#she cried and shouted and then stormed out of the meeting to accost me

[bobfloydsbabe]

this day started off so good and ended with me getting accosted by the intern wanting to know if i was the one who complained about her. i told her to discuss it with our boss. after she'd stormed off, i had to sit down for a while because i was shaking so violently.

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

What’s Mine, Felinette. Dark Hades and Persephone oneshot.

Summary: Gods do not take kindly to their possessions being threatened, especially the God of Death. AU Felinette. God Hades and Mortal Persephone AU

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous Ladybug.

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Chloe scoffed at the scene before her. It seemed Lie-la was at it again with trying to alienate Marinette. The girl played the part of a victim well, but Chloe has done that before, and she could see right through the act. Everyone in the class was glaring at Marinette, who looked completely heartbroken. Chloe actually felt some pity for the girl, but refused to step in. Just because she stopped bullying her didn’t mean she had to stick up for her.

‘But what if he’s watching?’ a voice fretted in her head. Chloe fought a shiver, remembering the last time she got a visit from him. She remembered sobbing for mercy, and she knew it was only Marinette’s influence on him that he gave it, but he left her with a warning.

“Stay away from what’s mine, or you’ll truly know Hell.”

Chloe was smart—she wisely avoided Marinette after that, no longer being her bully. It wasn’t until Marinette approached her one day did Chloe realize how much she owed Marinette her life.

“He’s very… protective. I’m really sorry. I told him never to do it again.”

She didn’t know how Marinette got involved with someone like that or how Marinette seemed to charm him, but what she knew is that that thing was wrapped around her finger, and knew she was safe for now.

That didn’t change the fact that he would sometimes leave signs in his wake of his warning. Just because he couldn’t directly threaten her doesn’t mean he couldn’t leave reminders. She didn’t dare tell Marinette for fear he would unleash his wraith on her again for telling his precious flower he wasn’t exactly keeping his promise.

Her eyes surveyed the class nervously. She wondered when he would come. It was only a matter of time. Beings like him did not take kindly to their precious ones being threatened. She shivered, feeling a slight chill, and looked around swiftly, knowing what was coming. No one else noticed the sudden chill besides her. She paled.

It seems he was watching after all.

“I can’t believe you would do this, Marinette!” Alya yelled at the girl she once considered her best friend. She stood in front of a crying Lila while Rose and Mylene comforted her while taking turns giving Marinette glares. “I can’t believe you would threaten Lila! What’s wrong with you? Your jealously has gone too far!”

“I didn’t threaten her!” Marinette tried to defend herself, but it seemed none of her classmates would believe her. She sucked in a breath, trying to keep herself from breaking down.

“S-She’s lying! She cornered me in the bathroom and said if I didn’t obey her, she’d make me lose all my f-friends! She even hit me!” Lila blubbered. Rose and Mylene hugged her close. This statement only served to make the class more angry with Marinette.

“I didn’t! She threatened me! I’m telling the truth!” Marinette cried.

“You really expect us to believe you? Face it, you’ve been against Lila since day one!” Alix snarled. The class nodded in agreement. Marinette directed her gaze at Adrien, desperation shining in her eyes. She knew he knew Lila was also lying. Couldn’t he see what her lies were doing to Marinette? How could he keep quiet about this?!

Adrien appeared uncomfortable, averting his eyes away from her immediately, keeping his mouth shut. Marinette was stunned. Even now, when her whole class was against her, he didn’t say a word. Bile rose up into Marinette’s throat. She felt sick. She wanted to throw up. She had long since lost feelings for Adrien, but she cared about him. She always tried to have his back.

It seemed he didn’t return the sentiment.

“Yeah! You’ve been out of control!” Kim agreed.

“Maybe it’s time someone threatened you for a change.” Max added. Marinette backed away as some of them rose from their seats. The temperature continued to drop. Chloe quickly rose from her seat and got between the class and Marinette, shielding her from them.

‘Notgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgood!’ Chloe panicked in her mind.

“Guys, come on, do you really believe Marinette, fricken spring incarnate, would threaten someone? It’s laughable really!” Chloe uneasily said, glancing around, looking for signs of him.

“Yeah, it’s quite funny coming from another bully themselves!” Alya crossed her arms. Chloe swallowed, seeing their class plants wilt right in front of her eyes.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one who noticed, as Marinette stepped forward, grasping Chloe’s wrist. Chloe refused to recoil from Marinette, knowing right now, she was the only thing protecting Chloe from what was coming. Marinette was pale and her face was panicked.

