#my brain went numb. a record scratch. and i was unable to go to my default coping strategy bc of the meeting and lab

[orcelito]

Probably am not gonna attend lab in the morning, bc I have complete certainty that if I do, I am going to have a complete mental breakdown (as if I haven't already been in the midst of one)

I'll email my professor if I'm unable to finish the lab by the end of the day. He's pretty understanding about this stuff, & if I get some points docked for being late, it's not the end of the world. I've been doing well in this class, overall.

What I AM going to do. Is call the damn psychological services in the morning. Bc Clearly, I am not coping well.

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 1 + 7: vacation + acceptance

notes:

i combined day 1 & 7 as they happen to be the theme of the same story. it's also a prequel to a fic that i haven't written a word yet.

a little bit background since i think things can be confusing:

allen's full name is Louis White Allen. his dad's french and his mom american, though he's raised in alaska. his sister, anna allen, is a commissioned officer in the air force. the siblings speaks both english and french fluently.

sara ryder replaces elijah kamski as the inventor of androids.

this fic is set in september 2038, about a month after connor was first deployed at the phillips' hostage situation.

tags: griefing, family issues, brief mentions of childhood neglect and parentification

ao3 link if that’s what you prefer

-----

To this day, Lou's heart hammers when he sees a call from the military. Last time he received one was ten years ago, and he ended up with more questions than answers, answers that he knows he and his father very likely will not get in their lifetime. Staring at his phone vibrating on the coffee table, Lou debates whether to induce his cats' wrath - one sleeping on his lap and the other he hasn't stopped petting since they finished dinner - by standing up and interrupting their naps. It's not like he's at his full mobility anyways; his cybernetics still needs about half an hour to sync with his nervous system properly and to download the newest software. Whoever the fuck is in charge of calling the family of a soldier who went AWOL in Göttingen can wait.

It seems that the universe has other plans, as the air suddenly becomes charged with static and the phone launches itself towards Lou's chest. The tip of his fingers are numb, a common occurrence after his and his sister's unexplainable outbursts, but he manages to catch the phone before it hits his chest or, heaven forbids, his cat, who is startled awake and promptly returns to sleep after her favourite bed has no intention to move.

He accepts the call. 'Allen speaking. I don't think I have family members in the military anymore.'

'I don't know how many of yours are with us,' the voice from the other end lacks the robotic quality of an android's, so it seems the military is still using humans to contact family members, 'but this concerns your mother, Commander Deborah White. You're the only next of kin we can reach, Mister Allen.'

Lou does sigh. Just as he thinks he can leave her behind after all these years... 'What about her?' Not that he feels strongly that she was gone, as she wasn't quite there for her family to begin with, but something about a Commander going missing on the flagship of a fleet always sits wrong with him; as poor of a mother Deborah White was, a woman with her service record didn't deserve to simply vanish. 'I thought she went MIA more than twenty years ago.'

'She was until a few hours ago. I wish I can break it to you more gently but... we found her. Her remains, at least.'

The beat of his heart suddenly becomes too overwhelming. The air swells with the familiar buzz of static, and it takes all of Lou's self-control to not break everything in the living room with a shattering hazard. There is also the urge to hang up, to pretend that this is just one of those weird dreams he never can remember the details of, because he doesn't need to be burdened with a closure; he wasn't close enough to her to want that, he tells himself. Knowing that she's gone is enough. However, 'How?' is what he says in the end. He closes his eyes, free hand buried in his cat's fur, trying to convince himself that he is doing this for his father.

'Your mother's bones were found in a sealed compartment in the USS Blue Ridge when we were scrapping her. She must've been sitting there for years. Her skull indicates that -'

'Thanks, but I don't think I need to know that,' Lou swallows, willing himself to not think of the implication of an intact skull. It would've been a horrible way to die, sitting in cold seawater for days, feeling her skin rot away before dying of starvation; he'd rather her snap her neck upon impact and go painlessly. 'Anything more?'

'Yes. How would you like to deal with the body?'

Something tickles Lou's chin. When he opens his eyes, he finds the third cat trying to squeeze himself onto his already-occupied lap and purring as if having sensed the human's distress and wanting to soothe him. He recalls how his mother joked that she would probably die at sea and his father's reluctant acceptance of the entire affair; Papa's resignation after he received the news, saying, 'At least she got what she wanted.'

'She spent most of her life at sea,' he replies. No need to rub salt on his father's wounds. 'Let her rest there as well.'

'Very well. If you wish to, a memorial will be held in two months' time. Families of other deceased will attend. You may find support there.'

Support my ass, Lou thinks. It's been twenty-something fucking years. Yet, for some reason, he still promises that he'll consider going before hanging up. His finger hovers over his father's contact afterwards, but remembering that it's midnight in France and that he has a month worth of leave accumulated, he opens his browser instead and starts searching for plane tickets.

----

A month later, Lou finds himself in the commune of Gâvres with a large backpack on his shoulder and missing his cats very dearly. They aren't even his cats, technically; his neighbours keep them as outdoor cats, and Lou, unable to stand the thought of them suffering out in the winter cold of Detroit, took them in, and now they spend more time at his than at their original owners'. Having dropped them off at Hank's - that man takes better care of his pet (now pets) than himself - Lou isn't worried - he doubts his neighbours will even notice that their cats are gone. Emotions are terrible things, however, and the purpose of this trip alone makes it different from all the time he has visited his father before. At least he hasn't just recovered from nearly dying from implant rejection this time.

'Louis?'

Lou turns when he hears his father's voice and the awkward weight reminds him that he hasn't taken off his backpack yet and has been standing in the living room of his father's house staring at nothing for the past few minutes. Not waiting for his son to take it off, Papa Allen crosses the room and embraces Lou, sweat and all. 'How are you?' he asks in French, and when Lou answers truthfully in the same language, 'I missed you,' somehow everything in the world goes right again. Fuck the deviant crisis, fuck the android-infested America that makes his nerves buzz every single waking moment, fuck absent mothers still managing to make a comeback years after she died. He's just Louis Allen, absolutely not a SWAT captain, not the only survivor of the Blast, not the pioneer/guinea pig of CyberLife's groundbreaking cybernetics technology.

He has to let go of his father. 'I hope it's okay. What I did with Mom.'

Papa sighs. 'How about you take off that thing first,' indicating the backpack, 'and settle down for now.'

So Lou walks up the stairs and deposits his backpack in the room designated as his, and, catching sight of the other bed in the room, his legs suddenly feel weak, and he lowers himself, trembling, onto his mattress. Smart, fearless Anna, whose brain always runs - ran - a lot faster than the rest of the world.

Who graduated top of her class and as the Valedictorian of the academy, and subsequently disappeared without a trace.

His left leg twitches. The feeling of something foreign using his body returns, and when he leans forward - with a difficulty that wasn't there before - to take off his sock, it reveals white and grey chassis. A stark reminder that he owes her his life two times over despite her being the younger sibling.

‘How come I’m still alive?’ was the first question he asked after he regained his voice. ‘Ryder threw a fucking building on me.’

‘I dug you out, Lulu,’ replied Anna. ‘Freaky glowy telekinesis finally has its use. I was hungry for hours afterwards.’

At that moment, Lou made the mistake of looking down and seeing his pure white leg. ‘What the hell happened to my leg?’

‘CyberLife’s newest tech.’ As if to demonstrate how he should use his new leg, she gave his feet a poke, and Lou nearly screamed from the sensation. He did not expect to feel anything at all, but apart from the looks, the leg felt...real. ‘Fucking building crushed half your pelvis, your entire left leg and a rib. It’s already minced when I uncovered you, so they need to rebuild everything from scratch. I asked them to add something that can help you control the telekinesis better as well, so we’ll need to test it out later. No more randomly exploding shit. And before you ask, yes, your junk’s unharmed.’

Lou’s coma-addled brain struggled to process the influx of information, and all he got was, ‘I should’ve died.’

