#so the warm lamp clashes heavily with the rest of the room

[offslime]

my mother painted the echo room a bluegreen-gray a few years ago and it’s a good color but the room is so long and the half of the room we sit in has only two windows that almost always have their shutters closed and so it gets just. no natural light. and it’s cool when you want to like Watch A Movie but sometimes i do my work in there and i just hate having to turn on three lamps to get even a semblance of balanced lighting

[tj-wrote-things]

𝐀 𝐆𝗼𝗼𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝗼𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤

𝐧𝐢𝐤𝗼𝐥𝐚𝐢 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬𝗼𝐯 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝗺!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝗼 @itisroe 𝐟𝗼𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝗺𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝗼𝐮𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐬����𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

𝐀.𝐍: 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 2𝐤 𝐰𝗼𝐫𝐝𝐬. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐟. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞. 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝗼𝐲:)

-quick little psa, Nikolai and Reader are both kinda ducks cause they’re hurt and stressed. I DONT THINK it’s okay to invalidate a significant other, however I do believe people say things they don’t mean-

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“Yes, Genya, I’ve checked the place cards, and I told Alina to make sure no one was allergic to anything.” You sighed heavily from your place on the lavish fainting chair, reclining to avoid wrinkling your dress. Tamar widened her eyes, and shook her head subtly at you, warning you of the danger that comes with poking the bear.

Genya turned sharply and raised a fiery eyebrow at you, almost daring you to get smart again. “Listen, wiseass, this is my wedding day, and if anything goes wrong, as my Maid of Honor you’re responsible.” She reached into the smooth mahogany surface of the vanity and brandished a particularly sharp looking razor blade. “Got it?” You widened your eyes and rose from the chair, no longer feeling safe.

“I’m gonna go check in with the band,” you mumbled, speed walking straight to the door. Genya nodded curtly. As you wrenched the door open, you came face to face with Alina, holding the thin, cream colored shawl Genya had requested.

“Be careful,” you whispered. “She’s in a mood.” Alina rolled her eyes.

“And it's probably all your fault.” she smiled, letting the door shut behind you. You chuckled to yourself at the thought of getting a rise out of Genya, a woman who had quickly become a sister to you from the moment you arrived at the Little Palace, no matter how many times you pissed her off.

You made it a few paces from the door before you heard a startling shout from the room you just left.

“Make sure they don’t play a polka song!”

“Alright,” you hollered back hoarsely. “Just save that braying voice for your vows!”

Making your way to the parlour room was simple enough, considering you had done it a thousand times before. The hard part was making it past the boys room.

You were all the way at the end of the hall, and yet you could hear the commotion from within David’s room. As you stepped closer and closer, heels clacking on the pristine tiled floor, the garbled noise of grown men arguing became clearer and clearer.

“For saints’ sake David! You look fine!”

“Genya would say my necktie clashes with my haircut!” Another round of groans erupted, and you smiled.

Of every couple in all Os Alta, Genya and David would take the cake when it came to “opposites attract”. You’d always thought they were perfectly paired, with David’s demure nature and Genya’s strongly worded opinions. They balanced one another, and brought out the best in them both.

You thought that you’d get lucky, and be able to walk past the room swiftly without being noticed, but of course, fate was being a real bitch.

Just as your left foot set down in front of their door, it was pulled open abruptly. One moment, you were striding swiftly through an abandoned corridor, and in the next you were being stared down by arguably the one man you could’ve gone all day without seeing.

Nikolai blinked and cleared his throat, and did the one thing you least expected. He grabbed you, not unkindly, by the arm, and hauled you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Have a look,” he said, pointing to David, who was standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the room, rolling his eyes everytime Mal tried to convince him he looked fine. “Doesn’t David’s tie match perfectly with his hair?” He didn’t even wait for you to respond. “I picked it out myself, so of course he’d look impeccable.”

Your hunger for chaos just couldn't resist. You frowned mockingly, and rested your chin on your fist. “Well, the knot is a little big…” you moved for the mass of garments piling up on David’s bed, and swiftly pulled out another tie. This one was a dark violet color, and perfect for the occasion, for you happened to know that Genya’s wedding bouquet had flowers of the same shade. You looped the fabric around David’s neck after removing the old one, and tied it, not unlike a sister would. “There.” You patted him on the shoulders. “You look great, David.”

You picked up the skirt of your dress as you went to exit, stopping to pat Nikolai on the arm. “Don’t feel bad about the tie, Nikolai. We both know you have trouble seeing a good thing even when it’s right in front of you.” You left without another word, neck bobbing, but head held high.

He knew what you’d been talking about, of course; your failed relationship. You and Nikolai had been together for all of 7 months, before the cares of both of your positions began to take their toll. As king of Ravka, Nikolai was resolute in his decision to be a great ruler above all else, and he honored that decision in full.

He made regular visits to every corner of his country, doing what he could to alleviate the stresses that formed in the aftermath of the war, and oftentimes took you with him, if you could spare the time. He took special care to attend every meeting and listen intently to any conversation that had anything to do with his beloved Ravka, to avoid making the same decisions that cost his father the throne, and his people their security.

You loved it. You loved him, too. His dedication to a land that had been so neglected by his forefathers was something that you revered in your lover, and respected. And he respected your work, too, and all that you did in the name of the Second Army and the throne. The time you spent together was always treasured.

However, he as King and you as General, there was only so much time to be spent together. It had become routine for both parties, night after night to come home to the bedroom, and find the other fast asleep, unyieldingly busy, or just not there. You slept in the same bed, and yet, you both had felt the cold arms of distance more than the arms of the other. It was only a matter of time until either of you reached your breaking point, after all, it was no easy thing to fall asleep and wake up in an empty room, not when you knew the one who shared it was long gone.

He had walked into your room, late at night after a day of meetings and diplomacies. You were sitting, hunched over, bathed in the light of the oil lamp hanging over you, slowly sorting through and filing away the documents detailing the expenses of the Second Army. He had strode over to you, and placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly.

You hummed in acknowledgement, unwilling to turn away from the paper before you. “What,” he said. “No hello?” You shrugged off his hand as you reached for your pen.

Signing the line at the edge of the page, you responded halfheartedly. “Nik, I’m really busy right now.” You had hoped that your displeasure at the work laid out before you would be conveyed through your words, but it seemed that was not the case. Nikolai, in all his stressed out glory, believed the displeasure was directed at him.

Retracting his hand and moving towards the bed, he muttered, “Saints forbid I be shown a little affection.” You did not intend to hear him, but you couldn’t help  but respond. Not when, just days ago, sitting at the same desk, Nikolai had done the same thing.

“Affection,” you repeated, setting your pen down and leaning back in the chair. “Pray tell, Nikolai, when was the last time you paid me any affection. Or indeed, any attention at all?” Nikolai shook his head, and tugged off his shirt as he readied himself for the night, sighing when he saw your challenging expression. He prattled off his response without a second though.

“I'm the King. You're just a soldier.” You scoffed, and stared at him for a moment, wondering if he would recant, and apologize for all he just insinuated.

He did not. Nikolai crawled onto his side of the bed, his back facing you, and remained silent.

For him to invalidate you, and your work—

“Right,” you said, standing to collect your things. “In that case, I think I’ll stay in the Little Palace tonight. With the other soldiers.” That had been the end of it.

Nikolai’s pride prevented him from approaching you, and your resolve to remain unbroken kept you from approaching him. You knew if you tried to talk about it, it would kill you from the inside out. So that was how it went. You put up with Nikolai, for the sake of your friends, and country, and spoke shortly and when spoken to. Nikolai did likewise.

Until the wedding reception, that is. You’d done your best, really. You really tried to goad Genya and get him assigned to a different table, but of course it wouldn't happen. She’d given you a resolute no, claiming that the Maid of Honor and the Best Man had to sit at the same table and they had to share at least one dance.

You weren't so sure how legit that last claim was, but you didn't have it in you to argue. The lamps dimmed, and the band stopped, making way for the newlyweds to impress the attendees. David was smiling brightly, with one arm wrapped around Genya’s waist as he waltzed them around the floor, only dropping his grin when he gestured to Nikolai to take your hand. Nikolai huffed, and looked at you straight on.

“Genya said we have to dance.” He knocked back his brandy, and stood up, regal as ever, and extended a hand to you. 

You looked up from your own unfinished glass humorlessly. “Well don’t sound so excited.” You caught a narrow glare from Genya as she whirled around the floor. You stood and took his hand, allowing him to lead you to the floor.

You were getting too close.

The intoxicating smell of Nikolai’s cologne was shoving you closer and closer to the edge, let alone the warm feeling of his hand on the small of your back. Deep down you knew that if he moved his hand to your hip, it would be over, and you would drown in shared memories of nights spent in tangled sheets and abandoned alcoves.

You cleared your throat, and allowed your own hands to take their place, one in his hand, and one on his shoulder. With a swell of the music, you were off, onto the dancefloor in a flourish of fake smiles and internal screaming. 

Nikolai glanced down at you, noticing the way you looked at anything but him. “So,” he said. “I have trouble seeing a good thing even when it’s right in front of me.” You didn't say anything, clenching your jaw. “No, no,” he continued. “You’re right, of course. You stood by my side through… everything. The war, my stint as Sturmhond. It was selfish of me. To not have been by your side when you needed me.”

Oh yeah, you thought. Now we’re definitely too close.

You cleared your throat, and patted his bicep twice, signaling him to let you go. “Goodnight,” you muttered, unwilling to let yourself have this conversation. You pulled away, just slightly, before Nikolai tightened his grip on your waist and pulled you in. “Hey-!”

“Just know,” he murmured, looking at you intently, hazel eyes carving through the thick resolve you had fashioned in the weeks you’d been apart. “I always saw you. I never stopped seeing you. Probably never will.” He let go of your waist, and brought one of your hands to his mouth, kissing your knuckle. “And you were the greatest. Know that I’m not ready to give up on us yet.”

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[hibiscus-tome]

heavily heavily inspired by this comic

hbd diluc you bean :D

It's been years since Diluc last celebrated his birthday.

Since he came of age, he's had an excuse for each one: he was camping in Liyue's mountains for his nineteenth. Then for his twentieth, he was laid up in bed in Fontaine due to a nasty case of food poisoning. His twenty-first was spent on the road back to Mondstadt, running numbers in his head and comparing fragmented bits of Fatui intel.

It was convenient, though, to not have to think too hard about it — it was difficult to find elation in growing another year older, when the date also marked the passing of another year that his father would not be able to see.

So at twenty-two, on the cusp of the first full year he's spent back in Mondstadt, Diluc wakes slowly, sluggishly, and immediately wonders if it would be so terrible to just remain here in bed, for the rest of the day. It's out of the question, though, when there are appearances to be maintained on the basis of who he is. Diluc cares little for the pomp and circumstance that comes with being part of Mondstadt's nobility, but he won't sully his father's legacy with his own disdain — even though that's exactly what he's been doing for the past four years.

Adelinde is warm in her well wishes, and then keeps her distance — somehow having already anticipated his mood before Diluc could articulate it himself. The rest of the Dawn Winery staff take no more than a moment to wish him a happy birthday, before going about their usual duties. There's a number of gifts that appear on the Winery's doorstep, over the course of the day: a bundle of lamp grass from Lumine and Paimon, a small satchel of everflame seeds from Jean, an ornately decorated dagger from Rosaria, and a rather suspicious-looking bottle of juice from Diona.

Still, navigating the day feels like wading through knee-deep mud. Every moment he spends at the Winery is yet another reminder that his father is not here. Before, he'd been far too preoccupied to dwell on it — but the past year has been lost to the monotony of routine, and he lost track of time. He should have prepared for today — for the expectation that he would be gracious and accommodating towards all who wished him well on a day that was always supposed to be his, despite wanting nothing more than to either head straight back to bed and not emerge until tomorrow, or to set something on fire.

Though he's hardly done anything out of the ordinary, he's exhausted by the time he makes to the city in the early evening. It's a monstrous effort to force a neutral expression on his face, when smiling is impossible, and thank everyone who comes up to him with their well wishes. It's a monstrous effort to not start weeping right then and there, when people who were acquainted with his father pat him on the shoulder and encourage him to enjoy the day anyway, despite the circumstances.

—but then in Angel's Share, there's a cake: large and ornately decorated, and far too much for Diluc alone to eat.

It's a truly ridiculous, grotesque thing — layers upon layers of buttercream and far too much fondant for any one person to bear. Each layer is a different color, and each color clashes horribly with the one immediately preceding it. It sits in the middle of the tavern, so large that the tables have been pushed to the side to make room for it. The expectation, probably, is that his customers or the Dawn Winery staff will be eating most of it — because Diluc won't; if he puts that in his mouth, he'll surely die.

Without warning, the cake bursts open. From inside, Kaeya rises with his arms raised high above his head. Clumps of buttercream settle in his hair and clothes, and stray sheets of fondant tangle in the fur of his cloak. "Happy birthday!" he says, far too cheerfully.

Just like that, the sheer ridiculousness of it all cuts through the haze that seems to have settled in his bones over the course of the day. "I was expecting the head of a Fatui Harbinger," Diluc retorts, dryly.

Kaeya frowns, looking offended. "Fifteen years we've known each other," he says, "and now you don't want to see me jump out of the cake. You insult me."

There's no bite to it, though — none of the barbed words that Diluc's come to expect from Kaeya, as of late. He'll be lucky if he gets through tonight without an argument, but he lets himself be optimistic, just this once. "You're cleaning this up, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," says Kaeya, airily, before sticking his arms out in front of him and wiggling his fingers.. "Help me out of here?"

Diluc is a grown man who is above such theatrics — but he rolls his eyes anyway, before grabbing Kaeya's hands to steady him as he maneuvers himself out.

Kaeya's hands are disgustingly sticky, but also rough beneath his gloves. If Diluc pays attention, he can map out each individual scar that lines them — scars that he put there, on this day four years ago.

—but before that train of thought can progress further, Kaeya takes a clump of buttercream in one hand and smears it across Diluc's face. "What," says Diluc in a low, shaking voice, "are you doing."

Kaeya chuckles. "An ancient family tradition, you see?" he says. "Over five hundred years old! When the birthday boy makes a sour face like that, it's customary to wipe it off with cake."

—which is honestly just valid enough a reason for Diluc to take a clump of buttercream on his own and smear it across Kaeya's face in return. At least he's gracious enough to avoid the eye patch. "Now that's just not fair," Kaeya whines. "It's not my birthday." For that, Diluc takes some more buttercream and shoves it in Kaeya's hair.

They won't talk about it tomorrow — they never do, when it comes to moments like this.

Still, it's the closest thing to normalcy that Diluc has felt in a long time.

[hopelikethemoon]

all ours (Javier x Reader)

Title: all ours  Rating: PG-13 Length: 3.2K Warnings: Angst, pregnancy stuff (braxton hix), and fluff. Notes: Set in the maybe today, maybe forever universe, shortly before Josie is born.   Taglist: @grapemama​  @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​ @hiscyarika​ @plexflexico​ @readsalot73​ @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​

Javier was snoring beside you, not frustratingly loud snoring, but rather the sort of snoring that just made you envious that he could sleep. And peacefully. You missed sleep.  You missed a lot of things that came with not being pregnant. You missed being able to sleep on your side, you missed beer, you missed seeing your feet, you missed wearing clothes that weren’t made like sacks, and you even missed sex. Despite the occasional passing desire, you had been far too miserable the past month to summon the energy to enjoy anything related to sex. 