“Guys, please stop. Let’s just forget about it. Please.” Marinette’s tone was desperate, begging. The class wasn’t amused.

“You’re just trying to get out of being punished!” Nino shouted, fed up. The temperature continued to drop, and Marinette stepped closer to Chloe, vowing to at least protect her. The class was so infuriated they didn’t notice their breaths were coming out in puffs. Alya was so angered that she pushed past Chloe and grabbed Marinette roughly. Marinette’s eyes widened in fear.

“No! Alya, please! I don’t want you to get hurt!” Marinette begged. Alya glared harder.

“The only one who’s going to get hurt here is you!” Alya promised.

“Unhand her right now.” A new voice ordered icily. Alya watched Marinette’s face lose its color considerably, before turning towards the newcomer. Chloe blanched at the figure in the doorway, recognizing him right away.

Death was angry. And he had come for his retribution.

Alya felt herself freeze, immediately releasing Marinette as if she burned her, and took a step back. The boy’s icy blue eyes watched her, like a viper ready to slit her throat. On the outside he was cold, stony, but she could see the storm brewing in his eyes. It seemed her classmates thought the same as they also backed up.

“F-Felix…” Marinette whispered. They saw she was wary, but also relieved to see him. They never heard of this boy. They thought the only blonde boy Marinette associated with was Adrien. This boy, Felix, was dressed more classic than Adrien, as well as having his hair combed back. His eyes flickered to her immediately, and they could see the trace of affection behind the storm.

“Marinette…” he murmured. He walked towards her gracefully, and everyone shuddered, feeling all positive feelings sucked out of them, leaving nothing but fatigue and heavy hearts. The pale boy took her hand tentatively, and Marinette gave him a bright smile, reaching up and brushing some hair out of his face.

“You look pale.” Marinette observed, a worried frown on her face. She grasped his hand tighter, her other hand cupping his cheek. “Are you eating enough?”

“I’m fine.” Felix told her gently. However, his eyes soon darkened, and everyone shuddered except Marinette, feeling more lifeless in this boy’s presence. “You are not.”

“Felix, it’s fine—really!” Marinette actually tried to defend them, and they didn’t understand why. Shouldn’t she be spinning some lie how they accosted her without provocation? She looked imploringly into Felix’s eyes. “Let’s just leave. We can go back to your home and just talk like we usually do. Please.” She tried to persuade him. Usually it would work, but Felix was firm this time it seemed.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?” he demanded sternly. Marinette winced, hiding Chloe behind her, who was trying not to hyperventilate. Who exactly was this person, the class wondered.

“You know why…” Marinette stated weakly, and Felix eyed Chloe who looked like she was going to jump out the window just to get away from him.

“I see you have stayed to your vows. You will be spared.” Felix told Chloe, who fell to the floor in relief.

“Spared?! What are you on about?!” Ivan demanded. Felix snapped his gaze to them, and they all flinched, losing their bravado.

“Simple. You’ve threatened what is mine. You must be punished.” Felix stated factually.

“Y-Yours?” Adrien stuttered, looking between Marinette and Felix, connecting the dots. The others have done the same.

“Felix, Dear, please spare them.” Marinette weakly tried to deflect him. Her statement only confirmed everyone suspicions that they were involved. Felix turned to look at her, thinking, staring into her earnest eyes, and sighed.

“They will live. I will not take their souls. It is not their time.” Felix reassured her. Marinette sighed in relief. She went over to Chloe and helped her up.

“Let’s go then. I will bring Chloe home first. Then I will meet you at your home.” Marinette bid him farewell, glad she had saved her classmates from her lover. Chloe followed numbly after her, as Marinette and her left, Marinette’s voice comforting the poor girl. Felix turned to them and the class flinched away.

“You have hurt Marinette, and she has begged me to spare you. Be grateful. Your souls are not mine to take today.” Felix told them harshly. The class didn’t know what he was talking about, but they felt relief all the same. “However,” a sadistic glint came to his eyes. “That does not mean you will not get a taste of what’s waiting for you on the other side.”

Shadows engulfed the room, causing everyone to scream. The shadows took form, grabbing them all.

“W-What are you?!” Rose cried. Tears were running down her face. She was honestly terrified, just as her classmates were.

“Why are you doing this?!” Mylene shouted as the shadows gripped tight.

“It’s simple really.” Felix said, smirking. “You’ve threatened Marinette.”

