised when he dropped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you up tight against him. An absent-minded kiss was pressed to the top of your head.

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly.

…

Jeff lingered on your doorstep when he walked you home much later that night, his hands firmly shoved into his pockets. “I uh...I just wanted to thank you. Y'know, again. For um. For comin' out with us tonight.” He mumbled, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the ground. “You didn't have to, nobody knows better n' me that you didn't have to.”

“Jeff, I'm glad I went.” You said gently.

His head jerked up and he fixed you with a startled look. “You...you are?”

“It was quite the spectacle. You and Matt are an impressive team.”

“We been workin' together most of our lives, I sure as hell hope so.” Jeff grinned. His smile faded after a minute, replaced by something more serious. “Listen, I meant what I said earlier about the um...the weight stuff. If you want I could ask Matt, or you could talk with him. A lot of times when I would start t' plummet I wouldn't be in my right mind so I don't recall a lot of it.” He admitted. You nodded, wondering to yourself what had gone on in their household. “Well uh, I know Matt an' I will be gone tomorrow night but after that we should be home sporadically. I...anytime you wanna' drop in just to see Reb and Maxel she'll probably welcome you with open arms.” He said quietly.

“I'll keep that in mind, thank you.” You replied.

Jeff huffed out a nervous breath and then bowed deeply, one hand resting in the small of his back like he was some kind of dandy. You couldn't keep from giggling and that seemed to make him happy, if the smile he gave you was any indicator. “Have a good night, okay?”

You were reminded of an evening last year when you closed the door behind you and slid to sit on the floor. You didn't want to cry, not exactly, but your chest ached in a way that suggested you might whether you wanted to or not.

You weren't sure how long you sat there before you finally got to your feet and headed to your bedroom. You checked your phone, both disappointed and relieved to see that you had no messages. On a whim, you scrolled back through your photos. You wanted to find the picture you’d taken, the one Jeff said was of him when he was very young.

But upon reaching where it should be in the gallery, something else had taken its place. Your brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what the picture even was. It was dark, a large mass of orange flames licking in from the left-

It’s what I had originally taken a picture of! The burning structure with Jeff at the bottom of it! You realized. And if the picture was back to the way it should be, that must mean…

Everything is in order.

After you tucked yourself in for the night, you stared up at the ceiling. Through the screen in your window you could hear the nighttime sounds of the woods around you and you found your eyes slowly drifting shut.

A violin’s haunting melody wound into your dreams so faint you might have imagined it, accompanied by even softer strains of gentle piano. You didn’t know how you knew it was Matt and Reby, but you were soothed all the same.

…

Jeff seemed hell-bent on popping in to check on you whenever he could, the now-familiar sound of his dirtbike skidding to a halt your usual soundtrack when you were out in your garden. Sometimes it was only a brief greeting, and then sometimes he stayed and helped with whatever you were doing. He made a concerted effort to inform you of when he would be leaving and when he’d be back. He and Matt apparently had to work to keep their belts from the grueling ceremony.

Matt and Reby made it a point now to find you when you were at work just to say hello. Señor Benjamin occasionally accompanied them to get your opinion on various garden ideas he had. It appeared Matt had been serious when he’d suggested he wanted to start a garden of his own and you did your best to pass along your knowledge.

Eating didn’t seem like as much of a chore anymore, as more often than not you were invited to Matt’s house for supper. It was easier when people distracted you from the fact that you were actually eating, Matt quieting the nagging doubts that you were eating too much by declaring that you looked like you needed more green beans.

You were surprised the first time he and Reby displayed their musical talents after dinner, but even more surprised when Jeff hesitantly took the guitar his brother gestured to and added his own melody to their tune. Maxel seemed to love dancing to the music his parents and uncle made, no matter what the cadence or subject matter, and you found yourself the little boy’s official dance partner on more than one occasion. He had finally overcome his wariness around you, commonly demanding to be picked up with a firm, “Uppy!”

The nights would usually end with Maxel sound asleep on your shoulder, thoroughly exhausted from his workout. More than once the feeling of his tiny face burrowing into your shirt clenched your chest tight, and you’d have to take a few deep breaths to keep from doing something embarrassing.

Sometimes you caught Jeff staring at you and his nephew when the two of you interacted, the expression on his face usually a cross between pained and wistful. You wondered whether he felt the same way you did, whether his chest tightened with unimaginable longing.

Or if he ever woke up out of a sound sleep in a feverish state, your name on his lips, whole body flushed.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but a small part of you (which grew larger every day) hoped for it.

...

“Why do you always look at Maxel and I like that?” You asked out of the blue.

Jeff froze mid-motion, hands cupped around the base of a squat, look-I’m-doing-my-best cucumber vine. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He finally replied, brushing his hands off on his jeans and then getting to his feet. “I have to…I think I heard Matt calling me.”