You missed a lot of things that came with not being pregnant. You missed being able to sleep on your side, you missed beer, you missed seeing your feet, you missed wearing clothes that weren’t made like sacks, and you even missed sex. Despite the occasional passing desire, you had been far too miserable the past month to summon the energy to enjoy anything related to sex. 

You winced as the baby’s foot once again found your bladder. You readjusted and sighed heavily as you tried to find a position that didn’t put pressure on your back. Everything hurt. All the time. 

You rubbed your hand over your swollen belly, trying to soothe the baby back to sleep. You just needed an hour of sleep. One hour and you could function like a human tomorrow. 

Javier stirred beside you, his foot brushed against yours as he stretched out before he rolled over to face you. “Why are you still awake?”

 “Your baby is rambunctious tonight.” You complained, bunching your pillow up under your head as you settled. “If you can’t sleep, the sofa isn't terrible.”

 Javier arched a brow at you, “I’m not sleeping on the sofa.” He grumbled, shaking his head slowly as he reached out to rest his palm on your stomach, running his fingers over your skin. “You need to settle down little girl, your mommy is trying to sleep.”

Javier threw back his covers and moved to lay down beside your stomach. He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand still resting against your belly right where the baby was kicking. “Does it hurt?” 

 You pursed your lips and shrugged. “It’s uncomfortable, mostly.” You reached down and lazily played with his hair. “You should go back to sleep, Javi. You’ve got the meeting at the embassy tomorrow.”

 “I’m fine.” Javier promised you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach, before his gaze lifted to yours. “Did you put the cocoa butter back in the bathroom?” 

 “Yeah.” You stifled an exhausted yawn as Javier climbed out of the bed. “What are you doing?”

 He walked around to your side of the bed, his expression still soft and warm from the sleep he was pulled from. “Just relax, baby.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. “I’ve got you.”

 Javier returned a few minutes later with the tub of cocoa butter you used on your stretch marks. He turned his bedside lamp on, the room now lit in soft golden hues as he joined you in bed again. 

“Javi.”

“Let me do this for you.” 

Javier shot you a look as he unscrewed the cocoa butter container, sitting the lid aside on the bedside table. He sat the tub down on the comforter as he leaned over to push your tank top out of his way. He ran his fingers over your rounded stomach, with an adoration in his eyes that made your heart flutter. 

You grabbed another pillow and stuffed it behind you, propping yourself up enough to watch him. He dipped two fingers into the butter, scooping up a decent amount and smearing it into his other palm. He dabbed up a little, smearing it over the curve of your stomach. The cocoa butter was cool at the first touch, enough so that a little shiver of delight went through you. But Javier’s touch warmed the chill away, sensing a different type of contentment through you. 

“Do you like that?” He questioned, a grin tugging at his lips as he met your heated gaze. 

“Yeah.” You whispered with a weary smile as your lashes fluttered.  You sank back into your pillows and let yourself get lost in the sensation. 

 “You need sleep too,” Javier whispered as he leaned down to press a kiss to your stomach. 

His hands curled around the sides of your stomach, fingertips drawing tiny patterns into your skin as he applied the cocoa butter. It was the most entrancing sensation, soothing away the stress and tension that you’d carried with you all week. 

His touch didn’t just comfort you — the baby seemed to calm beneath his hands, her swift kicks transforming into the faint flutters of movement. 

You relaxed, letting your eyes slip closed as you focused on the shapes he drew with the butter. They reminded you of the ones he always drew against your thigh. “This is better than sex,” You muttered as you gave into the pull of sleep. 

  ——

  It was unfair how good Javier Peña looked in a suit. Especially when he was just this side of being pissed off after a meeting with the Embassy. They were riding his ass about overspending this quarter, which wasn’t a surprise considering how the mission had been going. The Cali Cartel weren’t as easy to crack down on. 

You had the perfect vantage point from your desk, looking straight through into the glass wall of the conference room where Javier sat getting his ass handed to him. 

But you couldn’t keep staring at him, not without Chris or Daniel getting suspicious. You loaded a new piece of paper into the typewriter, before you got up from your desk to retrieve a file from one of the banker boxes that sat on Javier’s desk. 

You took a step and grimaced, a faint cramp playing across the front of your stomach. You hesitated, rubbing your stomach cautiously. “Shit.” You breathed out. 

You ignored the sensation, reaching for the box and pulling the lid off. 

The pain returned, more severe this time. It felt like a rubberband drawn across your stomach, followed by a short contraction. 

No. No. No. 

Your eyes flickered towards the conference room, hoping to catch Javier’s attention, but he was fuming over something that had been said to him. 

Focused on your breathing, you returned to your desk to snatch up your purse. “I’ll be back.” You offered in response Chris' curious look, before you headed straight for the elevator. 

Contractions.  

You were having contractions and Javier was trapped in a pointless meeting. 

By the time you got down to your car your hands were trembling, your keys shaking between your fingers as you tried to unlock your car. It took you three tries before you slotted the key into the lock. 

You hadn’t felt the sensation again since you started walking. The twinge of pain that had come with the strange cramp was still there, but not nearly as insistent as it first was. 

You drew in a shaky breath as you settled into the driver’s seat, starting up the car to turn the radio on low. You weren’t going to go to the hospital just yet. If they were contractions, they were far enough apart that you didn’t need to rush. 

There wasn’t even a plan. 

You had meant to discuss it with Javier, but it just hadn’t happened yet. 

What would happen when the baby was born?

Would you just drive yourself to the hospital?

Handle everything alone?

Would Javier sit at work and pretend he didn’t care? 

With each passing day, things seemed bleaker. You were impressed is it was that you’d managed to be with Javier for nearly half a year. The years of being his partner seemed like training for spending days-in and days-out with him. Your personalities clashed frequently, too similar in your rationale to let it fester for long. 

Your entire relationship was nothing more than stolen moments, late night conversations, and a deep seated need to make it work. Together. It isn’t easy. The path forward is a difficult one. 

Would it always be like that?

You inhaled sharply as another burst of tension shot across the front of your stomach, a faint flutter of a contraction making you grit your teeth. 

Not now. Please not now. 

You startled at the sound of someone tapping at your car window, pulled out of your focused breathing. 

It’s Javi. 

You cranked the window down, shutting off the radio. “What are you doing out here?”

He tapped the bottom of a pack of cigarettes in the palm of his hand. “Smoke break.” Javier said, clicking his tongue against his teeth. 

“Oh.”

Javier pulled  a cigarette out of the pack, clenching it between his lips as he tucks them back into his breast pocket. “Chris said you left abruptly.” He glanced around the parking lot warily, pulling his aviators down to peer in the window at you. “You good?”

You swallowed thickly and turned your gaze out the windshield. “I thought I was having contractions.”

“Shit.” He clicked the lighter off, not bothering to light his cigarette. “I’m taking my fifteen in your car, unlock it.”

Javier tucked his aviators into the front of his shirt, walking around the front of your car to slide into your passenger seat. “Javi, it’s fine. Go back inside.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Javier spit out as he turned to face you. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you, I thought I was having contractions… I’m fine.” You ran your hand over your stomach, breathing in shakily. “It was just a twinge of pain. It’s fine.”

His eyes flickered around the parking lot cautiously, before he reached over and stroked your stomach. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m fine.” Against better judgment, you rested your hand over his. It was risky, considering you were sitting in the middle of the parking lot in broad daylight. “It’s going to be okay, Javi.”

“Scared the shit out of me.” Javier remarked as his fingers spread out over your stomach. “I looked up during the meeting and saw you were gone.” 

“I could’ve been in the bathroom.”

“Chris made some smartass comment about you leaving the office.” Javier slid his hand out from under yours so he could wrap his fingers around it. 

“You can’t do this here, Javi.” You warned, twisting your hand out of his grasp. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

Javier reeled his hand back in like you had struck him and the look on his face stings. “So, what? You just want me to head back inside and pretend that you’re not potentially going into labor?” He scoffed and stuck the cigarette back in his mouth, clamping his lips down around it as he stared out the window. “Unbelievable.” 

“I’m not going into labor.” You retorted. “These things happen.” You rubbed at your eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m fine, I promise you. If something happens, I’ll page you.”

“Partners are allowed to give a shit.” He snapped. “No one is going to be suspicious of me taking a smoke break in your car. No one gives a fuck if I care about you giving birth. We’re fucking friends.”

“I know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled. “I don’t want to lose my job, Javi. I’m already on thin ice because I’m pregnant, I don’t need our secret to ruin my entire career.” 

Javier’s jaw clenched tightly as he glared out the windshield, “This is bullshit.” He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, forcing the one he’d pulled out back into the carton. “No one batted a goddamn eye when we hung out before. You, me, Steve… knocking back drinks after work. Now I so much as look in your direction and you’re convinced our cover’s been blown.” 

“Javier.” You snapped, rubbing your hand over your face as you tried to keep your ire under control. “Do you have any idea how fucking stressful this is for me? I walk into work every morning expecting to get handed the pink slip. I am trying to keep the focus off of me.” 

He dragged his fingers through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I hate this.” 

“Me too.” You bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him. “It’s not the ideal situation, but it’s the best we can do. If I get fired, immigration will terminate my visa and I’ll have to go back to the states.” Hesitantly you reached across the center console and took his hand into yours. Even if someone walked by, you figured they wouldn’t be able to see where your hand was. “And I don’t think either of us want that.” 

Javier shook his head slowly. “No.” He squeezed your hand tightly, interlacing his fingers with yours. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, his eyes still focused straight ahead. “Can I come over tonight?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” You retorted, trying to make light of the tension between you. 

His lips twitched into a faint smile and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, “I”m sorry.”

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand.

“No, baby. I was a jackass.” Javier rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. “This situation is fucking bullshit.” He turned to look out the window beside him. “But you’ve got it worse. Shit, you got all of three hours of sleep last night.” 

You chuckled softly, “ I was only anticipating one hour.” You tensed as you spotted a pair of agents walking through the parking lot. You quickly released your hold on Javier’s hand, playing with the radio. 

“I should probably head back inside,” Javier said reluctantly, raking his fingers through his hair. “You’re sure you’re okay?” 

You nodded and assured him, “I haven’t felt the cramping again. I think I’m going to go rest.” You ran your hand over your stomach, smiling when you felt the faint press of the baby’s hand or foot. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

Javier reached over and rested his palm against your belly, “I’ll see you both at home.” He told you with a serious tone, before he pushed the car door open and headed back into the office. 

Home. 

Your brows furrowed as you considered the word. 

You couldn’t remember hearing him refer to your apartment as home before. Sure, he spent more nights in your bed, than he did his own. When he picked up groceries, they usually ended up in your refrigerator, except for the beer that went back to his. Hell, he even kept a suit alongside his spare clothes in your hall closet. 

He had all but moved into your apartment. 

For someone who had been so nervous about whether Javier could settle down, you’d somehow overlooked the fact that he had. A year ago you wouldn’t have believed that Javi was the type of guy who would stay up to rub cocoa butter over your skin. Or the type of guy to just… move in. You had been convinced that you knew him well. Somehow you’d missed that all of the bravado, the charm, the long list of one night fucks were just a mask. 

Javier had fallen into this pattern of domesticity with surprising ease. 

You knew it wasn’t easy for him either. He couldn’t truly savor the experience of becoming a father. He had to swallow his pride when Chris made snide comments while theorizing who the father was. He had to look at a photo of your sonogram, rather than sit beside you in the room. You knew he wanted more. You could see it in the way his gaze got distant when you discussed your appointments or the way he’d find a reason to touch you throughout the workday. 

He wanted to be a father, to be a lover, to be a partner, to be more than a cog in the DEA’s wheel. 

  ——

  “Javi, do you think you could drive me to my appointment on Monday?” You questioned as you reclined back on the sofa, watching Javier as he tried to put the baby’s crib together. The pieces were scattered across the floor, with seemingly far too many pieces for one solitary crib. He kept swearing under his breath and glaring at the instructions. 

“Yeah.” Javier glanced up at you. “It should only take about an hour, right?” 

You nodded, “And there’s no reason for you to stay in the car.”

His jaw tensed as he exhaled through his nose. “You want me to go in with you?” 

“I would.” 

“Baby—” 

“I want you to come in with me.” You said firmly, giving him no room to argue with you. “I know how badly you want to see the sonogram.” 

Javier pushed his fingers through his hair, dragging his hand down over the back of his neck as he sat back on his ass. He propped a leg up, resting his elbow against his knee as he stared at you. “I’ve got that print out stuck to my bathroom mirror.” 

You smiled adoringly at him, “Of course you do.” Carefully you sat up, tucking a pillow behind your back. “I was thinking about yesterday,” You started and you caught the way his expression faltered. “I’m aware that this—” You gestured between the two of you, “Has been one sided.” 

He scratched at his jaw and shrugged, though his eyes flickered towards the ground. “You’re the one doing all the work.” Javier’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he kept his gaze low. “I’m not trying to push this.” 

“Javi, I’ve kept you at an arm’s length and it’s okay for you to be pissed about it.” 

“I’m not pissed.” He ground out, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna pretend I sat around thinking about having kids someday.” Javier ran his tongue over his teeth and sighed. “Because I didn’t. But I always thought I’d have one twice as hard to handle as I was for my pops.” He grabbed onto the edge of the coffee table as he pulled himself up off the floor. 

You patted the sofa beside you, your other hand resting against the curve of your stomach. You kept your eyes fixed to his face, brows furrowed together as you studied his expression. “It’ll get easier once she’s born.” You promised and you hoped that was true. 

“Will it?” He sighed as he sank down onto the sofa beside you, propping one foot up on the coffee table in front of him. 

“I want you here.” You reached out and took his hand into yours. “Despite the fact that you hog the covers, I’ve gotten used to you sleeping in my bed.” 

Javier huffed a short laugh. “I have too.” 

“I wish it could be different,” You said quietly. “I know you want more.” 

“I don’t want more.” Javier flexed his jaw. “I just want something. Anything.” 

You lifted his hand to your lips, kissing each knuckle. “I know.” You whispered as he leaned close and brushed his lips against your temple. “That’s why I want you there on Monday. It’s my last sonogram before we get into the homestretch. You belong there with me.” 

Javier’s shoulders relaxed, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me, it’s just the truth.” You reached out to cup his cheek, drawing him close so you could kiss him. “I know at work this baby’s just mine, but it’s yours too.” 

“It’s ours.” Javi corrected you. “She’s all ours.” 

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 73: Teal

Chapters: 73/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: R

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel), 

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Mentions of Sexual Activity, NSFW, Starting to Bring Some Threads Together

Summary:  Asgard honors the giant as best it can. You continue to dream

The weather turned worse on the way back, until even the well maintained Ring Road was scarcely visible. Eventually, Loki pulled you up into his saddle on Leynarodd's back, seating you flush with his body, and wrapping his back-up cloak around you.

“I will keep you as warm as I may.” He breathed into your ear. “Would it help if I were to whisper lewd and wicked things to you?”

You giggled, but shook your head. “Just cuddle. I want to go to sleep.”

And so, he wrapped his arms around you as well, and let you doze.

Your arrival was heralded with a celebration that woke you with instruments and shouting. You moved back to Acorn as the procession moved through the city, and, still drowsy, participated in a great feast thrown in the giant's honor.

This was a part of Asgardian funerary customs, as taught to you by Saga. The burial honored the dead's body, and the feast honored the dead's spirit. Normally, the revelers told stories of the dead's deeds during life, but no one knew the giant, so instead extolled the accomplishments of all Jotun, across the ages.