The class screamed as the shadows dragged them further down into the ground where the Underworld would be waiting for them.

“And Gods do not like when you threaten something that’s theirs.”

The class’s screams were piercing as they were dragged down to Hell.

[hetalialoverwrites]

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

A long, long time ago, a faerie fell in love with a human. They loved each other and promised each other their lives, only for the human to betray the faerie. Deciding to never love again, the faerie separated her world from the human's and cast a curse on the daughter of her betrayer. But in time, she began to love the daughter as her own. The curse was broken, and the faerie gave her kingdom to her human daughter to rule as queen. 

Eventually, the daughter fell in love and was engaged to be married to the human prince of another kingdom. The daughter wanted so much for the prince's family to enjoy her, so she asked the faerie to hide her true self. Sadly, the prince's mother was just as dark-hearted as the human that had betrayed the faerie. The prince's mother sent rumors throughout the kingdoms about the faerie, the humans turning against her. The mother had even managed to turn her daughter against her. 

But then, the mother tried to kill the other Fae and the faerie's people. There was war between the two peoples, but luckily good prevailed. The daughter married the prince, the faerie and her daughter both became queens. They ruled their neighboring kingdoms in harmony for many years. But this isn't their story, that one has already been told. This is the story of two sisters, daughters of the faerie and sisters of the new queen.

So, let's start at the beginning.

Part One

Next

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     Maleficent flew over the Moors, smiling as she was soon joined by the Dark Fae children, her people. She observed the Moors from her aerial viewpoint, looking for any danger before her journey. She soon spotted a friend of hers, Borra, standing atop one of the massive rock pillars watching her. She banked to the right before flying over, beating her wings and slowing herself. She landed in front of him and watched as she bowed to her, "My Queen." He greeted. She scoffed a little, lightheartedly and he was grinning as he straightened up. "Hello, Borra." She greeted. "Do you really have to go? We searched everywhere for our fellow kin before you were taken to our place of origin. There shouldn't be anyone left out there to bring back." Borra asked, worried about what could happen to her alone.

        "Yes, I must. But don't worry, I will be fine. And the Moors will be too, I've asked Aurora to look after everyone while I look for more of us. I won't take long." Maleficent reassured, inclining her head to him before walking past him. Her black and white dress danced in the wind as she made her way towards the cliff's edge. "...When shall we expect you back?" Borra hesitated a moment before asking, accepting her wishes. "Hm... I'm not sure really. It should take me quite some time to search the whole world." Maleficent mused to herself before looking over her shoulder at him. "Expect 5 years. If I am not back within 7 years, you may come to look for me. And if you cannot find me, you know who your new queen is." She informed him, but Borra could tell by the look in her eyes that she believed a search wouldn't be needed. Borra nodded and bowed to his queen once more before watching as she took off into the sky, hoping that she was right. How sad it is that she wasn't.

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        Three years pass as Maleficent scoured the lands looking for other Dark Fae that was alone, just like she used to be. She had managed to find no one yet, but she supposed that was encouraging. It meant that no one had been left behind. She hoped her search would reveal the same results as she continued. Looking ahead of her at the new land she had arrived at, she was surprised to see humans rounding up their own kind. Soldiers were covering the ground, pulling some people from their homes and throwing them in magic carriages with iron bars. She made a disdained face at the sight of the bars, remembering the feeling of them burning her skin as her wings were cut off, the iron netting, the red powder that killed so many of her kind. It brought only pain. She wondered absentmindedly if she could ask Aurora to stop iron production in her land, as it was so close to the Moors. But as her thoughts drifted, she was startled back to the present by a sharp and burning pain ripping through her wing.

        Maleficent was sent plunging towards the earth, spiraling out of control as she tried to dodge the onslaught of bullets. She crashed through the trees and heard shouting as her head filled with fog. Her brilliant green eyes started to turn amber as she was slowly surrounded by the soldiers. She rose to her feet and looked at them all dangerously, her eyes flashing a warning to all that approached. She was powerful, her eyes told them, and she would not go down without a fight. A long battle raged as Maleficent fought for her life against the annoying soldiers who wanted to bring her harm without reason. 'However,' She thought to herself, '...many humans don't need a reason to hurt her and her people. Only Aurora and Philip's kingdom was accepting of the faeries.' Eventually, the winner of the battle was decided and Maleficent was overwhelmed by soldiers and iron, slipping into unconsciousness. 