“How old are you?”

Jeff snickered, crouching back down beside you. “Old habits, you know. I uh, I don’t really know why I do, to be honest.” He said quietly, shifting a handful of dirt back and forth between his fingers. “It…I guess it kinda’ makes me sad. But not in a bad way? I don’t--shit, I’m explainin’ this poorly.” He sighed, plucking a small rock out of the dirt in his hands. “Makes me think about what I coulda’ had, if I wasn’t so dumb. I ain’t…I don’t mean I’m jealous a’ Matt or something, I know I got nobody to blame but myself here. It’s just…shit, seein’ you with a little kid makes me all fucked up in the feelings.” Jeff fumbled to explain. “Makes me wonder what’s gonna’ happen when somebody good comes along, treats you right an’ you have kids and they’ll be awesome like you and I…” Jeff’s voice petered out, the tattooed man swallowing hard and staring at the dirt.

You reached out after a second, taking one of his hands in your own.

“Christ, I’m so sorry, I made this all kinds of fucked. You must think I’m a creep.” Jeff whispered. “Gettin’ all wound up over you with another guy’s kid in your arms, with my brother’s kid in your arms. What kinda’ asshole am I, huh?” He tried to joke, ducking his head. You caught his chin, tugging it back up and making him look at you. Jeff chewed his bottom lip, doing his damnedest to avoid your eyes. “I…I’m so sorry I left the way I did. I’m sorry I ruined everythin’ and I’m sorry I’m all hung up on it.” He apologized, his words choked. He shook free of your grasp, getting to his feet again. “I’m just…I’ll go, don’t need to wreck your day with this stupid, self-pityin’ crap.”

You stayed kneeling in the dirt after he headed off, the rumble of his bike fading into the distance. Your mind was a mess of emotions. The part of you that seemed to be winning wanted to head after Jeff because if he was saying what you thought he was saying, you were essentially on the same page.

Who’s to say he won’t leave again, once he gets what he wants?

You felt a bit more certain when you scoffed at that nasty little voice, the same one that chided you for being too enthusiastic about gardening and tried to get you to stay in bed on hard days. You stood, giving yourself a bracing shake before straightening out your shirt and heading for the trail. His house was separated from yours by a thick belt of trees and a crumbling stone wall that had been all but swallowed up by the woods. Jeff’s constant back and forth trips on his dirtbike had worn a smooth path into the forest floor and it was this path that you followed until you emerged onto his property.

Jeff was just heading inside as you made your way across his…creatively trimmed lawn. “Jeff, wait! I need to talk to you!” You called.

He paused, the front door half-open. “Kinda’ not a great time right now.” He replied, but he didn’t close the door.

“I’ll be quick. Probably.” You were at the porch now and he still had the door open. “Look, all that stuff that you were saying--”

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. I know I wrecked shit with you. I just…I mean you asked, I figured you at least deserved the truth, y’know?” Jeff shrugged as though he was trying to brush it off. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not, and I think you know it.”

He made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I mean really, Jeff, you can’t just drop that kind of bomb on me and then go sashaying back to your house for tea and fucking biscuits.” You folded your arms, doing your best to look severe. “Especially when you didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Christ, I wish I’d never opened my fuckin’ mouth. Because this is the part where I lose you for good, ain’t it?” Jeff asked bleakly. “Where you go ‘wow Jeff, that’s fucked up!’ an’ you never talk t’ me again. And I never see you, and you fuckin’ tuck yourself away and stop eating and then one day--”

“You have quite the imagination.” You interrupted him, raising an eyebrow at his rambling. “But no, that’s not what I had in mind.”

“Well…what then?” Jeff seemed at a loss, opening the door a little bit more.

“May I come in?”

“Shit, uh, of course. I’m sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to be rude.” He opened the door fully and you maneuvered past him.

“Did you make all of these yourself?” You asked, distracted by the bright, abstract artwork hanging in the entryway.

“I…yeah. I paint a lot.” He sounded embarrassed. “I’ve always done it. Just kinda’…I like it.”

“Does Matt paint? Or just you?”

“Nah, I got the artsy genes. He got the smarts. And I can play guitar, sing.” Jeff grimaced. “Lot a’ good it does me.”

“You’re talented, Jeff. I mean, I’m no artist so I can’t exactly critique. But you’ve obviously put a lot of your time into this.” You gestured around you.

Jeff flushed at the praise, twiddling his fingers. “Matt always said I could do more. Open a gallery or somethin’. I…wait shit, you ain’t here for this. What am I gonna’ do about you?” He asked plaintively, shaking his head. “I said some heavy shit. So what’s your take on it?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You said softly. “There was more than enough of that between us. You’ve been very respectful about not pushing me even though we were intimate before, which is a refreshing change when it comes to my relationships. You also didn’t pass judgment on me for my…problem. I would say I’m sorry for punching you, though in my defense I was in a fragile emotional state.”