Anna hit the break to what seemed to be the beginning of a technical jargon-filled rant. ‘Well yes,’ she gestured just like the meme, ‘but you lived.’

‘No one survives after being crushed by a building, Anna,’ he said, voice rising. Then he asked in French since English felt too raw, ‘Exactly how much tech is in me right now? And how long was I out for? Why did CyberLife choose me?’

She looked away.

‘Anna?’

‘I don’t fucking know, okay?’ she replied in the same language. ‘You were on the brink of death when I dug you out, and there Ryder was, offering to save your life for no cost. You were in a medically-induced coma for one month and was out for reconstruction for another. It took your body two weeks to get used to the cybernetics and...here you are.’

‘Ryder offered,’ Lou said slowly, ‘to save me? As in Sara Ryder?’

‘Yes.’

‘Anna, she was the one who threw the building on me!’

‘I know. One more reason to let her save you.’

‘But you did it anyway.’

‘I did.’

‘Even though you know it’ll probably come back to bite our asses.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘You know the answer, Lulu.’

And Lou has stopped denying that he does a few years ago. Anna joined the Air Force to fly, to be closer to the sky, but he knows that it wasn’t enough; from the way she turned her eyes towards the aurora when they were young, the attention she paid towards all news related to space observation and exploration, to the talks about leaving the wasteland that is known as earth behind and finding a new home in the cosmos - Anna belongs to the abyss of space. The military was simply a stepping stone towards something greater, a greatness that she must be working towards somewhere on this god-forsaken piece of rock.

The place where Lou’s flesh meets his implants aches in anticipation of the storm that will no doubt force them to remain indoors for days. Grinding his teeth in the numbing pain, he uses his hands to put his non-functional left leg onto the bed and lies down sideways with his back towards his sister’s bed, his phone buzzing in his pocket to notify him of an unexpected software error that may take hours to fix. Switching on do-not-disturb, he shoves the offending piece of technology underneath his pillow and loses his fight against jet lag and pain.

----

Lou wakes up cold and hungry. He is covered by a blanket that wasn't there when he fell asleep, so his father must have checked on him when he realized that his son was doing more than putting down his luggage, and the dark sky outside the window almost brings him back again before it flashes.

Then the booming thunder reminds him that it isn't dusk at all.

He successfully rolls over on his other side, which means that his cybernetics are functional once more. Kicking the blanket away, he sits up and grimaces at the taste of his mouth.

He feels better after his regular morning rituals, though the lack of three furry friends harassing him and brushing against his feet is something that he'll need to get used to, and his father is cooking lunch when he reaches the kitchen.

'Morning, Louis,' Papa says as he hands the pan over to his son. 'What did they drag you through to have you sleep for so long?'

Lou is glad that he can use concentrating on not burning his food as an excuse to buy himself a minute. Should he tell his father the truth, or should he avoid talking about work just like many people do during their vacation? 'Things are getting bad in Detroit,' he decides in the end as going on a vacation at one's father's house isn't exactly normal either. 'Androids are breaking their programming and starts having their own thoughts. CyberLife's trying to cover it up, but I've dealt with enough violent deviants - that's what they're calling those androids - to know it's gonna be a problem real soon if they don't solve it now.' A pause to think of how to continue. 'I'm glad you're not in America anymore.'

'It must be exhausting,' is his father's reply, and that's all Lou needs to realize that his father has no idea what he's talking about. Then again, the man moved back to France before androids were a thing, and although they kept in frequent contact, Lou never talked much about his work; the police getting reformed means that SWAT is deployed only when peace is not the option - that means seeing people get hurt or die constantly. Androids aren't really a thing in Europe, so his father never experienced the 'androids taking over everything and making everyone lose their jobs' shit. He won't understand.

'That's why I'm here.'

They lapse into silence as Lou finishes cooking and empties the content of the pan onto two plates. Never one for formality, Papa brings them to the living room, sitting at the corner of a couch while Lou retrieves his plate and fork and curls onto the window sill. At this proximity, he can feel the raindrops hitting the glass as if he is standing in the rain.

Papa clears his throat. 'About your mother, Louis.'

Lou tears his eyes away from the raindrop he's betting on to win. He hastily shoved some eggs into his mouth to buy himself some time to mentally prepare for the conversation. 'What now?'

What he actually says isn't what Lou expected. 'I'm glad about what you did with your mother's body.'

'Her skeleton, you mean,' he replies. 'What's left of it anyways. I don't think they found the whole set.'

'Still,' Papa isn't looking at him. 'That's what she would've wanted. And by I'm glad - I'm not opposed to it.'

'That's it?' Lou turns back towards the rain. 'That wasn't your reaction when they told you that she was MIA.'

'I was young - younger - back then,' a sigh. 'It wasn't fair to you. Or to Anna. Especially to Anna. I'm sorry.'

No it wasn't, Lou wants to say, but - 'I've made peace with it a long time ago. Mom, me and Anna, Alaska; that was all you knew. I... I don't blame you for it.'

He has to close his eyes and press his forehead against the glass. He considers switching to German to further detach his emotions, but then he realizes that nearly everything has fled his mind from disuse. Why does he think spending his vacation with his father right after they discovered that his mother might have died painfully a good idea?

'That's what I thought I'd react when you called me, you know?' Papa says. 'I thought I'd break down. Then I realized that I've moved on and... that's it. Hard not to after more than twenty years.' Even with his vision gone, Lou can still feel his father's gaze on him. 'You've done that for your mother. Have you, for Anna? It's been ten years.'

'Have you, Papa?' Lou asks instead of answering even though he knows his answer. 'Can you stand the thought of your daughter gone as well?'

'After your mother?' the father feeds himself a mouthful of food and swallows. 'Kind of have to.'

'Of course you did. I raised her, not you.'

That is the last thing he says to his father before the storm goes away.

----

Emotionally exhausted, Lou goes to sleep early despite waking up not ten hours ago.

He knows he’s dreaming as soon as he opens the door and discovers his childhood living room behind it. The room is dark, so the lights must have been switched off, and even though it feels like he has smacked his hand all over the wall it’s on, he still can’t find the switch. It does bring him closer to the window, outside where a storm is going on at full force and paints everything white, and although he knows that what he is seeing isn’t real, he dreads the upcoming and necessary shovelling.

The world is suddenly lit up from behind him, followed by the voice of Neil deGrasse Tyson and the clicks of a keyboard. When Lou turns, Anna is there sitting in front of the couch, her brother's homework scattered in a semi-circle around her, and an old, bulky laptop snug between her crossed legs. It should have been a normal day in their house in Anchorage had Anna been a child but not an adult, which is the form Dream Anna is appearing in - she is younger than him by nearly eight years.

‘Where’s the light switch?’ Lou asks, looking around for good measure. ‘As much as you enjoy Cosmos, a documentary about space isn’t sufficient lighting.’

‘Relax,’ says Anna. ‘Eye problems aren’t in our genes.’ Then, waving at the papers around her, ‘Everything’s done. Your teachers didn’t suspect a thing,’ she gets younger and younger following each syllable until her age makes sense, ‘but you asked me to do it on a separate piece of paper, so I did. Feel free to copy directly if you wish.’

That is when Lou realizes that she’s playing games on the notebook, something that looks like a simplified version of Temple Run but set in space. ‘No thanks,’ he says. ‘I’d like to keep the creases on my brain.’ Then he notices that his sister didn’t really answer his question, so he asks again, ‘How am I supposed to switch on the lights?’

‘With your phone,’ is the matter-of-fact reply. ‘Don’t tell me you uninstalled the fucking app for cat pictures.’

‘For one last time, Anna, I don’t download cat pictures.’ And it hits him. ‘Wait, phone? The house isn’t automated when you’re at this age.’

‘Is it?’