You didn't have any such stories, so you listened and ate, as Bogljot described being defeated in a contest of speed by the Forest Giant, Hyrrokkin, as the normally quiet Heimdall sang praises to his many 'mothers', as an older Asgardian you didn't know described the great mountain kingdom of Utgardaloki, for whom Loki was named.

It was dark yet again by the time the feast ended, and Loki led you, stumbling and tipsy on cider, back to his bedroom. He carefully divested you of your armor, stripped every last garment from you, and sat you down on your chair beneath the sunlamp. As the light warmed your skin, Loki also shucked his own clothing, and sat down at your feet. The two of you spent an hour under the warm lamp, Loki reading you various examples of Earth poetry he thought you would like, or resting his head in your lap and letting you toy with his hair.

Finally, when fatigue had clearly caught all the way up with you, Loki turned out the light, and carried you off to bed, where he made love to you until you could no longer keep your eyes open. When you drifted away, it was on a cloud of warm bliss.

                                                                               ******

You found yourself in the glory of open space once more buoyed by sparkling blue light. It came from a gem that you could see now, flying before you like a comet, with yourself gliding along in its glowing tail. You started to reach out for the glittering object once more, but pulled your hand back, vaguely remembering something that put you off of grabbing it. Thoughts echoed within your blood, concepts resolving themselves into impressions in your mind.

You are learning me. Learn me. Learn more.

How? You thought. What are you?

A swirl of something. A blur of light, a different 'texture' than the blue.

Green.

Your right hand itched.

Learn me! Learn me! There is so much of me! Look! See!

Your world jittered, like a heartbeat slightly out of rhythm. With the suddenness of a drop of water in a still pool, the space around you rippled unexpectedly, folded in around you, and instead of nowhere, you were Somewhere.

A world full of green-skinned, red-haired people, thriving, but confused. A woman walked the streets crying out what you assumed to be a girl's name.

Titan, with its orange skies, empty, ruined. A ghost town of a planet.

Earth, running through frigid winds. Other humans ran beside you, dressed for a time long since passed. Frost Giants pursued, driving terror, like dogs, at your heels.

A woman, bald and elegantly androgynous, in flowing robes and surrounded by nothingness. She looked at you with pity, with eyes that pierced right through you.

“You are not ready for what is happening.” She said. “And I am not in a position to help.”

A severed head, the size of a small moon, floating through space. There were lights, cities built upon it, within it. You recoiled in horror, but as you watched, the cities shrank; went dark. The head floated backward, back and back. You blinked, and it was reattached to an impossibly gargantuan body. Another blink and the colossal being orbited a young sun, along with a haphazard belt of asteroids. You watched as they grasped one of the largest of them, and sundered it over their knee.

Wiping the newly exposed surface clean, the being stared out into a space that was dark and sparsely decorated with stars. Then, with fingertips each stained a different color, they grasped the asteroid and began to draw.

                                                                          ******

You awoke, brimming with the feeling that something important had happened while you slept, but couldn't quite pinpoint where that energy was coming from. There was something you felt the need to do, something you couldn't put a name to.

You could barely sit still under your sunlamp, wolfing down your oatmeal and dried fruit. Loki couldn't help but to comment on your increased energy. A wink and a suggestive comment, and you had him back in bed, hands on his chest, riding him for all he was worth.

You sure didn't hear him arguing.

When the two of you were finally presentable, scrubbed and dressed and fed, you took to the halls with your sunlamp in tow. Loki had some meetings to attend today; some job disputes that had come up recently. You had your classes with Saga. A light squeeze of the hand, and you parted ways.

The snow had continued through the night, piling up high against the windows. Reconstruction of your room had been forced to a halt, and all of your things had been moved, either to storage or to Loki's room. The caterpillar in a jar had become a chrysalis in a jar, but the butterfly had not emerged yet. It was possible that the cooler temperatures and lack of light had put it into some kind of stasis: unusual, but not unheard of.

It was still frightening to think that you had caused all that destruction, just because of a dream you couldn't even remember. What if you did that while Loki slept beside you?

There were far more people indoors now that winter had come, doing what Loki had described as their 'real' jobs, weavers and seamstresses, scribes, engineers, jewelers, and so many painters. In every hallway and alcove there was someone with a palette, someone with a pencil, someone carving the plaster into delicate ribbons and knots. Some of them told you they were trying to recreate murals from old Asgard. Others seemed to be trying a new take on their history. Others were focusing on more recent events.

As you walked through the halls, you saw heavily formulaic paintings of what must have been Odin and Frigga, Bor and the terrifying Hela, Heimdall, Thor, and Loki, and many others you didn't recognize. There were battles, and peace treaties, Vanir, Alfar, and Jotnar, There was Njord, Freya, and Freyr, whom you stopped and stared at for a few moments before shaking yourself free.

There were also events and vistas in a different style, some of which must have been pulled directly from the painters own memories. Soaring golden buildings and busy streets, folk dances and blacksmiths forging swords. A riot of berserkers clashing their metal staves, the view of a waterfall ocean.

There were Svartalfari in the great halls, Heimdall destroying a strange vehicle, portals to all of the realms circling each other. There was Frigga, standing tall, holding a sword over her head. There was Frigga, lying in a boat, surrounded by golden light. There was a sparkling red jewel, hanging over the head of a woman you realized must be a stylized Dr. Jane Foster. There were the Avengers again, painted in the heroic style of Asgard, haloed like holy beings. Did the Asgardians see them as the pantheon of Earth?

There was the destruction of Asgard. The great Jotun Surtr, the tiny form of Hela brandishing her thorn-like weapons against him in an almost heroic way. There was the enormous wolf Fenris, grappling with the Hulk. The star-filled expanse of space, with their island spaceship carrying them safely to Earth, a beautiful orb, painted as though seen through a window.

There were the mountains and river outside, rendered in such marvelous detail that you recognized the exact place. There were nightscapes of the Northern Lights.

And there was you.

Your little figure, next to Loki, with your flower crown helm. Among the longhouses of Trolerkaerhalla, wearing the cloak of a Seidkona. It was a very strange feeling, to see yourself immortalized like this. The impostor syndrome flared up, heavy and loud. Logically speaking, you had made history. But why should it have been you? Why should any of this be you?

You hurried through the increasingly colorful halls, seeking out the library. There would always be this battle inside you, between acknowledgment that you were deserving of good things, and belief that there were others so much more deserving.

You rushed into the library, with it's nice new door, and set up your sunlamp. Saga handed you your drum. The Valkyries were here, as well as an ancient, wizened woman who had probably been a Seidkona since the Parthenon had been built. She instructed you strictly, but patiently in the primeval rhythm of Seidkona ritual. There was a chant she was teaching you, a mystical affirmation ritual in a bygone dialect of the Asgardian language, so archaic that the meaning of the words were lost even on your venerable teacher. Saga understood them, but since she was not a Seidkona, she was in essence, forbidden from speaking them.

You got the feeling that it annoyed her a bit.

You were walked through the chant, and the drum beat over and over, committing the sounds to memory, like you had for the past few weeks. The only thing you were missing was the very last syllable of the chant, the knowledge of which would only be imparted on you at the eve of the Buridag festival. Before then, you would not be allowed to speak, or even know it, for fear of completing the spell prematurely.

After your lessons, you spent a little bit of time in one of the library's side rooms, where Asgard's salvaged art treasures were kept. Lofn and her twin Sjofn, who were in charge of preservation, display, and upkeep,  were both all too happy to educate you on what they were. Sjofn had just finished cleaning and labeling a collection of Nornheim knives, very similar to your own. You could see the shift in shape and handle style that had occurred over the years of war with Asgard.

They were all made of nornbein, with stone handles, though many of them had been engraved with the names of the Asgardians who had claimed them. Yours had not. In comparison, your knife, with its lance-like blade and cylindrical handle, was clearly from the latter period of Nornheim occupation, while the earlier knives were more leaf shaped, with flattened handles. You wondered how many hundreds of years those changes represented, with rock trolls carefully shaping the blades to their preference, and picking their favorite stones; blue and green, gray, violet, white, banded, and your own pink ruby, to carve into handles. Did the color and type mean anything to them, or had it just been personal preference?

These knives all represented Asgardian lineages which had died out, with no one left to inherit the blades. It was a sad collection to look at, as sad as where the knives had come from in the first place.

Lofn had templates from past Asgardian fashion designers, arranged on an enormous poster board, and carefully glued down flat. As you watched, she affixed strange little clip-like devices at all four corners, and at regular intervals along each side.

“They are useful storage and protective devices.” She explained. “We can make them from Midgardian materials too. You see, when activated, they form a protective field.” She tapped each of them in turn, and they lit up, covering the huge poster board in a very slight, almost imperceptible glow.

“It is protected now.” She announced. In a swift and startling movement, she grabbed one of the newly cataloged knives and stabbed the board with a ferocious growl. You jumped back, even as the blade bounced harmlessly off. She laughed as a glaring Sjofn snatched the knife back. “You see? It cannot be harmed. We protect our precious things in this way.”

“It has another use too.” She grasped the edges of the poster board and squeezed them together. To your amazement, the entire thing-easily as wide as you were tall-shrank to the size of a sheet of paper. “Look, do you see?”

She touched the field and it reacted like an electronic tablet, magnifying and moving across parts of the board, so you could see the details up close.

“You see, don't you? You see?” She asked.

Your gaze shifted, away from the fashion poster, away from the knife collection, to a work of art that had caught your attention earlier in the year. An artwork that wore the same preservation devices.

Ymir's Dreamscape.

“You see.” Lofn said.

[akinnie75]

White Hibernation

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 31k...lol

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Extreme Slow Burn, Fantasy

Summary: The tale of the Winter Bear is about a grizzly bear that’s the only bear in the entire world who doesn’t hibernate during winter. He’s considered strong for being able to fight sleep. However, being the only bear awake during winter gets lonely. So during every winter, he makes friends with children and takes their soul to be with him forever. And somewhere down the line, you get involved into the fable.

“Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?!”

Your agent, Lee Suniya, screams from the top of her lungs on the other side of the call. You keep your phone at a safe distance from your ears. You sigh exasperatedly, standing in the center of the living of your cramped, one-bedroom apartment.

Despite Suniya’s aggressive scolding, you only focus on your apartment. It’s early in the morning, never realizing how blue your apartment is. It isn’t necessarily a bold blue, more so a faint blue, naturally peeking through your blinds due to the sunrise barely at its peak. All of your furniture—couch, coffee table, vase, lamp—is white, so it only makes the baby blue stand out more.

Maybe I should change my place up a little, you think to yourself.

However, your plans for redecorating your place are disrupted by the continuous rampage coming from Suniya. Her anger only worsens your annoyance toward her. “Did you not hear a single thing I said?! Is your head empty??”

“No, can you repeat everything?”

Suniya groans frustratedly then goes silent for a few seconds before returning. “Never mind. Did you at least look online?”

Your eyes move down to your laptop that’s sitting by the edge of the white, pristine coffee table. It’s on, and it’s an article called: ‘Winter Bear’: Profiting off of a Child’s Innocence. Underneath the title is the author, (Y/N), (L/N).

“Yea, just a few minutes ago.”

“So. You knew not to write that. But why did you go ahead and do it anyway?” Suniya tries very hard not to grind her teeth, but you can clearly hear it.

You take a seat on the couch right across from your laptop. You set your phone down, putting it on speaker as you scroll through the multitudes of angry comments. There are some that catch your eye, such as ‘How could you write garbage about my daughter’s favorite movie?’, ‘You didn’t even watch the movie so your opinion is fucking pointless without proper research’, and another one being, ‘Go die in a shithole, you fucking mood-killer’.

You’ve always heard about internet figures getting a lot of online flak these days, but your article exploded out of nowhere that you haven’t gotten the time to process the negative comments. Even your email is spammed with anonymous accounts calling you degrading terms.

But another reason why it doesn’t impact you as much as it should is because it was somewhat expected. Winter Bear is a beloved, rated-PG movie that people of all ages should enjoy, but your article made it very apparent that you detest it.

“Yea, I knew not to write it, but what’s the point of me making it my career as a writer when I can’t even share my own opinions?”

“You—” But before your agent can lash out any further, she catches herself. “You’re not a writer, you’re a journalist. Writers create from inspiration, journalists rephrase what they see. Are you seriously trying to give the publication a bad rep?”

“You’re not getting the point of the article. No one is. It’s a cash-grabbing movie using a dangerous folklore—”

“I get it, I get it. But where I’m coming from is that the publishing company has no time to be dealing with a bad image at this moment. They were just getting recognized, and you just had to blow it off like that.”

“That wasn’t my intention. Look, why are people even getting pissed off over one person’s opinion? They don’t have to read my shit if they don’t want to and go enjoy their half-assed children’s movie.”

It’s at this point where Suniya has completely given up on arguing with you. Both you and Suniya are stubborn to the core, and this is how you two clash often.

“It isn’t just about a bad public image for the company, but for you. You’ll have a hard time signing deals and publishing more articles.”

That comment was like a prick to your skin. There was something about that that ticked you off, more than what the internet is saying about you.

“What the hell is wrong with me sharing my thoughts? If these faceless assholes are allowed to leave comments on my article, then I can say and do whatever too!”

“(Y/N), calm down! Why are you getting upset?! Listen to me when I say this: I know where you’re coming from. I know that movie is a sensitive topic for you, but that still doesn’t mean that you should—”

“Don’t bring it up.”

The line goes silent for a while before she returns. “Alright, fine. On the bright side, this seems like a short-term consequence, so the most we can do is wait for this to die down. I gotta go, I’ll call you later.”

She hangs up, and you get the urge to throw your phone across the room. However, you don’t have the kind of money to break your phone and get a new one, so instead, you throw it against the couch pillow. It’s irritating when nobody understands you. If the general public weren’t sheeples, then it would be easier for you to explain your side. Not even Suniya truly knows where you’re coming from.

You go back to your laptop, your article receiving new comments by the second. You want to respond to them and tell them to go to hell. There are more controversial topics out there in the world, so why go to your article and attack you? You’ve already caused enough trouble for your agent, so it’s better to leave it alone.

You lay down on your couch when a sudden chill runs up your spine. You check the temperature on your phone, and it’s been getting colder lately with winter getting closer.  What sort of first-world struggles are those angry commentators going through to give them the right to downgrade you?

Regret begins to play with your head, suggesting that you should call Suniya back and apologize to her for exploding. You turn on your phone, seeing four contacts on your phone: your parents, Suniya, and your publication site’s office number. You press on Suniya’s number, letting the line ring before directing to voicemail.

With a sigh of disappointment, you get off of the couch with that feeling of regret going to eat you up for the rest of the day. You try to forget about it, pushing your mind to think about something else than to focus heavily on it. You repeat to yourself over and over that you need to eat breakfast.

You look through the fridge that’s filled with only microwavable food, some vegetables, soda, and that one vegan mandarin chicken pack that you promised to eat when you were still dieting. On the bottom shelf is leftover pizza from last night. You close the fridge then rummage through the white-painted cabinets. You hand maneuvers around the canned corn and beans, packaged dry pad-thai noodles, and shoving the Maruchan cup noodles away. You grab the rainbow, fruit-flavored cereal box, opening the top to check if there’s still some. You pop one into your mouth to check if it’s still in edible condition. Although a bit stale, you can eat it.

You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted to eat leftover dinner or cereal for breakfast, so you ended up picking both. Rushing back to the fridge, you take out a slice of cold pizza and the half-gallon of milk, putting the pizza on a plate and into the microwave. It’s not the healthiest meal, but you’re not in the mood to be thinking about your weight.