“I’m still waiting for the ‘but’.” Jeff’s smile was sad.

You took a deep breath. “There isn't one.” You smiled up at him, taking his hands in your own. “I think...I mean, if you're interested I would like to try again. If you're not interested, that's fine too. I like spending time with you either way.”

“I swear to God if I wake up right now, I...” He paused and stared down at your hands, his hands. “This is real, yeah? You'd tell me if you were a hallucination, right?” He demanded, making you snicker.

“Oh, definitely. No hallucinations here.” You replied.

Jeff tore his hands out of your grip and jerked you into a tight hug, cupping the back of your head as he held you close. “Fuck.” The single, breathless swear zipped like lightning across your skin and you trembled in his arms. “I've missed you so much, darlin'.”

“I missed you too, Jeff.” The knot in your chest, all the negative feelings you'd bundled up, slowly started to ease. He kissed you hungrily and you eagerly returned it, your hands sliding down to tug his hips into your own.

Jeff moaned into your mouth when you moved your hips, finally breaking the kiss. “Christ, like I was made for you.” He panted, glancing down. “You remember.”

“Mmm, yeah.” You breathed, watching as he rocked his pelvis up. “I'm not as thin as I used to be.” You didn't know why you said that, of all things. Talk about a mood breaker, what the hell were you thinking? It's true though, what if he's disgusted by how big I am now?

Jeff suddenly looked worried, hands raising to cup your face. “Hey, I ain't got a problem with you as long as you're in my arms. No matter what size you are, got it?” He said seriously, his eyes searching your own. “You're beautiful. No ifs, ands or buts, an' anyone who says otherwise, includin' the jerky voice I'm assuming is loud in your ears right now, tellin' you that you ain't hot stuff, can get fucked.” He growled, his voice deepening on the last word. “Now, I'd like to continue never forgetting you, and showing you just how pretty I know you are, and explainin' how much I need you. If uh, if you're amenable.”

You weren't able to keep from smiling, nodding eagerly and dashing away the few tears that had managed to sneak out. “Well, you know me, Jeff. I'm never against you continuing to talk about how great I am.” You teased, making him laugh.

He hoisted you up to sit on his hips, peppering your neck with light, playful kisses as he moved down the hall. “Missed you. Missed this too, but Christ, did I miss you.” He said softly, disentangling the two of you so he could open the door to what you correctly assumed was his room. It also seemed to double as his studio; there was an easel with a half-finished canvas on it set up by the window. “Come lay down with me, huh?” His words were gentle, followed by a grateful sigh when you took his hand and led him to the bed.

“On your back.” You ordered, loving how his eyes widened slightly. “Shirt off.”

“Jesus Christ that's hot. Will fucking do.” Jeff almost lost his footing trying to get out of his shirt when his knees bumped the end of his bed. “Shit, shit shit hang on.”

“How do you manage to be the most graceful thing I've ever seen at the top of a ladder, but when it comes to good ol' terra firma you're like a newborn giraffe?” You asked, making him snort with laughter even while he was still fighting with his shirt.

“Listen, you make me all gangly. I don't know if it's appealing or not but it's the truth.” Jeff protested. “I am a fuckin' Swanton master until you come along an' make me forget how to walk right.” He laid down, finally divested of his shirt, and made a grabbing motion at you. “Luckily, now I'm on my back and I don't have to worry about walkin' down here.”

You shook your head, moving quickly to straddle him. Jeff looked startled but seemed to get over it, judging from the needy, begging whimpers of “darlin'” that were only half-caught in his throat. His hands dug into your hips and you felt the swell of his cock pressing up against you through layers of clothing.

“Never thought this would happen again.” He murmured, carding his fingers through your hair while you kissed his neck and collarbone. “It's a goddamn miracle that you're even here right now and I will fuckin' take it, I will definitely fucking take it. I've had dreams like this, about you bein' here on top of me but they all ended the same.” He groaned when you rose up on your knees, words tumbling out of his mouth as you yanked down the zipper on his pants. “Ended with me wakin' up in an empty bed, in an empty fuckin' house, like you did when I left, an' I know I deserved every fucking dream, every fucking time.”

“Mmhm, at least a couple of them.” You agreed, shoving his pants and boxers down out of the way. You carefully stood, balancing on the bed over him with one hand on the wall so you could undo your own shorts and step out of them. The sound that tore free of Jeff's mouth was the best noise you'd heard in your life, half-snarl, half-whine. It made your knees a little weak and your legs shook, threatening to dump you in a graceless heap on top of him.