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        Maleficent woke up in pain and her head was spinning. Sitting up, she almost fell over once at a crash of dizziness. "Now, now. Lay back down, you've been through quite a lot." A prim voice chided her as Maleficent opened her eyes. She took in her surroundings for a moment. It was a small room, rather poorly built. It looked smaller than the room Aurora lived in as a baby. She was sitting on a rather uncomfortable bed with a thin, average height woman in front of her. The woman handed her a glass of water and Maleficent took it, the water helping her clear her mind. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she was alarmed and shocked to feel something familiar. Familiar in all the wrong ways. She cried out in pain and clutched her injured wing, gently touching the wound where the iron bullet was lodged inside. "Oh my, I didn't see that earlier. Let me take it out." The woman murmured, turning to a medical kit that she had out. Maleficent realized that her wounds had been bandaged all except for her wing. The woman turned around and pulled out the bullet with a pair of tweezers. "Who are you?" Maleficent asked, wary of the woman despite her help. 

        "Hm?" the prim voice hummed for a moment before answering, "My name is Queen Grimhilde. Also known as the Evil Queen, Wicked Witch, Witch Queen, take your pick. Though I would prefer if you called me Queen." The Evil Queen paused for a moment before looking at Maleficent curiously, "And who are you?" "Maleficent, Mistress of Evil as the humans call me. But I am Queen of the Moors and the faeries." She replied, looking at the Evil Queen careful, examining her reaction. "Ah yes, I see. I've heard of you before. Terrible rumors, I'm sure. It's a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it was under different circumstances." The Evil Queen shook her head, wiping her hands on a towel. "What do you mean?" Maleficent asked, narrowing her eyes slightly at the queen. "Well, we've been captured. All of us. Everyone that was considered evil to royalty was gathered and thrown onto this bleary island. It already has been given a name by the current king. The Isle of the Lost." Queen sighed, looking out of the window at the cloudy sky.

        "And before you try, since everyone has already attempted to, we can't leave the island. There is a magic barrier." Queen informed Maleficent, looking closely over her wings, "It prevents the use of magic. We are not sure just how far the barrier goes up as we can't get above the storm clouds." "Why are you telling me all of this?" Maleficent asked, giving Queen a sharp look. It was met with a despicable smile and the kindly woman ruse Queen had been using slipped, "Well you have wings, don't you? Why don't you go fly up and check?" Queen asked, a wicked look in her eyes. Maleficent understood why she was being taken care of now. Queen Grimhilde wanted her to check to see if the barrier was open above the clouds and get her out of this place. Typical. But instead of being angry, Maleficent just gave her a bone-chilling smile of her own, watching as Queen Grimhilde stepped back in fear of the Dark Fae. "I see. While I commend your courage, I warn you it is not wise to accost me like this. While I don't have magic, I still have my wings. And I know from experience that humans can't live after falling from great heights." Maleficent threatened, stepping towards Grimhilde. 

        The woman gulped for a moment, fear coursing through her veins as the almost feral look that crossed through Maleficent's eyes. The only thing that saved Grimhilde her life was the familiar call of a man. "Maleficent!" The Dark Fae stopped a moment and tilted her head, listening. "Maleficent!" The voice called once again. "Hm... Diaval." Maleficent whispered to herself, walking out of the room into a rather large house. She paid no mind and walked out the front door, "Diaval." Said raven perked up at her voice and ran towards her, holding a very familiar staff in his hands. "Diaval, where did you get that and why are you here?" Maleficent was surprised to see him here, especially with her staff in hand. "There you are! I've been looking for you all over the Isle!" Diaval panted, not used to so much running in his human state. He handed over her staff and she took it, gazing at it carefully in her hands as she asked once more, "What are you doing here?"

        "I was following you to make sure you were okay." Diaval practically preened as she looked at him. "Hm." She sounded not too pleased with him and he took a step back, holding up his hands. "Well, I know you didn't want anyone following you, but you know I wouldn't leave your side! Especially not with you going round and possibly getting yourself into danger!" Diaval admitted the truth in his usual way. Maleficent looked up at him, "And the staff?" "I had a feeling you might need it. I'm not sure why though." Diaval had an odd expression on his face. Maleficent brushed the comment off, deciding it wasn't important. "Have you tried the barrier?" She asked. "On the sides, yes. But up top? Not at all. I can't change forms in this place." His displeasure was told through his tone. Not being able to go back to his true form would be a nightmare for the raven, but there wasn't anything else to do. Maleficent just thought for a moment before nodding, "I see. Come Diaval." She turned on her heel and headed back inside, claiming the house as her own. 