As it warms up, you grab the remote from the living room, turning on the TV. You skip through channels with the press of a button until you get to a decent enough channel that’s playing a rerun of a sitcom show. It’s about a group of poor college graduates struggling to live in New York.

Your attention is taken away by your microwave beeping when it’s done reheating your pizza. You poke the pizza to make sure that the cheese has melted, then you take a bite of it. It doesn’t taste as fresh as when you first got it, but it still tastes savory.

“This...is...awesome!” A child’s voice shouts from the TV.

Dramatic drums and high-pitched violins play after the show goes on a commercial break. You turn around to see a trailer of a kids’ movie.

“Who...are you?” the child continues.

Each scene of the trailers lasts for a few seconds to keep the viewers’ short attention span engaged. On the screen is a young child who seems to be around eight or nine years old in a snowy forest. The child is on its knees, face-to-face with a shadowy monster before displaying itself as a fun, lovable grizzly bear licking the child’s face.

“I have to return home. Can you help me?”

“Come with us...on an epic journey,” A narrator voices over. “Filled with fun...”

The child and bear jump over rocks as they laugh.

“Adventure…”

The pair find an entirely undiscovered part of the forest, though it’s just a more expanded version of the same setting that it takes place in, just brighter lighting and more sunlight.

“And friendship.”

The next scene is when the child and the bear are cuddling together late at night to keep each other warm from the freezing temperature.

“Bears are supposed to be sleeping during winter, but you’re not,” the child ponders. “But...I’m glad that you’re awake. I don’t feel so lonely anymore.”

“Critics say ‘it’s tender’...‘entertaining’...‘everything my child has always wanted in a movie’.” The narrator continues as five yellow stars would be slapped onto a frame of an overview of the forest. “Winter Bear. Coming soon on December 20th.”

The next thing you know, you throw the pizza at the screen out of impulsive anger. The tomato sauce splatters all over the carpet, TV, and some on the coffee table. It instantly slips off the TV, landing and staining the carpet more. It felt good at that moment to lash out on the movie trailer, but not anymore after seeing the mess that you created. But once rational thinking sets in, you’re frustrated with yourself for what you’ve done. You hurriedly look for wipes then run to the TV to clean it.

As you wipe with tenacity, some uninvited memories seep in. You go back to when you were a child, holding the hand of a child whose face you can’t see, or at least, don’t want to see. The environment that surrounds you is a white forest, silence freezing every noise possible, just you and the person standing side-by-side.

You rest your forehead on the sauce-stained TV, sighing heavily as you try to forget what happened long ago. You turn to the fallen pizza, glaring at it with disdain as the red, bloody sauce soaks into what was once a white carpet that blended into the blue morning.

“He doesn’t help kids...he steals them.”

———

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N), you really need to start eating healthier food. Look at your stomach, I’m beginning to see a muffin top.” Suniya jokes as she playfully hits your stomach with a pepperoni sausage.

Suniya is walking ahead of you as you push the shopping cart. She decided to tag along with you to go grocery shopping, implying that this get-together is to make up for the argument that unfolded days prior to this.

“I would eat better if the healthier options were cheaper and tasted better.”

“Hey, there are healthy foods that are cheap too, you know. You just choose not to eat it. Plus, you’re not a kid anymore. Suck it up and eat gross shit for the sake of being in shape,” This is ironic coming from Suniya, since she isn’t in the best shape either. “Maybe you should get a gym membership and start working out. Who knows, maybe you’ll start attracting people.”

“Mm-hmm,” You faintly listen to her as you’re trying to decide on which graham cracker brand you want to buy. “Oh yea, which pizza brand do you think has the least amount of tomato sauce?”

Suniya sulks, a little annoyed that you aren’t listening to her, but this is typical for you to be like that with her. “I dunno. Figure it out yourself. Why?”

“Eh,” you shrug your shoulders. “The sauce is the messiest part of the pizza. Do you think I should start eating hot pockets?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t fucking know. Pick both if it makes it easier.”

“No, but pizza is messy. I wanna know if hot pockets are not as messy with the sauce.”

“Why does it matter? Just use a napkin or don’t eat like a toddler!”

“...I’ll go with hot pockets.”

You push the cart ahead of Suniya as she stares at you with a look of disbelief. No matter how long you two have known each other, she will never understand how your brain is wired. She shakes her head, shrugging it off as one of your unusual habits again.

“By the way, your mother called me. She said you weren’t picking up the phone and she wanted to know if you’re doing alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“...Why don’t you just call her back and tell her that?”

“I have you to pass on my message.”

“You know…” her tone deepens. “Your mom wants to talk to you directly. She wants to know how you’re doing in your voice.”

“What difference will it make? She’ll just pretend that she’s worried about me but all she’s gonna do is yell at how I can’t take care of myself and I need a new job.”

She sighs. “But she’s still your mom. You can’t forget that she raised you.”

“I’ll call her later. I have some more articles to write and I don’t need the distraction.”

But she knew that you meant never, you just wanted to end the conversation. She looks through the aisles, clearly frustrated with your lack of keeping a conversation going.

“You know, you shouldn’t worry about work so much.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s all you ever think about. Don’t you have anything else that you’re passionate about? Like, I dunno, making friends, going out, finding a boyfriend?”

“Not really. I haven’t put much thought into any of those. They’re a waste of time and money.”

“(Y/N),” she puts her hand to her hips. “Your isolation is only going to drive you even more insane. You won’t have anyone to rely on, and you’re just going to be miserable.”

A vein protrudes from your forehead, but your expression remains stagnant. “But I have you, don’t I?”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t just rely on me. I have a family to take care of. And you should also.”

Even though you behave as if you’re ignoring her, her words bleed into your brain. You know too well that you’re getting closer to the age of settling into a life of family-hood, but it isn’t Suniya who decides what you have to do with your life. Still, what she says makes your chest ache, the desire to deny her claims of your spiral to insanity, all the while being completely aware of her concerns.

Suniya’s phone rings, so she takes it out from her purse to see an unknown number on her screen. She accepts the call, putting it to her ear.

“Hello?”

A feminine voice can be heard from the other line. Other than a ‘hi’, you can’t make what she’s saying, and Suniya’s lack of expression doesn’t help either.

“Uhm...yes. She is with me.”

An eyebrow raises, your curiosity peaking. You stare at her, squinting your eyes. She does look at you, but she doesn’t say anything to fill in the blanks.

“Sure.”

She hands the phone to you. You’re confused, looking at the phone and wondering what to do with it. She nudges it to you, so you take it.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this (Y/N)?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“Hi, my name is Kim, and I’m calling because I read your article the other day.”

Assuming that this is an angry reader, you’re about to hang up the phone when Suniya raises her hands up, signaling for you not to. You silently sigh, putting the phone back to your ear.

“You did?”

“I did! And I absolutely loved it!”

“Oh, really?” But it takes a few seconds for you to let that sink in. “Wait, really??”

“Yes! I reread it hundreds of times, and everything you said accurately portrays exactly how I feel about the movie as well.”

You glance at Suniya, and she smiles, nodding to let you know that this isn’t a prank. You’re at a loss of words that there’s someone who genuinely enjoyed your article. No one’s ever reached out to give you compliments, so you don’t know what to say.

“Uhm, thank you.”

“It’s no big deal. I saw the feedback you received, and it seems like not a lot of people liked it. You see, I’m a mythologist. I study extensively on the Winter Bear folklore. Based on the information on your publication’s website, it doesn’t seem like you know anything about it, but you nailed every detail of the myth precisely.”

“...Yea.”

“What I wanted to talk about is that I would like you to help me with my research on the Winter Bear.”

You crease your eyebrows. “...Excuse me?”

“You see, even though I study myth, I have a strong feeling that this isn’t some mere local folklore. You seem to know a lot about it, and I would like to get to know you more. Perhaps even go to the town to investigate more about it.”

“No.” You’re about to hang up again.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

You give her a third chance, putting the phone back to your ear.

“I can compensate for your help in return! We can help each other. I’m trying to write a book and get it published before the Winter Bear movie comes out. I want to expose the real story behind, not the watered-down, kiddy version of it.”

She piques your interest. “Go on.”

“In return, I’ll help back up your article, I’ll even reference and credit you for aiding me in the research. As long as we’re able to complete the book before the release of the movie, then it’s going to be a hit. Imagine all the clicks you’re going to get in your article after my book is published. You’ll definitely make more than you can ever imagine with any ordinary article.”

“I’ve already received enough criticism as it is with just the trailer. How is a full-length movie and your book going to benefit me?”

“It’s going to be a bit...greedy of me to say, but you aren’t paid by the number of nice comments you get. You get it by how many people click on your online articles. If you ignore the negative comments, didn’t you notice that your pay got relatively higher than normal?”

As much as you don’t want to admit it, it’s true. “Yes.”

“That’s what I’m saying! That’s why we gotta get this finished before the movie. What do you say?”

You fall silent, and it makes Kim think that you actually hung up this time. Talking about the town where the tale of the Winter Bear brings up the memories again. You remember looking down at your small hands, pressing it on the snow as you knelt down. The stiffness in your hands from the cold perfectly describes how you’re feeling right now. It’s strange, when you look back to the time when you were there during winter, it was dead silent.

Your numb hands, stuck in the unforgiving snow, not a sound to comfort you in this recycling memory. It’s strange, it’s only your hands that are cold, not your knees, not your face, nothing. Are you ready to go to that place that you tried so hard to forget? Can you unveil those childhood memories?

You recall that toddler. It was only a split second, but every detail of her is vivid. That baby blue-striped dress, wearing a pink parka over it. Her tiny brown boots treading through the snow, being matted by the pure white. She turns around, and she resembles you a lot.. Her nose red and runny, yet the brimming smile on her face is the only sunlight of that gray memory. The silence is filled with her childish laughter that’s devoid of flaws, as she had yet to be tainted by the world.

“Annie.” Your past-self calls her.

“I’ll do it.”

“That’s great! Then I’ll send you an email and we can set up a day to go to the town. I look forward to working with you in the near future.”

“Yea.”

She hangs up.

“So, what did she say?”

“She wants to work with me.”

“Really?? That’s great! So, how is it going to work out?”

You aren’t entirely sure. You agreed to it on a whim without putting much thought on the consequences. Now you’re a little regretful for saying yes, especially since you don’t want anything to do with it, but since you dedicated an entire article on it, it must mean that a part of you wants to return. You don’t know how your brain works sometimes, like you go into autopilot and another force makes the decisions for you.

“We’re going to the town where that movie took inspiration from, Little Bare.”

———

At the bustling train station, Suniya helps push you through the tight crowd. You keep looking down at your phone, squinting at a picture that Kim took of herself. You’ve never met her in person and most of your conversations with her took place through phone calls and text messages. This will be the first time you’ll see her in person.

“Why the hell is the station so busy on a Tuesday?!” Suniya whines.

Standing right under the ‘Station E’ sign is Kim. She’s a lot shorter than you thought, standing at approximately 4’10”. Her black-framed glasses and messy bun along with her back slouching really gives the impression that she spends a lot of time sitting down, probably reading or researching, and you’re not far from your assumption. She’s focused on writing in her notebook, not paying attention to her surroundings whatsoever, not even caring when a salaryman bumped into her.

“Excuse me, are you Kim?”

She looks up and immediately closes her book. “Hello! You’re (Y/N), right?”

You nod.

She extends her hand out for a handshake, and you take it, taking notice of how sweaty they are. “It’s nice to finally meet you! Is that your agent?”

“Hello, I’m Suniya. We spoke on the phone before.”

“Right, I remember. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Suniya nods. “Yes. The train should be arriving soon, so do you mind if I talk to you for a bit, Miss Kim?”

“Sure.”

She pulls Kim aside, far enough from you. You know that she’s going to be talking about you, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

“What is it that you need to talk to me about privately?”

“It’s about (Y/N).”

“Hm? What about her?”

Suniya looks at you, seeing as you’re looking down at your phone. “You see…since I’m not coming on this trip with you guys, can I request you to take care of her?”

Kim is a little taken aback, as you seemed like a fully grown adult who is capable of taking care of yourself. “Sure…”

“You see...she’s a bit...disconnected.”

She wrinkles her eyebrows. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I think she has selective memory loss. She experienced some trauma that still affects her today—so much that she tends to block anything that stresses her out too much because that’s how she’s always dealt with her problems. So if she’s spacing out, then that’s why.”

From the distance, you blend well with the crowd, no different than a modern citizen focused on her phone. You don’t look lost—you look so sure of yourself like nothing disturbs you. Your outward appearance doesn’t make you sound like the description that Suniya gave.

“Selective as in, she can willingly forget things?”

She nods. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever she went through as a child, it must’ve been that bad that she doesn’t have any recollection of it. I don’t mean to scare you, but if she behaves abnormally, don’t be afraid to call me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take good care of her. If I feel comfortable working with her, then I would’ve long since canceled our plans.” She smiles.

Still, Suniya is unsure. It feels wrong, talking about you in this way.

———

On the train, you and Kim are sitting across from each other. The slight bumps create a rhythmic sound as the train speeds to your destination, and there is a lack of conversation from other passengers with the only voice being the overhead of an automated woman alerting the passengers of their next stops. You sit by the window, watching the bushes pass by faster than the mountains from a distance. Kim is on her laptop, typing at the speed of light.

“I might be prying a bit too much, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.”

“Hm?”

“Have you been to Little Bare before?”

You don’t respond—you don’t even look at her.

“Sorry, I stepped over the line. I was just curious because you seem to have more information than your typical person—”

“Yea, I went there once.”

She wasn’t expecting you to answer, so she stutters with her next line of words.

“My family and I went on a road trip during winter break. We got stuck in a blizzard and stayed at the inn there until it died down.”

“Oh, that’s very interesting!” She puts it down in her notebook. “Do you remember what you did there?”

“...Not really.” You lie.

“Oh…” She clears her throat to get rid of the uncomfortable atmosphere she created. “Well...it’s a good thing we’re going back. It’ll help you regain those memories again.”

“How did you know that I went there before?”

“I just assumed because you seem to know a little more about that folklore, not the watered-down version of it.”

“Yea.”

After that, neither of you say anything. This must be what Suniya was saying when she said that you don’t look like you’re paying attention, or you’re distracted by something else. She keeps herself busy by going back to her notebook.

———

At Little Bare, you and Kim exit the train. The wind blows against your hair, giving you the chills. You put your hands in your pocket while you stare at the town that haunts you. Every building is made out of wood, and the newer ones are built from bricks. The town is so small that you can see where it ends from the other side.

“It’s so cold! It’s supposed to have its first snow tonight, so it makes sense. But holy crap...I already can’t stand it.”

The train leaves, leaving you and Kim in a town nearly desolated. It lacks human contact, not a single person in sight. And there it is again—the dead silence. It was there before, and it hasn’t left. You wouldn’t describe it as nostalgia, but a boogeyman welcoming you back to your nightmare.

“Where do we even go?”

“I think down here.”

You walk down the staircase, hearing dead leaves being crushed beneath your feet. You enter through the main entrance of the town with a tall sign towering over you and Kim that reads: ‘Welcome to Little Bare’. You inspect the town, and the buildings made out of wood have turned dark brown after soaking in morning fog and rain. Resting your hand on the walls seems like it’s enough to give you splinters. It isn’t only the buildings that show after-signs of rain, but the streets as well. There are wet patches in the street, giving off the strong scent of wet black tar.

“Is...this the right place? It looks like a ghost town.”