“Oh darlin', darlin', look at you. Just...fuck, darlin', you're not even close to bein' fair.” Jeff slammed his head back against the mattress, hands balled into fists in the blankets underneath him. “Can't handle it. Need you. I need you, I need you, please, please please.” He begged so sweet, moaning out when you obliged and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, sinking slowly down onto him. You were so wet the motion was almost too easy, your body humming in feverish delight as you took every inch of his cock until you were finally seated on his hips.

“This alright?” You gasped. Jeff's response was to grab a handful of your shirt and drag you down practically nose-to-nose with him, his other hand jerking your sports bra out of the way so he could fondle your breasts.

“Oh, this is way better than alright. You just keep fuckin' those hips down onto me and we are not going to have a damn problem.” Jeff said through gritted teeth, keening when you obediently shifted your body. “Yes, fuck yes, darlin', oh my God get this fucking shirt off so I can enjoy these perfect tits.” He pleaded, words partially muffled as you kissed him. “Christ I ain't never needed anyone like this, I'm never, ever leaving you again. Ever. Never.”

“I'll hold you to that.” You stopped moving and cupped his jaw, try to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation as your body screamed hungrily for more, more, more!

He looked serious enough, even going so far as to take his hands off of you. “Never again.” He murmured, chuckling into the kiss you gifted him for his sincerity. “Hell or high fuckin' water, never again. The only notes I'm leaving you from now on are gonna' be dumb mushy ones that you'll find inside the refrigerator or behind the couch. Maybe some hearts in the steam on the bathroom mirror. Y'know, that kind of...uh.” He trailed off when you pulled your shirt over your head and disposed of it, then he caught the back of your neck and cradled you to his chest.

You cried out at the change of angle while his hips pistoned into you, cock dragging over your spot and your pubic mound slotted tight with his pelvis. You were barely able to move, just grinding against him and whimpering helplessly.

“Sounds like you're close t' comin', darlin'. Am I right? You gonna' come, you gonna' come on my cock?” Jeff hissed in your ear, his voice dipping low with every emphasized word. “I know you want to, I know you want to so fucking do it, darlin' I want it, God I need it, I need you, I need you to let go, fuck, darlin', darlin'-” You bit down on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your scream when you came and Jeff made a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a sob, burying his face in your neck. “Christ, m' gonna' come, darlin' I have to pull out, I gotta'-”

“Come in me.” You panted, twining your fingers through his.

Jeff stared up at you, his whole body trembling. “Oh fuck, darlin', I-”

“Please.” You added breathlessly, making Jeff groan.

“Fuck, fuck, you can't just--like that? Fuck, if you want it. If you want it. Do you want it?” He gasped, hips quivering nervously under you.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and shifting your weight from side to side. That was apparently enough to convince him as he thrust up into you once more, hard enough to rock your knees up off the bed and then came inside you with a loud groan of completion.

He smiled up at you, so happily that you became self-conscious, drawing back from his warm look. “What?” You asked finally, surprised when he started to laugh, actually laugh, and he pulled your face down to his for a kiss that seemed to last for hours.

“Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.” Jeff sighed when you parted, his hands finding yours.

Tattooed roots dug deep into your soil once more, but this time you didn't feel like likening yourself to plain old dirt. No, you were a garden, flourishing now like you always should have, your skin alight with the fire of a thousand eager blossoms. You were strong and vibrant and alive, and Jeff seemed to realize that.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I'm so glad you came over.” He murmured, that goofy smile back on his face. “You uh, wanna' get dressed again? I can show you some more of my paintings or something. Play you a song, if you want.” He offered, a little shyly.

“I think I'd like that a lot.”

#jeff hardy #jeff hardy/female reader #jeff hardy smut #rated M for MASSIVE #thirst party saturday #tna #wwe #enjoy!#all the feels #and wrestlemania!

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yoitscro · 3 years ago

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Ramble time again, lol

My brain has felt “stuffed” for last few months and I think I’m starting to figure out why? Maybe. I mean, outside of the obvious ADHD and depression. It’s more so that it’s felt stuffed over the last two years, actually.

I had some projects that, within the last year, have fallen back from where they should/should’ve been. The next reanimate should been worked on at this point, the pesterquest dub should be half way, meenahquest had to be revamped to the point that i may limit it to either myself or a VERY small team...so on.

I’m choosing to not listen to anyone who claims it’s because the pot finally boiled over with how much I carry. Yes, I do A LOT, more than I should, but I tend to feel a bit hurt if anyone suggests that me being overwhelmed is solely on me and not, like, outside factors. It feels ignorant and slightly one-upping on me for no reason, and like, I’m not going to take that well, lol.

My run of projects was fairly well before that and it isn’t just because I finally bit off more than I could chew. It’s because 2020 set EVERYONE back. It consisted of me being an essential worker during the midst of the pandemic, on top of being one of the many black people in America that were stressing to hell and back. Also, I’d been trying to (still) get over overall trauma that’s come from having a falling out with some ex-Homestucks that decided that publicly trying to stomp out a black person in the beginning of February was some kind of heroic justice. I also still have to live with my mom...which is, alot.