Anna stands up and stalks closer to her brother, and she grows and grows and grows until they’re off the same height and she looks... older, how she should look like if she’s alive she’s still here. She is now Major Anna White Allen of the United States Air Force, dressed smartly in her dress uniform except for her cap, which she holds in her right hand. Their surroundings have also changed to that of the Phillips' penthouse terrace, harsh wind whipping around them.

'You aren't real,' Lou breathes, feeling light-headed. ‘You - you’re gone. Just like Mom.’

‘Open your eyes, then. End this early if you want to. Forget that this ever happened. I don’t mind.’

It is followed by a terrifying moment of wakefulness, the images blurring and then regaining clarity as he stays asleep. ‘And Papa wants me to let you go,’ he says with a sad chuckle.

‘Why?’

‘We found what’s left Mom. How long do we need to wait to find what’s left of you?’

‘Why are you talking like I’m dead?’

‘Cause you probably are, like Mom?’

‘I know you think we’re alike,’ an eye roll, ‘but we’re different.’

‘Say you’re not dead. Where the hell are you?’

‘Does it matter?’

A blink. They’re floating in space, Anna dressed in some form of armor, and Lou in normal clothes. He attempts to draw a breath and wakes up choking and crying, the dream completely forgotten save for the faint image of Anna falling towards earth and getting burnt to crisps.

----

A few days later, Lou finds himself walking on the beach with his father. The sky is cloudy and the wind is strong, so it is cool even though it’s September and Lou grew up in Alaska. They started throwing questions back and forth ten minutes into their walk, some of them silly and simple and give them a good laugh, but the others -

‘Answer me honestly, Louis. Do you think Anna’s dead?’

It is easy. ‘No.’

‘Where do you think she is, then?’

Lou’s face suddenly becomes too hot to bear. ‘Does it matter?’

‘If it affects you, yes.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. She wouldn’t want us to speculate.’

‘But she’s not here, is she? Maybe you’ll feel better after you say it out loud.’

Lou sighs, oh how the turntables… ‘In space, probably.’

‘You’d think we’ll hear about that.’

‘Secret space programs exist, Papa.’

‘Not in America.’

‘I never said it’s an American program,’ Lou says as he kicks a rock away. ‘Do you know what they said when I received the first call from the Air Force? They asked me if Anna has ties with other space agencies even though she’s never been in NASA; she just talked about other countries’ space programs so much that they suspected her having ties with them.’

‘Hmm.’

‘What does that even mean?’

‘You know you won’t see her again, right?’

Lou halts his steps. Anna? Gone forever? ‘Does it matter?’

Papa sighs. ‘You’re in denial, Louis. You didn’t do this with your mother.’

How dare he - ‘Of course I didn’t, she was barely there!’ he has to put a few steps between them. ‘I raised Anna! How do you think that’s even comparable?’

‘I simply don’t want you to live in uncertainty for the rest of your life.’

‘You just don’t know your daughter,’ he counters. ‘She told me she’ll come back.’

‘You know -’

‘You don’t know shit!’

He runs. His lungs and legs are strained when he gets home, his father’s home, but he doesn't stop at that. He packs his stuff (not that there’s much to put back into his backpack), jumps into his rental car, and is back in Brest before he knows what he’s doing. His return flight is next week, so he has a lot of time to kill.

In the end, he takes a trip around the country alone, going to places he both never had time for and, if he’s been there before, misses dearly. He may have forgotten what they’ve talked about, but he remembers Anna visiting him often. The images flee his mind whenever he tries to recall them, but he doesn’t think they’re talking on earth, and he always wishes that he at least remembers some of it.

A few months later, he’ll learn that his speculations are closer to the truth than he thinks. A few months later, Louis Allen will prove his father wrong.

But he doesn’t know that yet. Therefore, after collecting the cats from Hank and unpacking his luggage, he takes all of Anna’s things and puts them into a box, telling himself that it is the first step towards admitting that maybe, it’s a big fucking maybe, he will never see his sister again.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Tony Stark / Been There, Done That (Part Two)

Summary: Tony wants to forget about you, but you keep haunting his dreams

Word Count: 1,908

Fuck. 

Tony was tired. So tired. He swore, he must have been losing brain cells left and right today, yesterday, and the day before, to be this drunk, again. He was falling into a category that Tony Stark should never inhabit, and that was predictable. But he couldn’t help it. He had been here, he had done this. He had crawled into bottles before, into the beds of strangers, but never had it felt so wrong. 

Until now. 

Even numb, Tony felt a strange sense of deja vu wash over him, feeling the cool edge of the bar dig into his cheek, staring at the remnants of his drink slid down the edges of the clear glass. His vision was blurry, fighting to keep his eyes open, even as they begged him to shut, to succumb. 

But he was so tired. 

So tired. Tired of losing people. Tired of having to make the tough choices. Tired of the world taking, and taking, and leaving him with nothing. 

“Sir, sir? It’s closing time. You need to go,” but he couldn’t leave. 

There was a time that he tried. Was it after his parents died? It was after the funeral, weeks after, when the world had moved on from the absence of Howard and Maria Stark. But he hadn’t. And that’s how he had found himself standing before an edge of a building in Europe, albeit, one he had been drinking on. Teetering on the edge, he made the mistake of looking over the edge. Wow. He wondered how long they would be scraping him off the sidewalks? But then the wind blew, and he misstepped, sending him sprawling backwards onto the roof flat on his ass. But he swore, the wind carried more than the scent of the city. It carried the scent of his mother’s perfume. 

“Tony,” he heard your voice whisper in your ear, insistent. 

A small smile curled on his lips, before his brow furrowed in frustration. How had he let himself fall apart like this? He was so tired. He had already lost Pepper, and when he did, he couldn’t remember why he had broken his boundaries, why he had torn down his walls, why he let her bypass his sarcasm and snark all the way to his heart, only to rip it to shreds. But you...

“Tony, wake up. It’s time to go home,”

“Can’t you leave me alone?” It was the third night in a row that he had dreamed of you, and he was tired of being taunted. Each time, you would appear to him, taunt him of what could be, what he wanted, and then you would disappear. 

Just like everyone else. 

“I can’t leave you here. The bar’s closed. I’m pretty sure the owner will throw you out on your ass,” you said, slinging his arm around your shoulder, and pulling him to his feet. 

“Now, wouldn’t that be something that everyone would like to see?” he muttered, as you helped him make his way out, “The great Iron Man bested by a bar owner!” you shushed him, the jingle of the bell on the door seemed so real, and yet so did you. 

“I wouldn’t like to see that,” And he wrinkled his brow, scratching at his face. 

“Well, you’re imaginary, so you wouldn’t see much of anything, now would you?” he replied, “plus, you don’t care about me. You like him, Point Break,” he spat his nickname for him, as if it were poison he had sucked from a fresh wound, “You two were dancing, looking at each other like you were only two people on planet Earth, and otherwise.” He scoffed, and it felt like his blood was gasoline and his jealousy was a lit match. 

“I don’t like Thor, not like that,” he snorted, shaking his head, “I’m not looking for the princely type.”

“Not a Disney person? Not into flowing blond locks, magic hammer, that whole deal?” 

“No, I’m more into the reformed playboy bachelor, with a little bit of a drinking problem, which he can and will fix, and who is a complete hero and idiot,” he rubbed at his temple, as you leaned him against the car, and he blinked at you, finally taking you into focus. 

You were biting your lip, eyes averted, yet peeking at his expression, “That’s an oddly specific type.” 

“Well, I’m an oddly specific girl,” you dared closer to him, arm reached around, his back, and he steadied himself against you, dizzy, unsure if it was from the drinks or from your scent. You popped the door open, shoving him inside, “and also I prefer my men sober, and un-stupid, so, let’s go home.” 

He didn’t remember much of what happened next. A drive. Stumbling to his door, and finally, you helped him into bed, “Are you going to undress me next?” 