You shake your head. “It’s exactly the same as I remembered.”

The general store is still there the last time you were here, one of the first buildings you’ll see when you enter this place. Directly across the street is the bar, just as empty as it was in the past during the day. The only difference is that everything has aged dramatically, those twenty years taking a  toll on the town.

“Where is everybody?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no reception here because of the high elevation, so I can’t pull up a map. There’s no physical map of this place either.”

You and Kim creep into the town more, with her peeking through the large glass windows of the general store. Her eyes light up when she sees someone standing by the front cash register. An elderly man, sitting on a chair with his back slouched, reading a newspaper.

“Oh, there’s somebody there,” you point at the man. “Let’s ask them for directions.”

You both move closer to the store, and once you’re close enough, the old man notices you two. When making eye contact with you two, Kim waves her hand as a means of greeting him. Rather than returning the greeting, the elderly man grabs a broomstick and walks out of the store, raising the broom over his head and jogging right toward you two.

“Get the hell outta here before I beat your asses myself!”

You and Kim step back, raising your hands to defend yourselves. She grabs onto your arm, and you cling onto her sleeve.

“Wait, wait, wait!” She shouts. “We’re just tourists!”

“I said get outta here! We don’t need no city people here to take what’s ours!”

“We’re not here to take anything!!”

“I said get out!!”

“What’s going on?!” An overweight woman runs out of the room. “Honey! What the fucking shit are you doing?!”

The man stops and turns around, seeing his wife marching after him. She slaps him on the back multiple times, so much that he drops the broom and waves his hands as a means of protection. After hitting him until he’s tame, the woman turns to you and Kim.

“I’m so sorry for my husband. We just had some unwanted guests come by a few days ago givin’ us some papers to sign thinkin’ we can’t read shit, so we’re all on guard,” she puts her hands to her hips. “The name’s Margaret, and this brainless man is Gerald. So, what brings two beautiful, young women here?”

You two look at each other, then back at the woman.

“Uhm..My name’s Kim. We’re here to research the myth of the Winter Bear.”

Upon bringing up the name, Margaret’s smile disappears. “Oh god...you really are just like them. So then, you girls better give me one good reason to welcome you guys in. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to kick your asses outta here.”

And just like that, someone who you two thought was civilized quickly turns sour. Knowing the amount of pain that she can enforce, you and Kim are faced with a ticking time bomb. Kim desperately flips through her notebooks, seeing if she can show any of her records to impress her.

“Uhm...wait, please, Mrs. Margaret! We don’t know who you’re talking about, but w-we have no intention of hurting anyone. I-if you look at my notes, you can tell that I’m genuinely interested in writing about this myth! Y-you see, I’m an author, and Miss (Y/N) is a journalist. We’re working together!”

But this doesn’t convince Margaret at all. She glares at you two, picking up the broom Gerald dropped. Kim freaks out more, seeing if she can find anything to offer.

“We have money! We can pay for anything!!”

That doesn’t work either. For a writer, she does a poor job of persuading. You try to think of anything to support Kim. You look around, biting your nail as sweat begins to form. You hate this—being put on the spot to problem-solve. It makes you dizzy, making you want to escape as soon as possible.

You squeeze your eyes shut, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve been here before!”

Margaret stares at you, raising an eyebrow. You got her attention, so you take this chance to breathe.

“I came here during winter...when I was a child.”

The fury burning underneath Margaret’s eyes turns into sympathy. She lowers the broomstick, tears forming in her eyes as if she reunited with a long lost relative. To your surprise, she wraps her arms around you, catching both you and Kim off guard.

“You poor girl.”

Kim is absolutely confused. She looks at you in hopes of getting an explanation, but your expression is blank. You’re overwhelmed with multiple emotions, coming all together at once unsure of how to express them at once. It’s like when all colors come together to make white. The only thing you can do is hug her back.

———

On the second floor of the general store, you and Kim are sitting in their almost run-down kitchen. The flowery wallpapers are peeling, brown and yellow stains running down until it hits the dusty floorboards, and age-old grease stains and black food chunks occupying the stove. There’s also a gigantic hole in the ceiling.

Margaret sets down a tray of hot chamomile tea on the table. “Sorry for our shitty first impression. Things have just been so heated lately that we’re stressed out of our minds.”

You and Kim take a cup, blowing it before drinking, but Kim drinks it without issue. You want to rest your arms on the table, but it’s so sticky that it makes you quiver just thinking about the last time it was ever cleaned.

“It’s okay! From the looks of it, you guys went through a lot,” Kim replies in an optimistic tone. “What happened?”

Margaret grabs a nearby chair and sits down, placing her elbow on the table without hesitation and running her hand through her gray, curly hair. “We got these big companies, Dismaland or whatever the fuck their name is, demanding that we turn our town into a tourist attraction for a  movie they’re making. You know, those family-friendly kinds. I dunno much ‘bout it since the mayor is the one who spoke to them, but we turned it down. Since then, they’ve been harassing us to sign their papers, so every young-lookin’ person dressed almost like you guys, we try kicking them out.”

You never realized how bad it’s gotten here. It was just as hostile as you remember in your memories, but a little worse since your parents were there to defend you.

“I swear to God, we’re nice people, but we gotta put up our guard if those bastards keep on coming back,” she sighs heavily. “But to be brutally honest, I really do think we need the money. As you can tell, our place is a shithole, and those big guys are willing to give us a small portion of the money.”

“But it isn’t really about the money, is it?” You ask.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Rather, she nods.

“You’re damn right. Those corporations don’t realize that they’re creating the biggest graveyard in history.”

Kim’s eyes widen, covering her mouth as she stares at you and Margaret. “No way...you mean to tell me…”

Margaret nods again. “This ‘Winter Bear’ ain’t no fable. It’s real.”

Kim places her hands flat on the tables. “Kids actually go missing?! I knew it! Everything was just too suspicious to be simply a story.”

“Yea, so even if we need the money to keep the town going, we ain’t gonna risk some kids’ lives for it.”

“Wait,” Kim pauses. “So then...if the disappearances of children are real, then what’s the actual cause of it? Don’t tell me it’s actually a bear.”

She shakes her head. “We don’t know either. All we know is that once the kids go into the forest, they don’t come back.”

Margaret glances at you, but you avoid her gaze. You act as if you have nothing to do with the conversation, sipping the tea.

“But that doesn’t make sense. Bears hibernate during winter and these disappearances happen around this time. Wouldn’t it make more sense that it’s some other animal or a person? Not a bear. And only winter?” Kim scratches her head.

“Not to sound like a smartass, but bears actually don’t hibernate.”

“What?? Really?”

“They sleep longer during the winter to save energy, but they wake up in case of danger or hunger. It is possible that you can still encounter a bear.”

“So then...do you think it’s possible that bears eat the children due to the lack of food?”

Margaret shrugs her shoulders. “That could be it, but let me ask you this: wouldn’t you think a bear would leave traces of the child? Clothes? Blood? Something? They disappear into thin air, almost like they never existed.”

This sends chills down Kim’s spine. She’s heard of this many times, but hearing it from an actual resident who has lived through children going missing is terrifying...but also intriguing.

“That means that we have to check the forest! Wait, Miss (Y/N), you said that you came here before. If kids go missing, then how did you survive?”

You stare at the wall, noticing how particularly yellow it is. Judging by how dirty the place is, it makes you wonder if the wallpaper was white but got stale as time went by. You’ve been very quiet, not bothering to put your input, and this concerns Margaret. She knew that Kim was stepping over her boundaries.

“...(Y/N)?” Kim asks. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yea, I’m fine.”

“After your tea, I can show you young ladies where to go for the inn.”

Kim doesn’t read the atmosphere, not seeing how uncomfortable you’ve become. You clench onto the teacup, pinching the handle with all your might. You were confident when the thought of coming here sprung up, but being physically here is more demanding than you could’ve ever imagined.

———

Some time has gone by since the visit to Margaret’s place. She showed you two around the place, introducing you to some of the residents. Some of them you remember, but others you don’t. They don’t recognize you either, and Margaret is kind enough not to share your name with them. Once she’s finished showing you two around town, she eventually leads you two to the inn.

In the room, Kim is taking a shower while you sit by the edge of your bed. Despite struggling to find reception, the inn miraculously has some, although a bit slow. You have over fifty text messages from only two people—Suniya and your mother. Both of their messages are asking how you and Kim are doing. However, you turn off your phone, sighing as you toss it aside. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling fan blanketed with dust. The fan itself looks like it’ll fall any second, seeing as it shakes even from the lightest movement.

You were naive to think that your problems will be solved if you stepped into Little Bare again. It’s more complicated than you expected, and now you want out. However, you’ve already promised to work with Kim; you can’t break the deal. You wish Suniya was here to yell at you, to tell you that you’ve made a dumb decision. That way, it would at least sound like she cares. Even though you’ve gotten to know Kim a little more, it still feels like you’ve stranded yourself on a foreign land.

And that image of the little girl, Annie, continuously appearing every time you close your eyes. Every corner of this town reminds you of her, like a ghost haunting you. You can sense her presence in the corner of the room, purposely watching you with hollow, blackened holes for eyes. She’s standing there in her pink parka and blue-striped dress, waiting for you to make your next move.

You groan, rubbing your eyes. You apply enough pressure that your eyes are being pushed back, rubbing so fast that your skin turns red. No matter how much you try to push the thoughts away, she just keeps coming back. Just as Kim exited the room, you get off the bed, taking your jacket and heading straight to the door.

“Where are you going? You look like you’re in a rush to start a mission.”

“It’s too small in here. I need some fresh air.”

“O-oh, okay...but please stay safe! Who knows what kinds of creeps are out there.”

“I will. Thanks.” You open the door and close it behind you.

———

You walk around, hands in the pockets of your jacket. There is no wind, but the drop in temperature stiffens your muscles. Just like in the morning, no one is occupying the streets. It’s just you, alone, with your bothersome thoughts. It manifests into a black aura, clinging onto the back of your head.

You thought about heading to Margaret’s place just to get things off of your chest, but you change your mind. She never directly stated it, but she knew who you were and what you went through. It was an odd moment that she sympathized with you without knowing exactly what had happened.

A flashy neon sign catches your attention. It’s in the shape of a brown beer bottle, pouring bubbles into a glass wine. It’s the bar that’s across the street of the general store called Bar & Grill. You’re not a drinker, but when your stress gets overwhelming, you tend to be persuaded by the lust of alcohol. Wanting to get rid of this black aura looming, you make the decision to enter the bar.

———

Your head is on the counter table, your arms around it to hide your red face. The inside of the place has very few people, only a few men who just came back from work, but even these men are barely whispering a word. The bartender stands on the other side of the counter, cleaning the glass cups with a white cloth.

“Hey, Miss. Do you have someone to take you home?”

You groan.

The bartender sighs. “You’re a young woman. Do you know how easy it is to be preyed on?”

“I can...handle myself,” you raise your head up, one eye open. “I practically raised myself! What makes you think I’m irresponsi...ble? You dunno me.” You slur your words.

The bartender sets the cup down, putting her hand on her hip and leaning on the counter. She isn’t sure if your red, watery eyes are because you drank so much or if you’re becoming emotional.

“You’re one of those researchers that came here earlier today, huh? Marge told me,” she shakes her head. “Jesus Christ, you city people really don’t know the limits to drinking.”

Next to you are five empty beer cups with the foam sliding down on the sides. You snicker at how much you drank, followed by a hiccup. “Wow, you’re right. I’m usually good at self-control. I know how to control my problems, but tonight is not one of those times.”

“It’s not that you’re good at controlling your problems. You’re just good at avoiding them. Marge told me about you, and no offense, but she thinks it’s fucking strange that you don’t look like you’re bothered that your sister was taken away by that monster. But I disagree. You’re pretending like it ever happened.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to assume how I feel??”

“Our place is practically off-coordinates with maps, but we still have those runaways who come to the bar every so often. You’re no different from them. So…”

“What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She crosses her arms. “I won’t tell anybody. We pretend that tonight never existed.”

You rummage your hand through your messy hair, calming down. It might be the toxication persuading you, but you’re not comfortable telling her.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh really?”

“I don’t want to, and it’s because I don’t know how to talk about it. If I can’t even talk to my mom about it, then why the hell do you think I can tell you? When I did want to bring Annie’s disappearance up, my mom would change the subject. It’s not only that, but it was like...she wanted to make me disappear too. And I know it’s because she fucking blames me for losing her, and seeing my face reminds her that she lost her baby. She always favored Annie anyway, so it wasn’t surprising that when she went missing, she...she said…”

You have a flashback of when you were a child during the aftermath. You and your parents returned safely home but without Annie. Your six-year-old mind thought that if you stared at Annie’s cradle in your parents’ bedroom every so often, she would magically return. But to your dismay, your efforts were in vain, and she never appeared.

One night, you woke up from a repeating nightmare of the day you lost her, so to soothe your racing heart, you jumped out of your bed and ran to their bedroom to look at her cradle, praying that she’s there. But rather than seeing your parents asleep, they’re sitting by the edge of the bed. Your mother is curled into a ball, sobbing profusely while your father makes attempts to comfort her with shallow pats on the back. In between her cries, you heard:

“Why couldn’t it have been (Y/N)?”

Returning from a trip to the past, taking your wallet out and paying with cash. You put on your coat and head straight to the exit.

“Where are you going?” The bartender asks.

“To sleep.”

You march right out the bar, massaging your head. After opening the doors, you step out and nearly tripped. For a second, your foggy mind thought you stepped through a hole, but it turns out to be snow. Some time has gone since you’ve been holed up in the bar that it already began snowing and it’s piled up.

You wobble to the empty forest, leaving a trace of your footprints. You despise being anywhere near the empty forest that surrounds Little Bare, but with alcohol, you think you’re invincible. You stand in front of the forest, being unable to see into the distance with the fog blocking your view. But amongst the fog, there is an apparition.

You squint your eyes, but they fail to make sense of what stands far away. But what you can make of the figure is that it’s small and crouched over. It’s alive, moving around but at the same time, staying in the same spot. It isn’t far, but it isn’t that close either.

Your mind immediately draws to that apparition being a bear. That bear that took everything away from you--your little sister, your chance at a childhood, a shot at a proper adult life, everything. Anger spurs within you, no longer having that rationality in your fragile mind. Within a spur of impulse, you pick up a rock the size of your hand, pulling it back and throwing directly toward the bear.

“FUCK YOU!” You shout from the top of your lungs.

Despite the influence of alcohol, you nailed the apparition right at its head. It falls to the ground, the sound of a ‘plop’ echoing. In that brief act of revenge, victory overcame you. You nearly raise your hands up in celebration, thinking that you defeated your arch-nemesis. But you manage to return to your senses, realizing that the apparition isn’t a figment of your imagination...but an actual person. Then your adrenaline fades away.

You trek through the thick snow, hopping through it until you enter the forest, whilst tripping and stumbling. You lean over the black figure, rubbing your eyes to make sure that what you’re seeing is real. Unable to stand straight, you fall backward and land on your bottom. After blinking, dread sets in when you realize that it’s a child.

“Oh my god...oh no...help...”

You try to stand up to look for help, but once you do, your vision turns black and you become light-headed. Nausea hits you, wrapping your hand around your stomach to control your gag reflexes. The alcohol, lack of food and water, combined with the high elevation comes altogether, making you fall down again.

As your eyelashes flutter, there’s a flashlight illuminating from the direction where you came from. Just when you’re about to close your eyes, the young boy’s body grows exponentially, growing to an exact size of a fully-grown adult right before you.