It’s been a mix of things that’ve left me, more so than usual, feeling angry, fatigued, sleep deprived, anxious, depressed, and semi-suicidal (I say semi because having a fear of pain has only had me at most to think about the most painless way to go versus...doing anything. also i still have too many things i wanna do. too many people i still care about for these...rhetorical scenarios. which. still isn’t good).

I guess you could say there’s a lot more going on that maaaaybe just maybe puts projects on the back burner, reasonably so, and well, I’m never one who’s taken well to salt being put in my wounds.

(I remember someone I once considered a friend suggesting that I go to therapy, or asking if I looked into it, despite ignoring the fact that they’d been one of the people that, if not had given gossip to others*, then at least knew that I was being singled out and didn’t do anything to help or at least provide understanding. They in fact felt annoyed that it was getting worse and I was talking about it so much as a sign of help versus actually caring, or at least telling me directly that they didn’t want to hear more, which, while still callous, would’ve sucked less.

*they told me they didn’t and got offended that i even asked, overly defensive, and in the back of my mind I thought about how I was told by another party that they were specifically the one that shared stuff from a private server. though i held my tongue cus that would’ve gotten more people involved...)

(It also sucks that I literally got into HStwt, the time of bad times, the month following when my ex-best friend ghosted me and left me severely depressed in the winter of 2018, but I digress. I’ll save that for another ramble)

I think my recent head stuffiness has more so contributed to the fact that after years of connecting myself to the HS fandom, 6, and overall to fandom throughout my life, I’ve finally found the confidence and skills to want to make something original. Not only that, but to do some other things, such as having time practice in other art medias, overall doing art studies with a pencil, etc. Even doing things outside of my creative outputs, like exercising, or watching an anime or playing a game I wasn’t able to get into two years ago because I was worried about a zine schedule when I wasn’t working or at minimum doing doodles on the side.

Work still doesn’t help. This year I clocked in at 100 hours in two weeks once. It was dreadful.

I also got deep into a new fandom which...hasn’t actually happened SINCE Homestuck. But funny timing, lol.

I guess where I can say that I am now is...hm.

I’m still trying to figure things out. I have projects to finish, and I still have HS ones I wanna do...but I potentially need to diminish the list so I’m not long terming this stuff. I have some big ones I wanna do, and at least one more SAHCon year, two if I feel like having a 5 year con.

I also wanna try to work or either very small teams, or just not work with anyone for project stuff. I love working in collabs and the mutual benefits, but it can be stressful on relying for certain things, and, I’ve been accused of using people for clout or so one too many times for my liking.

I have to look at these original ideas I wanna try, some of which like I said requires me to practice certain things that project fatigue won’t allow.

And then, two glaring things to keep in mind:

I’d like to go to college at some point, community, potentially next fall? It gives me time to get some of these hefty things out of the way before I start struggling with math, lol.

Secondly, I really wanna quit my job. I’ve only been dealing with it for 3+ years because it’s not minimum wage nor is it food services -- I can work on my projects on the go. I’m making this journal during my Sunday shift right now!

But it’s gotten suckier with new management, and I’ve never worked with benefits. I think my goal is to just work as long(er) as I can to earn a certain amount of money, and then some time before going to school in fall, I’d take some months of a break. Not only to work creatively in piece with no extra stress, but to get some of these projects done before I scoot my boot.

Honestly, the idea of having a free Saturday again and doing art next to a window sill while listening to youtube commentary seduces me. And if I were to chop down my work load, I’d feel even happier.

Anyways, I guess this was just another vent. I haven’t been able to get any creative work done today bc these thoughts were spinning around in my brain, but I had to write them down so I could also organize what I should do first.

Apologies to that one anon long ago that got sad that Im not longer silly or whatever <:””((((((

#crojournal #buzzcull #tw suicide mention

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moon-ruled-rising · 4 years ago

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as the rain hides the stars

Read the full story on ao3...

and Wattpad, if you so wish...

vi: the damsels are depressed

American stories, faded before me.

I’m feeling hopless,

the damsels are depressed.

Boys will be boys, the, where are the wise men?

Darling, I’m scared.

-Taylor Swift, “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince”

The hairdresser lowered the silver tiara on top of Dany’s silk curls. Most of the tiaras in the Targaryen collection were intricate floral patterns dotted with diamonds but Dany’s was special.

Her tiara was geometric. A band of silver with a large pear shaped diamond set into it, surrounded by hundreds of smaller ones from the mines of Valyria. The pressure from the cataclysmic collapse of the Targaryen homeland a millennia ago created the most beautiful diamonds on the planet. The Targaryen royalty made it tradition to have the gems in all of their crown jewels. Dany was no exception.

