#she told me that and i had to keep my ego locked down lest it fly away

[gorgynei]

funny thing is that you do literally just choose one day to pretend to be cool and slowly it stops being an act and you just are. apparently my friend is lowkey intimidated of me because i exude such raw levels of coolness

[backtothestart02]

Hot to the Touch - 4/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Y’all do not even know the pain and suffering I went through trying to get tumblr to cooperate with me and open a text post. Oy. Anyway, here’s my next commission made by @jennlee44 AND the next fic in my fics-for-icons arrangement with @izzyllewis. I hope you both - and everyone else! - enjoys this update. I had a lot of fun with it. :)

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 4 -

She didn’t understand. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, sure, and this time had been good – really good. But not so good that she couldn’t get a hold of herself. Or maybe it was just the thrill of public sex and the discomfort that came from fucking somewhere other than a bed.

She cleared her throat and looked over at him when she felt put together enough to put some snap back into her voice.

“That was…uh…”

“Good?” he asked, a smirk she could only think to call aggravatingly adorable on his lips.

Really good, she thought again but decided not to give him too much of a boost to his ego.

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, nodding and screwing up any chance of keeping him humble.

His smile was wide and smug and gorgeous, and she felt her cheeks heat up as she rolled her eyes, dipping her head down so their gaze didn’t meet. Her heart was bursting, and she was starting to smile too, and she couldn’t help but feel this very familiar crush-like feeling blossoming inside of her.

Stop it. It was just good sex. That’s all.

Really good.

Was it possible to be starstruck by really good sex?

“So…” She licked her lips, hesitant to look him in the eyes again lest she melt. “I should go.”

He looked at her curiously.

“I have a class,” she explained, glad that he didn’t know that said class was about to be let out in roughly five minutes.

He nodded once, still smiling, though now with closed lips, no brilliant teeth shining back at her. He didn’t ask any questions, and he let her skirt by him so she could get to the end of the aisle.

She paused briefly, then turned to look at him, feeling as flustered as he must have felt yesterday morning.

“Thanks,” she said lamely, lingering a second longer than necessary in case he said anything else.

His amused laugh was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard in her life.

“Any time, Iris.”

She swallowed her gasp with the smallest gulp she could manage and fled the scene, her heart still thudding away in her ears as she made her way down the back stairway and out the alley door. She was too embarrassed to look back and see if he was standing by the window watching her the way she had done the day before.

At least she wasn’t running like he had been; now she was more like power walking. She was power walking with purpose, and her arms definitely weren’t flailing about.

It wasn’t until after she turned the corner that she realized she wasn’t carrying any books or a backpack or even a purse. She’d gone to the bookstore solely with the purpose of getting herself off, so Barry probably knew by now that her excuse of going to class was complete bullshit and just used to get away from him.

Not that she wanted to get away from him. God, she wanted anything but.

She had to be careful though. All she’d wanted was a one-night stand, and that was definitely what she got. There was no need to even see him again. At least not for anything but sex.

Anything but sex…

She bit her bottom lip, imagining a ‘next time’ with Barry. She wasn’t sure, but she could’ve sworn her panties were getting wet again.

“God dammit,” she muttered under her breath. How could he have this effect on her?

She needed to talk to Linda, and she needed to do it fast. She had to figure out what her next move would be, because right now all she wanted to do was run back to that bookstore, hope Barry was still there, and jump his bones again. She wanted to spend the whole day doing nothing but having sex with him. It would be pure ecstasy, and she would relish in it.

But what kind of impression would that leave him with?

That she wanted to be with him? That she wanted to date him?

That was absolutely not something she wanted to ever do. At least not right now.

No. Never.

She was not going to date ever again, and if she did, it wasn’t going to be with this nerd she’d spontaneously hooked up with.

But why not?

She couldn’t answer that, so instead she trudged onward, back to hers and Linda’s tiny apartment. She put the key in the lock and opened the door, shutting it quickly behind her.

“Lin!” she called out. “Linda!”

No sound greeted her. She frowned and pulled out her phone. She saw she’d missed a call from Linda when she was… Well, when she was otherwise occupied. Heat rose in her cheeks again.

She put the phone to her ear and listened to the message.

“Hey, Iris, so I thought it might be fun if we stayed in my parents’ place all weekend! No more parties, I promise. Just us. I’m sure my folks won’t mind. Let me know what you think. I’ll be back at the apartment around noon. See you then!”

Iris lowered the phone from her ear and checked the time. 10 a.m.

Linda had an early morning Saturday class too, but hers started an hour later than Iris’ at nine, so she had no reason to be suspicious. Yet.

She didn’t know why Linda was going to take two more hours to get back to their place when her class would be over at 10:30, but Iris supposed it didn’t matter. Maybe she was running errands, maybe she was relaxing in the park, maybe she was settling in at her parents’ place after assuming she’d convince Iris to go with her. Regardless, she wasn’t home, and Iris was alone.

She kicked off her shoes, moved from the room to the even smaller room at the end of the short hall and fell back on her bed.

She sighed loudly and closed her eyes.

“I had sex with Barry Allen.”

…

Barry had watched Iris “power walk” away from the bookstore from the window where they’d fucked.

He’d stayed there a while too, smiling to himself, reliving the feel of his dream girl inside his mind over and over, wondering how she knew his name too, because he definitely hadn’t told her. Not that it mattered how she knew. All that mattered was she knew, and she’d cried it out as he thrust up into her, and wow, that sex had been good. It’d been a while for him, but he couldn’t remember sex being that good before.

After a good half hour, he left the bookstore the same way Iris had and grabbed himself a coffee at the local coffee shop before heading back to his and Cisco’s apartment.

He could not stop smiling.

The sex had been great, but what really made him beam was how easy it had been to convince her. Just cut her off and kiss her? Who would’ve thought? Caitlin was definitely right in that all he needed to do was keep pursuing her. In the back of his mind, he did worry if Iris would keep her distance now that they’d had sex once, but he hoped not. He hoped he could win her over again. He wanted to see her, be with her. He still wanted more than just sex, even though he hardly knew her.

But he knew her name, and he knew what her body wanted, and he knew where her secret hideaway was, and for right now that was all he needed to know.

The cry of “Damn it!” was heard just as he put the key into the lock of his and Cisco’s apartment door. The voice was most definitely Cisco’s, and the bleating that immediately followed definitely belonged to his goat.

Barry couldn’t help but chuckle before turning the knob and stepping inside.

“So, are you going to name it?” he asked, beaming as the baby goat trotted across the room, toilet paper dragging under one hoof, and Cisco sitting on the couch looking about ready to pull his hair out.

Cisco lifted his head up slowly and glared at his roommate.

“You left early,” he accused, his voice low and gravelly.

Barry shrugged nonchalantly, nothing able to get him into a bad mood this morning.

“I had somewhere I had to be.”

Cisco started walking towards him, daggers in his eyes, so Barry held up his hands in surrender.

“It was Caitlin’s idea,” he insisted.

Cisco paused, grimacing as he stepped into a tiny pile of goat poop. He was shoeless and sockless and looked about to scream.

“Here, okay, let’s just-”

Cisco’s groan turned high-pitched.

“This stupid goat!”

The bleating turned cheerful and then quieted as the goat turned to go into Cisco’s room.

“Oh, no you don’t! You don’t get to poop in my room, you little…shit!”

“Cisco!” Barry went after him with some paper towels, but Cisco just limped around, trying to ignore the squish of his foot every time he walked until he made it to the doorway of his room.

Cisco was fuming, his hands braced on each side of the doorway. Barry had to slowly unclench his hands and turn him aside as his gaze turned deadly. He handed him the paper towels for his foot and went into his room, fetching the goat who bleated happily again.

“I’ll put him in my room. If he poops, he poops.”

Cisco scoffed, wiping his foot clean and then hobbling back into the kitchen to disinfect it with soap and water and a real towel. He shuddered as he tossed the paper towels away and threw the towel into the laundry basket.

“You must be in a real good mood to be fine with a goat pooping in your room,” he said sarcastically as he made his way to the couch again and took a seat.

“Nothing a little disinfectant can’t fix. We just have to potty train him is all. I’ll pick up a litterbox when I’m out later today.”

Cisco stared up at him in disbelief, a million questions running through his head, but only one blatant fact emerged.

“We’re not keeping it!”

Barry’s grin faltered slightly.

“You better find out who it belongs to, then,” he teased, coming to sit beside him after wiping up the floor and washing his hands.

“I don’t understand,” Cisco whined. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

Barry shrugged. “Can’t I be in a good mood every once in a while?”

“You wouldn’t even speak to me when I came home last night.”

“That’s because it was three in the morning, and I’d been sleeping for four hours already.”

“Nah, there was more to it. Something happened at the party, didn’t it? Something bad. Something that upset you.” Barry was silent for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head, then smiled cheerfully again.

“It doesn’t matter now. Everything is right in the world.”

“Everything is not right,” Cisco said. “That goat is out to get me.”

Barry chuckled. “Well, everything is right in my world at least.”

“And why is tha-” The dots fused together in his mind. “No.”

“Yep.”

“You. You and-”

“Uh huh.”

“But last night…?”

Barry sighed, realizing he’d have to tell the whole story.

“Last night, she jumped me in a bedroom at the party and I ruined it by not wanting a one-night stand.”

“Dude.”

“I know, I know.” He waved him off. “But I called Caitlin to drive me home, and she told me that Iris was probably just playing hard to get, and I should just keep pursuing her.”

“Hmm.”

“Turns out she was right!” He grinned gleefully. “I went to the bookstore this morning and turned the tables on her. She gave in instantly.”

“So, you had sex.”

“Well, yeah!”

“And…are you going out?”

Barry’s smile slipped.

“Well…no. I mean, we didn’t discuss that. She just…she said she had to leave to go to a class…”

“Oh, Barry.”

“She said the sex was great though!” More or less.

“That only makes it a one-night stand.”

Now Barry frowned.

“You gave her what she wanted, Barry. She’s not going to want anything to do with you now.”

His brows furrowed.

“Why do you have to be so negative? You don’t know that for sure.”

He shrugged in a ‘maybe I’m wrong’ way, but it didn’t make Barry feel any better.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Cisco said, heading for his room. “The goat’s doo-doo is on you.”

He closed the door behind him, and Barry sunk back into the couch, as his heart plummeted in his chest.

Had he really seen the last of Iris West?

…

At half-past one Iris decided Linda had to have gotten settled in at her parents’ place and headed over. It was a half hour walk, but she could use the additional time to try and sort her feelings out – as if she hadn’t already been doing that for the past two hours…

Regardless, the time was well spent, and when she knocked on the door to the mansion half an hour later and Linda appeared on the other side, she knew it was well worth the wait.

“I slept with Barry.”

Linda’s jaw dropped.

“Thanks for finding out his name at the party for me by the way,” she said, moving past her into the house. “It would’ve been awkward to cry out ‘book boy’ into his ear as he fucked me.”

“Well.” Linda shut the door and spun around. “You’ve had quite the morning.”

“Yeah…I skipped class, went to the bookstore, and…he showed up. Then, we-”

“I think I got it, Iris.” Linda grinned.

“I wanted to tell you right away, but you weren’t home. Then you weren’t at noon when you said you’d be, so I waited a little bit longer, and-”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Guess I caught up with stuff here. You good with staying here over the weekend? I called the folks. They’d love to have you staying here with me while they’re gone. In fact, they want us to stay to look over the house! Isn’t that great?”

“Fantastic,” she said on a sigh.

“Oh, what’s wrong, honey? You don’t want to stay?”

“No, it’s not that…” She shook her head. “It’ll be fun to stay here a few more days. I’d love to.”

“Then what?” She folded her arms.

“What do I do now?”

“What? With Barry?”

She nodded.

“Well, you got your one-night stand, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“And that’s all you wanted, right?”

She was silent.

“Right?”

“Right,” Iris said, after hesitating a bit too long. “Of course. I don’t need any entanglements right now. I need to take care of me, and that means not jumping into a relationship. I mean, that scares me. I don’t want it. I don’t want to risk anything. I need to protect myself before I go thinking there’s a guy out there that could actually-”

“Hey, hey.” Linda closed the distance between them and grabbed Iris’ shoulders. “The choice is yours. No one is forcing you to do anything. Okay?”

Iris nodded slowly.

“I’m just not ready.”

“Then don’t jump into anything.”

“Okay.” She forced a smile. “Thanks, Lin.”

“Any time,” she said, reminding Iris of Barry’s last words to her. A chill ran down her spine. “How about I put a movie on and we just relax for a whi-”

“Actually-”

Linda frowned. “Yeah?”

“Could you get me Barry’s number?”

Linda blanched.

“You got me his name. Why can’t you get me his number?”

“Iris. You just said-”

“Every girl needs a booty call, right?” she said, avoiding her friend’s gaze.

Linda laughed. “Sure.” She shook her head. “Why don’t you get the movie set up, and I’ll do some digging.”

Iris couldn’t be 100% certain, but she was fairly sure she heard Linda mutter something on the way to another room, something about how good the sex must’ve been for her to want him as a booty call.

She probably should’ve kept the information to herself, but she couldn’t help it. How was she going to see Barry again? Just wait in the bookstore and hope he showed up?

Because yeah, she’d decided this was not going to be a one-time thing. Today had been euphoric, heavenly even. She’d felt alive in Barry Allen’s arms, as rough as that fuck had been. She missed his arms around her, his lips on hers, his tongue swirling her nipple, his hard cock thrusting up into her core, his hot breath in her ear. She missed it all.

And why should she be deprived of really good sex just because she wasn’t ready for a relationship? Why couldn’t this be just one really epic fling before she was ready for the real thing? It didn’t even have to mean the real thing would end up being with Barry. If she made the rules clear, and he agreed, then…well, she deserved this. After everything Eddie put her through, she deserved to feel alive every day. Multiple times a day. Multiple times an hour sometimes.

Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of it.

She wanted to see him again. She wanted him to want her. She wanted to see his eyes roving over her body, taking her apart piece by piece. She wanted him inside her, all day, all night. She wanted to forget her fear of heartbreak and just enjoy the heat of his flesh against hers.

The very thought made her shiver.

“Okay, I texted you,” Linda said, re-entering the room.

Iris felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and quickly took it out to put Barry into her contacts.

“But Iris.” She put her hand over Iris’ phone to draw her attention back to her. “Be careful with this, okay? You don’t want to get caught up into something you can’t get out of. Sex is exhilarating, but it shouldn’t become an addiction.”

“Lin-”

“And it shouldn’t be used as coping mechanism to deal with heartbreak.”

Iris sighed, slightly aggravated.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” she said sincerely, then threw all caution to the wind and excused herself to go to the bathroom…and text Barry Allen.

…

Late that night, after movies and dinner and painting nails and prank calls and gushing about the good ol’ days of high school gossip and homecoming after parties, Iris and Linda fell asleep on the couch in the huge living room in the center of the Park mansion.

Or at least, Linda did. Iris pretended to and then snuck out of the house where a cab was waiting for her. She had the driver let her off across the street from the bookstore, and then walked over to the back entrance in the alley, hoping her risqué suggestion wouldn’t be shot down at the last minute.

She needn’t have worried.

“You came,” she said, relieved when the tall shadow coming out of the alley was Barry and not some guy trying to kill or rob her.

“You asked me to,” he said easily.

She smiled brightly, then pulled a hair pin out of her pocket.

“C’mon.”

Once inside the rickety old door, Iris took Barry’s hand and led him up the stairwell in the dark. Moonlight shown through the windows on the second floor. It was deadly quiet, and the floor squeaked a little when they walked, but once they reached the center of the room and were in complete darkness again, Iris came to a stop, and so did Barry.

“You’re beautiful, Iris,” he said, smoothing some of her frizzed hair out of her face.

The compliment made her heart flutter and drop at the same time. It scared her and made her feel alive.

“Do you want me, Barry? Like you did this morning?”

His voice was rough when he answered.

“Yes.”

“I want you, too.”

“Iris.”

“This can be our spot, Barry. Every day…or a couple times a week…however often you want to do this.”

“Every day,” he said instantly, and her smile turned into a laugh.

“I missed you today,” she said, rising up on her tip toes to kiss him. “I missed your hands and your lips…” She pushed his jacket off his shoulders. “I missed your arms and your tongue.” She unbuttoned his shirt and spread her hands beneath his t-shirt. “I missed your breath in my ear and your eyes on my body.”

She met his eyes in the darkness.

“I missed you, too.” He gulped.

“But Barry?”

“Yeah?” he rasped.

“I’m not interested in a relationship. It’s just sex or nothing at all. That means no dates, no compliments – unless they’re sexual in nature, no being seen together. Hell, we have to keep us a secret just for good measure. Can you do that, Barry? Because if you can’t…”

He put a finger over her lips.

“I don’t like option two,” he said. “Anything is better than nothing at all.”

Happiness and heat exploded inside of her.

“I’m glad you think so.”

She dragged him down for a kiss, and he started to undress her. Moments later her clothes and his were piled into a heap, and Barry was lowering them down onto the soft carpet they’d stepped onto in the center of the room.

Iris sifted her fingers through his hair and drew her hands down his naked body. Her nailed traced the lines of his arms and face.

Feeling insecure in front of her perfection, Barry pinned Iris’ hands by her head, positioned himself at her core, using his knees to push her legs apart and leaned down to kiss her. Then he released her to slide on a condom and thrust into her soaking pussy.

She arched up and clung to him, digging her nails into his back as his teeth sucked on her neck. In and out he moved, his chest brushing her breasts and her mouth occupied, always occupied with his skin or his lips.

And so they moved in almost silence, exhilarated in the pleasure of their bodies winding around each other and writhing in the darkness, just shy of the moonlight seeping into the windows a few aisles away.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Best Man

Title: Best Man Summary: Ernesto couldn't understand what was it about Imelda that his best friend found so amazing. By the time he could, it was too late. [Modern setting, written for @appatary8523​] Characters: Ernesto de la Cruz, Imelda Rivera, Héctor Rivera. Imector, onesided Ernesto/Imelda. Rating: K

A/N: Appa asked for a serving of one-sided pining with some she's-about-to-marry-my-best-friend sprinkled on top, and I complied. Had a lot of fun with it, too. 

***

��Food poisoning.”

“Yes, I heard you the first seven times. I was actually the one who told you--”

“One time you go out of town on your own since last year, one time, and my husband winds up in the hospital with food poisoning!”

“Look, I tried to tell him that chorizo didn’t look all that great, but he was hungry and--”

“And so you just let him eat it while you steered well clear of it!”

“What, since when is it my responsibility to watch what he eats?” Ernesto huffs, throwing up his arms with dramatic flair. A guy sitting on the other end of the waiting room blinks blearily at him, clearly hungover. “Am I my brother's keeper?” 

Imelda rolls her eyes, but her lips curl upwards for the briefest moment, and Ernesto mentally marks it as a victory. “I’m not sure what made you think quoting Cain would come off as perfectly innocent.”

“All right, you got me. I tried to poison him. My plan was to leave him in a ditch and run off with his iPad and all the songs in it. So I could make it big, be a star, never think of him again.”

“Very funny.” A pause. “... Do you have it? The iPad? Because the last thing Héctor is gonna need is getting out of here to find out it’s gone.”

“Yes, yes, I have it. And the guitar. All in the car. Which might have a couple of new bumps...”

“What?”

“He was all green in the face, I panicked that he’d throw up again and hurried to the hospital.”

“Like cleaning our car would have been your problem.”

“No, but if he’d thrown up then I would have thrown up and probably crashed.”

“... Fair,” Imelda condedes with a sigh, and leans back on her seat. Ernesto leans back on his own, reaching up to fix his hair with a hand, turning to glance at the mute TV screen in the corner - anything to avoid looking at her. 

It’s better this way.

***

When he and Imelda met, Ernesto took slightly less than two minutes and a half to decide she was a dumb girl and he didn’t like her. 

To be fair, at age twelve he still found all girls to be dumb girls he didn’t like. That would partly change in the next several years - some girls were dumb, he’d declare then, but not in their face he did like them very much - but right there and then, there was nothing about Imelda he liked. And that was, he’d insist, in no way related to the fact she’d shown up out of nowhere, three years younger, and shattered his record by making a rock skip across the stream sixteen times.

The look of pure wonder Héctor had given her, the one that was usually reserved to him when he pulled out something, had been the last straw. Ernesto had immediately declared her a dumb girl and made sure Héctor promised not to talk to her, ever, lest he wanted to catch dumb girl cooties. His friend, who was eight and not especially bright - Ernesto would deny thinking that later on - had seemed a bit saddened, but he hadn’t argued, because he never argued with him. 

And, at least officially, he’d kept his word for a few years, until they were all older and even Ernesto had to grudgingly concede that it was a stupid promise and dumb girls cooties were not a thing. In truth, he’d actually been talking with her without him knowing, because he found her amazing for some reason Ernesto couldn’t comprehend. 

By the time he could, it was too late.

***

“Ay, Imelda, mi amor, mi vida. Come close to hear my last words--”

“Your next words had better be ‘sorry for being that idiota who gets food poisoning a week before the wedding, I will be back on my feet by then’.”

On the hospital bed, his skin still a rather unhealthy ashen shade, Héctor grins like a boy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. “I’ll marry on my deathbed if I must.”

A roll of her eyes, a smile she can barely hide. “Ay, you’re so dramatic.”

“Ernesto’s fault,” Héctor’s declares, causing Ernesto, still standing in the doorway - he let Imelda have the chair beside the bed, ever the gentleman - to protest.

“Wait, what?”

“You rubbed off me!” Héctor declares, dramatically.

Ernesto throws up his arms. Dramatically. “Oh, sure. Blame me for everything, why don’t you,” he huffs. “Maybe I’m too dramatic to be your best man, too.”

Héctor laughs. “Ah, never. There is no one else I’d ever pick to be my best man at the wedding.”

Lucky me.

The thought is bitter as bile and maybe something shows on his face; Héctor’s expression doesn’t change, but Imelda’s does. She doesn’t quite scowl, but her gaze is more attentive, and it is enough to make Ernesto feel like he’s under a spotlight… and not the kind he enjoys.

“... I’ll go get a drink,” he mutters, leaving quickly and realizing just a bit too late that a hospital is not the right place to go looking for alcohol. At least, not the kind you’re supposed to drink.

All right then, coffee. Coffee it is.

There is a café at least, and the coffee is halfway decent. He sits, takes out his phone, checks his emails and notifications-- ah, looks like a few people showed interest in his profile across a couple of dating apps. Three women, one man. Not bad at all when what you need is a boost to your ego. Two are nothing to write home about, the other two are… worth considering. Maybe later, after the end of next week once the wedding is done, Héctor and Imelda will be off to their honeymoon in Guatemala, and he will probably need some pleasurable company. And alcohol.

Large amounts of it.

***

“I really don’t get what you see in her.”

Ernesto’s grumble was met with a dreamy smile, a slow strum of a guitar’s strings. “Well, first of all, she-- hey!” he yelped when a tangerine smacked against his forehead and then fell back down on the floor with a sound that was more like a splat then a thud.