———

“Mom! Dad! I made a best friend!! He lives in a cave in the forest with the black trees...No! I’m not lying. He really does live there! He’s six years old like me...What? He’s real!! He doesn’t live with a mom and dad, but he said that he lives with kids like me and him too…

“And I told him that I would show him Annie, too...”

“Don’t…!” You sit up in an unfamiliar room in a cold sweat and heavy breathing.

You’re on a clean bed, made of pure white. On the walls, there are drawings of the human anatomy, motivational quotes plastered on a piece of paper with words such as ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’ and ‘be calm and exercise’.

Next the bed is Kim, startled by you suddenly waking up. “(Y/N)?! Are you okay??”

You look at your hand that’s trembling violently, but now that you’re conscious, the hangover hits you hard like a bullet. That massive headache and your stomach twisted in a knot. There’s a lump in your throat with the urge to throw up, but there’s nothing that’s coming out.

“Where...is this place?”

“It’s the clinic. The bartender found you unconscious with a man in the woods and thought that he was trying to take advantage of you.”

“A man…?”

You search through with what very little that you remember last night. You went to the bar to waste away, then you walked out. There was someone in the forest—a young boy. It was too dark to make sense of the boy’s details, but you just knew based on his shape that it was definitely a male.

“No...no…” You squeeze your eyes shut, enduring the pestering headache as you shake your head. “It...it was a boy. A kid.”

“What?” She raises an eyebrow. “There were no kids around, just the man. They’re interrogating him right now.”

You don’t recall a man being there. You must’ve been that fucked up to mistaken a man for a child. Even though it shouldn’t be an issue, it’s bothering you a lot. You remove the blanket, attempting to get out of bed before Kim stops you.

“What are you doing??”

“I have to see the man.”

“No! The doctor advised that you sit. You haven’t been eating, so you’re light-headed.”

“Let me see him. I need to.”

“Stop being crazy and just rest! They made food for you, so just eat and sleep.”

She puts her arms on you, but you gently push her hands away. “I will after I see him.”

You get out of bed, trying to stand but the light-headedness sets in. Your vision turns black briefly, causing you to stumble over your feet. Kim comes to the aid, helping you balance.

“See? I told you. Just rest.”

“No...I’m good. Do you know where this guy’s room is?”

Seeing how adamant you are about it, she decides to give in. “He’s in the room next to you.”

You head out of the room, walking slowly so that you don’t fall, then exiting the room. In the halls, there’s nobody, making it easier for you to head into the other room without any interruptions. You twist the doorknob, swinging it open to find the doctor and policeman, assuming by the uniforms that they’re wearing for their designated jobs. They turn to you, caught off-guard by your entrance.

The man that you’re looking for is on the bed, tilting his head when you two make eye contact. He has a long face, void of a smile. His black hair is frizzy and curly, strands of it flying all directions as if he just woke up. There are bandages wrapped around his head. After that short contact, he looks away, grabbing the doctor’s sleeve and using it to hide his face.

“Miss (Y/N)? What are you doing up?” The doctor asks.

Kim follows from behind.

“Miss Kim, I told you to watch over her.”

“I’m sorry...but she was persistent in seeing him.”

“Him…?”

Now that you have gotten your opportunity to meet with the man, you don’t know what to do. You stand still, at a loss of words when you meet the man that you ran into the forest. Perhaps you really did run into a man, not a child. You were under the influence, after all.

“Miss (Y/N),” the policeman starts. “Since you seem well enough to be standing, can I have a word with you?”

“Sure…”

———

“Amnesia?”

Returning back to your room, the policeman explains what they were discussing earlier. Kim had returned to the hotel room to give you and the police some privacy, and the doctor is staying with the man.

He sits with his hands folded on his lap, giving you a serious expression. “Yes. It’s a minor blunt-force trauma to the head, like something no bigger than a rock.”

“Oh my god…I was the one who hit him.”

“Did he try to assault you?”

You shake your head. “I did out of anger, but not at him. I was drunk and wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You fear that you’ll get in trouble, but you’re more fearful of the condition that you left the young man in. You weren’t expecting your throw to be that strong. The policeman scratches his beard, figuring out what to do in this situation.

“For all I know, you could be lying.”

You gulp.

“But hey, you could also be telling the truth. We don’t know until we check out the scene and hear his side. He doesn’t remember crap—not even his own name. For now, we’ll continue the investigation.”

You sigh in relief, but that still doesn’t deter the guilt from you. The man is a victim of your outlash, and it’s natural for you to want to make up for what you’ve done, even if it’s minor.

“Uhm...how is he…? The guy, I mean.”

“Other than the total amnesia, he’s in a healthy state. It’s strange, though. Other than a large coat, he was wearing a thin layer of clothes, but his body temperature wasn’t affected by the cold. We don’t have young people living here either, so it’s a mystery where he came from.”

He stands up from the chair, walking to the door.

“Well, it’s nice meeting you, Miss (Y/N). If you remember anything, then don’t be afraid to come to me. My name is Sheriff Tusk, and I’ll be in the police station often.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sheriff Tusk walks out, leaving you alone. You fall back, resting your head on the pillow as you exhale. So much has happened in a short amount of time that it’s difficult to believe that all this actually happened. Even if you got away with being put to jail, you feel immensely guilty for hurting him.

———

The next day, you’ve been discharged from the hospital, suffering only from lack of nutrients and a hangover. Kim is in the room with you, helping you pack your things. Neither of you say much, focusing on putting your belongings away. You keep thinking about the man next-door, wondering how he’s doing. You keep stealing glances at Kim, wanting to ask her if you two can visit him but never gathering enough courage to actually ask her.

“Are you ready?” Kim asks as she puts the last folded shirt into your luggage.

“Hm? Oh, yea.”

You take the luggage from her and head to the door. Kim looks at her phone, once again, seeing that her phone has low reception. You pass by the man’s room, stopping in front of it and nearly causing Kim to bump into you.

“Whoa, what’s going on?”

Without a response, your eyes lay heavily on the door, struggling with the debate of whether or not you should enter.

“...(Y/N)...?”

Eventually, you make the final decision, approaching it and your hand grasping the doorknob. You pull the door open, making Kim confused, but not stopping you from continuing.

Inside the room, your peer at the bed, seeing the man sitting upward with a movable table that has a tray of food on top. He holds a cup of pudding in his hand, eating the chocolate-flavored dessert faster than the sound of light. He eats as though he hasn’t eaten in days, the pudding smearing on the corners of his lips.

It takes a moment for him to sense your presence, jolting and freezing when he sees you. You blink profusely, looking around the room nervously. You wanted to see him again, but you didn’t think about what, or if, you wanted to say something.

The man holds the end of his blanket and pulls it up.

You scratch the back of your neck, looking only at the corner of the room. “Hi, uh...I don’t think I’ve ever formally introduced myself. My name is (Y/N).”

You move closer and extend your hand out, but it makes the man flinch. Seeing that he doesn’t want to accept your hand, you pull it back.

“I don’t know if the doctor told you but...I’m the one who threw a rock at you, which is why you have that injury. I came in to say that I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to you. Rather, he stares as if he’s fearful for his life, his pupils shaking from seeing you. You take one more step, wanting to get to know him, but it makes him flinch.

“I hope you—”

“S-stay away from me…” He whimpers.

His voice is deeper than any man’s voice, and yet his tone is like a scared child. Even the way he pronounced each syllable is with a lisp and not proper, as if he’s slurring. Despite his masculine outlook with his broad shoulders, tall height, and sharp eyes, underneath that shell, he’s fearful and small.

On the right side of you is the bathroom, the door open. You face the mirror, looking at your reflection. You see yourself as an ordinary person, but this man probably sees you as something, not someone, else in his reflection.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. “Miss (Y/N), I think it’s better to leave him alone.”

You know it’s better to do that, but there’s an urge within you, pushing you to stay. There’s an internal battle between you and yourself, the desire to stay and talk to him but leaving him alone to rest. Ultimately, you choose Kim’s suggestion.

You take a few steps back, your courage slowly being broken down with each step. “S-sorry…”

Breaking from a blanked trance, you abruptly pace out of the room and to the lobby. Kim is left confused, her head turning back and forth between you and the man.

“Sorry about bursting into your room. I pray for a healthy recovery.” Kim runs off to find you.

———

You stand just outside the small and aging medical building, Kim eventually catching up to you.

“Hey! What was up with that?”

No response.

“Miss (Y/N)...? Hello?”

“I...I don’t know.”

You couldn’t quite understand it either, unsure of what it was that made it okay to visit him. Despite his amnesia, it seems like he’s aware that you’re the one who injured him. With your behavior worrying her, Kim puts her hands on your shoulders, shaking you slightly.

“Do you know that guy?”

“No...no, not really.”

This is the first time you’ve met him, but there’s something about that man that you can’t put your finger on it. Perhaps it’s the guilt talking to your rationale or the urge to talk to somebody who’s close to your age. You just can’t let go of this.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry about it. The sheriff let you off, so you don’t have to take care of him.”

What Kim says floats over your head. You’re not doing this to appear like a law-abiding citizen. There’s this unconscious instinct that’s pulling you to him. It sounds unrealistic and dramatic, but there’s no other way you can describe this feeling. You turn around, staring at the medical building.

———

“What do you mean I can’t visit?”

In the main lobby, the doctor is sitting behind his desk, reading the newspaper. He lowers his glasses to give you a hollow glare. It’s the next day, and you decided to visit the man a second time but your visitation has been turned down by the doctor.

“Visiting without the patient’s permission, especially consistently, is harassment. I’ve been notified of what happened yesterday, so to protect each patient’s safety, I advise that you leave him alone.”

“But I’m not doing anything bad. I just want to talk to him.”

“I know you don’t have malicious intentions, but he’s still recovering from the head injury. Plus, the police are investigating, so it’s better if you leave him alone to avoid trouble.”

“I know, but…” You trail off.

“And you should be resting as well. You’re slightly anemic and are lacking some sugar in you. I’d say run to the store and buy some ice cream.”

Despite that, you stand still. Eating for your physical health’s sake isn’t your priority, but to see the man again. The desire to see him is just as haunting as seeing delusions of your little sister.

He raises an eyebrow, folding his newspaper up and leaning over his desk. “Why are you so persistent in talking to him? From as far as I can tell, you two don’t know each other.”

He’s asking a question that you don’t know the answer to. He waits for a response, but nothing. You seem hesitant, figuring out why it’s your first instinct to see him. You just have to, but if you tell him that, then he’ll most likely kick you out anyway for an absurd reason.

Seeing as you won’t say anything, he leans back, returning to his newspaper. “Well then, I’m sorry but without a proper reason, I can’t let you see him.”

“But…!”

He sighs, losing his patience with you. “I will call Sheriff Tusk if you don’t leave us alone.”

With the threat of police involvement, it pulls you back. You turn to the door, your shoulders raised up.

“Damn city people, thinking they can do whatever they want.” The doctor whispers.

You stop in your tracks. Normally, you don’t let insults like these get to you, but his tone made it seem like you’re scum. You’re not being stubborn because you think you’re superior to the rest of them, but he paints it that way.

With your eyes filled with red, you spin around, marching right back at the doctor. He notices right away, lowering the newspaper and preparing for an attack from you. You clench your fist, getting ready to let him know what’s been in your mind and conveying that through a punch.

But you purposely look away from him, looking at the corner of the room, your inner voice telling you to stop. When you get to his desk, you nearly slam your hand on it before the last nanosecond, pulling the force back and your fists making a soft landing.

You stare straight into the doctor’s shaking eyes. You exhale heavily, cooling down your temper. “Sorry. I just wanted to say that mold is growing in the corners. You should give it a look.”

He raises an eyebrow, questioning your mental state. Absolutely nothing made sense, not even to you. You turn around and pacing out of the building. He fixes his glasses, having no clue what just happened. He looks at the corner, seeing the black mold growing.

———

Outside of the medical building, you crouch into a fetal position, hiding your face in your knees. You don’t know what’s going on with you. You don’t have full control of your body, and it’s scaring you. One second, you’re oddly pulled toward that strange man, the next second, you let your anger take the driver's seat. You’re beginning to think that you belong in an insane asylum.

“Oh my, what in the devil’s name are you doing?” Margaret jogs to you.

She crouches over, rubbing your back. She takes your arm and helps you stand up. You’re confused, not knowing who’s touching you or where you’re at. You come back to your senses when you see Margaret’s face.

“Don’t be sitting in the snow like that, you crazy woman! Look at you, dressed like a whore out here in the cold and only wearing a thin layer of clothes!”

Calling you a ‘whore’ was a bit uncalled for, but you don’t get angry.

“Jesus Christ, that damn doc discharged you early. That scum of a doc probably let you go early because he’s too lazy to take care of you. C’mon girly, come to my place.”

She holds onto you, letting you lean on her to her place.

———

In her kitchen, Margaret sets a tray of cookies from a tin box in front of you with a warm cup of coffee. You sit with your knees close to your chest, curled up in a ball. You pick up a cookie, but the edges start crumbling. After a bite, it practically falls apart in your mouth and makes your throat dry. You take a sip of the coffee, clearly tasting the stale flavor of the grounded beans and sink water combined. You try not to make a bitter look, but you can’t help it.

“That boy has been stirring shit up even though he’s the one being holed up in that den. The whole town has been talking about him.”

She takes a seat next to you, putting sugar in her coffee and mixing it with a spoon. She takes a sip, smacking her lips after tasting her awful coffee calmly as if this taste is normal to her.

“But seeing a young man is definitely a breath of fresh air. Like with you and your Kimmy friend, it’s rare to see youngins here. Maybe he was with those contractors from the other day and got separated from them.”

It’s the most sensible explanation, but it doesn’t explain why he was alone in the forest. If he was a part of those businessmen, then he would’ve long since gone into the town and asked for help.

“What were you doing there, on your knees like you were prayin’?”

Once again, there’s that hesitation. She looks at you, ready for you to spill your heart out, but two decades of being a closed book, it feels way too strange to share. Just from your silence alone, she can tell that you’re not comfortable yet.

“You know that by clamming it into your brain ain’t gonna make it better. Even if you don’t tell me, I know exactly why you’re freaking out like your ass’s on fire.”

It’s a weird simile, but you take it.

“I know your struggle, but it ain’t like I understand it though. That’s why you gotta explain it.”

You hold the cup with your two hands, looking down at your reflection in the coffee.

“Don’t think that just because you’re all grown up now that I don’t remember what happened to you and Annie. I’ve lived here for thirty years, and every single kid who went missing here has been imprinted in my head. If there’s someone you want to talk to, don’t be afraid to talk. Or…” Margaret wipes imaginary dust off your shoulders, raising her eyebrows and smiling widely like a cartoon character. “I’m wrong and you crushin’ on that boy.”

“What the…? No.”

“Lady, don’t hide it. I saw how much you were beggin’ to see that young lad. I know young love when I see it.”

“It’s not even remotely close,” You don’t know how this turned romantic suddenly. “It’s normal for someone with decent morals to make sure that the person they harmed is okay.”

“Whatever you say, girly.”

It was so long ago, but now you remember. That time when you first came here, Margaret also told your parents to scram. Being no taller than your mother’s waist, she looked like a giant—a real-life monster scaring you to death. You can’t recall the exact words, but she must’ve been just as hostile as she was with you and Kim on the first day. But with the lens of an adult, now you know that those shouts were for concerns. She must’ve seen you and Annie and knew what ill fate was about to occur.