It was the opposite of all things a princess was supposed to be. Angular, intimidating, and cold. The tiara was commissioned for her sixteenth nameday, her official debut into society. The gala she planned for it was a testament to her excellent taste. All the best people, dressed in the best designers, and dancing to moody music in low lighting.

The Annual Charity Gala was nothing like that. It was outdated courtiers dressed in antiquated fashion with nothing better to do than gossip about each other. All milling around under harsh lights and awaiting Rhaegar’s speech, indulging themselves in the expensive alcohol.

She jutted her chin and pouted her lower lip, checking her lipstick in the giant mirror before her. It was bad taste to wear a red lip with a red dress, she knew, but she couldn’t resist, especially with the honored guests they were receiving. She needed a power move to show that even after her slight, she still demanded respect. Even from stuffy Northerners.

Missandei entered the boudoir dressed in one of Elia’s old gowns the seamstress did quick alterations on. Yellow, off-the-shoulder, the train of the dress extending from under her shoulders. Her curls framed her face, highlighting her gorgeous complexion. All of Dany’s old gowns were in soft, pastel hues and could never do Missy justice.

“You look stunning!” Dany cheered, wrapping her friend in another hug.

“Thank you. Elia has good taste.”

“It’s too bad we can’t put you in a tiara.”

Tiaras were for royalty only and they were only worn at evening functions or important state events. Like important speeches, coronations, and weddings.To put Missandei in even a small one would cause the poor old patrons of the court to keel over where they stood.

The two girls laughed. Elia knocked at the door, stepping in cautiously when Dany called to her.

She was wearing a pale sunset orange, the frothy chiffon embroidered with the stylized sun of House Martell. A tiara composed of the same golden suns was nestled in her long curls. She glittered in the low light of the room.

“You two look beautiful,” she complimented, reaching up to adjust Dany’s tiara.

Elia looked at her with soft eyes, resting her hands on Dany’s bare shoulders.

“Thank you,” Dany smiled

“Rheagar wants to speak with you.”

“Now? But the gala’s-”

“He’s in his office. It’s very important so, please, don’t keep him waiting.”

Dany gave a sorry look to Missandei, “Duty calls.”

“I’ll keep our lovely guest company until you get back,” Elia promised.

She traveled down the hall, the lavish rug muffling the click of her heels. Dany’s apartments were on the north end of the palace, with Rhaenys’ rooms and the main guest rooms. Because Dany was still living in King’s Landing at the time of Aegon’s birth, his rooms were prepared at the south end of the complex; closer to Elia and Rhaegar’s apartments. She was surprised when she returned home and they hadn’t moved her to the family guest suites on the opposite side of the palace.

The long hallway to Rheagar’s study had a wall of windows on one side and mirrors on the other. The interior designers wanted the unusually small walkway to feel as wide and grand as the others.

She watched her reflection as she passed. A dangerous and proud woman ready to face the world. Ready to face her brother. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, lifting her chin for good measure.

The impressive door was open but she made sure to close it when she entered. From the way he didn’t look up from the papers on his desk, Dany knew he wasn’t excited about having her home.

“Dany, thank you for coming. It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

She spotted the tray of liquor on a table and made her way over. She needed to be a little buzzed before the party started and Rheagar kept the best scotch in his office for his important guests. Well, I am nothing if not important, she reminded herself with a pleased smile.

“How as Braavos?”

“Wonderful,” she deadpanned, pouring herself a glass of the potent alcohol.

“Would you like water, Dany?”

The jab at her recent liquor fueled exploits didn’t go unnoticed.

“No, I much prefer a good glass of scotch. They don’t have this fine stuff in Braavos. Although, they do have a strong liquor from Lorath called vodka. It’s knocked me off my ass quite a few times.”

“I didn’t ask you here to talk about your drinking habits while abroad.”

“Then why did you ask me here?”

Dany lowered herself into the wingback chair in front of his impressive desk. The same desk Dany hid under during games of hide and seek with Viserys. Rhaegar never played with them, he was always too busy with lessons.

It was strange how much Rhaegar looked like their father, poised behind the antique desk. He had silver hair like all of the Targaryens but his violet eyes were much darker.

“Galazza Galare contacted Baelish earlier today and told him that your little slip up was the work of photoshop. You got lucky this time but it’s not likely to change people’s minds.”

Dany couldn’t celebrate the news of her accident being manufactured. Not with Rhaegar staring her down. If anything, she held her breath in anticipation of what he would berate her for next.

“There’s still the fact that you were hanging on this… Daario Naharis. Do you have any idea what people will say?”

“You don’t have to worry about Daario. He’s just a fling. Nothing like the last time.”

“Dany, we can’t have you acting like this. The public will assume you’ve gone down the same path as Viserys. You had your freedom but it’s time to reign it in.”