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        Maleficent tried for another few years to get off the Isle, trying to get back to her people and the Moors. Each attempt was unsuccessful. Over the next few years, Maleficent became the most feared villain on the Isle even without her magic. She fell in love once again, something that she didn't think would happen after... Diaval was supportive of this, despite the man being a pain in the neck to the raven occasionally. Eventually, two baby girls were born, twins. They reminded Maleficent of the Dark Fae children that used to fly with her back home. However, being demi goddesses, they looked slightly different than the other children. Their hair was unnatural colors, one being a vibrant purple and the other an amber color. It reminded Maleficent of the amber that entrapped the Phoenix back at her nest of origin. Like her magic. The purple-haired Dark Fae's wings were dark just like Maleficent's wings but had a purple shine to them. The reddish amber haired Dark Fae had similar wings, but with amber patterning on her feathers. They both had horns that looked just like hers, albeit much smaller. "What should we name them?" Hades, her lover asked. The father of their children. Maleficent looked back down at her daughters, turning to the purple-haired Dark Fae. "Mal..." Maleficent whispered gently before looking to the amber haired one. "And (Y/n)..." 

[a-nassau-reclaimed]

how am i to face tomorrow / after being screwed out of today

he had a dream when they learned that thomas had died. he had wept, some, when miranda told him, shocked, shattered tears falling like bits of glass from a shattered window as she stormed and raged and held onto him too tightly, a hurricane in force to compliment the howling in his head. he had held her, and every time he tried to speak a sob broke out of him instead, and eventually miranda was tired and he held her tight as her whole-body, gutteral sobs wracked her, and remembered that shushing was supposed to help. she cried harder when he did, but her hands loosened in his shirt, and he held her, even though the only place he wanted to be in the world was wherever thomas was, to touch the sides of his face, feel his pulse, rest a hand against his heart and say, please don’t leave me. but thomas was dead, dead maybe for months, and james, james could hold miranda and remember, though he tried to stop it, the flood of memories of london he’d been fighting back, repressing, thomas backlit by the fire, smiling, thomas in his bed, softly illuminated with his new-bound thick-covered book that looked so incongruous. thomas’s hand at his elbow, james buttoning thomas’s frock coat, kissing his knee as he pulled up his stocking. thomas with miranda laughing in his lap, the two of them fiercer friends than james had ever seen anyone before, thomas had loved miranda, he’d known that as much as anyone had ever known anything, and as she tires against his chest, trying to breathe deeply against painful sobs, sobs that drag out of her like the hull of a boat in water too shallow for it, he remembers thomas, and it’s in his stead he presses a shaky kiss to her cheek (he’d always favored the firehead, but thomas had gone to school in france for a time, according to miranda, and had come back with cheek kisses. she’d said it teasingly, like it was a disease. thomas had snickered, thumped his head against the back of his chair as he laughed, and james’s faint unease had been with them then but now he just wanted to reach through the portrait of his memory and smooth the lines from their faces, hold their hands. how am i to face this, with no hope to a return to this? his hands tightened in their place at the back of miranda’s head as she folded into him, a new wave of sobs wracking her. more shards of glass, two, three. all of a sudden it was too much. he pulled back, hand on her shoulder. her face was red, rubbed raw like it was sandpaper, eyes flushed.

“i’m sorry,” he says, as he untangles himself, and the visible pang of loss is almost more than he can bear as he throws himself out of the front door to cling to one of the struts of the front porch as the first of his sobs wheeze out of him, summoned from the depths of him by what kind of magic he can’t understand but it’s all he can think of, just thomas’s face, and thomas’s fingertips against the side of his face, and the warmth of him, gone, g o n e. thomas, dead in bedlam, dead in bedlam and james is here, free, he pushes the thought of it should have been me as far from him as he is able, but not before he glimpses its ugly face. he’s on his knees now, on the porch, his wheezing, wretched sobs tumbling out of him like gunpowder from a dropped pouch, and every inhale feels like tinder, feels like flint. he shakes his head in refutation of the name, but that just pulls something in his chest as he sobs harder, thinks of thomas and the softness of his shirts and the softness of his hair and his skin under james’s hands, his living heartbeat, cold, cold. he can’t stand to think what miranda’s neighbors will think of him, captain flint, weeping on the widow barlowe’s porch. the widow barlowe, now widowed in truth, thomas, thomas. he can’t breathe, but he forces himself to stand. goes back into the house to see miranda, stiff-backed and trembling as she makes herself with slow hands a cup of tea, eyes red and filled with so much anger, i am e n r a g e d, he remembers, and feels a shame at the depth of feeling he isn’t feeling because what he’s filled with is grief and sorrow and tired. and he stands against the doorway and miranda meets his eyes, and he cannot feel what she is feeling, and then she says,

“alfred hamilton is travelling by sea six months from now” and a shutter drops because he can. and there must be a truly terrifying smile on his face because miranda takes half a step back before meeting his eyes again, meeting fire with fire, and taking a full step forwards.