You look out the window and at the clinic. That man is still in his room, doing God knows what. “Margaret, don’t get the wrong impression, but how much are your flowers and candy?”

———

One of the good things about this clinic is that it’s open 24/7, but the doctor sleeps at his desk. You open the door carefully, making sure that you don’t make a noise. You keep your eye on the doctor, nervous that he’ll wake up. In your hands is a bouquet of flowers and on the other is a grocery bag. You move your hands as little as possible, holding two of the loudest objects in your arms. Luckily, you manage to pass by without waking him up, your feet lightly making its way up the stairs and to the man’s room.

As you sneak through the halls, you’re beginning to think of yourself as a creepy person. You really went through the lengths to see a man who you’ve harmed once and spoken to once. You’ve always been questioning your mental stability, but this is pushing it. A part of you wants you to run out, but you’ve already put yourself deep into this mess to leave.

You make it to his bedroom, a single light coming from behind the curtains. You knock on the door, and although you don’t get a response, you can hear the sheets fluttering. You put your hand on the doorknob, but then you pull back, the reality of the situation hitting you hard. Sighing heavily, you think it’s best to leave. At this rate, what you’re doing can get you into massive trouble.

Just as you turn around, you hear a loud bang in the man’s room, followed by the ringing echoes of metal objects dropping. You scrunch your shoulders up, nearly screaming at the sudden loudness. This prompts you to open the door and check what happened.

In the room, you look around, but only darkness wraps around you, taking seconds for your eyes to adjust to it. On the ground is the man, squirming around, entangled in the blanket. You’re unsure of what to do, placing the grocery bag and bouquet on the bed. You attempt to pull the sheets off of him, but his kicking and punching creates a struggle for both of you.

“Hey, you don’t need to move so much…!”

After a while, you’re able to pull it off. When he sees you, he freezes, and you as well. You move back, on your knees, but having no idea how to explain why you’re here, you scratch the back of your neck.

“So uhm...what were you doing on the floor?”

Why did you even ask that, you idiot?! You want to slap yourself, but you remain cool. The man stares at you, having no idea how to answer you. If anything, he seems more frightened than shocked to see you. You try to think of anything to reassure him that you’re not a threat.

You grab the bouquet from the bed and show it to him. “This is for you.”

He stares at it curiously, like he doesn’t know what it is. He reaches over to grab it, but he pulls his hand back.

“Wh...where did you get this?”

“...I got it from the store…?”

Since it’s winter, most of the flowers have been shipped from other areas, but Margaret’s shop didn’t have that many, so the bouquet is rather small. He eyes it in awe as if he’s never seen these before. He pulls a rose out, inspecting every angle. He bends the stem, then picks a petal off. He does it again, and again, and again until his lap is surrounded with red petals. What’s left of the rose is the crooked stem, and the thorns.

He sweeps the crimson petals into a pile, finding the smoothness of it satisfying, pinching them in between his thumb and index finger. He raises his head, giving you round, innocent eyes, pointing at himself. “Are these for me?”

“Y-yea…”

You almost forgot about the second half of the gift. You grab the grocery bag, spilling the content all over the floor. It’s different kinds of candy—chocolate bars, jawbreakers, and gummy worms.

“When I came here last time, you were eating that pudding to death, so I thought you’d like to have more sweets.” You don’t even know if he’s supposed to be consuming this much sugar, but you thought that you just had to buy him these.

You give him a watermelon-flavored hard candy. He tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. That’s when he pops the candy into his mouth, not bothering to remove the wrapper.

“Ah! What are you doing?! Spit it out!” You sit up, pulling yourself closer to him.

Startled by your raised voice, he flinches at first, raising his arms up like you were about to hit him. He spits out the candy immediately, that childish curiosity disappearing. You move back, wondering if your loud tone scared him.

“You...you can’t eat it like that. You have to take off the wrapper first.”

You wait for him to pick up the wet candy, but he doesn’t. Not wanting to pick up the saliva-covered candy, you pick up a different one, showing it to him.

“Copy me.”

He picks up the one he spat out, pinching the wrinkled edges just like you. You pull it outward, the wrapper spinning and loosening. Once the twists come off, you unpeel the plastic, showing him a hardened sphere. You put in your mouth, letting the sweetness soak in your mouth.

“Like that.”

He does what you do, the candy twirling until it’s untwisted. He takes it out, eating it, and that’s when his eyes widen, astonished by how sweet it is.

“It’s sweeter than pudding!” He exclaims.

His enthusiasm for how sweet candy is is absolutely weird...yet endearing. For a man who’s around your age to behave like he’s experiencing sugar for the first time is abnormal, but it makes you feel...warm inside.

He tries to bite the candy, but he wasn’t expecting it to be this difficult and ends up hurting his jaw. “Ow…but it’s not soft like pudding.”

You hold back the urge to laugh. He definitely has been living under a rock if he didn’t know that he can’t bite it down so easily. That’s probably why the doctor gave him soft foods.

He reaches for another one, but you stop him. “What are you doing?”

“I want to eat another one.”

“I-I know it’s for you but...you should wait to have more in the morning. It’s not good for your teeth.”

He’s saddened, but he obeys. He folds his hand, but his eyes won’t leave the candy that you dropped everywhere. Unable to say no to his puppy eyes, you give him candy that’s easier to chew. Not letting him unwrap it himself, you open it for him.

“This is taffy. It’s strawberry flavor. I think you might like it.”

You give it to him, and lights sparkle behind his eyes. He eats it, savoring the taste. Seeing his smile makes you feel fuzzy, like seeing how genuinely happy he is for something as simple as getting candy makes you want to smile too.

“Uhm...I don’t know if I ever got your name,” but then you recall that he doesn’t remember his name. “Actually, wait...never mind.”

“...Taehyung.”

Taehyung? It sounds out of place for a town like Little Bare. He definitely isn’t from here, which only brings more mystery as to who he actually is. Other than that, it’s a unique name foreign to you.

“I’m...sorry for hitting you on the head. I wasn’t thinking straight and did something really stupid…”

“Yea, it really hurt,” he points out blatantly. “Just promise me that you won’t do it again. Not just to me, but to anybody else.”

It felt out of sorts that somebody as immature as Taehyung would give you a lecture, but you nod. “Promise.”

“Okay.” And just like that, he continues eating the taffy.

He scoots closer to you, losing the tensity in his muscles. Your determination to see him has finally died down, and now the timidness is entering your body. It’s impossible to distract yourself from him, watching him eat with absolute happiness, glad that you ignored the urge to run away and stayed.

You stare at the candies on the ground, the sensation of nostalgia overcoming you. You ate these when you were a child, and you ate these a lot with Annie, especially the watermelon-flavored candy. Since her disappearance, it was difficult for you to consume these again. But times have changed, and you bought these impulsively for Taehyung.

You bite the candy that’s in your mouth, breaking it into pieces to swallow, then putting the watermelon one in. Eating it was like going back in time, being that six-year-old, naive girl. You even ate this when you were here, fighting with Annie and not sharing one until your mother yelled at you to share. It’s such a trivial memory, but one that you remember vividly.

But this is the reason why you avoided anything relating to this town. It brings back memories that you tried so hard to bury deep in your head. You don’t want to be re-attached to emotions that you cut the strings to. You flutter your eyelashes, raising your head at the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. You can hear Annie’s laughter, holding her small, chubby hands as you two run through the snow. You exhale slowly, but it’s shaky, and your chest feels heavy.

“(Y/N)...are you okay?” Your trance is broken when you hear Taehyung’s voice.

You return to your senses, surprised that he remembers your name. “N-no...I’m just...I just haven’t...it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, observing you fighting back the tears as you rub your eyes. With your eyes closed, he extends his hand out, reaching for your head, but when you open them back up, he pulls it back immediately.

———

“Oh no, Tae, what happened this time??”

“They were pushing me around again. They were throwing snowballs and telling me to go away. They kept telling me that they don’t play with immigrants. What does that mean?”

“...Ignore them. Tell me where they hit you.”

“My head...they kept aiming there.”

“A snowball is not supposed to hurt. Oh dear God...you’re bleeding again. Don’t tell me, did they put rocks in the snowballs again??”

“I don’t know...but it really hurts.”

“My poor child…”

“...Mom…”

“Yes?”

“...Am I an alien?”

“What? No! You’re Kim Taehyung, the strongest boy.”

“But...I’m skinnier than the rest of the kids. Plus...they keep saying that I have small eyes. I can never beat them at racing.”

“Taehyung. Do you know what’s the strongest forest animal?”

“What?”

“A bear. They’re huge and can beat up anything that stands in their way. But you know what else makes a bear strong? Not only physical strength, but their will power to stay alive too. You may be a cub right now, but when you grow up, you’re going to be the strongest bear in the entire world! You’re going to be so strong that you won’t need to hibernate like the rest of the grizzlies. That’s why, no matter what, Taehyung, you’ll always be my baby bear. When you’re in trouble, call for me and I’ll be there. I promise I won’t leave you. Now, let’s get you treated at the clicnic.”

———

“Are you insane??” Kim’s booming voice echoes across the inn. Kim’s hands are on her hips, like a mother scolding her child.

You’re by the edge of the bed, startled by her voice.

“Did you really think that the doctor wouldn’t see the things you left for that guy? The doctor told me everything this morning. What the hell were you thinking, sneaking into his room late at night??”

You sigh, unbuttoning your coat. “His name is Taehyung.”

“His name doesn’t matter. What matters is that you broke into his room. It’s already enough that you nearly got in trouble for injuring him, but this? This is pushing it!” She wants to say more, but letting her anger out on you won’t do anything to ease it.

The way she lectures you reminds you of Suniya, and it might be because Kim is beginning to understand what she meant when she said that you’re disconnected. Logic does not correlate with you and you do things erratically.

“But I didn’t hurt him this time. We had a little chat, and I gave him a few things.”

“But did it really have to be during the middle of the night?”

It didn’t, but there was no other way if the doctor was going to keep you away from him.

“Is it because you felt bad?”

“...I guess? He’s a really nice guy. You should talk to him. Everything he says is interesting.”

You don’t need her to tell you that what you did was wrong, but perhaps she’s doing it because of how nonchalant you are.

“Miss (Y/N)...you can’t forget about why we’re here. This isn’t a vacation, we’re working, and we both haven’t even jotted down a single word. Fooling around with a stranger—”

“Taehyung.”

“...Taehyung...Talking to him is going to waste more time. He’s not paying for our meals.”

You fold your hands on your lap, glaring at it. She can tell you feel a little guilty, so she tries figuring out how to talk to you without you becoming withdrawn. She takes a seat next to you, but makes a clear gap between you and her.

“Remember why we’re here. There’s a story that we have to tell, right? To warn people that this place isn’t meant to be lived in.”

You pick on your fingernails, fully aware of your purpose for being here...but seeing Taehyung was almost like a calling...That night, talking and eating candy on the floor, it felt like an eternity since you last spoke to someone that didn’t have anything to do with work. Even though you’ve never met him before, it felt like you’ve known him for years.

“Yea...yea, yea. I know.”

“If you know, then let's start our work today. We’ve gotten comfortable with this place, so let’s start by interviewing the townspeople.”

“Okay.”

———

Laying on his back is Taehyung, raising his arms up and staring at the candy wrapper. He covers the ceiling light with the wrapper, and he smiles while thinking of you.

“Taehyung, focus.” The doctor snaps his fingers.

Taehyung flinches and crunches the wrapper in his hand. Sitting on a stool next to the bed is the doctor with a clipboard.

“Answer my questions. Have you recollected any memories since your stay here?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“Nothing?”

He nods.

“So is it really your name that you only remember?”

He nods again.

“And you have no idea where you’re from? Not a clue?”

He shrugs his shoulders. His lack of vocal response irritates the doctor slightly, but forcing Taehyung to answer won’t solve anything either.

“Well then, your health is improving exponentially, so you’ll be discharged soon. If you still can’t remember who you are, then we have to figure out where you can stay.”

The doctor gets up and leaves the room. Waiting in the hallway is Sheriff Tusk, his arms crossed. They look at each other, disappointed looks on their faces.

“Anything?” Tusk asks.

The doctor shakes his head. “I can’t get anything out of him. He’s got the mentally of a child stuck in a man’s body. Despite that, he’s recovering at a rapid pace, faster than an average person. His internal injuries are practically gone and all he has left is for his scar to go away. But...something did happen last night.”

“What?”

“That city chick, (Y/N), snuck in here.”

Sheriff Tusk throws his head back. “What in the hell…? For what?”

“To drop off some gifts for him.”

“...You don’t think she’s tryna coerce him? She is the reason why he’s here.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I have no clue. I’m not sure if you remember, but she’s the one with the missing sister.”

“Oh, that’s the girl? Why the hell is she back here for?”

“From what Margaret said, she and her friend are here to write a book.”

Sheriff Tusk sighs, running his hand through his beard. “Fucking shit...It’s already enough that those goddamn contractors keep coming back…”

“Well, technically the girls aren’t causing harm, so far. I can have Margaret keep an eye on them.”

“Alright...I’ll continue with the investigation. For now, make sure that that young man doesn’t leave. Once I get things together, I have a few questions for him too.”

The doctor nods and Tusk walks off. Once the sheriff walks out of the building, he turns around and returns to Taehyung’s room. But when he opens the door, he nearly has a heart attack from Taehyung, who stands inches away from the door.

“Jesus Christ…! What are you doing out of bed?!”

“I heard you say (Y/N). Is she here?”

He thought that he and the sheriff were speaking quietly, so he wasn’t expecting Taehyung to eavesdrop, but he forgot that the walls are thin. He’s worried that he might’ve heard what they said, but he simply stares at the doctor with curious, naive eyes.

“No, she isn’t.”

“Do you know when she’s coming back?”

“No idea. Just go to bed.”

The demand from the doctor saddens Taehyung. He drops his head, slugging his feet across the room and back to his bed. Just like what Tusk said, the doctor is concerned that you might’ve influenced him to ruin the investigation between you and him, but it seems like he really likes you.

He puts his hands in his pocket. “Taehyung, be truthful with me. Did (Y/N) say anything to you?”

Taehyung rummages through his pockets and shows the doctor a handful of plucked petals and candy wrappers. “She showed me how to eat candy and gave me flowers. When you eat it, you have to take off this cover-thingy…” He pinches the wrapper.

“Mm-hm, okay. Anything else?”

“...Hm...oh, she also seemed kind of sad.”

“She what?”

He tries copying what you did last night, raising his head up and staring at the ceiling. “She wasn’t crying like a baby, but her eyes got watery.”

It’s no surprise. When the doctor first saw you, you seemed like a broken person upon first glance. But he didn’t want to say anything, believing it might’ve been too sensitive of him.

“...I think she hates me.”

“Hm? What makes you think that?”

“You said that she told you that she threw a rock at me and was angry, then she looked sad when she was with me. I think I hurt her before I forgot my memories.” He has a sullen look on his face.

Pitiful is what the doctor would describe Taehyung. His way of thinking is too pure...too black and white. There’s no complexity in him, so if the doctor were to discharge him, he would have no chance of surviving out there.

He leans over and pats Taehyung on the back. “She said that it was an accident and is sorry. Forget about it.”

“...But I can’t...How do you make someone forgive you?”

“You can’t make someone forgive you. Even if you’re the one who made the mistake, it’s up to the other person if they can fully accept what you’ve done,” he pokes Taehyung’s forehead. “Sometimes you think that seeking forgiveness comes from others, but it’s also forgiving yourself with what you’ve done.”