Being compared to Viserys hurt and the tone of Rhaegar��s voice reinforced the image of their father. She’d never been the victim of one of his lectures on reputation but Rhaegar was subjected to them all the time. The need to protect the Targaryen name was ingrained in his brain like a bad tattoo.

“I think you’re forgetting that I spent my time between semesters in Slaver’s Bay helping with the human trafficking crsis.”

“No, I didn’t forget that, but the negative aspects of your personality have taken the spotlight over all of your good deeds.”

Dany considered for a minute with a long drink. Other people said scotch burned on its way down but Dany only felt a tickle. Targaryen’s knew how to hold their alcohol. The last drop slid from the glass and into her mouth. She set the cut crystal down with an indignant sound and traced her finger around the edge.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Dany,” Rhaegar sighed.

“You called me home for a reason and it’s bigger than my reputation. So, spill it.”

Rheagar opened a desk drawer and pulled out an official looking manilla folder with the state seal printed on the front. It was a variation of the old Targaryen sigil. A single dragon with three heads, each representing a branch of the state intelligence agency, and a set of scales and a longsword grasped in its talons.

“A couple of months ago we received a message from King Eddard Stark of the North. He seeks an alliance.”

“An alliance?”

“Yes. He said the North suffered a low harvest and needs men to man the Wall before winter comes.”

Dany raised an eyebrow at him. Rhaegar was never good at getting to the point, a habit he learned from their father. He met her eyes and cleared his throat.

“I see this as a way to finally secure the North and eliminate the threat of war.”

“Okay…”

“So I offered him a marriage contract between our house and his.”

Dany’s hand tightened around her glass, dreading the next words out of Rhaegar’s mouth. “Between you and his heir.”

The expensive glass hurtled at his head. Rhaegar ducked in time but the cut crystal shattered against the ornate marble mantle behind him. She couldn’t stop herself. Part of the reason she always got into so much trouble was because she didn’t know when to stop.

“And you didn’t think to talk to me about it first,” she yelled.

There was no doubt her voice carried through the halls. She wasn’t known for holding her tongue and always vocalizing her distaste. The palace staff were used to her outbursts.

“Dany, please, sit down- “No! You can’t expect me to go through with this!”

Rheagar sighed and rubbed his temples, “I expect you to do what is right and put your family before yourself. When Aegon conquered Westeros he didn’t do it because of a silly whim, he did it to save his family. The same family that you and I are now tasked with preserving.”

“The Northmen pose no threat to us. And even if they did, we outnumber their forces.”

“I’m afraid they might be a greater concern than we originally thought.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The North is sparsely populated, which makes filling the ranks hard, but one of the great houses have been steadily building up their forces for some time. If the situation is as dire as King Eddard claims, we could expect him to utilize these forces to attack our borders for resources.”

“I will not be your pawn.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that there are some things bigger than you!” he slammed his palms on the desk. “Monarchy is dying, Daenerys. Everyday more people turn against us and you make it worse by acting like a common whore. Do you know what they say about us?”

For once in her life she was too stunned to speak. Rhaegar never lashed out like this. But she wouldn’t let him get to her.

“Oh, let me guess! Those Targaryens are an outdated, a symbol of the old world! We’d be better off without them. And that Daenerys, she’s the worst of all, the filthy whore,” Dany spat.

She was in Rhaegar’s face, leaning over the desk. The tears burned and her throat was tight. Daenerys Targaryen does not cry, she assured herself as she inhaled a shaking breath. Her hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into her palms. She needed to punch something or someone, she needed to run.

“This isn’t a foreign policy matter. It’s punishment for my behavior. Do you honestly think selling me off to a foreign country is going to silence the rumors about me?

Rhaegar’s eyes softened with the realization of what he’d implied and he sunk into his chair.

“I don’t expect you to understand the delicacy of this situation but you need to acknowledge that you are a member of House Targaryen. The same regal house that has ruled over these kingdoms for hundreds of years. We do not let our personal feelings get in the way of duty.”

“That is so-”

“Like it or not, you belong to the Crown and when it calls, you answer.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I wouldn’t advise that.”

“Why not?”

He took a deep breath, clasped his hands, and looked her dead in the eyes, “I’ll disown you.”

She laughed but the stoic look on her brother’s face said it all.

“Oh, you’re serious. You’re going to disown me because I want to be viewed as a human being instead of a political bargaining chip?”

“It’s not an easy decision but if that’s what it takes.”

She clenched her jaw.

Rheagar held the folder out. Dany scowled at her brother as she snatched it and retreated from his extravagant office in a huff, her red dress added to the dramatism of her exit.

He never apologized. Never. ‘It’s not a King’s job to apologize’, their father would say.

She found Elia and Missy in her boudoir, giggling over something on a phone.