He saw you roll your eyes, yet a small smirk on your lips, and he wondered if you considered it, “Don’t tempt me, but feel free to bill me for your drycleaning for your wrinkled clothes.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he muttered, as he sunk into his bed, and you stood by his bedside for a moment, before turning. He caught your wrist, stopping you, “I swore to myself I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t think I can keep it a secret anymore. And this is completely wrong time to admit it to you, but I don’t care. I am past caring. Y/N, I think I’m in love with you-” 

His eyes snapped open, and his ceiling spun. 

He groaned, burying himself in the sheets. It was a dream. Again. He heard the curtains pull apart, sunlight streaming in and he cursed, “Dammit, close the curtains, FRIDAY.” 

“It isn’t FRIDAY, and you’ll have to be a lot nicer to me to get me to close these curtains,” He moaned again at the sound of Rhodey’s voice, “Rise and shine, Tony, it’s time for you to get the hell up.” 

“I’m awake,” he replied, clearing his throat, as he rose from his bed, now keenly aware he had fallen asleep in his clothes, “mission accomplished. You can go now.” 

“And leave you to throw up alone in dignity? Nah,” Rhodes shook his head, “I told you not to make this a habit.” 

“And I told you to leave it be,” Tony snapped, “turns out both of us have a listening problem.”

“Tony, just tell her how you feel. It’s that simple,” Rhodes said, as Tony swung his legs over the bed, and brushed past him, “I’m surprised you didn’t tell her last night.” 

Tony froze, “What are you talking about?” 

“You don’t remember?” Rhodes shoved his hands in his pockets, “I should get going. You were trying to get me out of here two seconds ago, right?” 

Tony grabbed Rhodes by the shoulders, groaning, as he hung his head, “How much of last night wasn’t a dream?” 

“Well, Y/N was the one who called me last night, left a message, and told me she had found you in a bar, nearly passed out and the bar owner had called her number since you had her number pulled up on your cell phone,” he shook his head. He wanted to call her and tell her, but he stared at that same number all of last night, in various states of drunkenness, and got no closer to calling you, “She picked you up, and took you home. Slept on the couch, and left after I showed up. Said you had been muttering in your sleep all night.” 

The color drained from his face, “What did I say to her?”

“She just left,” he removed Tony’s hands from his shoulders, “Go see if you can drag your jaw off the ground and tell her how you feel man.” 

~~~

You walked down the street, nearly in a daze. Several people bumped into you, shouting, but you hardly noticed, muttering an apology here and there, but Tony’s words echoed in your mind. “I think I’m in love with you-” 

And then he fell asleep. And he would never remember. 

Shit. 

You really had the worst luck, didn’t you? 

Your feelings would always go unrequited, wouldn’t they? Because you were always too afraid to take a chance. Always too scared to own up to your feelings. Always too late when you realize your mistake. 

Should have you have stayed instead of running? Would that have let him remember? Would he be happy to see you? 

You like him. Point Break. 

You nearly laughed. Tony Stark, genius inventor billionaire, had bought your little charade. Thor would be pleased to know. You shook your head, biting your lip. 

Even so...you wondered if he meant it. Or if in a drunken haze, he had thought you were someone else...that you were Pepper. It must be what that was, wasn’t it? It had always been Pepper. It had never been you, right? 

You felt a hand clap on your shoulder, and you whirled around, sunglasses hidden eyes meeting your own, and Tony offered you a small smile, hands slipping into his pockets, “We need to talk.” 

~~~

Or so he said. But Tony couldn’t seem to find the words. Two of you had walked in silence for several minutes. Hands a moment apart, but neither of you dared to touch the other. 

“I think this is the longest either of us have went without saying a word,” You mumbled, still unable to face him. 

“I have to tell Rhodes I’ve set a new record. He’ll be so proud,” Tony said lamely, before he raked a hand through his hair, taking your hand, and pulling you into the park. He sat you down on a bench, as he paced before you, “What did I say to you last night?” 

“How much do you remember?” 

Tony stopped, “That didn’t answer my question.” 

“Did I say I’d give you an answer?” Tony sighed in frustration, and you bit back a smile, before saying the words you didn’t want to say, “Tony, we can forget about last night. We can pretend it never happened. You were really drunk. It doesn’t have to be a whole thing.” 

“No, Y/N,” he shook his head, finally facing you, “Maybe I want it to be a ‘whole thing.’ Maybe...I want it to be everything.”

You rose, daring closer to him, only a breath away, “Don’t say things you may regret,”

Tony looked down, shifting from foot to foot, before meeting your gaze again, “I regret a lot of things in my life, but I would never regret you.” 

You swallowed his exhale, your fingers brushing his cheek, tracing down his jaw, before resting it on the nape of his neck, “Never?” His scent was dizzying, his gaze intoxicating, drawing you in, before he breathed you out. He leaned closer, giving you a chance to leave, to break away, but he didn’t know that you, you would never leave him. 

You pressed your lips to his chastely, breaking away for a moment, “You told me you loved me.” 

He covered your lips with his own, this time more insistent, his arms wrapping around your middle before trailing downwards, “And?”

“It’s a coincidence, because I’ve always loved you,” 

“Deep breath now,” he murmured, before pressing another kiss to your lips, “because I’m never letting you go.” 

Been there, done that. 

[johnlockedslashprincess]

Hello world.

How are you? I’m... still alive. Maybe more alive than ever? 

I’ve had a pretty weird day today. Reading an old fic of mine that plays the old, sad strings in my brain and it got me thinking all those not good things that make me regret I chose to live in the end. 

I like to talk about myself. I like to think about myself. And most recently, to everyone’s surprise, my therapist finally made me realize why that is a thing. I like all these things just to persuade myself I am worth having a life because I hate myself. I hate myself so much, I feel like I’m unworthy of love of any kind. 

Everytime my mind turns a wrong turn and everything goes dark, I cry, trying to figure out where is the joke. When is everyone going to laugh at me for being so stupid, for thinking that they actually loved me. I stare at my boyfriend, who’s telling me all the good stuff that he can; telling me he’s there for me no matter what, telling me he will always love me and I stare at him, asking why’s he still with me. Because I’m gonna be like this forever. Why would he choose to take care of someone unwilling to understand they’ve got a place in this world? 

I keep thinking about what I’ve done. Mostly... I still wish I was dead. I’m doing better than I’ve ever been but the thought is still there. Everyone would be better without me. 

This is the first time I’m going into details. I’ve told everyone that I don’t remember most of what happened and it was true for some time. But I really got better so my brain finally let these thoughts back into light from being repressed, and I keep thinking about the moment I’ve decided that death was all that was waiting for me. Not just hypothetically but for reals. 

I was home alone for a weekend. I’ve had a panic attack of some sorts which logically led to me cutting myself. It was nothing serious, just some usual few scratches here and there. If you didn’t know where to look, you wouldn’t see them. It didn’t work at all so I took some benzos to make me fall asleep but they didn’t work as well. They just made me calm enough to realize I was getting to the point of having enough. 

I took every single drug I could find in my room and threw it onto my bed until there was quite a nice pile of various kinds of medication... but mostly just psychiatric ones. There were at least three or four kinds of antidepressants, some benzos, my mood stabilazors and antipsychotics, medication for my asthma, some painkillers. Who knows what else was there. I was sitting by this pile, probably crying my eyes out. Evaluating if it was enough to kill me, if this really was the moment to end it all. I texted some of my friends, trying to reach out for the last time but they were busy at the moment (don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming anyone, I respect everyone having their own lives and I will always love these people). But no one answered, unfortunately, making me more convinced that yes. This was the right moment to kill myself.

Yep, that’s right. I hate myself so much, I decided I was not worth having a life.

I started taking all of the pills out of the plates, making a new pile, more colourful this time. It was mostly white but also green and pink and orange... When I finished, I brought apple juice and a bottle of Jägermeister to my room and I locked the door. 