“That wasn’t a real question, cabrón,” Ernesto grumbled again. He sat back against an empty crate, watching as the vendors began to dismantle around them, another market day over. Soon enough the plaza would be mostly empty, before it filled again with people after dark. “And anyway, she’s not your type.”

“She is exactly my type!”

“And what is, pray tell, your type?”

The question caused Héctor to turn deep red and stammer, as though entirely out of words despite the fact he could always find all the right ones when sitting alone in a quiet room, a blank piece of paper in front of him. “W-well… she is smart, and… and beautiful…”

“That’s everyone’s type,” Ernesto snorted. “No one likes women dumb and ugly. Just dumb, maybe, but not ugly, unless you’re really that desperate and the lights are out...”

“That’s not-- ugh. If Sofía could hear you, she’d smack you over the head and you’d deserve it.”

“I’m just telling it how it is.”

“She’s… not like other girls!”

Ernesto made a face. “That line, really? Now you’re the one who’d be getting a smacking while being asked what’s wrong with other girls.”

Héctor’s face flushed crimson. “That’s not what I meant! I-- all right, that was-- not what I meant,” he repeated lamely. “She’s not like… anyone else. To me.”

“Oh?”

“She has this thing, like a… a spark, like--”

“Drive,” Ernesto muttered, without thinking. His fingers went to better tune his guitar, while Héctor nodded, brightening up. 

“Yes, exactly! She wants to accomplish something - start her own business someday - and she’s ready to work for it, and--”

And she won’t let anyone tell her she can’t do it.

“-- and I’m sure she can do anything she wants to do, she’s just like that, you know?”

“... Guess I know someone a bit like that,” Ernesto conceded, and tuned out any further gushing from Héctor’s part. All right, so maybe he could sort of see Héctor’s point with Imelda; she had ambition and drive and wouldn’t let anybody dictate what she could or could not do, and he could admire that. Plus she had turned out beautiful, which in his not-so-humble opinion helped.

There was hardly any pretty girl in Santa Cecilia Ernesto hadn’t hit on, often with some success, but not her. He had the uncomfortable feeling it would result in rejection; while he’d been rejected before, it was never a big deal because to each their own and some just have no taste. 

With Imelda, he suspected it might be different. He suspected it might actually hurt, and maybe it would be best to just… not find out whether or not it would be the case. 

It was just stupid. He would make a point to ignore her until it went away, that was all. Not that Héctor behaving like a crushing puppy helped, but that would pass, too; she was not his type. He’d either let go of his crush, or be burned, whine a little, and then move on. Simple as that.

Héctor couldn’t possibly be her type.

***

“What’s eating you?”

“Gah!” 

Ernesto recoils, the phone flying out of his hands. It slides across the table, and Imelda catches it before it falls off. Ernesto has precisely half a second to hope she didn’t get a look at the screen before she hands it back to him, an eyebrow raised. 

“Who’s María del Carmen?”

“A potential date,” Ernesto mutters, snatching the phone from her hand. He hopes Imelda isn’t going to press the matter, but of course she does.

“You can invite her to the wedding. You can still pick a guest to come with you.”

Yes, great first date idea. Sitting there with a stranger to watch you marry my best friend.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but Ernesto manages to fake a laugh convincingly enough. “Hah! Not my idea of a first date,” he says, swiping left as discreetly as possible before he locks the screen. “How’s Héctor?”

“Better, I think. Contrite enough. They’re keeping him under observation for the night.”

“Ugh. Here goes the plan to drive back this evening.” Ernesto makes a face. “How did you get here, anyway? We had the car.”

“I got a taxi.”

“How much did it cost--”

“Don’t ask. I’m doing my best not to think of that,” Imelda says, and they both chuckle. 

“Heh. Fair,” Ernesto concedes. “There is a motel right by. I’ll pay for two rooms. Before we go, can I offer you a--” he pauses, and turns to glance at what the small café has to offer. He makes a face. “... A coke, I guess?”

“I’d like that. With ice and lemon, thanks,” Imelda says, then leans forward. “Are you all right? You looked odd back there. Not food poisoning odd, but--”

“I’m fine,” Ernesto says, waving his hand dismissively. “Worried about the idiota I got myself as my best friend, I guess. I’ll get you that coke, and then we go get some sleep.”

They drink their cokes under the franky depressing neon lights of the hospital’s café, making small talk about the weather and music and whatnot; to Ernesto’s relief, no mention is made of the upcoming wedding. They drive-- well, Imelda drives them to the motel, all without incident.

Then, of course, the universe just has to make a big fat joke at his expense. 

“Only one room left, I’m afraid.”

Ah, for fuck’s sake. 

“I’ll take that for her. I’ll go sleep in the car,” he adds, holding out his hand for the key. She hesitates, glancing at guy behind the desk.

“No other rooms at all?”

“I’m afraid not. But it does have twin beds, if that suits you…?”

“Absolutely not,” Ernesto snaps at him. “The keys. I’ll sleep on the backseat, plenty of space.”

“It’s two separate beds, I think I can put up with it for a few hour--”

Well, I can’t. Not for one minute.

“Share a room with the future bride of my best friend?” Ernesto tries to grin like he finds the thought funny. “No can do, señorita. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Oh, come on,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You’ve seen too many movies. Héctor wouldn’t think for a second anything unbecoming happened.”

I know. That makes it worse.

“I’d really rather sleep in the car,” Ernesto insists. “Good form, no?”

A sigh, but she eventually relents and hands him the keys. “If you insist. But I won’t sit through endless complaints about your aching back during the drive back to Santa Cecilia, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Ernesto says; somehow he manages to keep up the smile. He puts his card down to pay for the room and after a quick ‘goodnight’ he heads outside, breathing in the cool night air.

There is a bottle of beer beneath the passenger seat, much too warm to be really enjoyable, but he opens it and gulps it all down anyway, sprawled on the backseat of Héctor’s car. Within a week, the car will take the bride to church - bumps and scrapes and all - and then drive off the newlyweds towards their honeymoon, leaving him behind to watch them go. They will be back, eventually, but they will be man and wife and Ernesto will need to live with that.

They’ve been an item for years. He ought to be used to it. It shouldn’t keep him awake.

We would never work, he thinks, we'd drive each other insane within months.

That's probably true, he knows, and thinking like that usually helps. Not tonight.

He wishes he had another beer or two or twenty at hand.

***

“Are you drunk?”

“Drunk with happiness, yes!”

“A date, you.”

“Yes!”

“With Imelda.”

“Yes!!”

Ignoring the sting of what he refused to identify as jealousy, Ernesto frowned. “You’re joking.”

“I would never!” Héctor laughed and did a half-twirl that almost ended in a tumble. “On Saturday! There is this movie that came out on Día de los Muertos, according to the critics Hollywood didn’t butcher the whole thing too much, and she wants to see it and I want to see it and so--”

“I wanted to see it too! You said we’d--” Ernesto tried to protest, despite the fact no such thing was discussed and he wasn’t very interested in the movie anyway. But this time, maybe for the very first time, Héctor entirely ignored Ernesto’s words. 

In the end, Ernesto just zoned out, telling himself it would be their only date, anyway. It would not last. It couldn’t last, and Ernesto would just let it run his course, only showing up at the end to help Héctor with his heartbreak, as any good amigo would do.

It was not their only date. Many more dates followed, then a relationship that, despite all the ups and downs, never caused the heartbreak Ernesto had expected. When Héctor decided to propose, his advice to wait fell to deaf ears; when he returned with a smile from ear to ear to let him know she had said yes, his words of congratulations and jabs about marriage being the end of carefree life sounded dull to his own ears. 

But he said them anyway and, when Héctor asked him to be his best man, he immediately accepted. He had to.

It was what any good amigo would do.

***

“I think I’ll write a song about the past two days.”

“Oh?”

“El Chorizo Envenenado!”

“It doesn’t sound especially promising.”

Sitting on the couch with a book in his hands while Ernesto stays sprawled on the armchair - his back is killing him and he’s exhausted after barely sleeping, so he’ll take some time to recover at Héctor’s place before he goes home - Héctor pouts.

“And that is why I’m the songwriter,” he mutters, gaining himself a scoff and little else. Ernesto is half-considering a nap when the door opens and Imelda walks in, fresh out of the shower, wet hair covered with a towel and wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe that is too large to belong to anyone but Héctor. It should be the most unflattering attire imaginable, but she looks beautiful in it because of course she does.  

It would be a good time to leave, but Ernesto finds he cannot tear his eyes away as she sits next to his best friend - the love of her life, he can see it so clearly now, in the soft look she gives him and the way she rests her head on his shoulder. 

“What are you reading?”

“Marriage for dummies,” Héctor replies, and she laughs softly, a sound Ernesto cannot quite recall hearing before. Héctor must have heard it many times, will hear it many more times.

This is meant to last, he can tell it now. His best friend, and the woman he finds himself loving against all good judgment. And he’ll keep a smile on, be his best man and toast to their union, because that’s what a good amigo does and the show must go on even if something in his chest hurts so much he fears it might break. But he stays, pretending to be snoozing, watching them through eyelids barely cracked open, an intruder trying to get a glimpse of that beauty, to hear more of that secret laugh.

Maybe he should have tried, Ernesto thinks, seized his moment and asked her out first - but a voice in the back of his mind, much more practical, reminds him it would have made no difference; that even if he’d tried, the almost certain outcome would have been a no. There was never a moment to seize, and he isn’t sure whether that is supposed to make him feel better or hurt worse. 

Somehow, it cuts both ways.

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: listen before i go

Link to song: listen before i go by Billie Eilish

Synopsis: If you know this song, you know how Feyre's feeling right now.

Song of the chapter: listen before i go by Billie Eilish Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4z1O3miesI

TW: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation and suicidal intentions. Please, if you are feeling suicidal or aren't comfortable reading these situations, do not read this chapter. You are never alone. You are loved, and you are cared for. Here are some helplines if you are ever feeling suicidal (both available 24/7/365):

US: 1-800-273-8255 Suicide Crisis Hotline Canada: 1-833-456-4566 Suicide Prevention and Support Canada

Ao3 Link

Chapter 15: listen before i go

Rhys

Prythian, I’d decided, was beautiful no matter the weather. Sun, rain, snow—I loved it all. 

The Sidra glowed no matter the weather as I cruised down the city’s main artery street, parallel to the river where people walked lazily beside the careening stream. Though the rain and overcast skies usually chased many into their homes, today had been warmer than previous weeks, and my legs ached to be back out on the path for a quick morning jog, like I used to do every morning. Life and work had seemed to cut into every waking moment, including the time I dedicated to exercise—it’d shown in my body composition. Eating like shit also didn’t help, but my current levels of stress always begged me to break into a bag of chips or eat the office cupcakes that were brought up to the executive floor every few days. I needed to get back to the gym, to get exercising, but any time not spent working or helping Feyre seemed wasteful and selfish.

Cassian had to stay later this afternoon, and probably further into the evening because of an issue that arose with Night Corp’s security team. Some of our agents had grown restless in the recent absence of management since Cassian was spending so much time tracking Tamlin and Lucien instead of his usual dealings. He held an emergency meeting to address their questions and concerns, which would probably extend far longer than needed. I didn’t want to leave Feyre alone, and besides, I thought it I’d spent enough damn time in that stupid office chair this week to deserve a night of quiet peace.

The condo complex, though tall and large in its occupancy, was perfect for Cassian. Spacious, enough for him and his entire ego to fit into, but minimalist in the sense that he had only the bare necessities: place to sleep, eat and shower. Nothing compared to Mor’s complex that offered an indoor gym, rooftop pool and meal plan services from a five-star chef. But my cousin deserved every morsel of glamour and luxury she wanted after the life she’d come from.

The elevator opened onto Cassian’s floor, and my heart leapt up into my chest when I saw his door at the end of the corridor. I hated the feeling in my chest, the one that kept pounding at me whenever I knew I was near her. It was sickening, the emotions stirring up within me—I could barely harness them in whenever she was in close proximity. The fluttering, the pounding of my heart, they were dangerous. So very dangerous, and all I could do was force them down as best as I could as I pulled my keys out and opened the condo door.

“Feyre?” I called out after shutting the door quietly behind me and locking the door. Silence was all I was met with. The lights in the kitchen were on, and as I slipped out of my shoes, wandering further into the house, so were the lights in her room. Quickly, I bounded up the steps to see where she might’ve been, but a quick examination of the guest room told me she wasn’t there. The bathroom was also vacant, and Cassian’s door was closed, lights off.

Unease spread within me. She wouldn’t have left. I didn’t think she would, anyway, unless she’d gone out with Cassian this morning without telling me. My fingers crept into my pocket and grabbed my phone, ready to call my brother as panic began to arise. I pounded down the stairs once more and did a once-over of the living space to confirm once again that she was gone.

I would’ve seen the slender figure, draped in a dark sweater, on the balcony if today were sunny. If whatever mysterious forces that controlled the weather had woken up this morning and decided to bathe my world in sunshine, I would’ve seen Feyre immediately, sitting on the ledge of the balcony, looking down at the city below her.

Waiting. For what, I didn’t know. But she was waiting, and the way her shoulders were slumped, the way she seemed like Atlas himself with the weight of the world on her back, told me that there was only one reason.

I’d never known fear like this as I realized she was about to jump.

My feet moved slowly. Too slowly, as if they weren’t sure if this was another one of my fucked-up nightmares, or that she was indeed sitting there, ready to leap at any moment.

I slid open the patio door. Rain fell on my face, droplets wetting my lips.

“Feyre?”

Her fingers curled tighter around the cement lip she clutched. Her knuckles were white, her clothes soaked, but she didn’t turn. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground below her.

“You really shouldn’t scare someone on a ledge fifty storeys up.”

Some sick part of me wanted to laugh. Because I knew exactly what that dry, fucked-up cynical humour was. The one born of a darkness so deep there was no way to express it but with self-deprecation.

Heart pounding furiously across my body, I forced myself to focus, to think straight. If she pushed off too quickly, I wouldn't be able to grab hold of her. If I got too close, she'd get scared and do it anyway. “What are you doing, Feyre?”

She scoffed. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Only if it helps you,” I replied, trying to keep the cool, nonchalant tone to my voice. If I panicked, then she would panic and do something stupid, which I could never let happen.

“Tell me what you're feeling right now. I want to try and help you.”

Please, I whispered over and over in my mind, swear pouring down my back, please don't do this. Please don't leave me. Please don't do this to me.

Feyre

Over and over, I asked myself how I got here. How at this moment, everything had gone wrong before it, so drastically that I was sitting up here on a roof, waiting for the moment to strike that I'd finally push off.

I knew how I got here. I knew every curve and crevice of my life's story, every twist and malicious turn it'd taken to make my path so gloriously fucked up.

Admitting failure is the most difficult of them all because you simply aren't enough. Your efforts, your time, energy and passion are all for naught, and you're left with nothing but this big ... void.

It's hard to describe how that feeling comes and goes. I've called it failure to thrive. The person I've become was not enough to keep going.

“Tell what you’re feeling right now. I want to try and help you.”

Help me. Was there anything at this point that could help me? Fix me? Or was this ledge, this fall, all I had left?

Slowly, carefully, I let out a shaky exhale. The wind and rain whipped at my face, but I couldn’t pull my hand away from the ledge, lest I wanted to lose my balance and have it all end right then and there.

“I…” A gust of wind flew over, making me clutch the ledge tighter, “I don’t feel anything anymore, Rhys. It’s like I’m already gone.”

“Why do you say that?”

A sob bubbled up within my chest. I pushed it down, took another quick, shallow breath. “There’s nothing left for me, here. My life’s over. Whatever’s left of it, anyway.”

“Feyre, you just went through an extremely traumatic experience. It’s completely normal to feel this way. That doesn’t mean your life is over. Just because you left him doesn’t mean your life is over.”

“He came back today, Rhys, while you were gone. Him and Lucien. They know where I am, they know how to find me.” I let out a small, mad laugh. “He’ll never stop. Not until I’m right back where I was, dying slowly before my very eyes. May as well finish the job while I can, right?”

“He was here? At the apartment?”

I nodded, slowly. Unfeeling. The cold seeped into my bones, through my clothes, but I couldn’t even feel that anymore. It was like my body had already died and all the warmth leeched from my flesh.

“Did you speak with him?”

“No. I just heard him through the door. He knows I’m here. How he found me…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. But it’s not going to change, Rhys. I am stuck in this forever.”

“You’re never stuck. You’re never trapped. There’s always another way out, you’re just not thinking clearly right now.” I could hear his voice getting closer, and it made my muscles clench tighter. Too close and it would be over. “Feyre, you’re too focused in on the situation. Everything is happening so quickly, and you’ve barely had time to recover. You need to zoom out. Focus on the bigger picture.”

“I don’t think you understand, Rhys,” I countered quietly, and I didn’t care that my voice began to waver, I didn’t care that there were tears blending in with the raindrops on my cheeks, and I didn’t care that if I pushed off this fucking building that everything would be over.

My voice was riddled with uncertainty and nervousness, but I shakily said, “I, um, read this thing once in a book. How your life gets to a point where it’s all too much, and you…” I swallowed, throat dry, eyes wide, “you don’t know what to do? It’s like being an apartment building, high up in the sky, and everything’s on fire. It’s blocking your door, your only exit. The only other viable option is to jump down and hope you survive.

“You’re standing there, staring at the flames,” I said, voice trembling, “and you’re trying to weigh which is worse: the flames or the fall?”

Rhys remained quiet behind me. I took another deep breath.

“The flames or the fall?” I repeated. “It’s not that I want to jump down. It’s that I’m so terrified of the flames that I don’t know what to do. And you’ll never understand that, Rhys, until you’ve seen the flames. Until you’ve felt how they burn. Only when you’ve felt that pure terror that I am feeling right now will you ever understand why I need to do this.”

“Feyre,” Rhys wondered, his voice too close for comfort, “why did you hold on for so long?”

“What?”

“During everything that you went through, all that’s happened over the course of your life, why did you hold on?”

My mind reeled while trying to find a viable answer, a possible counter-argument, but all I was left with was the cold, whipping wind tearing at my clothes.

I said quietly, “Because I thought eventually something would change. That it would get better.”

“What happened this time? What’s happening right now?”

As more rain poured down upon me, my eyes closed, my shoulders slumped after being clenched for so long.

“I’ve been holding on to scraps of hope my entire life. Every day it just seems to be getting worse and worse, like I’m stuck in this constant never-ending cycle of misery. I can’t—“ I choked on a sharp intake of breath as my heart began to pound louder in my chest, and my lungs heaved with the burden of being alive, “I can’t feel anymore, Rhys. I don’t feel anything, I destroy everything that surrounds me, and I’m—” my voice broke, and I choked out a sob, composure finally crumbling after days of emptiness.

Darkness reigned around my mind; around my heart. For so long there’d been that sliver of light to keep guiding me forward, like the doors sealing me shut in my prison were cleaved just the slightest bit to keep me going.

Now they’d shut in on me completely. Teasing me, leading me along, making me sacrifice my flesh and blood and tears, in the hope that that stupid fucking light would some day welcome me home.

But that day never came. And now…

“I’m just so tired.”

My head dipped forward, and for a second, I let go.

But I knew there was a warm presence just behind me, fingers clutching my body before it had the chance to fall.

“I know,” Rhys assured me, “I know, darling.”

Then his arms wrapped around my waist, and I didn’t protest as he gently carried me off the concrete ledge, and pulled me into his arms.

*

We both got out of our drenched clothes. There was a trail of water leading from the patio up to both bedrooms that Rhys was currently wiping down with a towel. His hair was unkempt and shaggy, dangling around his head, and through the loose grey t-shirt I could see the movement of every muscle in his back and arms.

The adrenaline had faded, and I was back to that numbness, that apathy, that stuck to me like a second skin.

Once Rhys finally got all the water, right to both bedroom doors, he tossed it in the bathroom and closed the door.

We both stood there in the dimly lit hallway, staring at each other. I couldn’t read his face: not since we’d gotten in from the balcony. It was completely neutral, his lips and mouth forming a flat line. But his eyes gave him away, with the way they scanned my face in an unmistakable concerned manner.

“Let’s go for a drive, Feyre. Get out of the house for a bit.”

The offer surprised me, and though my bed sounded mighty appealing right now, I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to get as far away from that entire sequence of events as I possibly could.

Prythian was dark tonight, and clouds hung low with only the bright city lights shining through them, creating a silvery mist shimmering over the skyline. I leaned my head against the window, looking out to the Sidra ever flowing with its golden gleam. Rhys was quiet, and soft music played in the car that thrummed quietly through the slowly emptying streets. The closer we got to Spring Corp, though, the more the knot in my chest tightened once more. Rhys, ever the perceptive person he was, noticed and began taking alternative streets.

Breaking the silence, he said, “You can stay at my place if you want, Feyre. When we get back, we’ll pack your stuff up if you’re not comfortable there anymore.”

“He’ll still find me, Rhys,” I mentioned quietly. “He’s always following me, always watching me. Even when we were together he’d have people follow me.”

Silence. Then, “Feyre, you have an iPhone, right?”

I paused at the completely unrelated remark then said, “Yes.”

“Guessing you have iCloud. And a shared account with Tamlin.”

My eyes closed, and I swore under my breath. He’d been tracking me through my phone. By the Gods, he could know where I was right now.

I immediately fished it out of my back pocket, and after a few swipes deleted his account off my phone completely. How Rhys had figured it out, I didn’t know, but some of the tension released from my muscles, and I could relax a little more into my seat.

A few more minutes passed by until we began nearing a large complex. When I saw the “H” symbol, my brows furrowed. When Rhys pulled into the parking lot, my head whipped to meet his gaze.

“Why are we here? Did somebody get hurt?”

“Everybody’s fine, Feyre.” He said calmly, quietly. Nonetheless, a ball of worry had formed in my stomach, but Rhys’s gaze remained impassive. He pulled into a spot nearest to the emergency doors, put the car in park, then turned to me.

“I’m not forcing you to do anything, but I’m giving you two choices from which I strongly recommend you pick one. The first is to come with me into the emergency and let them check you in on a seventy two hour hold—”

My mouth opened in a gasp as I realized what he was suggesting. Incredulous and royally pissed, I yelled, “No, Rhys! No!”

“It’s seventy-two hours. They watch you, evaluate you, try to triage your case and give you an action plan with follow-ups so we can try to help you through everything you’re feeling right now.”

The indignant tears flowing from my eyes trailed down my cheeks and my neck, to my chest. Resentment swelled in my chest, and I couldn’t even look at Rhys as I ground out, “And what’s the second option?”

“I give you my private psychologist’s number and watch you call her to make an appointment in her next available slot. I personally prefer option one, but it’s your choice Feyre.”

I rested my head against the car window, and tried to quell the sobs threatening to rise within me once more. This was all too much too fast. All of it. It was like my senses were overloaded and shocked, unable to process the events that unrolled over the past few weeks. The audacity Rhys had to pretend like he could just exercise that much control over my life was infuriating. Forcing me to make decisions about my life? My health? Who did he think he was?