“Did you know about this?” Dany demanded of Elia.

Elia’s dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“Did you know that Rhaegar sold me off for some alliance we don’t need?”

Elia sighed, “He asked me not to tell you. He knew you would react like this.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Missy questioned from the ottoman.

“I’m engaged.”

“Excuse me? You’re getting married and you didn’t tell me.”

“As the bride, I only found out minutes ago.”

Missandei balked, Dany’s same reaction. The tension in her limbs was back and the familiar urge to hit something burned in her.

“Political business, I’m afraid,” Elia confirmed.

Dany handed the dossier to Missy, watching her face as she laid eyes on the official portrait of Prince Jon.

“Oh, he’s hot!”

Elia hummed in agreement, “He’s the Heir to the North. His country seeks an alliance with the United Kingdoms of Westeros. And he is handsome, you could do a lot worse.”

“So your brother arranged a marriage contract without your consent?”

“Yes and I will not be going through with it.” Dany took the file back so she wouldn’t have to hear anymore about her fiance’s looks.

Her fiance. The word made her want to vomit. No, he wasn't her fiance, he wasn’t even a suitor. He was a minor inconvenience she needed to weed out.

She flipped through it unceremoniously before taking the official portrait from the paper clip and tossing the rest onto her bed. Elia reclaimed the papers.

“Three brothers, two sisters. He’s served in the military and was very successful in school,” she recited.

“And he’s hot,” Missy singsonged.

Dany considered the photo again. Despite his military time, his face still held the softness of youth. Arrogant and buoyant.

“He’s a legitimized bastard.” Elia pointed to the specific line.

Dany looked up from the photo, “That’s hardly appropriate. I’m the Princess Royal of the United Kingdoms of Westeros! I can’t marry a bastard, even a legitimized one.”

“He’s going to be a King,” Elia stressed, “Give the guy a chance.”

“I’ve spent six years in Slaver’s Bay making change, real change. And not by holding fancy galas and bullshit fundraisers but by getting my hands dirty. If I marry him, all of that goes away. I can’t go where I want, when I want…”

“Dany,” Missy spoke, “I agree with Elia, um- Her Majesty. You did all of that work, but only as a Princess. If you were a queen, you could do so much more. I’m sure they’d let you go to Slaver’s Bay and do your work.”

“But I’ll have so much security, my work would hardly be impactful. And I don’t know anything about their customs. I’ll just embarrass myself-”

“So? You’ll learn. You’re forgetting that Rhaegar and I’s marriage was arranged. I survived and you will too.”

“Not if I have anything to do about it!”

“Like it or not, this is life as a member of the royal family. You could abdicate but you know Rhaegar would never allow it and nobody likes a disgraced royal.”

Dany glanced back at the photo, still clutched in her hand. She hadn’t noticed how tight her grip was and relaxed her hand. Even with the crinkles in the photo she could see what Elia and Missy saw. She wasn’t blind. In his military uniform he looked dignified and strong. He looked worthy of a woman like Dany.

Unfortunately, looks didn’t determine a successful marriage. She would need to get him alone to determine if he was really worth the risk.

“What do you think, Dany?” Missy prompted.

“Fine. I’ll give him a chance, but I’m expecting your help.”

Elia gave her a smile.

“What do we need to do?” Missy asked, excitement and mischief in her voice.

“Be my agents. Talk to him, gather more information, report back to me. I’ll make my move when I feel it’s right.”

An assistant poked their head into the room and reminded them that they needed to get into place for the gala. Missy had to leave with the assistant to go through the secret side entrance since she wasn’t an aristocrat.

Elia and Dany found Rhaegar waiting for them, checking his watch. When he smiled at them, Dany could only scowl back.

“It’s about time you two showed up.” he planted a kiss on Elia’s cheek.

He placed his hands firmly on Dany’s bare shoulders, “Please, remember to smile.”

She shoved his hands off and he sighed.

Elia swooped her into a tight hug and whispered, “I’m so proud of you, no matter what.”

When she pulled back she had the mom look on her face. The same one she gave Dany when she got into university or when Aegon took his first steps.

Rhaegar and Elia entered to monstrous applause but when Dany entered, she faced dead silence. Despite the number of people in the Grand Hall, the whispers echoed. And that Daenerys, she’s the worst of all of them, the filthy whore, she couldn’t stop the thought from coming back. She shook it off. She was the blood of the dragon, dragons do not care about the opinions of sheep. She didn’t need their approval. They were all jealous and petty.

Dany paused at the top of the stairs to survey the court. She spotted the newcomers immediately, situated in the furthest corner by a window. Her eyes caught on the eldest daughter’s hair before she saw the eldest brother and finally, her fiance.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized he was a real person. And the situation she was so sure she could get herself out of, felt even more impossible.

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