There was no dramatic thought, no dramatic... anything. I just sat myself on the bed, and totally calm took a handful of those pills and put them into my mouth. I swallowed them with the apple juice and from this moment I couldn’t stop. I kept doing so for quite some time. I also managed to open the bottle of Jägermeister but according to my medical records there was no alcohol in my blood. So I just probably opened it and forgot about it or had no strength to drink anything anymore.

This is where it gets tricky because I don’t know what’s real anymore and what’s not. 

I started feeling dizzy, I collapsed on the bed because my body couldn’t sit straight anymore. My stomach wasn’t cooperating even though I wanted to take in more. I felt like throwing up but I was trying my best not to do it because how would I die if I threw everything out after fifteen minutes? Needless to say... I threw up. Once, twice, thrice. I remember the bitter taste of slightly dissolved pills. 

What it is that I don’t remember is the moment I decided I couldn’t die that day. I decided I couldn’t hurt and probably kill my mum like this. It took all that I had to open my eyes that I didn’t close willingly, it took even more to find and grab my phone (that was in my bed thanks god, because if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to get it, my body just wasn’t cooperating). I dialed the ambulance number, telling the nice lady that picked up, I have just overdosed. Pretty badly.

All that goes after this is just a series of broken memories... Me giving the ambulance woman all the details on how to find me; me still throwing up everything that I’ve worked so hard on getting down; the woman on the phone still talking to me, asking me why did I do that, why didn’t I call for help. 

There were ambulance, fire fighters and police on their way to my shared flat. I caused quite some fuss that afternoon. I remember hearing the lock getting picked out with a power drill, I remember the sound of all those legs running around the tiny flat I used to live in. I somehow managed to unlock the door to my room by just lifting my arm beacuse I didn’t want them to destroy it as well. 

Then it kind of ends... There were voices talking to me, asking me again, why, what, where, so young, so pretty, why... There were hands touching me and moving me around. My eyes were still closed and my body numb. My consciousness very unstable, turning itself on and off.

I remember being in an elevator, lying in a stretcher, being pushed inside an ambulance car. I thought it was night already because my eyes were still closed, while it was just around 4 or 5 pm. 

I remember the engine and siren starting and after that it was just salt and water and throwing up the whole evening. I got taken to ICU when my stomach was empty and then there was a second hell waiting for me. 

This is all just fragments again, mixed with things I’ve been told or that I’ve read in my records, because there’s almost nothing in my memory. 

I got a fever over 40°. The nurses couldn’t give me any medication so they just kept wrapping me in wet and cold sheets. I was hysterical and screaming, halucinating, biting my tongue and the insides of my mouth. I remember opening my eyes and being unable to see which made it even worse because I thought I went blind which kept me screaming and calling for help the whole night. 

The next thing I remember is the morning when my consciousness came back. 

One of the nurses got me my phone with millions of missed calls from every person close to me. The nurses already called my mum letting her know what happened (she had no idea there was anything wrong with me by the way, I never told her I was depressed). So except my mum who already knew I was alive there was only one person left I could call. I will never forgive myself for the pain in her voice when she picked up, after a sleepless night of crying and worrying... I’m sorry, so sorry, Elis. I love you and I hope you will never read this thing that I’m writing.

Lots of people came to visit me afterwards. Crying, apologizing, asking questions I couldn’t answer. Later I found out I somehow managed to make a post on Facebook that read just “i’m sorry” before I swallowed the first dose of pills. I managed to make a post on Tumblr as well. 

It’s been over a year. And... I don’t know how I feel. Like I said once, my therapist told me that suicide is the most selfish thing you can do. It hurt when I heard it. But I took my time thinking about it and I found my answer. Because what if it feels like it is the least selfish thing you are capable of? I tried everything. I tried every single medication given to me, I was in therapy, I called for help so many times for fuck’s sake. Attempting a suicide was the last call that was left for me to try. 

And guess what? I’m here. Better. Than. Ever. With a boyfriend that I love, having future with him together and having something I have never felt before. 

[finnnodair]

                                                    “rise and shine, birthday boy.”

The water felt like a cool slap, having been thrown directly onto his face. Jerking awake, Finnick almost fell off the dodgy cot, righting himself and turning to meet the thick Capitol accent that had woken him. Two guards stared back at him from behind the bars – the man he recognised, the woman he didn’t. Neither, he thought, were Rebels, though he wasn’t sure if he should be nervous or thankful about that.

“It’s the third already? Wow. Time flies,” he commented casually, although his voice came out much quieter than intended. His immediate thought asked how they knew his birthday, but clearly the Capitol had kept all their files. “Wow indeed,” the same woman replied enthusiastically. Finnick glanced over at Kol to make sure the vampire was awake. It was clearly still very early – Finn felt like he’d only just fallen asleep. No one had been told to wake up and move yet either. No one but him. “I’ve got a little present for you, to celebrate,” she continued, and Finnick’s heart sped up, squeezing with dread. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting this. It made sense that he’d be taken first – always the Capitol’s favourite.

“Bellamy, if you would.” She nodded at the male next to her before winking back at Finn. “I’ll see you soon, golden boy.” Finnick nearly flinched at the nickname, but composed himself and smirked at her, knowing full well what they were trying to do. With that, she left the cell block, leaving the former victor to face the other guard he now knew as Bellamy. The younger man met his eyes, and Finnick waited for some sarcastic or threatening remark. But none came. In fact, after studying him for a moment, the man simply looked away, and went about opening his cell. He didn’t try and grab Finnick either, something that the blonde was grateful for, and as he walked himself out, he nodded at Kol. “I’ll be fine.” At least, he’d try to be.

“This way,” Bellamy interrupted. Without another word and one hand on his gun, the guard led him to a room that felt miles away. It reminded Finnick of the ones he used to parade around in, in various Capitol estates. Stark white and sound proof – so no one could hear you scream. “ – ah, there you are! Thank you, Bellamy.” The woman had been waiting for them, and as silently as they’d walked, Bellamy left the room, the sliding door audibly locking behind him. “Mr. Odair, have a seat, darling.” She gestured to what Finnick believed was an examination table, and with no hesitation and a light smirk on his face, he did just that. Looking around, he took note of the various instruments in the room, and the few cameras that seemed to circle him. Nothing else told him what was about to happen. “I’ll be just a moment. The best birthday surprises need to be well executed, after all.” Her comment cut through the silence, Finn’s eyes moving to stare at her back as she adjusted something, silent and careful. “How old are you today?”

It wasn’t a question he’d been expecting, so he didn’t answer for a moment. But clearly he’d waited a moment too long, for she’d already turned on him, eyes narrowing. “If there’s one thing to know about me, Mr. Odair, it’s that I don’t like being ignored. You will answer the questions I ask you, understood?” Tempted to ask her name, Finnick lifted his lips, forcing a smile. “Of course. My apologies. I’m twenty nine today.” She gave him a smile of her own, before returning to her work. “There’s those golden manners. How exciting. Which reminds me – I do believe a congratulations is in order!” She whirled around again, lifting some sort of clamp stand over to his table. “Congratulations?” Finnick asked, gaze trailing warily after her. “Yes! For your wedding.” He froze. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t notice your wedding ring, did you? Now let me guess.. Miss Cresta? She is the mother of your son, isn’t she?” The woman sounded so conversational, Finnick forced himself to remain smiling; though his jaw had started to hurt from clenching it. “That’s right. And thank you. For the congratulations,” he added pointedly.

She nodded in acknowledgement, moving to the far wall. “It’s such a shame they aren’t here to help celebrate your special day.” Finnick’s stomach turned at the thought. “I really did want to surprise you with your family for your birthday. But seeing as we’re.. unclear of their whereabouts, we’ll just have to bring you to your family instead.” With a nod of her head, she gestured toward the cameras. Finnick had done his best to avoid looking at them, but it was hard not to now, the panic in his chest rising. Now he really did have to keep up his front. He would not let his family know he’d been the first taken, and the first to break. “Shirt off.”