And I was still so, so tired. I just wanted to recline in this chair and let my body go numb again.

“Feyre,” he said, but I ignored him, slipping into my own bottomless abyss never to resurface. He said my name a few more times, but I ignored him.

“Look at me,” Rhys pleaded, and the desperation in his voice made my eyes open, and my body turn so I was facing him. There he was, turned in his seat, one hand clasped on the wheel and the other on the compartment between us. His eyes were bleeding with worry and sorrow. I swallowed hard at the look, unable to take my eyes off of his.

“I’m not trying to force you into anything. I don’t want to control you or make you do something that you don’t want to do. But I…” he trailed off, and looked away for a moment into the distance where the ‘EMERGENCY’ sign glowed a bright red amidst the dark parking lot. “What happened today is not something you can brush off or ignore. I couldn’t live with myself if I brushed it off or ignored it. You need help, Feyre.”

Wet desperation streaked down my burning cheeks.

“You need help, and I want to help you, but I can’t do it alone. I don’t have the skills or education to be able to personally help you through this. But I can do everything in my capabilities to ensure that you do have the necessary people to care for you.”

More silence. I still couldn’t face him, couldn’t respond. I didn’t know how.

“Feyre.”

Slowly, so slowly, I inched my gaze towards his. Rhys reached between us and extended his hand.

“You’re not alone in this. I am here, we’re all here, for you.”

There was a cleaving, a crack in my chest, as my trembling fingers reached out and curled around his.

“What’s the number?” I croaked as I fished my phone back from where I’d stored it in the dash.

When it went through, I passed the phone to Rhys. The call was long, and Rhys’s soothing voice had filled the car for nearly twenty minutes trying to explain my situation. He’d initially put me on the phone to ensure that I consented to him sharing my private information. When the phone was passed to me after fifteen minutes of back and forth, I swallowed hard and said, “Hello?”

“Hi Feyre. This is doctor Suriel. Rhysand was telling me about your situation and I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“Um, I’m, uh, better than before.”

“That’s great. I know these are difficult questions, especially since we’re doing this over the phone, but I want to ensure that you’re safe until we meet on Monday.”

“Alright.”

“Feyre, are you still feeling suicidal?”

The question felt so loud in the small space. Rhys was looking away, out the window, and my cheeks heated with embarrassment as I mumbled, “Yes.”

“Do you feel unsafe, like you’re going to harm yourself or others?”

I bit my cheek. “Not right now.”

“But possibly if you were in a different location?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I know you have Rhysand with you. Do you trust this person?”

My stomach twisted with unease as my eyes darted to the man in the driver’s seat. After a moment, I said, “Yes.”

“Alright. My recommendation Feyre would be to check into the emergency room if you’re feeling suicidal. But if you believe that you can make it through the weekend and wait until Monday, and I know that you have somebody with you that you can trust, then I feel comfortable with you going home.”

“Okay,” I said, unsure of what else to say. I’d never spoken to a psychologist or mental health worker. It was oddly… comforting, knowing that there was somebody out there thinking it crucial I stay safe over the weekend; that I was looked after.

“If you don’t have any questions for me, Feyre, then you can pass me back to Rhys.”

“Okay.” I didn’t trust myself saying anything else, not as my throat closed up, and my eyes welled with a new wave of tears.

Rhys spoke for a few minutes longer, then set his phone back into the holster before starting the car back up and setting out to exit the parking lot. I kept staring straight ahead, unable to stop the stream of emotion on my face.

I realized that the cleave in my chest, the sliver that’d opened up within me, was that same teasing ray of light coming to settle back within me.

It’d sparked to life the moment Rhys had reached his hand out to me.

[icosmohunters]

chapter six : rival

chapter six of cosmo hunters!

word count : 4.9k words

synopsis : after having arrived at voyage inc headquarters, hope is having to do a lot of work in order to help the pirates protect their fake identities. whilst this is happening, she’s also preparing herself for the meeting being held, and lest forget her best efforts to avoid someone from her past. but it always comes back to haunt her, she realized.

returning to a place that you previously promised never to return to can be one of the most difficult experiences of one’s life, notably for someone like hope.

voyage had changed the last time she was here. it looked as if a lot of funds had gone into fabricating a new interior design for the place. and they actually made use of the twenty stories that this place had, with each level housing a different department, some of which hope has never even heard of.

now, as much as she preferred to be anywhere, excited dawn proposed the idea of looking around before the meeting. hope was all against it, walking around surely meant that she might run into someone she was purposefully trying to avoid. that person, of course, being hiro.

the meeting room had been moved to the fifth floor, but she didn’t choose to take the elevator anytime soon. dawn was gawking and pointing towards everything and it seemed like a lot of effort was required from quinn to keep the girl from running off.

“ hope, why are you walking so fast? ”.

soon, she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and recognized it to belong to vivienne. the bounty hunter turned and looked at the blonde girl, before shrugging. “ they say the unhappiest of people walk the fastest ”, hope uttered, looking down at her gloved hands and adjusted the cuffs of her uniform.

“ are you unhappy? ”, vivienne quickly claimed. with a tone of utmost interest or care, hope couldn’t exactly tell the difference.

“ have you met me? ”.

“ yes but, not properly ”, was the answer hope was given, which took her by surprise for a moment. she reeled her head back slightly and blinked, before furrowing her brows. “ this personality you give off, i don’t think that’s really you. ”

hope snapped back, “ it is me. you’d just like it to be someone else. and you know what, you’re not the first to wish that. ”

hope has had her few experiences with people who seem to have something against the way she acts. she’ll admit that her temper is unbearable at times and her need to insult others are more like a reflex action than something intentional. but it was how she grew up to be. there weren’t any parental issues growing up. she lived in a loving family, who cared for her and one she adores to this day.

but perhaps what causes this coldness and hostility towards people is her need for freedom and the hatred towards conforming to a standard that she wasn’t fond of. and besides, being like this made it easy to push people away. particularly people who made her life impossible to live.

she wasn’t planning on making friends with anyone any time soon. she wasn’t planning on letting her outer shells melt. she was perfectly fine living in the igloo that was her ego.

possibly the reason she shut everyone out was that they felt like they could dictate to her, as if she was easily influenced to be a sweet, docile person so people can step on her and humiliate her as they pleased.

and she wasn’t going to let that happen. she’s seen what being stepped on can do to a person and she doesn’t want that for herself. so she would much rather encase herself within the walls of nebula and go about her space adventurer way with no distractions, no dictators disguised as friends or morally good figures.

so hope shrugged vivienne’s hand off her shoulder. “ if you think i’m walking too quickly, might i suggest speeding up ”, she spat and continued to walk. at that moment, she wished that she could find creed or be near someone she recognized, she hated being around strangers, hated it.

to be fair, after having that altercation, she preferred to be away from them. she couldn’t afford to get angry in this space, because there were cameras everywhere. and if she so dared to show any aggression, guards would be approaching asking what the problem was.

so she put as much space between her and the pirates as she could. and whilst she was in the headquarters, she thought she could do something she’s been meaning to do for a while. scattered around, there are these tall, rectangle like structures posed as small billboards but they can also be access panels.

going up to one, hope removed her glove and pressed her aching hands onto the glowing screen and saw the blue fade to lilac in an instant. a small dialing pad emerged and she typed her pin in.

these services allowed workers to check their stats. usually, she could do this on her own ship but she’s been continuously distracted for the last couple of days and was unable to do anything.

once the screen had loaded, hope’s profile came up. her picture was on the left-hand-side and upon pressing a cog icon, a tab emerged containing all of her details. but gazing over her birthdate and her hometown, she sought out her bounty points. and her jaw dropped.

“ suck on that, hiro, you motherfucker. ”

“ who are you talking to, hope? ”.

and then her heart dropped.

the girl spun around and found herself face-to-face with the very boy she had just insulted. the boy she had been trying to avoid, the boy who did nothing but annoy her and get under her skin with almost anything he did or said. she’s never met someone who has quite the effect that hiro has on her.

the last time she saw him was roughly two years ago, and since then, he’d changed, grown taller and dyed his hair blue and his skin appeared clear and his dimples were still as deep as ever. but it wasn’t as if he smiled to show them all that much. the eyebrows he frowns all the time looked rather nice, too, except she noticed a piercing. which was unusual.

she hated to admit it but it seemed like he’d gotten handsome. and she hated to admit it considering she wasn’t one to talk about people’s looks at all.

hiro crossed his dense arms over his chest. he was wearing the voyage uniform, except seemingly avoided the long coat and chose the semi-formal one with the high collar. the pilot uniform. hope couldn’t believe that he had continued flying despite always having complained about it for years.

he most likely did it because she was doing it as well.

“ hiro ”, the bounty hunter began and let her gaze travel from his head to his toes before she met his eyes once more. “ you haven’t changed a bit. the fuck is up with the piercing? ”.

“ it wasn’t my idea ”, he replied quickly, rising the very eyebrow he had the piercing on. it complemented his asshole of a personality and made him look like even more a douche.

hope found it weird that he did something that wasn’t from his own free will, “ i didn’t take you for the type of person to listen to others for ideas. ” hiro scoffed and rolled his eyes. “ who’s was it? it had to be your own, you’re egotistical enough to think it’ll look good. ”

“ it wasn’t my id— ”.

“ it was mine. ”

who?

hope looked behind hiro and spotted the figure the female voice had come from. it was a young woman perhaps around the same age as hope, but she got the impression that she could’ve been older based off of the red lipstick imprinting pretty lips. she also wore the voyage pilot uniform that hugged her form quite well, she had a nice figure, slim and healthy with curly, brown locks running down her back.

hope stared for a moment and blinked when the girl then approached her and stood beside hiro, rather proximate. yet that’s when it fell on hope that perhaps this was the companion that creed had told her about.

the girl seemed to take notice that neither hope nor hiro was going to make an attempt at introductions so she quickly stepped forward with a pretty smile, “ i-i’m hina koyabashi. i’m hiro’s flight companion. you must be hope, right? i’ve heard quite a lot about you! ”.

“ by that, i’m assuming it was bad things. ”

hina laughed fairly airly, “ i-i’ll admit, most of it was complaining. but he does talk about you a lot and mostly about when you were both training at voyage together. is it true that you were roommates? ”.

hope rolled her eyes quickly, but not before chuckling slightly. “ yes, we were. i feel your pain to some degree, having to share a space with an arrogant prick ”, she spoke, glaring daggers at the boy.

hiro glared back, “ as far as i’m aware, you didn’t complain too much that time. now you’ve really developed a pirate’s mouth. bounty hunting’s been messing with your incredible lexicon, hasn’t it, hope? ”.

“ you know what, ishikawa— ”.

“ now, now! ”, hina interrupted and hope was glad for a moment. as a matter of fact, she couldn’t understand how a person like hiro managed to get lucky with a companion who was both pretty and somehow peaceful. hope wondered just how many times this girl has kept hiro from getting into trouble, whether it be from his reckless actions or dirty mouth. “ the meeting’s going to start soon. shouldn’t we start going? ”.

hiro seemed willing, mostly because he knew that if he stayed there any longer, hope would start bad-mouthing him. “ please, i can’t stand the smell of this perfume ”, he said and mimicked a gag and hope really wanted to punch him.

“ it’s dior! ”, she snapped.

“ i figured ”, hiro stated with a sigh and started to follow hina but then paused and turned back to hope. “ by the way, who are those idiots? they’re really loud. ” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder and upon peeking, hope recognized enzo seemingly ranting to vivienne but he was so loud, it was unendurable.

hope sighed, “ they’re people i recruited. ”

“ you recruit people no— ”.

“  —yes, i do. fuck off, hiro. ”

he stuck his tongue out at her and she managed to spot a tongue piercing and watched him walk off. jesus, he’d changed. he most certainly looked good but his personality was just as spoiled, perhaps even more.

for years, hope always thought that hiro had a personal grudge against her for some reason. whether it be that she tended to score a little higher than him on the ranks or maybe because she was often favored by creed whilst he treated the others strictly during their time training.

but even if their years in training were long gone, hiro wasn’t fond of the idea of discussing whatever feelings were between them. it was a huge distaste but she never found the origin of it. and quite frankly, if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine by her. but if he was going to be an asshole, she would return the treatment!

“ was that hiro? ”, quinn’s voice came from beside her and hope rose a brow and nodded. enzo really couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself, he always had to share them. was gossiping his only talent or something? “ he looks intimidating. ”

“ he’s a childish prick. doesn’t like being even second place and has a personal grudge against me that i will never understand the reason for ”, hope explained. to quinn, she didn’t mind opening up to. and besides, if they saw hiro around some more, she was going to have to tell him about it in case she starts arguing with the blue-haired boy.

quinn hummed, hands behind his back. he was pretty much the most obedient person in that crew but hope didn’t particularly like how quiet he was. as far as she was aware, this guy couldn’t stand her so she wasn’t going to present a friendly persona if the treatment wasn’t going to be returned. universal kindness her ass!

“ but, uh, we’ll be out of here before i can even think about strangling him to death, as nice as that would be ”, said hope once more and shook her head. moving her gaze towards her wristband, she hummed. “ we should start going. ”

quinn spoke briefly, “ the thing is, enzo opted to step out of this meeting thing. it isn’t really for us and we might hear something we won’t like. s-so vivi is choosing to keep enzo out in case he gets angry and starts breaking things. ”

“ you don’t even know if the meeting is about pirates ”, hope said somewhat skeptically. quinn looked down, not replying to her comment. “ but . . . alright, then. as long as you stick to your identities and stay out of trouble, i don’t see why it’ll be a problem. ”

“ we’ll be by the cafeteria, so . . . good luck with the meeting. ”

watching him leave, hope didn’t start moving until the crew had walked off, dawn even turned and gave hope an excited wave and mouthed good luck. in the corner of hope’s eyes, she saw dom turn his head and then saw the bruise, it was purple.

gulping down the guilt, she turned to the stats still on the screen and then logged out of the system, before rushing to get to the meeting.

the headquarters were a maze to the mind of a person who was confused in so many ways. her mind still lingered on the bruise she’d seen on dom’s cheek and how on earth she was going to handle being in the same room as him knowing she’d brought him an injury like that. sometimes, hope really hates her temper. but a part of her told dom deserved it. another part told her she was a true bitch for doing what she did.

taking an elevator down to the fifth floor, hope’s gaze wandered for a while until the doors slid open. stepping out, she found herself in an almost vacant hallway, finding that instead of seeing that circular opening like on the floor she was just on, the walls were closed and long. she wondered just how long it would take to get to this meeting room.

if she could get there at all. creed hadn’t exactly told her where it was and hope didn’t like accessing the system’s mapping system because it often confused her more. and with the lack of people in the hallway, she found that she was going to have to wander until she finds her location.

however long that might take.

hope couldn’t help but whimper under her breath and rub her eyes, she hated the feeling of cluelessness. it often causes an immense panic, especially as someone who often plans ahead, who has everything under control. why did she not follow hiro and hina when she had the chance or asked creed where the meeting room was?

she truly was an idiot sometimes.

“ are you lost? ”.

what does it look like, hope wanted to snap back but the voice was too docile and formal for her to reply in that way. her eyes traveled to the origin of the said voice and widened upon recognizing this person.

this beautiful person. long, dark hair and kind eyes, high cheekbones and a slim figure hidden under a smart voyage agent jacket. hope couldn’t help but notice the pearl earrings she wore and the prettiest necklace resting against her collarbone.

do not panic, hope, but this might be esme lau. unable to reply for a moment, esme offered her a smile, kind and tender before beckoning her over. “ you’re here for the meeting, aren’t you? ”, her voice was perhaps the smoothest one hope has heard, coated in an indescribable sweetness but authority, hope couldn’t explain it without calling her a disney princess. “ i am as well. we can go together. ”

hope gulped and nodded, before letting her head drop into a mild bow. “ t-thank you, miss ”, she exclaimed. she doesn’t recall the last time she’s gotten so flustered over someone but esme lau was kind of a big deal at voyage inc. she rose her head and proceeded to follow her, esme seemed to be in no rush.

“ you can’t come to these meetings too early ”, the woman spoke, as if reading the bounty hunter’s thoughts. “ usually the ones doing the whole thing, the speakers, they don’t even show up on time. usually, they’re ten minutes late. so you might as well take your time, too. ”

hope bit her lip, “ even if the meeting is important? ”.

“ even if it’s important ”, esme repeated and chuckled, her thin arms hugging her pretty figure. “ but anyways, i don’t recall seeing you around. sure, i don’t come out of the office that often but i haven’t seen you. are you new? ”.

it’s a rare thing for esme lau to take an interest in anyone. it’s rarer to see her out of her work and to see her in public. so hope really didn’t want to mess up her chance in talking to the woman. “ i-i’m, i’m not an official voyage member. i had a mild contract. i’m a bounty hunter, my name’s hope ”, the girl explained.

esme’s brow rose. “ bounty hunter? wow, they really called everyone for the meeting ”, she mumbled but then gave hope a charming smile. “ but that’s a delightful name. it’s good to meet you. thank you for cleaning the galaxy for us. the kids on loose these days are crazy. ”

“ tell me about it. ”

“ pardon? ”.

hope quickly caught herself, “ i was hunting someone down just a couple of days ago. uh, you might have heard of him. crimson. he was responsible for the 3019 m-colony blackouts that killed a couple hundred people. well, he was quite crazy. set up toxic bombs as a trap and i fell right into it. ”

“ oh, you poor girl ”, esme gasped, and hope tried not to scream at the gentle hand against her shoulder. “ i hope you weren’t too badly hurt. but that’s exactly what i mean with the crazy theory. power and adrenaline can really get to your head. ” her concerned expression softened. “ but you’re doing god’s work, getting rid of people like that. sure, through barbaric means but there comes a point where jail isn’t enough. ”

“ y-yes, i agree. ”

esme’s hand fell to her side again and hope couldn’t help but notice a rather pretty ring she wore. it seemed to be emeralds, but they had such a unique cut . . . she loved it, though, it was charming and it suited esme. then again anything suited esme.

their walk to the meeting room wasn’t exactly too long. perhaps two or three minutes later, hope’s gaze fell on a double door. one which esme had to open with a pin of some sort. when the doors slid open, hope gasped.

the meeting room was perhaps the largest one she’d seen yet. it was like a lecture room in the universities back home, but it was circular all the way and the stage remained down at the bottom, in the center of the room. it wasn’t exactly too full but it was enough to make hope’s breath to hitch.

esme took note of that. “ the seats aren’t exactly assigned, so you could sit beside me. unless if you have friends here ”, she offered. hope’s heart ached, she was unbelievably kind. esme’s head tilted curiously, waiting for hope’s response.

brown eyes searching, hope caught sight of hina. it wasn’t that hard to spot such a pretty girl in a crowd of plain-looking individuals, and hiro was beside her. so at least she would be dividing hope from jumping on his throat.

but the thought of sitting alongside a loved public figure and get to experience her work up close, it made her nervous but eager. besides, esme was sweet and wouldn’t annoy her like hiro.

mingling with her, though, would look quite uncanny, especially as hope was nowhere as great as esme lau. “ i-i see my friends over there. but thank you for offering, miss lau ”, hope quickly replied.

esme tutted and elbowed the girl on the arm gently, in a very friendly manner that hope wanted to gush over. “ quit being so formal. just call me esme ”, the woman stated but then beamed and nodded. “ but i suppose i’ll see you around. thank you for the lovely talk and walk, hope. ”

hope found herself watching her walking away. her strut was so graceful and she held her head up so confidently but not enough to make her look snobbish. rather, she looked like the most humble person on the surface of the galaxy.

upon drooling over esme for a little longer, hope then took off to take her seat beside hina. before she could even sit down, hina began with the questions. “ were you just talking to the esme lau? ”, she asked hope, eyes wide enough to pop from her sockets.

“ uhm, i ran into her at the hallway. she was nice ”, hope replied.

hina whined, “ i would sell my kidney to meet esme. she’s so perfect. she’s got an iq of two hundred, imagine that! and she’s pretty and kind as well, it’s almost superficial but i can’t imagine her even being mean. ” the girl rested her hand against her cheek and sighed lovingly whilst looking towards the said woman. “ you think she’s married? ”.

“ if she isn’t, she isn’t going to want a ring from you ”, hiro replied swiftly. hina pouted and leaned back onto her seat. hope then paid her own glance towards esme and found her sitting not too far from them, near to the bottom room and she sat among some important looking people, though she stood out the most, possibly because of her visuals or the fact that she was the most relevant person there.

looking away, hope’s eyes went to the different people sat around them. most wore the voyage uniforms, no matter what brand it was. the majority were chattering among themselves, it was like a school assembly with an exciting buzz in the air.

she couldn’t help but let out a small exhale, it trembled for a moment and she regretted not sticking beside esme. because her soothing nature calmed hope’s nerves even if it was a mere smile she gave the girl. now sat among a sea of people, strangers, her fingers started twitching.

beside her, she heard hiro and hina’s voices but she couldn’t exactly make it out. the cacophony of noise engulfed her for a moment, and it was as if her attention was shifting everywhere, at times at the people, sometimes at the stage or down at her lap.

but it seemed like the sound ceased. at some point, she felt something against her ears and looking it up, hope was startled enough to find hiro’s hands shielding her ears. her eyes widened for a moment and she moved to remove them but he smacked her hand away.

“ what are you doing? ”, she hissed. she noticed he’d moved over and switched places with hina, who was curiously looking over with concern.

hiro glared, “ making sure you don’t faint in the middle of a meeting. you’re gonna have to focus, hope. this is important. ” but he didn’t even remove his hands until hope’s hands stopped trembling and when her heart had stopped racing like she was running a marathon.

he saw her facial features soften and then nodded, slowly removing his hands from her and settling back down onto his seat. hope felt embarrassed to save the least. hiro was one of the few people who knew about her nervous antics in crowds when she wasn’t distracted by something else.

at j-colony, she managed to keep calm because of the music and because she was on a mission. here, she was floating in a sea of voices and they weren’t comfortable to listen to. it was loud and messy and not like her music.

frowning slightly, hope simply crossed her arms and tried to relax. but it didn’t work so easily until hiro moved a bit closer and put something in her hand. she opened her hand and found it to be one of those adorable squishy animal stickers with fat belies that you could press and squish and play with. hiro somehow had the cat with the pinkish ears.

“ why do you have th— ”.

“ don’t ask ”, hiro said over her and then paused before clearing his throat. “ it’s my sister’s. i visited her last week and she told me to keep it. ”

“ does it have a name? ”, hope questioned softly.

hiro snorted slightly and looked ahead, “ you can give it one. ”

looking at the squishy toy, hope pressed her thumb against its belly and rubbed it playfully. it was perhaps the best feeling in the world, and the toy was just adorable, she could easily get distracted with it.

“ he looks like a . . . wilson. ”

“ jesus christ, never have children if that’s what you’re going to name him ”, hiro commented with slight alarm, and adjusted himself in his seat before peering down at the toy. “ he looks like a . . . uh— ”.