“good,” he says, and miranda, discomfort with this sort of bloodlust in her shoulders if not her face, hesitates before, tipping her head back and forth, as if to circumvent a sob. “yes,” she says, voice harsh with tears, but she meets his eyes again, and there is no discord in her. “yes. yes it is.”

they sketch out a loose plan on a piece of parchment, what details miranda has and what connections she and james, and gates if he can find a way to get him to cooperate, which he will, can scrape together so that, whatever ship Alfred Hamilton ends up on, it will be accosted and the Earl will pay the damages he has laid against james and miranda, and now most finally, thomas. he will die, and only then will the two of them have to think about what they’ll do next. on nassau, which was always thomas’s dream, nassau, where it seems like no one is incorruptible.

but when he dreams that night, it’s the shaking cursing sorrow that follows him into his dreams. the walls of the hamilton house ache with it, in the gold of the curtains james knows were dark red, in the gold cast of the fire that doesn’t touch thomas, who isn’t gold but is whole, dressed in soft greens and yellows, gold-trimmed brocade that is wiry under james’s fingertips. he stands there across from james by his favorite chair, and james can’t cross to reach him.

“what would i do if i had not met you? who would i blame my life on? i once was told that all men get what they deserve... who the hell then threw this curve? there are no answers, but what would i do, if you had not been my,” his throat dies on the word. must this door on his life close too? must he leave behind this warmth of the hamilton household, must he leave this ease, these words they gave him? “my friend.”

thomas is half a memory, half a memory, speaking to him, animated, and he knows these memories though he can’t see the words, thomas at his desk, thomas over a translation, thomas, thomas thomas, thomas, he crosses to him but thomas is mist, a mirage and he finds himself looking at him gesturing over the dining room table, deep in conversation with miranda, and he feels both so young and so excruciatingly old he could scream. “where had you been,” and sobs breaking through to him even now, “where are you now?”

“who would i be, if i had not loved you? how would i know what love is?”

the memory changes, and it’s them seated, thomas sprawled and yet tucked up in his chair like only his long limbs and absurd posture would allow, the room a velvet blackness of dark walls and nighttime around them, thomas’s mouth moving, james remembering the words, “do you regret--” in that memory he’d cut thomas off, reassurances and brashness and bluster and gentle soothing fingertips and sincerity, but as thomas fades again, he shouts against the walls of the dream, “i’d do it again, i’d like to believe that i’d do it again and again and again,”

then thomas, as he’d last seen him, eyes shining with the promise that the sea lords would back them, backing james up against an end table to kiss him breathless and, with absolute conviction, say to him, “of course they’ll listen to you, you’re brilliant,” and james had held the lapels of his coat but hadn’t kissed him again, and james feels the loss, the regret hot on his tongue, against his mouth.

and then again all of a sudden the scene is different and it’s that bright early-spring day when he’d first seen thomas, but he’s standing apart, watching it happen, watching the long grey wig swing lightly as thomas turned, “what would i see, if i had not seen you, who would i feast my eyes on? there are no answers but would would i do, if you had not been my,” the word is settling like the closing of a door against his tongue, and he resolves never to speak it, never to speak the lie of omission that the door closing on his life with thomas was mandating, even as the dream wrenched him free of it, into sweating, shaking, feverish embodied misery with the word “friend” still ringing in his mind.

miranda was watching him from the other side of the bed, awake with luminous eyes catching the light from the moon. he knew, abruptly, that she hadn’t slept, but that his shaking, tossing and turning hadn’t helped. she looked as young as he felt, then, and when she said softly, miserably, “i miss him,” he was still rattled, shaken, adrenaline-freed enough to say “i miss him too.” she tucked herself under his chin then, wrapped her arms around him as he did the same around her, and laying back against the pillows he held her, and she held him, as the two of them drifted off fretfully into a restless, unhealing sleep.