With now shaking hands, Finnick tugged off the fabric and averted his gaze from the lenses. Every thought running through his mind told him to run, but he didn’t move a muscle. Gazing at his bare skin, she continued, now handling what looked like a hose. “I believe the next best thing after family, is home. I hear you’re a fan of water? District Four does have the nicest beaches.” Eyeing the hose now, Finnick nodded. “Lie down, Finnick,” she snapped, her tone changing completely. Gone was her passive aggressive banter, and Finnick’s smirk slipped in its place. As he did what she’d asked, she screwed the hose into the clamp, and adjusted it so it hovered right above his forehead. Swallowing nervously, Finnick stared into the nozzle, a thousand questions rushing through his mind. He was so focused on hiding his fear, he didn’t notice the woman circling him, reaching for restraints. But he’d been tied down many times before, and even though every inch of him begged him to move, he managed to remain still once they were in place. There’s no point in struggling. It’ll be over soon.

The head plate was the last thing to be attached, and soon Finnick couldn’t move at all. For someone who he thought loved the sound of her own voice, the woman was now awfully quiet. Finnick tried to turn his head, keep an eye on her, but he saw nothing, the sound of a tap being turned his only clue. The woman retreated then, and after wishing him a happy birthday, she flicked off the lights, leaving the victor in total darkness. There was a quiet beep, and suddenly he was illuminated by the lights attached to the cameras, allowing him to see the hose and nothing else. Clearly he was being recorded now. Man, he had not missed that. Finnick took a deep breath as the first few drops hit his forehead, cold and alarmingly refreshing. He could get through this, for his family. For any captive and Rebel watching. He just had to take his mind elsewhere.

Of course, that was much easier said than done, for every time Finnick’s mind drifted off, a drop on his head dragged him back to the present. Closing his eyes only made him feel more exhausted, since he couldn’t fall asleep like this. Now irritated and out of options, he chose to watch the water instead, and time his breathing to every drop. He’d always found water comforting; like he was receiving hug from his parents every time it touched his skin. But staring at the water had been the wrong call. Staring was what made you crazy. There was nothing even about the patterns, no way of knowing when the next drop would come. The water only grazed his face, and yet his whole body shuddered at every drip. Minutes passed and soon turned to hours; but to Finnick, it felt like days.

Drip.

Half a day had passed now, and he was shivering uncontrollably. Every now and then the cameras powered down, cutting the broadcast and leaving him in total darkness. In those hours he thought of Annie, of his little boy, of how much he wished he could hold them; but the water kept slamming him back to reality. By the afternoon, it felt as if his forehead was pushing into his brain right at the spot the water touched, like someone had their finger pressed there and wouldn’t let up. It was an itch he couldn’t scratch, no matter how much he moved around on the table. Finnick flexed and relaxed his hands, arched his back, blinked his eyes – anything to dodge that drop. But it fell every time, relentless and accurate against his skin. He was breathing so hard he thought he might pass out. He knew this feeling, knew he was suffering from a panic attack, but his anxiety hadn’t been this bad in years. No, only the Capitol could do that to him.

He’d tried for hours not to make a sound, to not let them have the satisfaction, but he couldn’t help it anymore. He grunted every time the water hit, moaned for the woman to let him go, to at least let him breathe. There was no way of knowing if the water on his face was from his tears or the hose, but he was sure he’d cried at least three times. It was so hard to know what was going on when all sense of time and place had left him. Annie’s name left his lips time and time again, calling for her in the darkness. Somewhere deep down he knew that as long as she was okay, it was all worth it. But it was hard to remember that amongst his panicked thoughts.

Drop.

He was crying for his brother now, begging Kol to get him out of there. It was well into the night, and exhaustion was getting the better of him, numbing his whole body. He could feel nothing except the crawling sensation across his forehead, the water dripping down his temples and onto the table, pooling at his shoulders. The cameras flicked back on, and once again, Finnick was flooded with light. “No,” he whispered as he saw the water drop forming, falling hard onto his face. And then it formed again. And again. And again.

It was nearly midnight when Bellamy returned. Finally, finally the water stopped. But it didn’t feel like it. Bell turned on the harsh lights and released his limbs, only Finnick was paralysed, unable to do anything but blink at the ceiling. He was still suffering from a panic attack, something Bellamy recognised but knew he couldn’t do anything about. At least the cameras had shut off permanently this time, so the guard was able to help him sit up. “I can’t take you back, not until tomorrow. And you can’t have any food until then either. Got it?” Finnick heard the voice and nodded fast despite not registering the words, willing now to do whatever the Capitol wanted, as long as they didn’t turn that tap back on. In his experience, saying yes had always been easier.

“Alright then. Just.. keep breathing in.” After a hard look, Bellamy left him alone again, this time with the fluorescent lights and white walls. Clutching to his balled up shirt, Finnick slid to the cold floor, back against the table leg, every part of him shaking.

Another hour passed, an hour since the last drop had fallen, but Finnick couldn’t stop rubbing his forehead.

[wonholes]

All In For You | Chapter Three

Summary: The story, written in third-person, follows main character Shin Hoseok during a difficult time in his life. Struggling to stay alive, Hoseok lives his life from day-to-day, an outcast with a broken past and juvenile record. Basically living on the streets, his only true comfort comes from his friends who treat him as their leader. When his past comes back to haunt him in ways he can’t fully comprehend, only his closest friend has the capability to pull him back into reality.

Fandom: Monsta X

Pairing: Wonho/Minhyuk (Wonhyuk, Leatherpaws), M/M

Rating: Mature (Explicit content may be added later)

Genre: Realistic Fiction, Drama, Romance

Characters: Wonho, Minhyuk, Shownu, Kihyun, Jooheon, Hyungwon, Changkyun

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, eventual explicit content

Exclaimer: Any writing submitted by myself does not reflect the real members of Monsta X or Starship Entertainment. Any dialog or actions written in this piece is based solely on fiction and does not infer that the members would act this way. This was created purposely for fan entertainment and is not factual.

I would like to personally thank @wonholypeach for being my beta reader for this fic and for designing the header image. She was basically my co-author in many ways, for not only helping me edit but for taking the time out of her day to create the header and for letting me go over ideas with her. We both spent several days working on this to make sure that everything was perfect, so speaking for the both of us, we hope that you enjoy it.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Chapter Three

Hoseok woke up before Minhyuk did, the light of the day shining through the cracked and broken windows of his apartment. He yawned and opened his eyes, squinting down at Minhyuk whose head was pressed against his chest and his arm wrapped around Hoseok’s waist. Trying to get his bearings, Hoseok glanced around the room, relieved that Hyungwon was still asleep. Although being so close to Minhyuk wasn’t a strange occurrence, Hoseok wasn’t sure how it would look if someone walked in on them.

Hoseok let his head rest back down on the couch, not wanting to move too much and wake his sleeping friend. At first he did want to wake him; concerned if Hyungwon were to wake up or if their friends decided to pay a visit, even so early in the day. But his worries became less and less as he laid there, listening to Minhyuk’s rhythmic breathing against his chest. He watched the younger boy inquisitively, the pale yellow locks of his hair in disarray from a night of sleeping. Carefully, he pushed Minhyuk’s bangs away from his eyes and hastily lowered his arm when he realized what he was doing. Hoseok subconsciously licked his lips and then sighed, closing his eyes briefly and trying to wrap his thoughts together.

Minhyuk fidgeted in his sleep, pulling himself closer to Hoseok with the arm that was wrapped around him. Hoseok raised a brow as he looked down at him, unable to prevent a laugh from escaping his lips as Minhyuk started to drool on his bare chest.

The blonde immediately started to stir, now awake.

“Ah, sorry,” Hoseok apologized, unable to hide his smile.

“What time is it?” Minhyuk grumbled, his eyes still closed.

“I don’t know, I haven’t checked. You kind of got me trapped here,” Hoseok replied.