“  —like a hiro. hiro jr. ”

hiro met her gaze for a moment and rolled his eyes, but hope spotted a slight smile against his lips. “ fine. that’s not too bad ”, he commented. hope sighed and squished the toy again before feeling like the lights had dimmed. her heart sunk but settled at a normal rhythm within some moments.

looking about for a moment, hope noticed that the meeting room had grown increasingly full. to think that most of them were other voyage members. she forgot just how big this corporation was. so after the lights dimmed, a spotlight hit the center stage.

hope was expecting a public figure, perhaps a general or a lieutenant like creed to step on and take over the mic, but her eyes widened when a woman did. and the chatter around her grew tenfold when the lights fell in beatrice yoh, in all her terrifying splendor.

in a white suit, she looked somewhat angelic, but her eyes were hard and her gaze went over the crowd that soon grew quiet. hope found herself gripping the toy a little harder.

“ welcome ”, yoh’s booming voice echoed. hope inhaled deeply. “ i appreciate all of you coming here on such short notice. i am aware that it is a lot to ask many of you to stop your lives and come here. but what i’m about to announce will impact all of us. ”

hope rose a brow when yoh suddenly paused and then stood with her shoulders broad. “ it’s come to our attention, with the increased crime rates around the colonies, that a rising activity has been created. and that we might be looking into a coup d’etat “.

“ holy fuck ”, hope heard hiro mutter beside her. her own brows were furrowed in confusion as the chatter and mumbles around her grew once more. an announcement like this was alarming. she found it weird, for a moment, that yoh mentioned crime rates were increasing . . . she thought that with the number of bounty hunters and officers growing, crime rates were decreasing.

but the woman continued, “ a week ago, it seemed like a particularly pesky group managed to find their way into our base on earth and decorated the place with vandalism after breaking through our security system. they left various symbols on the walls. ” yoh paused. “ and the same thing was just repeated at j-colony two days ago. ”

hope felt like she was going to faint. she had just been at j-colony and to think that she was there possibly when this had occurred. but surely they would have called her in, knowing she was there, knowing she could help, how did nobody tell? how did creed not tell her?

“ whatever the reason for these acts, we’re taking it as a sign of rebellion. or some criminal group trying to attack our ways of living ”, the chairwoman said and looked out into the crowd. hope frowned and gulped slightly, and her thoughts couldn’t help but wander to the pirates.

who were sat outside, waiting for her to return.

pirates she had helped enter the base. giving them false identities. knowing they had bounties on their heads. knowing voyage was probably hunting them.

“ we’re going to find the people behind this. an attack on voyage inc is serious, and whoever is behind it will have to pay with very . . . grave . . . consequences. ”

[falseroar]

Midnight Masquerade

((In which (Actor) Mark finally puts on that masquerade with the help of Jack and their combined egos. It’s to be a night of fun, dancing, and mystery, even without the arrival of a certain unexpected guest. Near the end there is a reference to the song “Remember Me” from Coco, and the version I had in mind is the cover by The Hound + The Fox, if only because it had a nice blend of slow and fast (the original version is awesome, but might be a little too upbeat here XD).

Warnings: There is no Maskiplier in this story, so no warnings this time except for the usual angst. This is the last planned story for the whole Can You Wake Up? series though, and there are a lot of references to the other stories here so it may be a little confusing if this is the first one you’re reading.

It’s definitely on the long side, but it felt better to keep it all in one post instead of cutting it up, so...*shrugs*))

When you arrived at the dance hall with Amy, Tyler, and Ethan, the four of you found the massive room already bustling with activity as Mark, Jack, and almost all of their egos finished up their share of last-minute preparations before the guests arrived. Said room looked more like a ballroom from an overblown Victorian-style mansion than some place they had rented for the night, with vaulted ceilings, shining floors, (faux) marble columns, doors that swung out onto balconies that overlooked the hillside and the city down below, the whole nine yards.

The stage on the far side of the room looked almost out of place with the microphone stands and the DJ equipment, not to mention all of the speakers strewn up around the place which the Googles were doing final sound checks on while you and the others walked over to the long tables just inside the entrance where a couple of egos were arguing over arrangements.

“This should be the last of the masks,” Amy said as you and Tyler put your boxes down on the nearby chairs, as there wasn’t any room left on the tables for them. “Definitely more than enough for everyone who’s coming and then some.”

“I hope so,” Tyler muttered, rolling his arm as he straightened up. “If we left anything else back at the house it can just stay there, because I am not going back again.”

“What?” Ethan asked sarcastically. “You don’t want to sing along to Disney songs in traffic for another hour or two? Who even needs to go to a dance?”

“Oooh, let’s see what we’ve got in here,” Randal said as he ripped open one of the boxes to reveal a stack of masks in various styles and colors. Even a quick glance at the table told you there didn’t appear to be any two that were obviously the same, which was apparently making sorting and laying them out difficult, to judge by the argument currently going on between Bim Trimmer, Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, and Ed Edgar.

“It only makes sense to arrange by zhe size,” the doctor said, placing his hands on his hips even as Bim shook his head. “Who cares if it’s red or blue if it doesn’t cover your face right?”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand anything about color coordination,” Bim said, gesturing toward the doctor’s suit and earning a gasp in return, “But most people are going to want a mask that matches their style, that’s why we need to have warm colors on this end, cool colors on that end, and fashion tragedies such as yourself over in the corner.”

“How dare you! I am dressing very snazzy!”

“Pft, sure, you’re really stretching out of your comfort zone with that white suit,” Bim said, getting a simultaneous “oooh” from both Tyler and Ethan. “Did you leave your surgical mask at home, or do you think that will be enough to cover your face?”

“Vhy you—”

“Okay, maybe you two need to walk away and leave this to someone else,” you suggested, inserting yourself between them before Schneeplestein could think of a comeback or, more likely, smack the game show host. “I’m sure either way would work just fine.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is here,” Ed rumbled. He reached into the box Randal opened and grabbed a bunch of masks, which he promptly dumped into the middle of the pile to Bim and the doctor’s obvious horror. “They’re just going to get tossed around anyways, why not let people dig around for the one they want?”

“Okay, how about no,” Bim said, snatching the box away from the salesman’s hands before he could do any more damage.

“Zhis is not some rummage sale,” Schneeplestein agreed, already trying to gather up the masks and at least lay them out so they were all clearly visible. “Zhis is a classy event for charity, Mr. Edgar. Ve do not want people spending all night digging around for masks!”

“I don’t know, I think just seeing what you can find is part of the fun,” Amy said as she picked up a butterfly eye mask and held it up to her face with a smile. “Ed and Y/N are right, don’t get too caught up in overthinking it. After all, the guests are going to be here soon, so you’re not going to have time to organize them all.”

She immediately put the butterfly mask down and reached for another, crying out, “Oh, is this an alien one? Look at the big eyes!”

“I like the colors in this one,” Tyler said, tilting a full-face mask this way and that so that it caught the light. “What about you, Y/N? See any you like?”

You hesitated and Bim added, “You could certainly use some more color in your outfit. Your suit is about as basic as it can get.”

You shrugged as you looked down at the suit in question. He was right, it was a basic black suit with a white shirt underneath, one that Mark paid the rental fee on without even asking, which was embarrassing enough. Amy had also offered to help you pick out a dress if you preferred that instead, but you gave basically the same answer then that you did now, which was, “I wasn’t sure what…I would be comfortable with tonight. I’ll think about the mask and pick something out later.”

“Everyone else will be here soon,” Ethan reminded you. “You need to pick something out before all the good ones are gone!”

“Trimmer is right about the color,” Schneeplestein said. “Look around! Vhy, even Darkiplier is vearing more color than you!”

At his gesture, you turned to see the man in question walking in your direction, alongside an ego who looked uncomfortable in his suit with the red checkered shirt underneath it, judging by the way his hands were shoved into his pockets and the turn of his muttering mouth. The Host’s usual white bandages were hidden underneath a scarlet blindfold around his eyes which had the added benefit of hiding any stains that might appear over the night. Oddly enough, he actually matched Dark, whose jacket had a brilliant crimson lining clearly visible as he stopped to take in you and the other new arrivals.

“Evelien requires your assistance in the dressing room,” Dark said to Amy, his tone far more polite than you had ever heard him use around the others. Or maybe more embarrassed, as he continued, “We’re not entirely sure what’s wrong, but we think it involves a zipper.”

“On my way,” Amy said, immediately dropping the mask and running toward the side doors as fast as she could in her dress shoes.

Once she was out of earshot, Tyler looked around and said, “Okay, I’ll ask if no one else will: why is he here again?”

Dark narrowed his eyes at the gesture towards himself but spoke with an unerring calm. “I was invited, Benjamin, as you well know. And, unlike several others I could mention in this room right now, I have never in fact killed anyone, so I am uncertain why my particular presence should bother you.”

“You literally terrorized us for years after the manor.”

“’Us,’ being Markiplier, for very valid reasons I might add.”

“Not just Mark. Even people who had literally nothing to do with what happened, like Bob and Wade—”

“I merely wished to have a discussion with them, as it was clear Mark wasn’t being entirely…upfront about his past. It is not my fault they did not handle their time in my realm well.”

You made a noise at that, and he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, I could have anticipated that, but I had nothing to do with them winding up locked in a utility closet, that was all Wade.” There were a few nods to that, as even those who weren’t around at the time could see that happening, and Dark continued, “As I have said before, I have no intention of harming anyone tonight, least of all the guests.”

“Yeah, Tyler, don’t worry about it,” Ethan said, throwing an arm around Dark’s shoulders. “Dark’s just a big ol’ pussy!”

“I will break your arm if you do not remove it at once, Nestor.”

“The Host reminds Darkiplier that he promised to keep his…presence in check this night, lest any electrical interference be attributed to a certain other ego.”

“…I am well aware,” Dark said as he grabbed Ethan’s sleeve between two fingers and let it drop like a piece of trash.

Schneeplestein shuddered at even the veiled reference to Anti and you thought it might be a good time to change the subject.

“I like your suit, Host,” you said, and the ego immediately ducked his head.

“The Host thanks Y/N, even if this is…outside of his comfort zone,” he said, shoving his hands even further inside of his pockets. “The Host came over to let Bim Trimmer and Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein know that he is more than capable of taking care of the mask table for the duration of the dance, if they wish to focus their attentions elsewhere.”

“Thanks,” Bim said. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he admitted, “I was afraid to say anything in case I got stuck with it, but someone needs to be here when the guests come in.”

“Wait, you’re going to be here the whole night?” you asked the Host. “Don’t you want to enjoy the dance too?”

“The Host is not much of a dancer, and he would prefer to be useful rather than sit alone in a corner,” the Host responded. When you opened your mouth to argue, the Host smiled and added, “Besides, the Host is looking forward to talking to the fans, which will be easier for him here.”

“Oh,” you said as it clicked. You suspected that most of the egos had moved to supporting Mark’s idea for this masquerade thing when they realized the same thing: it would give them a chance to meet some of the fans whose love and attention kept them real, and spread that excitement through the rest of the community. Not to mention that all of the tickets sold or given out through multiple raffles were raising a lot of money for charity.

This was a special night for the egos, and not just because it was an excuse to dress up and don silly or extravagant masks.

“Speaking of the fans, showtime’s going to start soon,” Ed said, checking his watch. “Come on, Randal, let’s give everyone a head’s up to get their masks before the rush starts.”

The younger ego nodded and jumped up to join him as they walked toward another group of egos with a box of masks in tow, as if they didn’t have a combined indoor voice that could be heard by everyone in the room.

“I…need to go see Bob and Wade,” Ethan said, waving a seriously creepy mask that was almost all eyes and teeth as he added, “For reasons.”

Tyler snorted and followed to see how that would go and you looked around the room again. With all of the egos running around it was difficult to pick out any one in particular, so you asked aloud, “Do any of you know where Marvin is?”

“Why?” Dark asked, immediately suspicious.

You met his stare and said, “He said he was bringing a tie I could borrow for the night.”

“The magician is in one of the back rooms, going through his case of supplies for tonight,” the Host answered as he settled into one of the chairs behind the mask table. “He is considering which of his tricks might be amusing for any interested fans.”

“The answer being none, I’m sure,” Dark muttered.

“Oh, I know where he is,” Schneeplestein said. “Please, let me show you.”

“Thanks, Schneeps,” you said, taking his offered arm and doing your best to ignore Dark’s suspicious glare. Fortunately, he did not choose to follow you and the doctor across the floor and past the stage, where Mark was going over the rules for tonight with the DJ.

“And stick to the list,” he was saying as you approached. “This is supposed to be a formal dance, not a never-ending loop of ‘Déjà vu.’”

The android behind the equipment, who had skipped a jacket in favor of just a flashy orange vest that showed off his arms, shrugged and said, “If you say so, but, like, I gotta play the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ at least once. It’s the DJ code, dude, no getting around it.”

“There’s no such thing as the DJ code,” Mark answered.

Bing’s mouth dropped open and his sunglasses slipped. “Dude! Don’t disrespect my culture like that!”

“You’re—I can’t…” Mark sighed, hand to his face until he recovered and said, “You know what, fine, you get one hour of requests. That means someone has to actually want you to play the song, otherwise you stick to the list. Got it?”

“Sah, dude!”

“Sweet!” Mark jumped, not realizing he wasn’t the only one on the stage until the man next to him was there, handing a sheet of paper to Bing. “I’ve already got a list, starting with ‘Ocean Man’ and going all the way to ‘All Star’ and ‘Despacito.’”

“Dude!”

Mark flinched at the high five the two shared and said, “Okay, Chase, I get—”

He stopped short when he heard your barely restrained laugh and then saw the expression on Jack’s face.

“Really Mark?” he asked.

“I…meant Seán?” Mark said, and Jack shook his head in mock disappointment. “Look, it’s not my fault you two look the same!”

In unison, Jack, Bing, and Dr. Schneeplestein gave gasps of shock and Jack said, “Come on man, we’re not even wearing the masks yet and you’re already losing track of who’s who. Get it together, Mark.”

“It’s not just me, Y/N, you see it two, right?” Mark asked. “How are you supposed to tell which one’s Chase?”

“Um, I’m pretty sure he’s the one standing on Jackieboy Man and Silver Shepherd’s shoulders to hang up those streamers over there,” you said, pointing at the figure barely keeping his balance across the room.

“Ah, crap, I should probably stop that before someone gets hurt,” Jack said before he jumped down the stage and ran over to intervene.

“See, acting exactly like a concerned dad,” Mark said, gesturing toward the retreating figure and earning a middle finger in return. He shrugged and crouched down so that on the stage he was closer to eye level as he asked, “So are we going to see you out on the dance floor tonight, Y/N?”

“I am making zero promises,” you answered without hesitation.

He laughed and said, “We’ll see about that. You picked out a mask yet?”

“Soon,” you answered. “…But seriously, why masks? After…you know…”

Mark shuddered and just for a second his face clouded over, but he recovered quickly enough. “I had this idea long before that, and, well, it still seemed like a fun idea to get the community together and raise money for a good cause at the same time. Why let that thing ruin the chance to do some good?”

“And a chance to be a little melodramatic?” you asked.

“Why stop at a little?” Mark asked with a grin as he jumped down from the stage. “I want this to be a night to remember, for the fans and for all of us too. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” you said, with more feeling than you meant to, but Mark didn’t seem to notice. In fact, his eyes shifted to over your shoulder just before you heard a familiar voice:

“…Hey.”

You turned around but your response turned into a confused, “…JJ?”

Jameson Jackson winked and held up a recording device before pressing another button, only to get a loud, “TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA!” that made him jump, one hand to his heart. A second try had the device say, “Jameson Jackson, at your service!”

“Aw, that’s so cool!” you said, and Jameson’s grin grew that much wider.

“He’s been playing vith it all day,” Schneeplestein said with a smile. “Jack and zhe rest of us made it for him for tonight.”

Jameson played another audio clip and this time it was Schneeplestein’s voice, declaring, “I am zhe good doctor!”

“Zhis way he can join in zhe fun of zhe masks and pretending to be everyone else,” Dr. Schneeplestein explained.

“I love it,” you said, deciding not to point out the flaw in that logic for the doctor’s sake.

“Plus it means no distracting speech slides,” Jameson added, nodding as everyone within “earshot” blinked as the speech slides appeared before their eyes. He chose another audio clip to add, “This is going to be so much fun!”

“See, getting into the spirit of things already,” Mark said, throwing an arm around Jameson’s shoulders. With a tone that suggested he had practiced this particular line several times, he added, “Part of the fun of a masquerade is hiding your identity and seeing how well we all know each beyond just the faces we put on every day.”

“Well, as ominous and foreboding as that sounds,” you said, ignoring Mark as he sputtered with indignation, “First I need to go see a magician about a tie.”

“Don’t take too long,” Mark called after you and the doctor as you passed through the door near the stage and into the back hallway that ran in either direction.

With the doctor to guide you, you soon found your way to a storage room where Marvin was sitting on a large case and going through some playing cards when you walked in.

“There you are!” Marvin said, jumping up at the sound of the door opening. He smiled and glanced at the doctor, who waved before heading back to the main area. Once he was sure Henrik was out of earshot, Marvin’s smile slipped and his bright eyes looked you up and down from behind a fancier version of his usual cat mask. He was dressed up in a vibrant blue suit, so dark as to almost appear black until the light caught it just right, with green accents on the sleeves and lapels, but it still felt like only a small variation from his usual dress style.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “We don’t have to—”

“I’m sure,” you interrupted, but you admitted, “I’m nervous, but…”

“But this is important to you,” he finished when you trailed off and you nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. Marvin almost sighed but caught himself in time. Because as many reservations as he had about this, he did have some idea of how much this meant to you. And, he thought as he placed the silver case he brought with him for tonight on one of the storage boxes, you had come to him for help before anyone else. Instead he said, “You don’t have to worry, Y/N. If you’re right, then I’m sure this will work.”

He had poured more hours than he would ever admit to you into reading every book he could find on the subject, every spell even partially related, every theory, every charm, and it all pointed to the fact that the idea you had come to him with weeks ago was possible. And if you were wrong, then it would just mean he had wasted time on some admittedly interesting research, so no loss there.

The case contained a tie, a small pin, and a few other things Marvin didn’t think it was important for you to see, at least not yet.

“Basically, the spell is worked into the tie,” he explained as he laid out the piece of fabric in question. “Similar to the spell I worked for the Host, except it’s not complete until I tie it. You’ll also need to keep it on you, which shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay,” you said, the word small and almost to yourself. Louder, you said, “Thank you, Marvin, for doing this. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

But you still asked. Marvin had every right to believe that every doubt, every idea how this could go wrong, must have passed through your mind just as easily as his, but you still wanted to try.

Which is why he put on a confident grin and said, “Nothing for a master magician like myself. But first, and most important, there’s this.”

He held up the pin so that you could see it was in the shape of a solid white cat with two gleaming green eyes before leaning forward so that he could pin it to your lapel.

“Is this part of the spell?” you asked, head tilted back so you two didn’t butt heads while he pinned it on.

“No, this is completely different,” Marvin said, hoping you didn’t notice how his hands shook and made pinning it that much harder. He faked a grin and said, “I say the right word and this little pin will turn you into a kitty cat.”

He leaned back in time to see you laugh and say, “Depending on how much cleanup there is after the party, I might just let you do it.”

“Or maybe it’s just cute and matches the tie,” Marvin said with a wink. To his relief, you didn’t question it, although that might have been because you were already watching as he picked up the emerald green tie. “Luckily I got to practice tying three neckties already today, so this part should be easy.”

“Three?” you asked.

“Seán and Chase, plus my own,” Marvin answered. “Jackieboy didn’t need one, Schneeps said he’d prefer a clip-on to having something around his neck, and JJ went with his usual bowtie.”

“You’re the resident tie expert?” you asked and he gave a less than humble shrug. “You haven’t said, how long will the spell last?”

“Until midnight,” Marvin answered, and stared when you gave a laugh at that. “What?”

“Midnight, really?” you asked. “Are you trying to make it as dramatic as possible?”

“It’s traditional, and I’ll have you know, drama is very important in working magic,” Marvin insisted. When you gave him a doubtful look, he admitted, “Plus that’s when the ball is officially over, so it seemed like a good end time.”

“You and Mark should really talk sometime, I think you’d get along if you both gave it a chance,” you said as he began to run his fingers up and down the fabric of the tie, whispering to himself as he did so. “Then again, I’m afraid what you two might come up with if left to yourselves.”

Marvin glanced up and flashed a brief grin before he could stop himself. “That’s probably fair. Are you ready?”

You nodded and leaned forward, head tilted to make it easier for Marvin to turn up your collar and loop the tie around it. As he did so, a last-minute question occurred to you.

“Will I remember…?”

“Probably not,” Marvin answered. “Some things might slip through, but until midnight it will just be like you’re asleep. Dreaming, maybe, but it’ll be over before you know it. Promise.”

You returned his smile, maybe out of reflex Marvin wasn’t sure, and he focused his attention on the tie. As he said, most of the heavy work had already been done, and now it was a matter of will as he carefully created a knot and slid it up into place at the base of your throat. He felt the spell take hold and his eyes flickered up toward your face.

He didn’t expect to see any difference and more than a part of him hoped that it might not work at all, but he was startled that this close he could see the flicker in your eyes before you closed them.

And the District Attorney opened them.

The District Attorney blinked slowly and then stared down at your—their body with a sharp inhale. They started to lift their hands only for the left to stop short on the way up, held back by a handcuff linking their wrist to the handle of a nearby storage locker.

“I—” They paused as though surprised at the sound of their own voice and a flurry of emotions crossed their face, too fast for Marvin to parse.

How long had it been, since they last spoke to someone else?

“I’m impressed,” they admitted once they recovered, turning their eyes from the handcuffs to the magician. “I didn’t even notice you doing that.”

“Sleight of hand is fun like that,” Marvin said over the scrape of the chair he pulled into place before taking a seat with his legs crossed. “Before anything else happens, I have some questions for you.”

The District Attorney took in the way those bright blue eyes narrowed behind the mask and the cross of his arms, but also the way his foot made quick, nervous motions in the air.

“…It’s Marvin, isn’t it?”

“You know my name?” The magician couldn’t hide his surprise. Marvin had assumed that the District Attorney would have as much trouble accessing your memories as you did trying to remember anything before the mirror. Actually, he had also assumed that the way you talked about the District Attorney as a separate person was just a way of coping with your lost memories, and that theory wasn’t looking too great either.

“Y/N, the one you know, isn’t trying to hide their memories from me. They’re…distant, like watching through someone else’s eyes, but they’re there.” The District Attorney put their free hand to their chest, where they could still feel your presence. Quiet, “sleeping,” but still very much there. A brief, soft smile crossed their face, giving them the patience to look at Marvin and ask, “What is it that you want to know?”

So much. Marvin’s mind was already spinning with theories on how you and the District Attorney could have become like this, two fragments of the same person. He had considered it of course, it was the whole basis for how the spell worked, but now he had so many questions. When did “you” first appear? Was it a side effect from all of those years in the house? Was it when Mark took a piece from the mirror? But there were more pressing concerns that he needed to focus on first.

“You gave Y/N the idea for this spell, didn’t you?”

“Correct.” The District Attorney attempted to lean against the storage locker, but there seemed to be no comfortable way of doing that. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t easy considering we can’t exactly talk face to face, but I’ve found I can have some influence in their dreams, and even then it was a long shot. I’m surprised you performed the spell, considering.”

“Just because I don’t immediately trust you?”

“I was thinking more because you seem to prefer using the same spells over and over again.” The District Attorney’s voice grew sharper as they added, “Speaking of, could you knock it off with the shrinking spells? Y/N has literally had nightmares where they’re tiny now.”

“…I’ll consider it,” Marvin said. The DA raised an eyebrow and he said, “Fine, no more making Y/N tiny…Spoilsport.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, let’s get back to you. Why tonight? Why do you suddenly want to come back tonight of all nights?”

“This isn’t some sudden thing. I’ve had nothing but time to consider this.” The District Attorney shifted their weight, but the magician made no move to offer them a seat. “I have some things I want to say, and questions of my own I want to ask for myself. Y/N is the one who thought tonight would be best, with everyone in one place.”

They looked down at their suit and tugged at their collar before saying, “I’ll admit that I’m not too thrilled at the idea of a dance. Or this tie. Can I—?”

“Don’t touch it!”

They stopped just short of adjusting the tie and stared at Marvin. “Why?”

“So you just want to talk to some people? That’s all?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else you think I would have in mind, but that’s all. I want to make the best possible use of the limited time I have.”

“Forgive me for not immediately trusting someone just because they’re wearing a friendly face.” Marvin stood up and paced close to the District Attorney, his eyes locking with theirs. “Whatever you need to do, I want it done by midnight, do you understand? And then we get our Y/N back.”

“That’s all I—” The District Attorney stopped short and Marvin froze in the act of getting out the handcuff key when he heard the quiet anger in their voice. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No,” Marvin said, but they saw the flicker in his eyes as he glanced at their face and back to the handcuffs.

“Is it the tie? Or something about the spell—” The DA’s eyes narrowed when they saw the tell. “What’s wrong with the spell?”

“Nothing! It’s working fine, it let you take control of Y/N’s body like it was supposed to, and at midnight they’ll have the chance to take it back.”

“The chance? What does that mean?”

Marvin quickly stepped back out of arm’s reach before explaining, “The closest I could find to your…situation was two spirits or hearts or whatever you call it in one body. The original spell was designed for, well, possessions.”

The District Attorney was silent as this sank in, not visibly reacting except for their restrained hand, which pressed so hard against the steel binding it that there would soon be a mark on their wrist if they weren’t careful.

“The tie works to safely suppress Y/N, giving you an opportunity to take over. At midnight the suppression wears off, but if you were to resist…”

“There’s the chance I could stay in control,” they finished. Between the two of you, the DA was the older one, the original from which you “split off” to form your own memories, your own heart as Marvin called it. The District Attorney had been their own person before the manor, but you were formed on the other side of the mirror—you weren’t made for this world, not on your own. There was no doubt who was the “stronger” of the two of you, looking at it that way.

“That’s not what you told them.”

“I…” Marvin faltered under their glare.

“How could you not tell them?!”

“Do you really think it would have changed their mind?” Marvin snapped back, his voice rising to match theirs. “You can see their memories, would anything I said have changed their minds?”

“I…” This time it was the DA’s turn to grasp for words.

“They trust you,” Marvin muttered as he took their hand and unlocked the handcuffs. “Which is the only reason I’m doing this.”

He tightened his grip on their wrist as he looked them in the eye, his eyes like cold ice as he added, “But you better believe I will get them back at midnight, whether you’re ready to leave or not. So take care of what you need to before then, understand?”

“…I understand,” the District Attorney said, not looking away. When Marvin released their wrist and turned away, he was surprised again when they added, “Thank you.”

“Like I said, I’m doing this for Y/N,” he answered as he went to the silver case and snapped it shut before making it disappear with a snap of his fingers.

“Thank you for looking out for them.”

Marvin had no answer for that, so he gave a mute shrug and motioned for them to follow him out of the storage closet. It was a silent walk back the way they came, but when he opened the door to the ballroom, they were both greeted by a flurry of voices and low but upbeat music. A steady stream of guests entered on the opposite side, and a sizable crowd was already milling around waiting for the ball to officially start.

“You’ll need a mask,” he said, leading the way across the room.

“Why?” they asked, and he glanced back at the tone in their voice in time to see their distaste as they looked around the room. “Who thought this was a good idea?”

“Your old friend Mark did,” he answered and was rewarded by the flurry of conflicting emotions that sped across the DA’s face before they could collect themselves.

Well, that was interesting.

“Besides, it’s required,” he said. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you’re not wearing one.”

They muttered something about dramatic idiots and Marvin suppressed a grin. Maybe they weren’t that different from you after all.

By the time they crossed the room, the crowd around the table had started to diminish, but not enough for Marvin to notice who was sitting behind the stack of masks until he heard the narration.

“The Host hands Jeremy a mask that will certainly catch the eye of that particular someone and suggests that if Kiri is interested in a snake motif then she should take a look at the far end of the table where Jackieboy Man is assisting guests. Marvin stops short at the sound of the Host’s voice, but beside him the District Attorney—”

The fans nearest to the table were either too focused on picking out masks or trying to find their friends to notice as the Host rose from his seat, but Marvin still swore he heard the noise in the room dip as he spoke again, his voice low but trembling with anger.

“What has the magician done?”

“Uh, sorry, did you call for me Jackie?” Marvin said, not taking his eyes off of the Host.

“Kind of busy over here bro,” Jackieboy called from the other end of the table, even though he was clearly just posing for a picture with some grinning fans.

“Yeah, yeah, must have just been Jameson, I should…go…”

Then, dropping all efforts at pretending, Marvin turned and sprinted away into the crowd, leaving the District Attorney alone with the Host, whose furious narration was immediately rewarded by a yelp from the magician somewhere in the distance followed by Mark’s voice yelling about spilled punch.

“And then the magician—” The Host stopped short when he felt the pressure of a hand on his arm.

“Don’t, please,” the District Attorney said in his ear. “Y/N asked him to do this, just for tonight.”

The Host pulled away, his face turned toward theirs as though studying them through the red blindfold.

“The Host does not doubt his Y/N would do such a thing, but he does doubt that either Y/N has fully thought through what they have planned for tonight.”

“I just want to talk,” the District Attorney said, even as they felt a sense of unease at the Host’s words. “And I have thought of nothing else for a very, very long time. Our—your Y/N will be back safe and sound at midnight. No one, especially them, is going to get hurt. I promise.”

“The Host asks the District Attorney not to make promises that they have no control over.” Bitterness tinged the ego’s words, even as he added, “…But the Host will—”

He stopped, interrupted by the amplified tap of a finger on the microphone before a voice similar to his own came out of every speaker around the room and the crowd as one turned toward the stage with more than a few cries and shouts.

“Hello everybody, and welcome to the masquerade. I’m Markiplier—”

“And it’s me, the one and only Gaelic Gladiator,” chimed in the man next to him over the crowd’s applause and cheers.

Next to Mark.

The District Attorney stared at him up there on the stage, at the embroidered flowers splashed across the chest and running down the sleeve of his jacket, a dizzying array of colors designed to catch the eye, and at the white partial mask that did nothing to hide the shape of his face or his identity. How he drank in the audience’s attention even as he and Jack spoke about the masquerade, about the charity this was all for, their voices mingling and distant even as the light background music and every clap and laugh grew louder and more distorted.

There were so many people here. Despite the distance between themselves and the nearest guest, the District Attorney was suddenly aware of the press of bodies, the voices murmuring even during the rehearsed speech, the colors glaring against their vision even as the amplified voices caught and grated against their eardrums and this was a mistake, they couldn’t do this, they—

Your presence stirred and the District Attorney felt your concern like a sudden hand reaching out to steady them. They put a hand to their chest and took several long, slow breaths until their heart rate steadied.

I’m okay, they thought, and they felt you slipping back into your “sleep.” There was something about the idea of you so ready to step in and protect them that made the District Attorney smile.

For just a moment they caught Mark’s eye and just as quickly looked away. It took several seconds before they realized that the music had returned and that there was movement going on in the center of the dance floor.

The masquerade had officially begun.

Turning back to the masks and the Host, they couldn’t help but notice just how much he looked like Mark. It had been easy enough to ignore with the red blindfold around his eyes, but looking around the room they could see several other identical faces partially hidden by various masks.

Of course, they had also noticed how much Marvin resembled his creator despite a few cosmetic differences such as his hair. Even the man sitting at the other end of the table with the vivid red hood and a gilded blue mask was obviously another one of these egos.

Jackieboy Man. The name swam up from somewhere in your memories, and the District Attorney clung to it, already knowing how much they would be relying on you throughout the night.

“The Host holds out the mask he set aside for Y/N earlier. He had the other Y/N in mind, but it should still match this Y/N’s enchanted tie if they are interested.”

“…Thank you,” the District Attorney said, wondering if their voice shook as they took the offered mask. It was a half mask that covered the eyes and cheeks, the same emerald green as their tie beneath thin golden lines that radiated from the center like delicate, curling beams of sunlight.

“It is just a mask,” the Host answered, his face turned toward the table where his hands were clasped together. “Markiplier has asked that everyone wear one tonight for an effect that should go over well with the fans, but the District Attorney will see for themselves.”

“For that, but also thank you for taking care of the other me.” The District Attorney closed their eyes and let your memories of the Host wash over them briefly. “Thank you for being their friend.”

The Host seemed momentarily lost for words, judging by the way his mouth opened but nothing came out, not even his usual narration.

“Y/N, the District Attorney, can see our Y/N’s memories,” he said slowly, but before they could confirm that he continued, “Earlier they told Marvin the Magnificent that our Y/N is not hiding any memories from them.”

This time it was the DA’s turn to be surprised. “You—Yes, that’s correct.”

They could see the thread connecting one thought to the other in the Host’s narration, but they still weren’t prepared for the accusation in the Host’s voice as he said, “But Y/N cannot access the District Attorney’s memories unless that Y/N allows it. Because it is the District Attorney who is hiding memories.”

“Of course I am,” the District Attorney said and the Host visibly stiffened. “The Host has to know the kind of nightmares Y/N has. What just the memories of our time in the manor has done to them. If it were up to me…I don’t want to share anything with them that might hurt them any more than they already have been.”

“Even memories of Markiplier and Dam—”

“Especially those,” the District Attorney interrupted. They heard the anger in their own voice and added in a much more measured tone, “At least, not all of them, not yet. I don’t…I just want to be careful what I share with them. Sometimes even the good memories can do more harm than good.”

“It is not the Host’s place to comment on Y/N’s memories, so he will not,” the Host said, his clasped hands gripping each other tightly as he added, “But the Host wishes Y/N to know that he will be ready when they need him.”

“You mean ‘if.’”

The Host did not respond, instead turning his face toward a fan that had walked up to the table beside the District Attorney as though to suggest this conversation was over. The DA stepped away but couldn’t resist looking over their shoulder at the ego again before they shook off what he said and put on the mask.

At first the DA strayed around the edges of the crowd, watching as egos, fans, and creators danced together or stood around in small clumps, trying to hold conversations over the sound of the beating music with varying degrees of success. Gradually the tension in their body eased and they began to focus on the individual persons, searching for any sign of familiar to you faces beneath the masks.

But they were spotted first and a voice straight from their past asked, “Y/N, is that you?”

The Detective. He was wearing a mask, a simple black domino mask whose only contribution to hiding his identity was the fact that it actually matched his suit, and a frown as he leaned forward to get a better look at them before smiling as though satisfied. “Good to see you, Partner. I was starting to think I wouldn’t find you in this madhouse.”

“It’s good to see you too, Detective.”

The change in Abe’s posture was instantaneous, like a wire being pulled tight. Eyes blazed behind the mask as his hand went into his jacket and he said, “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m—” The District Attorney lunged forward and grabbed his wrist before he could draw it out of his jacket and tried to keep their voice down as much as possible as they asked, “Why did you bring a gun to a party?!”

“Considering how the last time I went to one of Mark’s parties turned out, why wouldn’t I?” Abe asked, but he released his grip on the gun hidden under his jacket and grabbed their wrist instead. “And you better start answering my question, pal.”

“I am Y/N, just…just not the one you’re thinking of.” The District Attorney sighed and tugged their gripped wrist in the direction of one of the empty tables. “This is going to take some time to explain.”

Abe sat back in his chair and studied them the entire time they spoke, and when they were done he shook his head and said, “You really expect me to believe there’s two of you in there?”

“In essence, yes. I think it’s safe to say that it’s the ‘other me’ you are familiar with and know by this point. After all, they’re the one who’s been your partner for over a year now, compared to the single weekend we knew each other.”

“Which would make you—you’re the one who…”

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault, Detective.” The District Attorney spoke quickly to cut him off before he could follow that train of thought too far, but they looked down, their gaze on their hands fidgeting on top of the table. “I don’t know if you know that, but just in case. And I’ve wanted to say thank you for choosing me to be your partner, for as short a time as it may have been.”

When they looked up, they saw the tears in the Detective’s eyes before he coughed and looked away.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I…” He gave up and shook his head. “Thank you.”

“And I know the other Y/N enjoys their time with you as well,” the District Attorney added, revealing a rare grin.

“Okay, look, I’m already crying, just stop already,” Abe said, but his smile faded slightly as he studied their face again. “What happens to you at midnight? When the spell ends?”

The DA shrugged. “Things will go back to the way they were before. For me, it’s like…being asleep, I suppose, except I have some awareness of what’s going on with the other me. The important things come through, at least.”

They had chosen to leave out Marvin’s warning, for the Detective’s own peace of mind.

“That’s…” Abe trailed off, unable to find the words.

How could they look so okay with that?

Before he could protest, two masked individuals approached from the crowd and stopped at their table.

“You two aren’t just going to sit here all night, are you?” asked the one on the left, the one wearing a butterfly mask emblazoned with bright colors that shimmered with the lights.

The District Attorney hesitated, just long enough for your memories to resurface. “It’s…Amy, right?”

“Got it in one!” she said with a laugh. She pulled out the chair next to them and sat down while gesturing at her mask. “I’d wanted to get the alien one, but it was gone by the time I got back.”

“Sorry about that,” said the second woman, who took another empty chair and sat back with a sigh. “The stupid zipper on this dress hasn’t worked right since Jackieboy tried to take it for a spin.”

“I…what?” the District Attorney asked. “We are talking about the superhero, correct?”

Evelien sighed. “Yeah. Yandereplier started it, trying to talk you into wearing a dress tonight, and next thing I know Jackie’s seeing how he looks in one. I took him back to the store so he could get his own dress, and Schneeplestein helped him sew the hood on, but the damage was already done.”

She gestured toward the superhero, who was walking across the floor now, and there were appreciative nods all around the table and a low whistle from Abe.

“He definitely has…the build for it,” the District Attorney said.

“Yeah he does,” Amy said. “Oh. Sorry, Evelien—”

“Please, you should have heard Seán when he saw him,” Evelien said with a laugh. “Look at those legs!”

Abe looked between the three of them as the conversation continued, waiting for as long as he could before he blurted out, “Hey, Amy, where’s Mark at?”

The DA visibly froze and sent him a daggered look, but Amy shrugged and looked around.

“I’m not sure. He said something about his jacket, but I didn’t think he would want to miss—”

As if in response to her words, Mark’s amplified voice rose above the crowd and all eyes turned once again to the stage in response to his question.

“Does everyone have their masks?”

A chorus of cheers and shouts greeted him and he smiled as the other person on the stage continued.

“Fantastic! Now we can really have some fun.”

The District Attorney frowned, recognizing Marvin’s suit and mask up on the stage, but before they could wonder what the magician was up to, he raised his hand up and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, all of the lights in the room went out as one, plunging the masquerade into darkness for just a brief second. The DA felt a hand clamp down on their wrist as if to make sure they were still there, but before the crowd could even panic or start making jokes they were all turning to one another with sounds of surprise and delight.

In the darkness, they could now see that their masks glowed as though lit from within, taking on new colors and patterns in the darkness. The colors in their clothes also took on a lesser glow, so that an idea of the person standing next to them could be seen, if not the whole figure.

“Once an hour, at a random time within that hour, we’ll have ourselves a dance in the dark,” Mark said. His partial mask also glowed in the darkness, and the flowers spread across his jacket left iridescent trails as he gestured.  “Even we don’t know exactly when they’ll happen, but that’s just part of the fun. So hold on to your masks, and be ready. After all, who knows who you might bump into in the dark?”

The music started again, this time with a very different beat, and the District Attorney found themselves being pulled up out of their chair and in the direction of the dancing masks by Amy, whose butterfly mask was such a bright neon blue now that it left trails in the darkness when she turned to face them.

“Come on, Y/N, move it a little,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, no one can judge you if they can’t see you.”

The District Attorney blinked and stared at her mask. Did its wings move, or was it just a trick of the light streaming from it?

“I’d beg to differ,” they muttered, but began to move in time to the music all the same. “Amy, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure! Music might make it a little hard though,” she said, her own voice barely audible over the incessant beat.

The District Attorney moved closer and asked, “How have you been doing? You and Mark?”

“Crazy busy! This whole thing didn’t plan itself,” Amy pointed out. “How much does it show?”

“It doesn’t—I mean, I just…” The District Attorney let their voice trail off and get lost in the noise.

“But I wouldn’t trade times like this, or any of these last few years, for the world,” Amy continued. This time, the DA was sure they saw the butterfly on her mask flap its wings and realized the blue was shifting into a vibrant, beaming gold as she looked around the room. “I hope he takes the time to stop and enjoy this. You wouldn’t remember I guess, but when I first met him Mark just…couldn’t look past his work, whether it was the latest video or the next project. Bob and Wade told me they used to come by once a week just to make sure he was still alive and then drag him out for a movie or a game or anything to snap him out of himself. Sometimes he slips back into it, but if this makes sense, it really feels like he’s finally remembered there’s a Mark in the ‘Markiplier.’”

“It really does seem like it,” the District Attorney said quietly, and then raised their voice to be sure Amy could hear as they added, “I know he seems so much happier now than he used to be. He definitely smiles more when he’s with you.”

Amy laughed and pushed at their shoulder, but the District Attorney saw the yellow in their mask tinge pink before the song ended and lights came up again around the room, and in turn the masks dimmed back to their normal colors.

The District Attorney glanced toward the stage, but there was no sign of the magician or Markiplier, only the ego in his likeness handling the music. The next song was just as fast as the first and the District Attorney backed away, saying as they did so, “Thank you, Amy. For everything.”

“Now hold on, that was just one song,” Amy said, her smiled widening just as the District Attorney’s shoulders bumped into a pair of hands waiting to catch them.

“You aren’t trying to run away, are you?” The voice behind them sounded like the magician, and when they looked over their shoulder it was the same face, but your memories immediately offered up the name Jack. Or maybe it was Seán? “Come on, Y/N, let’s see you shake those hips!”

“Excuse you?”

“Here, just move like this,” Evelien added as she walked up, the Detective in tow and looking about as thrilled as the DA.

The District Attorney watched Evelien and Jack dance for a few seconds, during which they both tried to outdo each other while not breaking down into giggles as their moves became more and more ridiculous.

“How do I pass?” they said eventually, but Amy took hold of their hands and began pulling them back and forth until they were forced to move their feet. They shot a look at the Detective for help, but he only managed a smirk before he found hands clamping down on his shoulders.

“Someone’s not dancing,” Tyler crowed.

“Get your hands off of me, you washed-up butler,” Abe snapped, but he was helpless in the face of Tyler’s might combined with Ethan, Wade, and Bob, who seemed to have formed a roving band with the goal of getting all the dance-shy guests moving and enjoying the fun.

While he tried to evade them, Abe kept an eye on the District Attorney, watching as they, yes, danced (who taught them the cabbage patch?), but also used every chance to talk to the friends you had made over the last year and a half. About what, the Detective couldn’t be sure, but he often caught them staring too long at faces, brow furrowing as though trying to read beneath the surface of what they were saying. And he saw the same words repeated over and over again, so many times that he started to recognize the shape of them on their lips even if he couldn’t hear the sounds over the music:

Thank you.

The first time he saw them lose their composure was when a slow song came on and one of Mark’s egos tapped them on the shoulder. He saw the way their eyes widened behind the mask, the panic that made them take a step back, but before he could step in they slowly relaxed and said, “…You are…Eric?”

“Uh, y-yeah, it’s me,” Eric said. His bright yellow mask matched the handkerchief in his chest pocket, which he promptly took out to fidget with as he added, “I, uh, sorry if you were, um…Hoping for someone else, but I was…would you…I mean you don’t have to, I just—Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait!” The word slipped out and the District Attorney immediately winced, their hand going to their chest with a grimace before they recovered and continued in their normal, restrained tone, “I’m…not much of a dancer, but sure.”

Eric’s grin, the only part of his face visible beneath the mask, was nervous and hopeful even as he and the District Attorney fumbled in how and where to place their hands before starting a slow, uneven sway much like the other dancers around them.

Abe watched for a moment and then realized he was the only one just standing there amid all of the dancers. More importantly, he had managed to lose Tyler and the others in the dance posse, which meant he was free to leave the floor.

And free to have a talk with a certain magician before midnight.

“I’ve, um, I’ve been practicing but I’m s-still not very good,” Eric mumbled. This close, and he could still barely look them in the eye, only briefly glancing up every now and then in between keeping his gaze firmly on the ground.

“You’re doing fine,” the District Attorney said, and then realized their tone wasn’t exactly encouraging or kind so they tried again. “Just relax. It’s only a dance.”

Eric gave them a bashful smile and the District Attorney could only stare. Even with the mask, he looked so much like Mark. Of course he did, there were over a dozen of them roaming around the room right now, but the idea of this shy, bashful, neurotically nervous person, that any part of him could have come out of Mark of all people was…

“Um, have you, have you been enjoying the, uh…dance? Not the dancing, I mean, I know you don’t like that, but um…everything else?”

“It’s been enlightening so far,” the District Attorney said. They glanced at the clock hanging above the stage and took a deep breath. They could only avoid the inevitable for so long, after all. “Have you seen Marki—Mark anywhere around? I…I need to talk to him after this dance.”

“Um…I think he went backstage a while ago, something about a stain on his jacket?” Eric looked up at the District Attorney and their eyes briefly met. “Is everything…Um, are you okay? You just don’t… Um, never mind, this is stupid, I’m stupid, let’s, uh…How long is this dance?”

“I’m sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” the District Attorney said. They paused and then gave his shoulder a squeeze as the song came to an end. “And you’re not stupid. Thank you for the dance, Eric. I enjoyed it.”