Minhyuk stretched his legs and slowly opened his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. Still not realizing the position he’d put himself in he yawned and stretched again, before finally sitting up. Hoseok couldn’t help but smirk as Minhyuk looked down at him, watching the initial shock set in.

“You drooled on me,” Hoseok stated, trying to sound angry but it amused him too much.

Minhyuk was awake now but hadn’t said anything. Instead, he used his shirt sleeve to wipe the drool that had pooled on Hoseok’s naked torso. Perhaps he was embarrassed, but Hoseok wasn’t sure if it was from where he woke up, or the drool.

“Sorry,” Minhyuk said, yawning nonchalantly.

Hoseok looked up at Minhyuk curiously but didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat up as well, scratching the back of his head.

“I should see how Hyungwon is doing,” Minhyuk said, his eyes still tired.

Hoseok gave a small nod. “That’s a good idea.”

Minhyuk smiled lightly and left the room, checking on their younger friend.

Hoseok stood and stretched, raising his arms up above his head and yawned. His muscles tightened as he did so, a tattoo visible on the back of his left shoulder. Scratching his stomach, he made his way over to the bathroom, praying that the water would be working. He walked past the bedroom door on the way, peeking his head in to see how Hyungwon was doing. The youngest of them was still visibly asleep with Minhyuk attentively watching over him. Minhyuk looked over when Hoseok paused in the doorframe, his eyes lingering on him for a few moments before he quickly looked away.

Hoseok bathed and dressed, relieved that the water in his apartment was running today, despite it being cold. He was just happy that it was working and not coming out dirty, as it sometimes did. He changed into a new pair of tight fitting jeans and t-shirt, as well as dark combat boots and his leather jacket.  By the time he’d finished Hyungwon was awake and chatting with Minhyuk in the living room, the bruising more prevalent on his face but not as swollen.

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asked, concerned.

“Better than yesterday,” Hyungwon replied, lightly touching his face.

“We could still take you to a hospital,” Minhyuk interjected, also worried.

“The both of you need to stop worrying so much, I’m okay,” Hyungwon replied earnestly. “I’m actually thinking about going to Shownu’s fight tonight.”

“You seriously can’t be thinking that,” Hoseok replied.

“I am; I want to go,” Hyungwon said.

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Minhyuk asked.

Hyungwon nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Hoseok sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Attending Shownu’s fight was the last thing he wanted to do, even though he already felt terrible for not supporting their eldest friend. If anything happened to Hyungwon when he wasn’t there, that guilt would only pile on top of itself. “Well, if you’re going then I guess I will too,” he announced.

“You will?” Minhyuk asked, surprised.

“Hyung, you don’t have to. Shownu hyung understands why you don’t go to his fights,” Hyungwon said.

“Yeah but if you have a concussion and end up on the floor unconscious, I’ll only end up with myself to blame for not being there,” Hoseok replied.

Hyungwon wanted to argue but Minhyuk touched his shoulder, making him stop. “It will be fun,” he added, smiling lightly.

Hyungwon smiled back at Minhyuk, despite any pain he might have been feeling. Hoseok rolled his eyes but went along with it, spending the rest of the early afternoon chatting with his friends.

Changkyun and Jooheon arrived in the early evening, eager to spend the night out. Jooheon immediately asked Hyungwon how he was feeling, carefully inspecting his bruised face. Hyungwon pretended to hiss in pain when Jooheon touched his cheek, and the red-head shrieked loudly, afraid that he’d hurt him. Hyungwon and Minhyuk laughed hysterically and Jooheon clutched his chest as he regained composure.

“Hyung, how are you really feeling?” Changkyun asked while Jooheon was still reeling from his trivial ordeal.

“I’m fine Changkyun, thanks for asking,” Hyungwon replied, hugging his friend in greeting.

“Why did you scare me like that?” Jooheon asked, sighing.

“Because it’s funny,” Hyungwon replied simply.

Changkyun slapped Hyungwon’s back a few times, both of them laughing. Jooheon shook his head and fixed the cap on his head, anxious to get going.

“Hoseok-hyung is coming too,” Hyungwon announced as they were preparing to leave.

Jooheon made a surprised sound, actually shocked. Changkyun grinned from ear-to-ear and embraced Hoseok, laughing afterward.

“Well, let’s go!” Jooheon exclaimed, the first of them out of the door.

They all spent the evening playing billiards and drinking before Shownu’s fight. Kihyun eventually met with them, half of them already drunk on a few rounds of Soju. With the alcohol numbing any pain that Hyungwon might have been feeling, he screamed with excitement after winning against Jooheon, raising his fists in the air and shouting.

“Ah, my ears,” Jooheon complained, covering the sides of his face.

Hyungwon laughed, clearly proud of himself.

“How much have you all been drinking?” Kihyun asked, more curious than concerned.

“Ah, hyung don’t start,” Changkyun replied, very tipsy.

“Start what?” Kihyun asked, looking around at his friends. “What did I do?”

Hyungwon and Minhyuk laughed at Kihyun’s response, greeting their friend as Kihyun stood dumbfounded. Hoseok stood the furthest from them, carefully sipping a beer. He was barely even tipsy but was not planning on being intoxicated if he had to babysit Hyungwon all night.

He caught Minhyuk’s eye as the blonde looked over at him, smiling slyly. Hoseok took another swig of beer, trying to interpret what it could’ve meant. It wasn’t Minhyuk’s usual smile. He had two smiles: his first smile was very soft, his teeth barely passing his lips. His second was when he was laughing; he would squint and have wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, beaming from head to toe. This was completely different; almost coy.

Hoseok nearly choked on his beer when the thought of Minhyuk flirting with him popped inside his brain. It would make sense--he’d been doing it all night without him necessarily piecing it together. It was only now that Hoseok remembered all of it: the light touches on his shoulders and waist--leaning up behind from him to whisper in his ear--asking him if he wanted a drink--unknowingly touching his thigh when they had been sitting down--looking at Hoseok and biting his lip after he’d taken a shot--laughing at literally anything he said…

Hoseok shook his head, knowing that Minhyuk was quite drunk and that would explain his behavior. No one else seemed to pay any mind, and he convinced himself that he was getting worked up for no reason. He finished his beer just as everyone had decided to leave so that they wouldn’t be late for Shownu’s fight. Hoseok paid for his drink and followed behind, laughing when Changkyun nearly tripped over himself as they made their way outside.

Although off the beaten track, their destination wasn’t far from where they were. Since the kind of fighting that Shownu participated in was illegal, the match would take place in a secreted basement of a club in Itaewon that Hoseok knew all too well. Having fought in the same place himself several times before, he could hear the familiar music blaring from the club many minutes before they arrived.

They entered from a back area that was hidden in an alley and were escorted down a flight of stairs, music bouncing off of the walls as they made their way down. Music was playing loudly in the basement as well, a DJ spinning in the corner and hundreds of spectators already crowded around a ring in the middle of the room.

Hoseok made his way to the front of their group and led his friends through the crowd of people, heading in the direction of where Shownu was waiting in the ring. Although the music was giving him a headache, Hoseok ignored it, continuously looking over at Hyungwon to make sure that he was okay.

“Hyung! Shownu-hyung!” Hyungwon shouted several times at his friend, waving his hand in the air.

Shownu looked over, smiling and waving back. Since it was probably impossible to hear him he didn’t try to reply, but the expression on his face wasn’t anything less than happy and grateful.

“I bet almost 60-thousand won on Shownu-hyung tonight,” Changkyun exclaimed so that everyone would hear.

“No, you didn’t,” Kihyun replied, stunned.

“Of course I did, Shownu-hyung’s going to win!” Changkyun asserted proudly.

Kihyun shook his head in disbelief and Jooheon clapped Changkyun’s back, laughing. Hoseok felt as Kihyun did, but wasn’t in the mood to be scolding anybody, especially when everyone seemed to be in good spirits.

“I hope hyung will be okay,” Minhyuk said, having walked over beside Hoseok. He spoke loud enough so only that he could hear.