At that moment the lights went out, plunging the room once more into darkness as an upbeat, borderline funk song came on. The District Attorney wove their way in and out of the crowd in the direction of the stage, too intent on making their way to the back area to notice that a couple of dancers had taken to the stage.

But one of the dancers did notice the mask moving through the crowd out of time to the music and a voice loud and deep enough to be heard over the music called out, “Someone’s a little slow getting into the groove!”

The District Attorney stopped so fast that others around them bumped and jostled them out of the way, but they couldn’t care less. They knew that voice, even without your memories stirring at the familiar baritone, but when they turned toward the stage he was gone, leaving a blank space between the glowing masks.

“Maybe you just need a little encouragement?” he continued and the District Attorney whirled around to stare at the lurid yellow and pink suit that probably didn’t need Marvin’s magic to glow in the dark, at the mask that was a solid white except for the mustache, which was almost as brilliantly pink as the mustache hidden underneath the mask.

Wilford, your memories said, but all the District Attorney could hear was the voice of the Colonel, the slurred, manic voice of the man who shot them.

“Come on up, don’t be shy,” Wilford continued without waiting for or needing a response, and suddenly the District Attorney found themselves on the stage with the other dancers even though they had certainly not taken any of the steps leading up to here.

They staggered back but Wilford caught their hand and pulled them away from the edge of the stage with a laugh and a “Not that way!” The next thing the DA knew, they were mimicking the movements of the dance, or at least from what they could see of it in the dark. Their mind moved achingly slow but, eventually, the thought strayed forward that they would have to catch him before he left the stage. This might be their only chance to talk to him tonight, after all, as both your memories and theirs confirmed he wasn’t the easiest person to get a hold of when he didn’t want to be.

As the music slowed, they stopped pretending to dance, and just as the song came to a close and the lights returned they grabbed hold of his candy-striped sleeve.

“Not bad,” Wilford said, pushing his mask up out of the way as he turned to face them. His eyes glittered in the stage lights as he added, “What do you say to another round, for old time’s sake?”

“I—” The District Attorney let go and stepped back, unable to look away from those eyes, their heart thudding like it just took another bullet to the chest. “This was a mistake.”

“Come on, we can work on the dancing!” Wilford called after them as the District Attorney jumped down from the stage and disappeared into the crowd, but he made no move to chase after them and instead turned to the guests on the floor. “Well, anyone else want to volunteer?”

While a suspiciously loud and Irish voice volunteered to go on stage, the District Attorney wove their way in and out of the crowd, looking for the least crowded path to anywhere, just as far away from all of this as possible.

“Y/N!”

They had no idea how many times their name was called before the weight of a hand on their shoulder drew them back into the here and now.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s go over here where it’s quieter, okay?”

They nodded and the hand kept its steady pressure on their back, guiding them through the spinning room and out of the pressing crowd until they were in the back of the room, in the relative privacy and quiet behind one of the fake marble columns.

“Just close your eyes, take deep breaths.”

The District Attorney did as he said, breathing slowly in and out. They felt their panic slowly ebb and fade, but nearly thought they were going to be sick again when they remembered what the magician said about strong emotions passing through to you in your “sleep.” They could still feel your presence, closer than and just as comforting as the hand on their upper arm that squeezed gently as he continued to talk them down.

They risked opening their eyes and found them drawn to the flowers scattered across the white jacket in front of them, droplets of colors that ran down the sleeve and up toward the hand on their shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked and the District Attorney looked up at that white partial mask that covered the left side of his face, at the eyes full of concern on the other side. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No…” They took a shuddering breath and tried again, “No, I just…need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need, Y/N,” he said with a gentle smile. “There’s no rush.”

They might have laughed at the irony of that if they weren’t studying the visible portions of his face closely, looking for what they weren’t sure.

“I realize this might not bring up the best memories for you,” he admitted, watching their face just as closely.

“The—Abe said the same thing earlier. About the…other party.”

His hand on their shoulder tightened, briefly, his mouth turning down before he sighed. “It’s a shame you can’t remember the other ones. And there were others, Y/N. Some a little more…rowdier than others, but not all of them ended badly. Like when we celebrated graduating college together and wound up in a field looking up at the stars. We may have overdone it a little on that one, considering I don’t remember exactly how we got there…”

“I would be surprised if you did,” the District Attorney said, uncertain if it was the sudden venom in their voice or the way they slapped his hand off their shoulder that earned them the look of surprise before they continued, “Considering Mark wasn’t there.”

The noise in the room dipped briefly in the pause between one song ending and the next one starting, a silence as Dark’s lips parted but nothing came out.

The District Attorney had no such problem as they reached up and pulled his mask off, only to toss it on the ground so they could see his face when they asked, “Why are you pretending to be Mark? What was the plan here, why would you—Why?!”

“You remember.” Dark stared at them, eyes wide and showing no sign that he was listening to a single word. “I thought tonight might jog your memories, but—”

He stopped short, and now it was his turn to pull off the other’s mask. The District Attorney took a step back and their shoulders bumped into the column behind them, but they met Dark’s stare head on with a fury and disgust he recognized. Just not one he had seen outside of your reflection trapped in a mirror.

“You…how…?” Dark’s eyes dropped to the emerald tie around their neck. “The magician. What spell is this? How long will it last?”

“Don’t,” they said, putting out a hand to stop him before he could touch the tie. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Is it permanent?” Dark’s eyes went back up to their face and he quickly took a step back.

“No, it is not,” the DA answered, stressing every word in an attempt to not raise their voice. “At midnight, this body goes back to the other me.”

“Why? Isn’t there some way—”

“Why would you care?”

Dark paused and then straightened his tie, settling back into his more reserved state as he said, “It is of professional interest to me, of course. After all, that looks like a possession spell our dear wannabe warlock has used.”

The District Attorney kept their face carefully blank, not wanting to give Dark the satisfaction of a reaction to that. “Which is exactly why this won’t last.”

“But it could. You could stay here, with us.”

“And the other Y/N?” they asked, feeling their anger reach a new fever pitch at the word ‘us.’ How dare he say it, how dare he even pretend— “What happens to them?”

“…They’re a part of you, you’re the same person,” Dark started, but the District Attorney cut them off.

“No. Because I will tell you right now, if I had been the one to find you bleeding out on the infirmary floor, I would have kept walking.” The District Attorney looked him straight in the eye as they said, “If it were up to me, the other Y/N wouldn’t even remember your name, or Mark, or any of our time in that godforsaken house.”

“…Would you really?” Dark asked softly.

He saw the uncertainty flicker in their eyes, heard the anger recede into bitterness and sadness as they looked away and said, “I would take back every memory I never should have shared with them, if…”

They took a deep, shuddering breath and continued, “But no, we are not the same person.”

Every memory I never should have shared. Dark thought of what memories you did have, of those long years spent in the house, in that mirror. Maybe a few other, scattered memories that the District Attorney had either chosen to share with you or that accidentally slipped through whenever they felt a familiar touch or heard a certain phrase. Enough to give you recurring nightmares, enough to make you hide yourself away at the sound of thunder or the crack of lightning.

“Only because you made it that way,” he said. “You chose this, to split your memories in two, to keep everything from them. Maybe we should have been tapping the magician for a way to separate you two instead of forcing you together.”

He thought the sarcasm in his voice was audible, but the District Attorney answered them as though they had seriously considered it, “Even if we had a second body, I’m not sure the other Y/N would be able to survive in this reality without me. They were born on the other side of the mirror, after all, and that’s gone.”

“I could always take them off your hands, if you ever find the other you to be a burden.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“I thought that’s what we’re doing now,” Dark said, stepping closer so that he could still be heard over the music even as he lowered his voice. “You are making this harder than it needs to be. If you would just get over your martyrdom complex and let them become a part of you, there wouldn’t be a problem. They’re not going to do die, they would just become a part of you, like they’re supposed to be!”

He felt his aura straining to be free of the hold he had on it, to grab hold of them until he could force them to see how stupid and petty they were being about all of this and he grabbed the lapels of his borrowed jacket, pulling until the collar pressed into the back of his neck.

The District Attorney stared evenly back at him as they asked, “Just like, say, Celine is a part of you?”

“…What?”

“Celine. What happened to her, when she became a part of you? To—What happened to them? Because maybe they’re still in there somewhere, but they’re not you, not as I knew them. What do you think will happen to the other Y/N, if I took them back? Do you think the last year and a half is enough to even stand up against the pain and heartbreak you and Mark put me through? Remembering the house did enough damage, but to remember you—to remember my friends, what you meant to me, and to have all of those memories, the best memories of my life, tainted and torn apart by what you did? Or I could just leave them buried, safe and away from you while I take control. Is that what you want?”

“Y/N.” Dark breathed their name, the only word that could come to mind as he saw the tears form the in the corner of their eyes.

“It’s not fair.”

Dark froze, his hand outstretched as though to wipe away one of those tears. “What did you just say?”

“It’s not fair how much you look like him. Like Damien.” The District Attorney’s hands clenched into fists at the name and they shook their head as though they wished to say more but couldn’t. Instead, they shot forward, brushing hard against Dark’s shoulder on their way past him and back toward the center of the room, muttering something about time.

Dark looked down and realized that he still had their mask in his other hand. He ran his thumb over the green and gold sun design, their words running through his mind until he felt a cold chill that had nothing to do with his aura.

He didn’t see them, but he did see a familiar white cat mask on the far side of the room talking to the Detective. Dark’s eyes narrowed and he strode forward, no longer certain of what he hoped might happen at midnight but very sure of what he intended to do once he had his hands on that magician.

The swelling anger provided a welcome distraction from the worrying thoughts that were piling up, starting with the realization that his words may or may not have had an effect on what the District Attorney planned to do between now and midnight. Combine that with the unwelcome uncertainty of what he even hoped would happen and it turned into something bordering on worry and concern.

Two things he could very much do without, all things considered.

The District Attorney had every intention of getting lost in the crowd, but somewhere along the way the stares from strangers became more and more obvious. A girl who they didn’t recognize and whose face didn’t appear in any of your memories stopped them and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I—” The District Attorney reached up and brushed a sleeve across their eyes only to realize with a jolt what was missing. “Ah, my mask, I—I should go get another one.”

They brushed off the girl and her friends’ well-meaning offer to walk with them and reassured them that they had plenty of people looking out for them tonight. The truth of which the District Attorney was reminded of when they approached the nearly empty mask table, where a small group had gathered around the Host.

“That story was one of the Host’s favorites as well, which is why he—The Host asks for the group’s patience as he steps aside for a moment,” said the ego, stepping away from the group to hold out a mask for the District Attorney. “The Host hopes this new mask is suitable. Unfortunately, there are not a lot of options on the table now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” they muttered, taking the offered mask. It was a full-face mask this time with a simple design of a face split straight down the middle, separating the mask into half gold and half black. “You could have mentioned that Dark would be impersonating Mark.”

“The Host can see possibilities, but they are not a guarantee of future events.”

“Are there any more possibilities I should be aware of?” they asked as they put on the mask.

The Host hesitated, more than long enough for the District Attorney to know he was putting too much thought to his answer. “…Any warning the Host can give will not make this night any easier for Y/N. But he can tell the District Attorney that seeing Mark again will not be easy.”

“I could have guessed that,” they answered with a sigh. “But I still need to talk to him. I—I…”

“Markiplier has replaced his jacket and is making his way back to the party. He will seek out Amy first…” The Host paused, muttering to himself as he sped through his narration before he nodded and said, “The District Attorney can find him at the punch table three songs from now, if they wish to talk to him alone.”

“Thank you,” they said, unable to hide their surprise. They studied the Host’s face under that red blindfold, but could still make nothing of his expression or his thoughts before their eyes strayed to the group behind him. “Fans of yours?”

“Yes, they are,” he said, and the Host could not hide the smile or the pride in his voice. “Some have read his stories, others have listened to them, but they—They were excited to see him, and to see other fans.”

“Then I shouldn’t keep you from them any longer,” the District Attorney said, smiling as well.

The Host wasn’t the only one of the egos thrilled to find fans among the crowd. As the District Attorney walked across the room, they saw two egos wearing matching white jackets giving a very biased poll to any who would answer on just who was the “number one best real doctor,” a puff of green smoke on the side of the room followed by cheering and clapping as the magician apparently pulled off a disappearing act, and Eric Derekson was positively overwhelmed by the supporting fans all around teaching him a dance the DA wasn’t familiar with but your memories seemed to connect with a game of some sort. They even saw an ego with a squirrel mask and a cape thrown over his suit having a very spirited discussion with several fans about someone named Doreen Green and assuring them that he did, in fact, speak fluent squirrelese.

The District Attorney kept moving around, listening to the music while the words they had prepared to say to Mark ran through their mind again and again.

They could do this.

The District Attorney took a deep breath and walked over to the punch table, where there was a short line for the bowl and the snacks. More people seemed interested in the chairs further down the wall and around the nearby tables, where guests sat with their legs stretched out for a break and where a growing line of shoes suggested some people had rethought the idea of heels for the night. An ego with a bright blue shirt that matched the ‘G’ embroidered on the pocket of his jacket stood impeccably straight near the wall, looking absolutely bored as he watched the table and the immediate area.

Google, your memories offered, along with the mental image of not one but four egos. The District Attorney took a closer look around the room and spotted the other three, all with the same bored yet unblinking stare as they stood sentry near the stage and next to the exits.

The one near the table made no sign that he recognized the District Attorney as they approached and ladled out a drink in one of the small plastic cups, although based on your memories they suspected the android wouldn’t have cared much if he did know.

“No one’s spiked this, have they?”

The District Attorney dropped the ladle and just in time caught the handle before the whole thing could slide to the bottom of the bowl.

“No. No foreign substances have been added to the punch or any of the food,” Google answered with a heavy, dull tone. “This has truly been a waste of my capabilities.”

“Considering alcohol could literally kill me, you could say you have the most important job of anyone here,” Mark suggested.

He was right behind them. The District Attorney felt their grip tighten on the cup, threatening to break the weak plastic and send the contents flooding across the white tablecloth.

“Tell me, when I convey to you my combined processing power and the rate at which I can access and transmit the vast stores of data I have access to after each update, which part of that suggests a walking security camera?” Google asked, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he stared past the District Attorney.

“I think I’d have to go with that video you threaten to send to my millions of subscribers every time I put off my Windows update.”

“IT security nightmare,” Google muttered darkly before walking away to take up a new vantage point further down the wall.

This was their chance. There was no one else in the immediate area, just the District Attorney and Mark.

They could do this.

The District Attorney turned around and felt like all of the wind had been knocked out of them in a single blow that flung them back eighty years to a very different party.

Mark must have felt their stare because he tugged at the lapels of his jacket and said, “What do you think? I had to make a change, and I found this one just lying around backstage. It’s reversible!”

It was a brilliant red except for the black lapels and lining. A memory of Dark’s jacket slipped by but the District Attorney couldn’t acknowledge it, not when all they could see was the exact same Mark from before, down to the way he brushed his hair back and up out of his face before he smiled at them, face only half covered by the white mask that dominated the right side.

The District Attorney backed up, but Mark interpreted it as them stepping aside to give him space to get to the punch because he now he was standing next to them, chatting easily as he poured out two cups.

“Joke’s on him if he thinks that video’s any more embarrassing than anything I’ve posted myself. Are you enjoying the masquerade? Met anyone yet?” Mark paused long enough to take a sip of one of the punches and, when a reply failed to come, said, “You don’t talk much, do you? It’s okay to admit if you’re one of Seán’s fans, I won’t take it too personally.”

“Mark, you—” The District Attorney stopped, their words catching in their throat when he suddenly looked at them with recognition at the sound of their voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

The District Attorney could only give a mute nod in recognition of their name.

“Oh! Well I guess the masks work, huh?” he said, giving an uncomfortable laugh as he studied them more closely now. “Everything okay? Amy and Seán told me about Wilford dragging you up on stage. If you want, we can…um…”

Mark trailed off, aware that there were very few threats he could use against Wilford that the man would take seriously if not outright ignore.

The District Attorney shook their head and found their voice. “No, it was just a bit…much. Are you—are you enjoying the masquerade?”

It wasn’t the question they wanted to ask. But the District Attorney thought they could build to that, to all the words they needed to get off their chest. Until then, as long as Mark still didn’t know who he was talking to, they might as well pretend everything was fine.

“Of course! Seán and I have been working for months to pull this all together and the fans pulled through for us too. Google’s got the final numbers on the charity donations, but it’s more than either of us have ever raised in one go before.” He looked around the room as he spoke, smiling as he added, “And I think they’re all more excited to see their online friends in person than any one of us. Not that any of the egos aren’t getting enough attention to satisfy even them for a while. Everyone’s playing their part.”

“Like actors in a play.” It was subtle, but the District Attorney could see the flicker in Mark’s eyes, the small double take at that choice of words. Before he could respond, they added, “I ran into Dark earlier. He has on your jacket and an almost identical mask.”

It was just like Mark’s, except flipped to cover the opposite side of his face. The District Attorney supposed it was the closest one Dark could find, with no two masks being identical.

“What? He—that—” Mark sputtered as he spun around to look at the rest of the room, as though he expected to find Dark flipping him off somewhere among the dancers. “I knew he shouldn’t have come, I told you he would pull something like this. What the hell is he doing, pretending to be me?!”

At that moment, Dark was posing with a couple of fans for a photo. A fake smile plastered on his face hid his frustration at losing the magician, who’d disappeared at just the sight of him. There were still a couple of fans hanging around in the general area to see if he would finish the act or at least come back for the rabbit, who seemed to be enjoying life outside of the hat.

On the other side of the room, the District Attorney answered, “He seemed to think this party might stir up some memories.”

“…Oh.” Mark paused and made an effort not to sound too eager as he asked, “Has it?”

“Why?” The question slipped out before the District Attorney could stop it, just one of the questions they had been asking themselves again and again for decades. “Why did you invite me to that party?”

“Maybe now isn’t the best time for this…”

“Mark. Why?”

“I—I don’t know. Being in that house, that thing feeding into all of my anger and bitterness, looking back on it now I don’t know what I was thinking. All I cared about was the Colonel and Ce-Celine…” Mark stopped to take a shuddering breath before he looked them in the eye. “Y/N, all I wanted was to make William hurt any way that I could, whatever it took. You don’t even know all of the terrible things that I did, what I could have become if I hadn’t left when I did. Maybe I thought that if a private detective, a mayor, and his district attorney all leave a party saying that a man killed their host, no one would question it. No one would doubt you. What happened to all of you, I—”

“We were just convenient witnesses,” the District Attorney muttered.

“Or maybe—” Mark stopped himself and shook his head. “Whatever the reason, it never should have happened. None of it should have happened, but all I can say is I’m sorry, Y/N. For as little as that’s worth.”

The District Attorney didn’t answer. They just closed their eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on your presence to calm them down.

“Y/N? You never answered me,” Mark said slowly, as though even he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too far. “Do you remember…?”

He left the question hanging there in the air, hopeful and hesitant.

“Maybe it’s like your egos.”

“What?”

“Us. The District Attorney and the Y/N from the mirror. One is the original, and the other is…someone else. Someone with their own memories, their own personality. One who can’t exist without the original. There are similarities, but we’re as much the same person as you and, say, whoever that is flexing by the speaker.”

“Probably the Silver Shepherd,” Mark said, if only because of the silver mask and Jackieboy’s presence near the ego. “Y/N, don’t talk about yourself like that, you’re not some kind of copy or fake—”

“But if it were true? If there were two of us, somehow split apart, then…”

“…It wouldn’t change the memories we do share. Y/N…” Mark put his drinks down and pulled the DA into a hug. “You would still be my friend. I’d still love you, both of you. Even if you don’t understand my flare for the dramatic.”

The District Attorney stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Part of them wanted to lean into the hug, to tell him everything, to spend time with their friend again. But another part of them wanted to push him away, to scream, to tell him apologies and hugs would never be enough to undo what he did to them, to the others, to Damien.

“I can’t do this.”

“What?” Mark asked, but they were already pulling away. He reached out for them, but at that moment the lights went out for the next dark dance.

The sudden darkness surprised the District Attorney as well, and for a moment they and Mark saw each other in the dark. They saw the red jacket, gleaming like blood beneath a partial face that was no longer smooth and white but a spiderweb of cracks out of which spilt light like it could barely be held in. And he saw the green tie that in the dark seemed to swirl with an energy all its own beneath a solid gold mask. And behind and beside the golden mask there was a darker one, moving just out of sync like a delayed shadow, gleaming with an almost violet hue that did not quite blend in with the darkness all around.

It was as though two people sharing the same space looked back at him, before they ducked their heads and turned away. Mark called out, but the District Attorney had already disappeared into the darkness, lost among the other masks. His heart thudded in his ears as the possibility hit him, too much for him to believe or even hope, and too late for him to run after them.

“Google!” Mark realized it was just short of a shrill scream, but it was enough to be heard over the music as a blue ‘G’ lit up near the wall in response. “I need you to help me find someone, now!”

“What’s the magic word?” Google asked.

Mark heaved the hugest sigh he could and said, “Please.”

“Incorrect. The correct response is ‘magic is an inherently illogical system that does not necessarily convey politeness.’ Please try again.”

Mark’s muffled scream of frustration was drowned out by the music behind the District Attorney as they walked out of a side door to one of the balconies that overlooked the lawn. Leaning hard against the stone railing, they took a deep breath of the heavy summer night air and slowly let it out. Or that was the intent, until their breath hitched and they moved to the corner of the balcony, out of sight of the glass doors where they could sink down and sit there, cheek pressed against the stone railing, and just…not think about anything.

They had a lot of practice at that, from their time alone in the mirror.

They did not notice the click of the door opening, or the footsteps that paused when they were spotted, but they did hear the loud greeting that followed:

“Howdy, bitch!”

The District Attorney jumped and whirled around in time to see Jameson fumbling with his recording device, face aflame as a speech slide appeared in the air between them.

“Good gracious! That is not what I meant at all, I swear! Who even put that on this confounded device?!”

Jameson looked up when he heard the laugh that escaped from the District Attorney before they could stop it, and he gave an embarrassed smile before gesturing at the empty ground next to them. “May I join you?”

The District Attorney nodded and watched the ego as he brushed off the stone before sitting down with exaggerated care.

“It is nice to get away from the noise of it all,” he commented, his bright blue eyes watching them just as closely. “But I’m starting to suspect you have a habit of avoiding the dance floor.”

“Not everyone jumps at the chance to waltz, Mr. Jackson.”

“Then I must have been a lucky man, to tempt you once,” he replied with a wink. “And it’s Jameson, if you please.”

“You do remember,” the District Attorney said and his smile widened. They had recognized him through you when he played the song from that night, all those years ago, but as much as they watched him since, as much as they studied your memories and their own, it just didn’t make any sense. How could one of Seán’s egos remember something like that, be the exact image of a man they met decades before Seán was even born but without a voice of his own? “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how you wound up like this.”

Jameson just pressed a finger to his smiling lips and winked in response.

“Can I at least ask why you’re out here and not dancing the night away inside with the others?”

“A proper gentleman always goes where he’s needed!” Jameson declared, and when the District Attorney seemed more than a little skeptical, he added a second speech slide that read, “Also, I may have overheard the Host talking to himself about you. I don’t think he realized I was there, because…”

He gestured at the speech slide before it disappeared and shrugged.

The District Attorney wasn’t surprised the Host was keeping a narrative eye on them. They placed a hand to their chest and felt your presence, quiet and hopefully dreaming of better things. For a brief second they considered removing the tie, letting you have the body back early and just being done with all of this, but that would only cause you to worry.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?”

The speech slide nudged its way into view and the District Attorney glanced at Jameson, this strange ego who was also out of place, out of his time.

And, without hesitation, they told him everything. About the tie, about the time limit, about how they had so many things they wanted to say, but even looking at Mark or Dark or Wilford brought back so many memories that it hurt to even be in the same room as them, much less talk to them.

“I thought I was ready, I thought I could finally face them myself, but one look and I just—I can’t…” The District Attorney stopped with a hiccup and sob. They couldn’t remember the last time they cried, much less so many times in one night.

“Here.”

Jameson offered them the handkerchief from his chest pocket. When the District Attorney started to refuse, he pressed it into their hands while a second speech slide appeared. “A proper gentleman always has a handkerchief to hand for just such an occasion!”

“I guess I’m not much of a proper anything,” the District Attorney said, putting a hand to their own chest pocket while the other dabbed at their eyes with the offered handkerchief. “Nothing here but—”

They paused as their finger brushed against the jacket pocket and found something. They reached inside and pulled out a small piece of paper, doubled over on itself which when unfolded read:

Tonight is your night. Do what you need to do, but please don’t forget to have some fun!

The District Attorney wanted to smile, but the note just brought a fresh sting to how much they had messed up the time you gave them.

They blinked as a speech slide appeared before their eyes and read, “Maybe you don’t have to face them to say what you need to say.”

“What do you—” The District Attorney stopped mid question when they saw Jameson fiddling with his recording device. He smiled when he caught the look in their eye and another speech slide followed.

“I watched my brothers set it up. Shouldn’t be too difficult to add another recording or two!”

“Are you sure? I don’t—”

But he was already showing them the button to press and how to tell when it was recording.

“Take your time.” He pressed a hand on their shoulder as he stood. “I’ll be waiting by the door when you’re done. After all, the night’s far from over!”

The District Attorney watched him walk to the door, where he stopped to give them a cheery thumbs up before going back in.

Leaving them alone with the recorder, and with everything they needed to get off their chest.

The District Attorney took a deep breath and pressed the button.

It should not be this hard to find one person, even in a crowd this large. That was the thought that occurred to both Mark and Dark as the night wore on and as the District Attorney proved more elusive than either expected. Every time they thought they were close, it just proved to be yet another dead end.

“This?” one of the fans asked, pointing to the gold and black mask Mark last saw on the DA’s face. “I don’t know, I thought it looked cool so I traded my mask for it. Are we not allowed to do that?”

When Dark asked Jameson, the ego paused in the act of eagerly signing with a couple of fans to shrug, a barely visible speech slide explaining, “Can’t say I’ve seen them since the ‘Cha Cha Slide’ when the others showed us how to ‘cha cha now y’all!’”

“Y/N?” Chase said when Google sent Mark his way. “Yeah, we were talking just a few minutes ago with Wade and Bob. Wade thought I was Jack and we were seeing how long it took—”

“Do you know where they went?” Mark interrupted. “What about their mask, what did it look like?”

Chase pulled up his own monster mask to look Mark up and down before he said, “Mark, I understand why you might be worried, but sometimes you just need to let your kid—”

“Brody, if you finish that sentence, I will stuff your tie in your mouth.”

“Have you seen Y/N?” Dark asked during one of the lights out dances, having reached new levels of desperation.

“The Host waits for Dark to see the irony in that question.”

“You know what I mean! Where are they?”

“They are enjoying the masquerade, unlike two men who cannot step back and realize this is not about them. Which is why the Host will not tell Darkiplier where the District Attorney is, just as they refused to tell Markiplier fifteen minutes ago.”

“Because of course you would,” Dark growled. For a brief second two outlines appeared around him in the darkness, red and blue echoes of his form that quickly disappeared when he regained control of himself. “Wait, does that mean Mark knows too?”

The vivid red blindfold was nearly all that was visible of the Host in the darkness as he tilted his head, as though studying Dark. “The Host told him that the spell will end at midnight, just as Darkiplier is already aware. He is employing the Googles to look for Y/N, but they will not relay the information to him in time.”

In the darkness, Mark had come to the same conclusion after one of the Googles directed him to the tables to find that he had, once again, apparently just missed the District Attorney by minutes or possibly even seconds according to Jackie and Silver, who claimed to have broken up a (probably) friendly argument between the DA and Abe that almost ended in a fistfight.

At the suggestion, the android’s eyes took on a red hue that glowed to match his ‘G’ emblem. “Do not blame me for your inferior processing speeds.”

Mark made an inarticulate noise and stormed off, the three egos watching until he was out of earshot.

“Y/N’s not that way, right?” Jackie asked.

“No, I saw them over with Yan and Ethan I think,” Silver answered as he stretched back in his chair, his back popping a little as he did so. “Oof. Not sure what that Detective meant by ‘round two,’ but neither of them was about to pull punches, am I right?”

“The Yellow unit will give Mark an update in…2.5 minutes, depending on Y/N’s status then,” Google declared with a smile. “They have already traded their mask three times since Mark’s last check.”

And so the rest of the masquerade went. Every time Dark or Mark came close to the District Attorney, when they spotted them on the dance floor or chatting with one of your friends, one of the other egos would bump into them or accidentally get in their way and then apologize for a little too long, or one of the random dances would ‘just so happen’ to plunge the room into darkness yet again, to the point even the fans were joking about how short the hours were getting.

Until suddenly it wasn’t just a joke.

Mark gave up on checking his watch when every passing hour just filled him with a new sense of disbelief. There was no way, it had to be wrong, he couldn’t have lost fifteen minutes, an hour, two hours so easily. Instead he turned his whole focus on spotting that green tie among the crowd, he had already lost track of what mask the District Attorney was wearing now—

But he did recognize that white cat mask, even from this far away.

“Mark, please, just calm down,” Marvin was saying to the man in the white jacket embroidered with flowers who had his back to Mark. “You’re starting to scare some of the other guests.”

“Yeah, you should really calm down, Mark,” Mark said, putting a hand down hard on Dark’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Says the actor.” Dark slapped Mark’s hand away without even looking at him. “And do not tell me to calm down, magician.”

“Wait, Dark?” Marvin looked him up and down, taking in Mark’s jacket and the near identical mask. “Wow, you two have some serious issues you need to work out.”

“I’m not the one with the problem here,” Mark said.

“Debatable.”

Dark scowled at the both of them and grabbed a nearby ego at random with the command, “You. Switch jackets with me, now.”

“O-okay,” Eric said, mumbling questions to himself but doing as he was told all the same.

“There,” Dark said while Marvin gave an approving nod to how the flower jacket suited Eric. “Because that is apparently more important than finding Y/N right now.”

“Do you know where they are?” Mark asked and the magician took a swift step back at the intensity of his voice.

“I, uh…”

“You’re not foolish enough to not keep an eye on them,” Dark said, moving closer to the magician as he lowered his voice. “Are you?”

Marvin hesitated and all three were distracted by Bing’s voice over the speakers.

“Sah, dudes! We have just enough time for one more song tonight—” Bing paused and let the disappointed voices die out before he continued, “But I think you’ll like this one.”

He pressed a button and the queued-up song began to play. It had seemed like a good idea when Amy suggested it days ago, but now Mark wished for anything else as the duet began to play.

Remember me, though I have to say goodbye

The response from the crowd was immediate as the ukulele started, but Mark and Dark turned on Marvin with a new urgency.

“Fine,” he said, if only because he knew it was too late to matter anymore. He pressed a hand to his cat mask and his left eye suddenly took on a green gleam, the same gleam that appeared in the left eye of the cat pin he gave you at the start of the masquerade.

Recuérdame, si en tu mente vivo estoy

Recuérdame, mis suenos yo te doy

After a moment that seemed to last an eternity he said, “They’re outside, on the balcony. Looking at the stars I think.”

Te llevo en mi corazón y te acompañeré

Mark turned and immediately started to run toward the glass doors, ready to force his way past friends holding each other and singing along to the upbeat, bouncing music.

Dark muttered something under his breath and ran after him, catching his arm before he could waste any more time. With a surge of his aura they disappeared into the darkness, only to reappear at the glass doors on the other side of the room.

Mark stumbled to regain his balance and together they thrust open the double doors and ran out onto the balcony just as the District Attorney jumped and turned around at the sound, their hand still holding the tie that now hung loose around their neck. For just a moment, as the music suddenly fell away behind them and as the clock struck midnight, the District Attorney locked eyes with both of them and gave them a soft, sad smile.

Remember me, for I will soon be gone

And with that, the spell ended. The District Attorney blinked and it was you who opened your eyes, who found yourself standing on the balcony, who came to just in time to see Mark and Dark both staring at you as they realized what just happened, neither one able to hide their identical reactions of relief.

And disappointment.

---

“Come in,” Dark called when he heard the knock at his office door. Too late he remembered that most of the egos were still sleeping off staying behind to clean up on top of last night’s party and the only ones who would have the energy to be up and moving around wouldn’t have bothered with knocking.

“I just want to talk,” Mark said when Dark’s aura flared around him. It could have been the effort of keeping it in check for so long last night, but Mark didn’t think that was the only reason Dark’s aura seemed darker and more…active than usual. Even as he waved Mark in and sat back in his chair, an afterimage snarled in his direction over the sound of creaking and twisting wood.

At least, until Mark asked, “Have you seen them? Since…”

Dark’s aura froze and contracted until it could barely be seen, its sudden disappearance more unnerving than its presence as Dark answered without emotion, “No, I have not. They must still be with the Septics.”

After they found you on the balcony last night, after they realized that the District Attorney was gone again without a word, neither Mark nor Dark could bring themselves to say anything. While the music slowed and the song came to an end, the three of you just stared at each other, the silence saying more than any of you could or wanted to.

Until the noise from inside caught up with you. Voices calling for Mark were just background noise until Amy poked her head out and told him he needed to get on stage and help Jack wrap up the evening. Reluctantly, or perhaps not too reluctantly, Mark allowed himself to be pulled away. Dark had no time to recover or say anything before you brushed past him, pressing the green tie into his chest like you didn’t even want to look at it anymore on your way to where Marvin was waiting with the Host.

Without waiting for an explanation, the magician pulled you into a hug and you both disappeared. The rest of the Septic egos soon followed once the party was officially over, with most of the Iplier egos assuming you had just decided to spend the night with them.

“I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want to come back,” Mark said now, his face clouded as he sank into the chair opposite Dark’s desk. “How much…how much do you think they remember from last night?”

“We could go over there right now and get them, we could force the magician to—” Dark stopped, his eyes lingering on the green tie lying on his desk next to the sun mask the District Attorney had left with him. To do what, exactly?

“We can’t force them to come back here,” Mark said. “We should…”

He trailed off, aware that he was about to suggest the exact same thing the Host had about the DA: Give them some space, let them decide when and if they want to come back.

Mark and Dark sat in silence for over a minute, both wrapped up in their own thoughts until Mark finished, “They’ll come back when they’re ready.”

“Or when they’re sick of the Septics,” Dark added, attempting a smile and failing. “Shouldn’t take too long, even if they have a soft spot for that bunch of—”

“Don’t,” Mark said, with enough force to make even Dark pause.

“But if it were true?” you had asked, about the possibility of being the District Attorney’s ego, of being a different person than the one he remembered. Only now, Mark knew it wasn’t you asking. They had wanted to see how he reacted, to make sure you would be okay.

Mark slumped against Dark’s desk, head buried in his arms. “They’re never coming back. We screwed up and now both Y/Ns hate us.”

“Drama queen,” Dark muttered as he pulled his papers out of Mark’s reach, but his aura began to spread again, filling the office with distant creaks and whispers too faint to make out. “Y/N—the one from the mirror is…forgiving.”

He had meant to say more, but at the thought his aura darkened, the whispering growing louder now but still impossible for Mark, at least, to make out the individual words.

“Well, aren’t you two some gloomy Guses!”

Mark sat up quickly and turned to face Wilford if only because the last thing he wanted was to have his back to that maniac. Meanwhile, Dark sighed and said, “Come in, Wilford,” like he hadn’t already barged his way into the office without knocking.

“Why the long faces?” Wilford asked as he took a seat on Dark’s desk, ignoring Dark’s scowl as he rescued his coffee cup and could only watch the pens and papers scatter across the surface. “Oh, let me guess, someone hit the sauce a little too hard last night? I do know a few hangover cures, if you need a little help.”

Mark was baffled by the wink Wilford gave him and said, “We’re not hungover, Wilford. I can’t drink, or I’ll die. Remember?”

“And I’m not even sure if I’m capable of getting drunk,” Dark said, although he had considered the option many times over the years, living with the egos. “We were just talking about Y/N.”

“Say, where is that rascal?” Wilford asked. He picked up the sun mask and held it to his face as he added, “I haven’t seen them since I apologized for that whole dance thing last night.”

“You talked to them last night?” Dark asked, exchanging a look with Mark. “How did they seem to you?”

“Oh, about normal I suppose,” Wilford said. For a second, his eyes appeared pink behind the mask. “Didn’t say much. I apologized, they said they would try to forgive me, turned me down when I asked for a second dance. Have to say, I did miss the other Y/N last night.”

They both stared at him and it was Mark who finally broke and asked, “You knew?”

“Knew what?” Wilford asked as he put the mask down.

“You mentioned you missed the ‘other Y/N’ last night,” Dark said patiently, well aware of how easily Wilford’s mind could jump tracks if allowed. “Did you know that was a…different person than the one who has been living with us?”

“Of course! It was pretty obvious, if you know what I mean,” Wilford said. He paused in taking a long sip from Dark’s coffee when he saw the expressions on their faces and rolled his eyes before explaining like he was talking to children, “That Y/N would have hugged me after I apologized, just like they always do. And don’t even get me started on the dancing!”

“Of course,” Mark muttered.

“Be that as it may, Y/N is…staying over with the Septic egos for now,” Dark said. “We have, apparently, decided to give them some space until they are ready to come back.”

Wilford nodded along at Dark’s words. “Got it. I think I can kill a couple of hours. Hey Mark, my boy, do you want to—"

“No,” Mark answered without even waiting for the rest of that invite. “Wilford, Y/N doesn’t—”

He stopped at the knock on the office door, to which Dark gave a loud sigh at the sight of the two Jims looking in.

“Sure, just come in, let’s see how many people we can stuff in here,” Dark muttered. “And that was a joke Wilford, don’t you dare drag anyone else in here.”

Wilford sat back down on the desk, looking disappointed while Jim leaned toward the other Jim and said, “It’s our lucky day, Jim! They’re all here!”

Dark frowned at the word “all,” and asked, “What do you two want?”

Jim straightened up and said, “We have something for you from Dapper Jim himself!”

Mark stared as the Jim placed a recording device on the desk in between him, Dark, and Wilford. He recognized it from the night before and said, “Wait, are you talking about Jameson? When did he give you this?”

“Our adopted brother from across the pond,” Jim said solemnly as the other Jim nodded. “He gave it to us last night, but we were told to wait until exactly this time in exactly this place to give it to you.”

Dark scowled down at the device. That last part had the Host written all over it, which made him suspicious enough as he pulled off the note taped to it and read aloud, “Play me?”

“If you say so,” Wilford said, already pressing the play button.

“Is this…Yeah, yeah it’s recording.” The voice coming from the device was unmistakable, the recording crisp and clear as the District Attorney said, “I’ve had so much time to think about what I would say if I saw you all again. Mark. Dark. Wil-Wilford. But I never imagined how hard it would be to look you in the eyes and…”

There was a long, shuddering sigh before they continued, “This isn’t the way I planned to do this, but there’s so much I need to say to the three of you while I have the chance. So here goes.”

They paused to take another breath and Dark paused the recording long enough to toss the Jims out of the office and lock the door behind them. Then, once the three of them were alone and unlikely to be interrupted, Mark restarted the recording. And they listened in silence as the District Attorney poured out their heart on a balcony, alone with the stars and their sometimes rambling thoughts. Not all of those thoughts were kind or warm fuzzy memories, and more than a few were bitter and left more than just a sting in their wake. But they were all honest, all past the point of holding back any more.

Until the District Attorney laughed and said, “I sound ridiculous...No wonder I can’t figure out how to say all of this.”

There the recording stopped, leaving Mark, Dark, and Wilford sitting there, staring at the device as though waiting for more.

In the resulting silence, they could hear voices in the hall, including your own hushing the others.

“How was I supposed to know he wasn’t joking about the cat spell?” you asked as you led the way down the hall. “And keep it down, the others—”

You stopped short as the door to Dark’s office shot open and Mark, with the other two right behind him, stared at you.

“S-sorry,” you said, looking away first. Around you the Septic egos moved in just a little closer, Jackieboy Man in particular stepping forward as though to place himself between you and them. “I just needed to pick up some fresh clothes, I didn’t…”

You thought they didn’t want you there, Mark and Dark realized in the same instant. And they wanted nothing more than to show you just how wrong you were about that.

Without bothering with an explanation, all three moved forward and you found yourself being pulled into a tight, desperate hug, their voices mingling and mixing until your cry for help only encouraged the Septic egos to join in, and then more and more of the Iplier egos who had no idea what was going on but weren’t about to pass up an opportunity when they found it outside of their bedroom doors. Struggle as much as you wanted, there was no escaping without acknowledging just how much they all loved you.

Both of you.

“Is it selfish, to ask them to keep taking care of the other me? That Y/N?” The District Attorney asked the device last night as they sat with their back against the stone wall, eyes on the stars but their hand to their chest. “They don’t remember, not everything, and I think that’s…a gift. As much as they’ve been through, they still have hope. They still have it in them to forgive, to risk second chances. I want to protect them, to keep them as far away from the pain I felt. I want them to have their own second chance, at a life that I just…can’t deal with. Not yet. I can’t even begin to tell these people I barely know how much they all mean to the other me, but I think they might have a small idea already. And as broken as I am, as broken as I make them, I don’t want to lose them or the new memories they’re making with all of you. Even when I’m ‘asleep’ inside of them, I can feel you, all of you, and all of the happiness Y/N feels when they’re with you. It helps me feel less broken, day by day.”

The District Attorney laughed and wiped at their eyes before looking for the button to stop the recording. “I sound ridiculous...No wonder I can’t figure out how to say all of this.”

 ((The End. And as always, thank you.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight  @withjust-a-bite  @blackaquokat  @catgirlwarrior  @neverisadork  @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy  @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl  @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead  @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette  @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

[ahomeganeyatsu]

Ran Off in the Night (Part 7)

“Wow, who pissed in your coffee this morning and made you drink it?” Arthur’s voice interrupted him as he tried to get his binder from his locker.

Lucas took his eyes off from what he was doing to give his spectacled-friend the full view of his unimpressed look before returning his attention to his locker. There were many variations of it, dependent on the level of his shit-o-meter.

“Yikes, little Lulu’s quite in a mood today.” Arthur remarked to someone. He still sounded like he found it amusing, but there was also a smidgeon of concern there.

“You think?” Yann replied. He had arrived with Basile and the three of them exchanged fist bumps. They left the curly-haired teen hanging once again. It was a running joke in their group, none of them really planned it but they still found themselves agreeing to it. “The hoodie’s a dead-giveaway.”

“Yeah, Lucas, did you get the wrong size or something?” Basile asked, his face folded in a baffled expression. He never had seen Lucas in clothes not his size. He always dressed good and that’s saying something when Lucas had clothes that were the same thing only in several different colors (grey, blue, white and black). He was also the type who managed to look good in a pair of joggers for goodness sake. How unfair was that?

Lucas wore 24’s hoodie to school today. He was still unsettled from the dream and this was the only thing that managed to calm him down. The scent of its owner has faded a bit, and Lucas has worn it long enough that his own smell had mixed with the hoodie. It was kind of nice. And he still hadn’t figured out why that was. 24 still hadn’t shown his ridiculously beautiful gorgeous dumb face again.

Something Lucas was ambivalent about.

On one hand, he wished he was here so Lucas could get answers. On the other, he would rather not have the guy see him wearing his hoodie to school. He seemed like the kind of guy who would feel incredibly proud of it. Lucas wasn’t going to feed his ego. No, siree.

“You could have gotten it swapped in the right size. Unless it was online and you lost the receipt so you couldn’t exchange it?” Basile was saying and Lucas resolved not to deign his question with an answer.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” he said instead, slamming his locker shut and locking it quickly.

Arthur and Yann exchanged a glance but both shrugged as they had no answer for Lucas’ mood. They didn’t press him, for now. They already understood that the more they asked the more he would shy away and close off. And none of them wanted that.

“See you guys at lunch then, come on Basile.” Yann waved for the boy to come along. Basile still looked confused but followed after, throwing a “Later” to Lucas and Arthur.

“One of these days, you’re gonna tell us what’s bothering you Lulu.” Arthur draped his arm over Lucas’ shoulder and ruffled his hair. “But for now, did you read up on the topic today?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be our resident nerd?”

Arthur flicked his hand dismissively. “Psh. My glasses may be real but my eyes haven’t been damaged from studying.” He sounded oddly proud of that but Lucas refrained from pointing it out.

“Why aren’t you asking Alex? Isn’t she supposed to be your partner?”

“Like you’ve asked Imane.” The look on his face begged Lucas to tell him he was wrong. And Arthur knew Lucas’ answer to that.

“Hey, at least I know why I haven’t talked to my partner. She’s fucking scary,” he explained. There was no debating that. It was fact. A truth that became absolute to whoever has encountered Imane Bakhellal. “Compared to that, Alex’s more approachable.”

“She also forgets to do our assignments 50-percent of the time,” Arthur pointed out.

“Like you’re any better,” Lucas scoffed.

This time Arthur tugged at his hair and Lucas squawked, elbowing him in retaliation.

  To Q:

You’re not entertaining clients on Wednesday are you?

 From Q:

For you mon loulou, I’ll clear my schedule. Did you need something in particular? My services aren’t cheap you know! But I can always give you a discount ;)

 To Q:

Even if you did give me a discount, I still can’t afford the services you provide. I’ll do manual labor like last time.

 From Q:

That’s always a pleasure.

 To Q:

Ugh. PLEASE. STOP. Don’t make it sound weird.

 From Q:

Hey, not my fault your mind’s in the gutter.

Gotta go, duty calls. See you mon petit chou!

 To Q:

Yeah, yeah see—

 “Who are you texting?”

Lucas jumped in his seat, his phone almost flying from his hand if he hadn’t fumbled to catch it. His heart was beating a mile a minute in chest. He turned in his seat to look to his side and saw Imane standing beside him, smirking a bit.