“He will be, don’t worry,” Hoseok replied.

Minhyuk gently smiled but didn’t reply as the lights dimmed and the crowd started shouting. Hoseok’s friends joined in the chants, and he found himself cheering with them when Shownu’s name was announced. After both of the competitors were called, Shownu’s rival didn’t hesitate to get started, and the fight began.

“The winner! Shownu!” the MC declared, gripping Shownu’s wrist and holding his arm up in the air.

The fight had lasted long but Shownu was indeed the victor with bloodied fists to prove it. He held his hands in the air and yelled at the crowd, people responding back with screams of their own. Changkyun embraced Jooheon after he’d won, almost in tears from the excitement of winning his bet. They all shouted and celebrated together, jumping up and down as Shownu gave them a triumphant shout from inside the ring.

When they calmed down, Hoseok watched as Shownu exited the ring on the opposite side, likely going to the back area which housed a makeshift locker room.

“I’m going to congratulate him,” Hyungwon announced, already trying to make his way out of the crowd.

“I’ll go with you!” Minhyuk responded, already following behind his taller, brown-haired friend.

Hoseok went to follow but couldn’t keep up with them, the crowd already beginning to disperse and moving in all different directions. Instead, he made his way back over to the others, Changkyun pocketing his prize money with a big grin on his face.

“Hyung fought really well, don’t you think?” Kihyun asked.

Hoseok knew that Kihyun knew how he felt about fighting, as they were all familiar with his past. Trying to keep a straight face, he replied, “Yes, he fought very well.”

“I swear I thought I heard a snapping sound when Shownu-hyung kicked him in the ribs,” Jooheon exclaimed, still taken aback.

“There are no rules here, so anything can happen,” Hoseok replied, not sounding overly excited about it.

Still amazed from the fight, Jooheon, Changkyun, and Kihyun talked fervently while they waited for the rest of the group to return. After more than enough time had passed, Hoseok looked around, growing worried.

“Where are they?” he mumbled, now separating himself from the group.

With the basement now less crowded, Hoseok was easily able to make his way across the floor and into the room where he expected the others to be. Bewildered, no one was in the locker area, and he returned to his friends even more concerned.

“They’re not back there,” he announced, almost in a panic.

The others stopped their conversation, looking toward Hoseok with worried faces.

“Maybe they’re outside?” Kihyun asked, taking out his phone to text them.

Without replying, Hoseok immediately turned and started for the exit. He walked quickly, practically flying up the stairs before making his way outside. Although he knew that no harm could come to his friends if Shownu was with them, something didn’t feel right.

He pushed the exit door open and rapidly started looking around, hoping that they would be there so that he could stop making such a scene.

“Shownu? Minhyuk?” he shouted, looking around the alley.

“Hyung?”

Hoseok turned in a blink of an eye, his stomach twisting in knots when he saw who was speaking to him. Minhyuk was lying on the ground clutching his side, his face bleeding. He coughed a few times as Hoseok ran over to him and fell to his knees. Hoseok carefully pushed Minhyuk’s bloodied blonde hair away from his face, which was covered in bruises and a deep cut on his cheek.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked, his voice shaking.

Minhyuk tried to sit up and groaned when he attempted to. Hoseok attentively helped him, letting Minhyuk lean on him for support.

“They tried to attack Hyungwon but Shownu-hyung chased them off. One of them stayed behind and went after me,” he replied, spitting blood on the ground.

Hoseok wiped some of the blood off of Minhyuk’s lips with his thumb and then delicately inspected his face. The cut on Minhyuk’s cheek wouldn’t stop bleeding so Hoseok ripped off a piece of his shirt to use as cloth and began pressing it to the blonde’s face.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Hoseok asked.

“My side. He kicked me,” Minhyuk replied.

Hoseok cursed out loud, infuriated. “Let me see.”

Minhyuk hissed as he started to lift his shirt so Hoseok stopped him and made him hold the cloth himself. Using both hands he carefully lifted Minhyuk’s shirt, his face flushing in anger when he saw the horrible bruising on the side of Minhyuk’s torso.

“Do you think you can stand?” Hoseok asked, lowering Minhyuk’s shirt back down.

“I can try,” the blonde replied, already attempting to do so.

Hoseok helped his friend up with Minhyuk’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. Although groaning in discomfort, Minhyuk stood, trying to put on a brave face.

“We need to take you to a hospital,” Hoseok said.

Before Minhyuk could argue with him a figure emerged from the other side of the alley, walking questionably toward the pair.

“Hyung, that’s him,” Minhyuk said, his eyes wide with panic.

Hoseok looked at Minhyuk and then back at his assailant, anger suddenly boiling within him. “Stay here,” he said, removing Minhyuk’s arm from around his neck.

“Hyung, don’t,” Minhyuk attested, but Hoseok was already walking toward him.

“Hey! You’ve got some nerve coming back here,” Hoseok exclaimed, his hands balled into tight rage-filled fists.

The man paused momentarily, looking Hoseok over. Not feeling overly threatened, he stood more casually and made no attempt to flee. He wore a black mask over his nose and mouth so Hoseok couldn’t make out his face, but he assumed that he was probably the person who beat up Hyungwon, or one of his associates.

“Just dropped my watch while I was taking care of your friend over there,” he replied nonchalantly.

By this time Hoseok was seeing red, and it was taking all of his strength not to lunge at the attacker. The others finally made their way outside of the building; Kihyun, Jooheon, and Changkyun rushing to Minhyuk when they saw him.

“You came back for your watch? Are you stupid or insane?” Hoseok asked, his voice rising. “What gave you the right to lay a finger on him?”

“Perhaps both? It’s an expensive watch,” the thug replied. “We had to send your friends a message somehow.”

As Hoseok was about to lunge toward him he felt hands pull him back in place. Jooheon and Changkyun were holding onto him, preventing him from doing so.

“Hyung, it’s not worth it,” Kihyun said from behind them, Minhyuk leaning on him for support.

The thug laughed and that was all Hoseok needed in order to pull away from his friends and run toward him like an animal chasing prey. He threw his whole body at him, shoving the thug onto the ground so that he landed on his back with Hoseok on top of him. Hoseok hadn’t even thought about going for his glock even if he had it, as he’d left it back at his apartment. Instinct seemed to course through him like adrenaline, and he threw punch after punch at the attacker’s face, beating him until blood speckled the pavement.

It was Shownu who ended up pulling Hoseok off of the man, throwing him back against the alley wall and holding him there until he’d calm down.

“Hoseok! Hoseok stop!” Shownu exclaimed, trying to talk his friend down.

Hoseok hadn’t realized that he had been screaming. His pupils were dilated and filled with tears as he looked at Shownu who still had a firm grip on Hoseok’s shoulders, keeping him in place.

Hoseok was shaking, coming down from whatever it had been that had taken over him. Most of it was anger and adrenaline, but something else had stirred within him. Whatever it was made him think of nothing else but causing harm to the person who’d hurt his friend. Minhyuk.

Shownu finally let go of Hoseok but stayed close, unsure of his current state of mind. Hoseok wasn’t looking up, tears staining his cheeks and his mind an empty abyss but filled to the brim with too many emotions to count.

Hyungwon had returned at the same time as Shownu, helping Kihyun hold Minhyuk. Jooheon was standing behind Shownu, cautiously watching, while Changkyun checked to see if the unconscious thug still had a pulse.

“He’s alive,” Changkyun said.

Before anyone could reply Hoseok pushed away from Shownu and started walking down  the alley, not wanting anyone to see him in his current state. He didn’t know what to make of his emotions, and he never thought he’d ever reveal that side of himself again. It was as if Wonho had returned from the ring, but worse; much worse. He was afraid that it wasn’t at the fault of his past--that he only had his present self to blame, and that made him walk away even faster. 

He wanted to hide his shame; run as far away as possible, because Minhyuk would never look at him the same way again.