“Fuck, Imane. Did you really have to scare me like that?” he glared at her.

The smirk disappeared and the impassive no-bullshit face slams back on. “Do you really have to be so grumpy all the time? It’s not my fault you’re a jumpy kitten.” She took her seat beside him and plopped her bag in front of her. Lucas almost groaned. Was Mika’s pet name for him spreading to the girls? They were Manon’s friends and Mika hung out with them once in a while. He wouldn’t put it past Mika to tell the girls just to tease him. “I was going to give you a gift,” she continued as he brought out her text book. “But I changed my mind.”

“A gift, really?” a crease formed on his forehead.

“Yeah, but I’m not giving it to you,” Imane repeated. “You had your chance.” Okay, Lucas would be stupid not to admit he was curious. What kind of gift would Imane even get him? But Imane was a mountain, strong and unmovable. So, when she said she won’t give it, she wasn’t going to give it.

He finished the message he had been typing and sent it. He slid his phone back into his bag and took out his book. The page they were going to be doing was already on the board. He flipped through it lazily to get to the page, his mind wandering to the common room. He still hadn’t figured out why 24 showed up in the common room of all places. Maybe— no, that would be stupid. But what if, right? What if the room had some special properties that could summon 24?

The thought was as ridiculous as it sounded but he at least had to venture on that idea. See if it pans out before dismissing it. He glanced at Imane. There was no harm in asking.

“Hey, Imane,” he started. Imane hummed to tell him she was listening. “Do you have more meetings planned for the common room?”

This made Imane pause in her reading and place her attention on Lucas. “Like you care about it now?”

“Well, no.” She cocked a brow at him. “I mean, it’s just a good idea, that’s all.”

Imane hummed and turned back to the textbook. “And to be honest, the first meeting wasn’t as bad as it seemed,” he added, returning his own attention to his own textbook and frowned at the exercise. Shit, he may have read up on the wrong topic.

“There’s another meeting on Wednesday noon, if you want to join,” Imane told him.

He hasn’t sent Q what time he’ll be dropping by on Wednesday, so it’s safe to come. Lucas nodded. “Okay, I’ll be there.” He started skimming over the page to get a clue what they’ll be doing. He wasn’t terribly lost on the topic, so that was good.

“Okay, fine. You can get your gift,” Imane sighed and she flicked her eyes below their table.

Lucas turned his eyes down and saw that in Imane’s hand, there lies the packet of weed that he had lost in Emma’s party a week ago. His eyes widened, “Oh yes girl! You’re the boss!” he muttered excitedly.

“Hurry up, I’m not gonna sit like this for the whole class.”

The blue-eyed teen took his bag, then the weed in Imane’s hand but before he could slide it in the pockets, Madam Rigaux called for their attention.

“What are you two up to?”

Lucas was frozen. Shit. They were going to get caught. He was going to get caught with weed in his hand. Fuck.

“Nothing,” Imane’s voice snapped him out and Lucas mimicked her words, turning to her with wide panicked eyes. Imane was acting as cool as a cucumber and Lucas really did admire her for being able to act as if Lucas wasn’t holding a packet of weed in his hand, and this won’t get them suspended, if not expelled.

“What are you hiding under the table?”

Everyone was looking at them. All ready to see the latest drama getting dished out in Madam Rigaux’s class.

“Nothing at all,” Imane replied, flipping through the textbook. He hadn’t even noticed that she had her hand tucked in her bag. “I was just looking for something in my bag.”

Madam Rigaux started walking towards them and Lucas tried to keep his cool. But he had never been good under pressure. He tried not to fidget in his seat, not to look at his hand where he was clutching the packet of weed, and fucking breathe, Lallemant. Keep it together! He subtly slid the packet of weed in one of the open pockets and zipped it back close.

“Imane, do you think I’m stupid? Let me see.” Madam Rigaux was right behind Lucas, her hand extended for Imane to give her whatever she was hiding.

Lucas turned to Imane, looking to see what she’ll do. And Imane. Imane slammed something on the table. At first, it made no sense. What the hell did she just put on their table? But the split-second shock wore off and Lucas did a double-take because he knew what those are. He had seen it in the flat’s bathroom and in his old home. The guts of this girl. Imane Bakhellal just slammed tampons on our fucking table.

And Lucas was staring at Imane, blue-eyes screaming what the fuck woman. He nearly protested when Imane said he bought them for her. No words come out though. He still can’t believe Imane just did that.

Once Mada Rigaux had backed off and Imane was done ranting how humiliated she was, as if she hadn’t just showed Madam Rigaux up like the boss she was. He glanced at Imane and met her dark eyes. Lucas tried to stop the smile breaking out on his face. But the smug look on Imane’s face was enough to dash his efforts. He hid his face behind his hand, lest Madam Rigaux sees them. A giggle bubbled out of his throat and Imane was snickering right next to him.

Okay, Imane was definitely the boss.

   Lucas’ stomach ached from laughter as Alexia had finished reading out one of the surveys in her hand.

“W-Wait, can I see that?” he asked wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Alexia handed him the survey and he quickly glanced at the number. He didn’t even need to read all of it out. The scribble was familiar enough for him to know who this was. “Uh,” he coughed. “So, girls, this is Basile’s number.”

“No, seriously, what is up with him? How come he’s interested in me now?” Daphne asked frustrated. “Like the other day I caught him staring at me and actually drooling. I could feel his eyes on me from a 100 meters away,” she gesticulated and shuddered, “It was a nightmare.”

They couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Daphne’s face. Lucas was not even going to defend Baz. The guy has some problems expressing his feelings that tend to creep a girl out. Even with Yann, Arthur and his guidance, Baz still had a long way to go. He just hoped his friend would tone it down or else he’ll lose all his chances with Daphne.

They read a few more, getting a couple more laughs when they read the one from Alexia and Emma came back in with a scowl on her face.

“What’s going on?” Imane asked immediately noticing the change in girl’s mood.

“Alex is getting on my nerves. Apparently, I’ve been telling people we were going out,” she rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone.

Whoops. Maybe Lucas shouldn’t have mentioned anything when he bumped into Alex last Monday. It wasn’t his fault he read the atmosphere wrong! He and Emma looked pretty close in her IG stories and posts that Lucas assumed there was something going on between them. Then again, he thought wolves were monogamous and look where Alex was. A fuckboy to the core.

He has half an ear open to the conversation. Eyes trained outside the courtyard. He might be friends with Alex and knew about his heritage but they still weren’t that close. Not the way he was close to the gang. He didn’t want to know too much about Emma’s relationship in fear of fucking it up like last time. They seem to be better these days and Emma was okay with him, but Lucas still hadn’t forgiven himself for what he did.

He was thinking of ways on how to make it up to Emma when he saw a familiar mop of unruly brown hair right through the window. “Okay, I gotta go girls. Here’s your form,” he handed the papers he had been holding to Alexia and he grabbed his bag, rushing out of the room. He didn’t even hear the girls saying bye to him.

He couldn’t have mistaken it. He knew he saw 24. He might not be sporting his usual black on black attire, exchanged for a brown jacket and an army green backpack of all things. But the gait, the hair—Lucas knew it as 24. He came out into the courtyard but before he could look around, the guys were right there.

They ask him if he was in the common room and he responded in the affirmative. Yann made a comment about him hanging out with the girls a lot and Basile butted in, asking if Daphne has said anything about him. Lucas was this close to telling him that he was creeping her out but figured he’ll have to discover it on his own, and so he just tells him “No”. He looked away from his friends, eyes darting all over the courtyard but 24— 24 was gone. He wasn’t there anymore.

Lucas wanted to stomp his feet in frustration. He can’t believe he missed him again. This was getting absolutely ridiculous! One moment he was there and the next he’s not. Stupid Teumessian fox analogy, why did he have to compare him to that damned fox?

Basile is still speaking but Lucas wasn’t paying any attention anymore. Arthur was telling him something but their words were all registering as gibberish to him. He was too hung up on the thought of 24 being here just a second ago and disappearing altogether again. He was still looking around, hoping to maybe somehow catch a tell-tale sign of him. Maybe he missed something? Maybe 24 was just teasing him? He had done it back in the bus stop, smooth fucker that he was. He might be doing it again now.

But then he heard that voice, and Lucas bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything offensive.

Chloe was there and this time accompanied by a friend. He can’t remember her name but he did remember Basile helping her out when she was puking her guts out in Emma’s kitchen sink.

“I’m fine,” he told her, voice devoid of any interest.

It wasn’t fazing her. She was still smiling. “Are you doing anything this Friday night? We were planning a party in Maria’s house. It’s nothing big, just an intimate gathering.” She was acting cool, like this was nothing big. Like this was totally normal. She was just asking a guy she made out with in a party two weeks ago that hasn’t responded to any of her messages.

Fuck, did he make a mistake accepting her friend request?

Should Lucas have not done that?

He wasn’t stupid or blind. He could read it as clear as day in her eyes that she wanted him to say yes, to accept the invitation. Then her eyes darted to his three dumbass friends behind him and said, “You guys could come too, obviously.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry but it’s really bad timing. I have something scheduled for Friday—” he could already see Chloe’s smile faltering and the look on her friend’s face was as close to the fuck oh shit no he has ever seen as she looked from Lucas to Chloe.

But Arthur, the great interjector, just put his hand on Lucas’ shoulder pulling him to the side and inserting himself, literally, into the conversation. “Okay. So no, no, no. We don’t have anything on Friday.” Lucas slowly turned to glare daggers at Arthur to shut up, Turturo. Who said he was talking about them having plans?  It was just him!  Him, Lucas, no one else! They could go to Chloe’s party for all he cared! Don’t drag him into this!

Arthur was displaying an incredible amount of imperviousness to his death glare. He was almost impressed. Almost. “We would love to come and we’re bringing booze.”

Chloe was already smiling again, spirits lifted from the acceptance of the invitation. “Ok, cool. We’ll send you the address. See you on Friday!”

Lucas gave her one of his fakest smiles that everyone else thought was real, “Cool.”

Their gaze followed the two girls as they left. When they were out of ear shot, Yann turned to Lucas. He looked a bit done with Lucas. “Come on, Lucas. What’s your problem?”

“What are you talking about?” he said. He felt tired all of a sudden. He wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore.

“I don’t know. Do you want us to stay between guys for the rest of our lives?”

“Lucas, you never say no to an ‘intimate gathering’ with a girl,” Basile added in. “Never!” He wanted to tell him that if he didn’t stop speaking like that he should definitely say goodbye to his chances with Daphne.

“Guys, Chloe and I saw each other a total of three times, four if you can’t this one, and she has been talking me ever since. It’s stressing me out.”

Basile threw up his hands like he couldn’t get why Lucas didn’t like that. Like getting stalked by a girl was the best thing that could ever happen in his life. He wanted to punch him so badly right now.

“Wait, wait.” Arthur slid in and pushed Basile to the side. “I don’t understand what’s going on. You’re my bro, but what’s going on in your head? She’s into you, dude!”

The words Are any of you even hearing what am I’m saying?! were at the tip of his tongue, jumping to be screamed. He didn’t though. He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted blood. He held the words in. They weren’t listening to him. They were just letting his words pass over their heads. What use was it to clear it up? They weren’t hearing him.

So, he kept quiet and looked away. He swallowed the words pooling in his mouth, focused on the metallic taste flooding his mouth.

His phone rang and he had never been more thankful to have an excuse to get away from them.

He just couldn’t deal with them right now.

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

Dear ‘Not All Men’,

It is sincerely disappointing that this phrase has been so prominent of late, at a time when we need to rally together and create change.

If you truly cared about the issue at hand you would stop deflecting attention away from it to protect your own ego.

If you were an ally you wouldn’t feel the need to let the world know that ‘not all men’ are dangerous.

You would show your support instead by calling out your friends/ acquaintances/any men in the vicinity when they make sexist jokes; or act inappropriately towards women.

Man respects man. Women can voice our disgust at lewd comments directed at us, we can ask men to leave us alone until we’re blue in the face and the man will most likely not care or change his behaviour.

Men have a privilege that they can use to speak up and call out acts of disrespect, or harassment disguised as anything but that, and make a difference but instead too many are using their voice simply to say “Not all men are like that. Not me.”

And if you read that previous sentence and thought “I would care, I would change my behaviour” and felt the urge to comment “not all men” then this is for you.

Realise instead that we are saying this out of experience. We are not making up stories to victimise ourselves and paint all men to be vicious beings with no care or respect for women.

We are speaking about the numerous times we can say “this actually happened to me, and my friend, and her friend, and my sister, and my mum.” Saying ‘not all men’ is making yourself part of the problem, rather than part of the solution.

We know it is not all men. I am very lucky to have some wonderful, close male friends who I feel safe around and wouldn’t be scared to be alone in a room with. But if I didn’t know them, and we were alone in a room I would be scared. I would be wary. I would keep my head down and make myself small in the hopes that he won’t notice me too much. I would look for my nearest exit. I would clutch my phone a little tighter, and wonder if it would be more effective than my fist. Because the man in the room with me may not be a danger, but how am I to know?

We are not saying that you should not be in that room with us. We are simply imploring you to understand that our being in there with you is not an invitation. That if you start to talk to me and I do not wish to engage, I am not forthcoming with my words, this is not me asking you to try harder. Or to comment on my lack of smile, or in fact anything about my appearance. My existence is not a request to get close to me, to touch my hair or my clothes, or to ask me if I have a boyfriend as if another man’s claim on me is all that matters.

And if you are in that room with your mate and they start to make comments, or leer, or intrude my personal space uninvited, call them out. You may think you’re ‘just having a laugh’ with the woman in the room who did not ask for your attention, but all she is thinking about are all the times these kinds of interactions ended the rape and/or death of a woman. This kind of behaviour may seem small and insignificant, but unchecked leads to harassment, assault, or worse.

If the posts floating around on the internet right now, advising how men can change their behaviour to change the narrative and make women feel safer, are causing you upset and making you feel attacked I ask you to imagine what it is like to be told from the age of five that you shouldn’t wait in the car park alone to be picked up lest you get snatched.

I ask you to think how many times in your life you have been told to not walk home alone, to keep in touch with your friends until you’re back to safety, locked behind your front door. How many times you had lectures at school, and college, and by your parents about carrying rape whistles when you’re out. About carrying your keys between your fingers, and shouting ‘fire’ if a man grabs you because nobody will come if you shout ‘rape.’ How many times you were told to wear a longer skirt and a higher top to cover your body, as if the problem is the girls and women being attacked, and not the men and boys attacking them. Ignoring the fact that thousands of women have followed those rules and still wound-up dead, or missing, or being sexually assaulted.

These are things that every woman is familiar with. These are things that every woman has been taught to do time and time again. These are things that are not going to put a stop to violence against girls and women.

So, instead of shouting ‘not all men’ into the void, direct your energy towards changing the narrative. Educate your sons, call out your friends, listen to the people living in fear as to how you can help. The behaviour of women is not the behaviour that needs to change.

Signed,

We’ve-Had-Enough

Check out the full article here!

[missjanjie]

The Show Must Go On || Ch. 9

Title: The Show Must Go On Summary: Kurt Hummel lands the leading role in NYADA’s spring production of Bare: A Pop Opera, but his excitement starts to diminish when he finds out he will be playing a love interest to former romantic rival, Sebastian Smythe. Even though the casting threw him through a loop, he isn’t going to let that deter him from the chance of a lifetime. (canon through season 4) Chapter: Nine Word Count: 1501 Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe, Kurt Hummel/Finn Hudson (fraternal), Kurt Hummel/Santana Lopez (platonic), Kurt Hummel/Mercedes Jones (platonic) Rating: M (for some chapters) Warnings/Notes: N/A this chapter

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | AO3

Hell week had certainly lived up to its name. For the past seven days, it felt like nothing existed outside of rehearsal. Kurt, Sebastian, and the cast were eating, sleeping, and breathing Bare.

However, Kurt found that it wasn’t all bad. Since Sebastian lived closer to the campus, he found that he would simply go back to his place every night and stay over, which proved to be the superior alternative to going back to Santana and Rachel.

“I can’t believe tonight’s the big night,” Kurt remarked, wrapping his arms around Sebastian from behind. The taller male, taking advantage of having the morning off, was standing over the stove, cooking breakfast for the two of them.

“Nervous, babe?” Sebastian teased as he flipped the bacon in the pan, chuckling when the other scoffed in response.

“Psh, I don’t do nerves,” he retorted, then quietly added “I’m actually really terrified.”

Setting the completed meal on the counter, he turned and wrapped his arms around his waist. “You know damn well you have no reason to be nervous,” he told him, kissing along his jaw.

Kurt smiled, draping his arms over Sebastian’s shoulders and locking his hands at the back of his neck. “I know, I know, we’re the best leading men this school has ever seen, and everyone will be left quaking in their seats,” he chuckled.

Sebastian grinned and pecked his lips. “That’s the spirit. Now come on, let’s eat,” he set the two plates at the breakfast bar and all but devoured their food. It wasn’t until they were cleaning up that there was a knock at the door.

“See who’s there, I’m indecent,” Kurt said with a dramatic flourish as he left to dress his underwear-clad form.

Letting out a light laugh, Sebastian nodded and opened the door, looking up with a surprised expression. “Hudson? The hell are you doing out here?”

“What, no mean nickname? Wow Sebastian, you’ve gone soft,” Finn smirked.

“Your brother would beg to differ,” he retorted.

“…I walked into that. Santana said he was here, can I-”

“Finn!” Kurt had emerged from the other room, face lighting up when he saw his step-brother, running full speed and hugging him tightly. “When did you get in?”

“Last night, but you were at rehearsal so I just crashed on the couch at your place,” he explained as he was ushered inside. “Come on, you know I wouldn’t miss your opening night for anything.”

Kurt was admittedly impressed that the girls had managed to keep this as a surprised, but was quick to focus his attention on how happy he was to see Finn. It didn’t take long for them to fall right into excitedly catching up on their lives.

“So are you still dating Rachel after all the shit she pulled with Kurt?” Sebastian couldn’t help but chime in.

Finn tensed at the question, but shook his head. “We haven’t been…officially together for a while, but that, I couldn’t see past that,” he explained.

The tone seemed to shift after that, becoming more tense and uneasy. Then, Finn blurted out “I saw Blaine at the airport, I think he’s gonna try to come to your show.”

Kurt groaned, burying his head in his hands. “Fucking—I’m going to call Rachel, see if she has anything to do with this,” he muttered, exiting to another room, leaving Finn and Sebastian to their own devices.

“Listen,” Finn turned to Sebastian. “I don’t know what your MO is for Kurt but you better not—”

“Save it,” Sebastian said flatly. “I don’t need to hear the whole big scary brother act. I know all about Kurt’s tragic past and how he doesn’t need another guy fucking him over.”

“Damn, I had a whole speech planned out and everything,” he mumbled. “Just…look, he’s really overdue for someone that treats him right.”

“I’ve noticed, believe me,” Sebastian retorted, looking up when Kurt rejoined them. “What’s the verdict?”

“Rachel swears up and down that she had nothing to do with this. Honestly, I believe her. If this was her doing, she’d brag about it,” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Listen, if he does show up, we’ll make sure you don’t have to be alone with him. I promise,” Finn assured, wrapping an arm around the smaller male. “We got you covered.”

Kurt smiled softly, resting his head on Finn’s shoulder. “I know you do,” he exhaled deeply. “And I’m not going to let this distract me. The show’s gotta go all over the place, right?” he nudged Finn lightly.

=====

“T-minus one hour!” the director shouted to the cast, all of which off doing their own preparations.

Kurt was sitting in front of the vanity, the hair stylist having just finished, when he saw a familiar face in the reflection of the mirror. “Oh no,” he murmured to himself.

“Not even a little happy to see me?” Blaine asked, resting his hands on the back of Kurt’s chair, causing him to instantly stand up.

“He waited until I went to the bathroom, I tried to stop him,” Finn panted as he ran into the room moments later.

Blaine ignored Finn’s interjection, fixating his gaze on Kurt. “I just wanted to see you,” he told him.

“Well, you’ve seen me, great catching up. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Kurt brushed him off as quickly as he could.

“We need to talk, Kurt. You owe me that much.”

‘Seeing red’ always seemed like a figure of speech, but when Blaine said that, Kurt just snapped. “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. You manipulated and gas-lighted me, you made me feel horrible if it meant boosting your own ego, you abused me, and lest we forget – you fucking cheated on me! I don’t owe you a phone call, a text message, I sure as fuck don’t owe you updates on who I’m dating. When I said we’re done, I. Meant. It.”

Before Blaine could respond, Finn intervened. “You should go, dude,” he said, ushering him out of the room while a few of Kurt’s costars rushed over to see what happened to him.

Moments after Finn had gotten Blaine out of the room, things only escalated. Sebastian was walking back towards the room, only to have the jilted ex-lover lunge at him, an attempted attack if not for Finn’s intervening.

“You!” Blaine hissed. “This is all your fault. You got inside his head and fucked him all up!”

Sebastian seemed completely nonplussed by the outburst, folding his arms over his chest. “If there’s anyone that fucked him up, it’s the guy that left him unable to take a compliment, and that sure as shit wasn’t me.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! Kurt was miserable before he met me. I saved him,” Blaine retorted.

“And how did forcing your sloppy drunk ass on him in your car play into your whole savior plan?”

Blaine ran his hand through his hair, or at least as much as he could with all the product locking it in place. “Well that wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t trying to tempt me.”

“It takes two to tango, Blaine. And I don’t recall suggesting you try molesting your boyfriend,” truth be told, Sebastian did take blame in what happened to Kurt that night, but he wasn’t about to let Blaine use his guilt against him.

“Why are you harping on this? I know I’ve made some mistakes in my relationship with Kurt, but who the hell are you to say anything? Why can’t you just back off and let us sort this out?”

“Because I’m in love with him!”

Silence took over the hallway after Sebastian’s outburst, everything seeming to freeze except for the distant sound of a clock ticking. It seemed damn near an eternity before Sebastian started to speak again.

“You had plenty of chances to make things right with Kurt. If you really loved him you wouldn’t have waited until now to own up to your bullshit. You don’t own him, you never did.”

Blaine left after that, muttering something about a ‘waste of a plane ticket’ and trying to act as though he wasn’t departing with his tail between his legs.

Finn, who’d been stunned into silence after his attempt at mediating, was looking at him in awe. “Woah, Sebastian, that—”

“Don’t say anything,” he cut him off, pacing about as he tried to calm himself down, feeling more adrenaline than he needed to this close to the show.

Finn put his hands up in surrender and stepped back inside, leaving Sebastian facing away from the entrance, still haphazardly trying to calm down.

When he heard footsteps approach him again, Sebastian whirled around. “Hudson, if you don’t fuck off I swear to god I’ll – oh,” he blinked, seeing Kurt stare back at him. “You...heard the whole thing, didn’t you?”

Kurt nodded.

“You saw Blaine leave?”

Kurt nodded again.

“Goddamnit, Kurt, fucking say something, please,” he pleaded, holding his breath until he answered.

“I love you too.”