It’s too confusing for Taehyung to grasp what he means.

“But that’s saying if you really did something awful to her. Do you know if you actually hurt her?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I...don’t know. I think I did, but I can’t remember. I just don’t want to see her sad.”

The doctor can see the clear self-frustration in Taehyung. He’s convinced that he wronged you, but the real challenge comes from how he did it. But seeing him battle with himself, it leaves the doctor with a lingering thought… “I know you told her not to see me...but is it okay if I see her again? I want to say sorry to her.”

The doctor hums, thinking about that request. “I can’t make promises, but we’ll see.”

“Okay, thank you!”

———

“Don’t bother seeing him again.”

“What?!”

Later that day, the doctor came to visit you and Kim at your inn to drop the request. “You trespassed into private property and caused mental harm to my patient. And don’t you think it’s smarter to leave him alone, especially when you’re being suspected of physically harming him?”

“…I know what this is about.” You clench your fists.

“Miss (Y/N), please don’t…”

“You’re just doing this to spite us! You hate people from the city, so you’re treating us like shit!”

“Miss (Y/N)!”

“That’s what you think. But you shouldn’t be talking to someone who took the time to nurse you back to health.”

“Don’t use that excuse to justify your shitty behavior!!”

With your face turning red, Kim gets up and pulls you back from the doctor. You jerk your hands off.

“I don’t need an excuse when we have people here taking advantage of my town and the people living here for money. If you want to make money somewhere else, then do that instead, not my home.” He walks away.

“WAIT! COME BACK HERE!!” You shout.

“Miss (Y/N), stop it!!” Kim aggressively pulls you back, shutting the door to prevent you from running out. “What the fuck is going on with you?!”

“Don’t you see it?? He’s just doing that because he fucking hates us! I’m not doing shit to Taehyung!!”

“But he’s a doctor, you should listen to him!”

“Degree or no degree, you don’t need a Ph.D to be a complete asshole.”

“I can tell! Talk about yourself!” She blurts out suddenly.

However, she covers her mouth, regretting immediately with what she said. Her words pierce your heart, but in all honesty, you needed that slap in the face. You weren’t looking at yourself to realize how much trouble you were causing for others.

“Miss (Y/N), I’m so sorry I…”

“No...it’s okay. I needed that.”

“...But please...stop lying that you’re fine. You make it very obvious that something's bothering you.”

You sigh. “...I hate feeling guilty. It’s like...it’s all I could think of, and I hate it. That’s probably why I really want to see him. I can’t let this go.”

That heaviness in your chest caused by guilt is unfathomably painful—so heavy that it’s suffocating. You’re aware of your obsessive nature, and you’d like to control it, but it’s been so deeply rooted into your blood that even if you try to get rid of it, it’s almost impossible. That’s why it’s easier to pretend that the problem never existed rather than solve it.

“I’m sorry, Kim, for dragging you into this.”

Unlike the other conversations that they had before, it truly feels like you’re fully present. Your mind isn’t floating somewhere else, but here.

“It’s okay...people are bound to have their slip-ups. Just...listen to the doctor. I don’t want us to be kicked out.”

You bite on your thumb, not exactly agreeing to Kim, but just as she said, you don’t want to be forced out of town either.

———

Late at night, Taehyung is laying in bed, staring out the window as he counts the number of stars, even though he can count as far as ten. After hitting ten, he restarts and would end up counting the same stars repeatedly.

He hears a knock at the door, then the door creaking open.

“Hello…? Taehyung, are you here?”

Your voice brings a smile to his face, straightening his back. “I’m here!”

“Shh…” You peer over the corner of the wall. “The doctor is asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Did the doctor tell you to visit me again?”

“Ah ha ha...yea.” You avert your eyes.

He hears the rustling of the grocery bag in your hands. Curious, he looks down. “What’s in there?”

He bounces up and down excitedly. You take out the components in the bag, showing him some fruits and drinks. He’s in awe at the different foods you display on the bed, making his mouth water.

“Peaches!”

He picks up the pink fuzzball, almost taking a bite out of it before you take it away from him. “Wait!”

He slumps his shoulders, pouting.

“I didn’t get the chance to clean it, then I’ll cut it for you.”

You rush to the bathroom, rinsing the fruit before returning. In the bag, you take out a small pocket knife, cutting the skin and slicing it into pieces. He stares at it with wide eyes in awe, impressed by your cutting skills, even though it’s nowhere near astonishing.

You give him a piece, and he takes it, shoving it into his mouth and overwhelmed by the sweetness. “This is better than candy.”

“It’s more refreshing, isn’t it? I thought that since last time I brought you some unhealthy snacks, I’d give you healthier options. Well...that’s what I thought...but I couldn’t help but buy something else.”

You wipe your hands down on your jeans, but the stickiness from the fruit juice remains. You take out a can of soda, showing it to him, but leaving him confused. He creases his eyebrows, scratching his chin as if he’s trying to interpret what he’s looking at.

“...This is cola. You’ve had them before, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it.”

You open the can, the click of the carbonated fizz leaks out from inside. He’s so impressed by it, moving closer to the drink and smell the faint flavor of the cola.

You put it into his hand, and he hesitantly takes a sip. However, he gives a distasteful look, his face cringing from the strong fizziness of the drink. The face he makes makes it impossible for you not to laugh.

“It’s nasty…”

“I’m sure that if you keep drinking it, then you’ll love it for sure.”

He shakes his head, eating more peaches to get rid of the taste. Throughout the night, you show him the many different fruits, and he takes a bite with each one of them. No matter what it is, it will always astonish him, so keen to learn more.

Before you know it, hours have gone by, but it feels as though it’s only been minutes.

“How’s your head?” You ask.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, but the doctor is always asking me if I remember anything,” he makes a raspberry noise with his lips, falling onto the pillow. “That’s all we talk about.”

“Well...do you remember anything?”

He looks around suspiciously as if he’s making sure that there’s nobody else in the room. He leans over as if he’s going to whisper a deep, dark secret. “Don’t tell anybody, but I do remember a few things.”

“You do?”

He nods. “I remember them in frames, like still pictures. It’s foggy, but there are parts that came back to me.”

“What do you remember?” You lean closer.

“There’s a lot of snow, and I was sitting on the ground. It was really...really cold. Also, everyone looked taller and angry.”

Although it’s great that he has some memories come back to him, they’re vague. His memory is no different than how some of the townspeople treat you.

“Anything else?”

“...Oh, yea. There’s also a large cave in the forest too. I went there a lot.”

The mention of a save makes you shudder, and that’s when a wave of memories return for you. You know exactly which cave he’s talking about...the one you and Annie went to. You hug yourself, trying to forget about it.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You blink profusely, nodding your head. “Y-yea...I’m fine. Taehyung, I have to ask you something.”

“Hm?”

“Did you...by any chance, ever run into a bear? Or a child? At the cave?”

He stares at the ceiling, shaking his head. “No.”

“...Do you even know about the Winter Bear story?”

He shakes his head again.

“...It’s...about a grizzly bear who’s the only bear in the entire world that doesn’t sleep during winter. Because of that, he gets lonely, so he kidnaps kids.”

Your knee begins shaking violently, motioning up and down at rapid speed. Taehyung’s eyes are fixated on your anxious knee.

“He...took my little sister a long time ago, and...it’s my fault. He...paid attention to me, and I liked it. And truth be told, I loathed my sister as much as I loved her.”

His eyebrows crease, not quite knowing what ‘loathed’ means.

“My parents, especially my mom, loved her to death. I still don’t know why. It might be because she was the baby of the family or if it’s ‘cause she resembles my mom a lot, but she was always favored. And imagine the horror that unfolded when they heard that their favorite child went missing and their least favorite child is to be blamed for.” You laugh at yourself.

You will never forget the look of terror on your mother’s face when you returned with your clothes torn and freezing. It wasn’t because of the state that you were in, but the fact that you returned without Annie. She immediately went around town, asking for help, and everybody searched to no avail. Your mother never directly stated that it was your fault, but the way she looked at you like she was going to throw up.

You so desperately wanted to apologize to her, but each time you tried it, she would change the subject. If you were insistent in talking about it, she would become violent. Items being thrown to the floor, her blood-curdling screams, those wide, gaping eyes glaring down at you like you’re vermin. It made you afraid of your own mother. That’s why you tried to bury your memories, and when you did, you either emotionally detached yourself or changed your thoughts to something else, just like how your mother did.

But every time you did think about your sister, you felt that immense guilt gulping you up. You would become manic—wanting to do anything possible to seek forgiveness. You would return to that fragile, little girl who wanted her mother’s love.

Taehyung searches through his pockets, giving you one of the candies that you gave to him. Some of the wrappers fall out of his pocket as well, but he ignores them. You raise an eyebrow, but he nudges for you to take it. It’s the watermelon flavor candy.

“The candies are so sweet there’s no room for bitterness. That’s what I learned after eating so much of it.”

You take it from his hand, unwrapping it and putting it in your mouth. And just like what he said, your tongue is overflowing with the sweet, sweet watermelon. When you look up at Taehyung’s face, making proper eye contact with him for the first time, you notice something odd. His expression is blank, but tears are falling.

You let out a single laughter. “Why are you the one crying?”

He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he sympathizes, maybe even empathizes, with you. It always felt like when you said something, you got attacked in return. Whether it be Suniya nagging at you, Kim criticizing your rash behavior, those faceless comments on your article bashing you, or even your mother neglecting you when you tried mending the relationship, it felt like everything you did was a mistake. No one wanted to listen to you, and it made you scared to be honest.

He brushes your bangs away to get a better look at your face. Even though you barely know him, it feels like he’s been your longtime friend. Without thinking, you drop yourself onto him, hiding your face in his chest. You hold him tightly, silently crying on his shirt. He’s confused, as stiff as a rock. He slowly sets his hands on your back like an amateur hugger. But you’re no different either since you’re just as awkward as he is.

“I’m...sorry.” He apologizes.

You laugh through the sobs. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”

He doesn’t reply.

You forgot how sticky your hands are—Taehyung’s lint gets stuck on the palm of your hands. You rarely talk about yourself, but with Taehyung, it feels oddly comfortable around him. Just the look of his eyes alone, you knew that he wasn’t going to judge you. You didn’t need to get defensive because you felt safe.

“Thanks for listening to me.”

———

You peek through the crack of the door, waving at him one more time before leaving. He waves back, mouthing the words, ‘please come back soon’. You nod, gently closing the door. You sigh, slightly embarrassed for breaking down earlier. It’s not every day that you have a heart-to-heart conversation with someone, so it was new. But you can’t hide that little smirk on your face, like some of that weight on yours has been alleviated.

“Seems like no matter how many times I tell you, you think you’re superior to me.”

Startled, you nearly scream when you cover your mouth. You spin around and meet eyes with the doctor who seems unsurprised that you’re here.

“Uhm...I can explain.”

“No need. I give up on trying to convince you.”

“...Really?”

“I don’t know what you want from that kid, but it doesn’t seem like it’s bad. Just don’t pick on him.”

“I’m not.”

“Even if I did tell you to stop, you’ll just continue breaking in late at night.” He walks off.

That felt...a bit too easy. You thought that he was going to put up more of a fight, but it might be because of old age or because of your stubbornness, he was quick to throw in the towel. However, you aren’t complaining about this and if anything, plays in your favor.

———

For the next few days, you have been visiting Taehyung. You two wouldn’t do much but talk, and these conversations would go on for hours. For once, it didn’t feel like your life was single-colored, and his liveliness was contagious. You found yourself laughing and smiling a lot more than usual. But it isn’t as if you two are doing anything spectacular, just talking.

There are traits of him that you’ve noticed. He has these moments where he’s easy to read, like a child, but there are other times when he’ll blank out and you have no idea what’s in his mind. He’s always curious about the world and whenever there’s something that he doesn’t know, he would ask you. He doesn’t ask the doctor and always goes to you first.

“Taehyung?” You peek through the doors.

No reply. Instead, you hear the shower going off in the bathroom, so he must be taking a shower. You thought about waiting in the lobby, not wanting to scare him when he’s out of the shower, but you also think it’s better to stay. Even though you and the doctor came to terms, it’s still uncomfortable being in the same room as him since he hasn’t let go of his distaste for city people yet. Despite treating you horribly, the doctor isn’t harsh with Taehyung. There are times when he loses patience with him, but never gets angry.

And speaking of Taehyung, you’re startled when you hear a thud in the bathroom. Alerted, you rush to the room, twisting the doorknob and seeing him on the ground, completely wet. You get down on your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh, (Y/N), you’re here.”

“Are you okay?! What were you trying to do?”

“I tried turning on the water faucet, but I couldn’t turn the handle. I think I put too much strength and slipped after it turned on.”

“You should’ve asked the doctor for help,” you brush his hair. “Geez, your bandages are wet.”

“I do ask him, but he always looks like he’s annoyed at me every time I ask. I don’t wanna bother him anymore, so I wanted to try and do it myself.”

You groan. That damn doctor, only thinking for himself. “Don’t force yourself to do things especially since you’re still recovering. You should be resting instead.”

“...I’ve always done things by myself,” Taehyung slumps his shoulders. “Whenever I asked someone, they would always get angry.”

“Says who?”

“...Says everyone.”

‘Everyone’? You don’t know anyone other than you, Sheriff Tusk, and the doctor who visits him. Margaret would ask about him from you every so often, but you aren’t sure if she comes by either. Whatever it is, it’s bothering Taehyung, so much so that he’s so gloomy.

“Hey, you can always rely on me.”

He stares at you with wide eyes, but then he looks away, defeating himself before he gets the chance to smile. “But...you aren’t here all the time.”

“Well...good point,” you contemplate. “It’s not always possible, but just call my name and I’ll come to the rescue.”

It’s unrealistic. Obviously, you’re no superhero who can pop up to save the world with a single cry of help. You don’t want to give him hope and be disappointed when you don’t fulfill it. You feel like a parent—giving shallow promises just to shove his worries away, but at the same time, you’re being genuine.

“It’s a small town. I’m sure I can hear your voice. Besides, you were in trouble and I came in time to save you,” you pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s change your clothes.”

You grab him from under his arm, helping him get up. You walk with him to his bed. Once he sits down, you look through the cabinets for towels,  finding a white hand cloth folded on the third shelf. You go back to him, using the cloth to massage it over his wet hair, but not too aggressive to affect his injury. Whenever you wipe too hard, Taehyung’s face would scrunch up and he would put his hand on your wrist.

“(Y/N), do you have a family?”

“Hm? What’s this all of a sudden?”

“I’m just curious about you.”

“I do. I have a mom and a dad and...that’s it.”

“...Do you live with them?”

You shake your head. “I live alone.”

“Why?”

“It’s because...my parents and I don’t get along. After Annie went missing, my parents got divorced and I lived with my mom for a while. But I couldn’t stand living with her anymore so after I graduated high school, I moved out and lived on my own.”

“What does divorce mean?”

“You don’t know what it means?”

He shakes his head. “I heard people use it, but I never really knew what it meant.”

“It’s when a married couple doesn’t want to be together anymore and decides to separate.”

“Oh…”

“What about you? Do you remember your family?”

“A little bit. I don’t remember my dad, but I do remember some things about my mom. I think my mom left my dad when I was very young, so I lived with her. But we ran away from home and moved to a new place. I don’t know how she looks, but she always took care of me. And she always had bruises, too. But I don’t remember why.”

Your ears perk up when he brings up the notion of bruises. It definitely stands out. It makes you a little worried about what sort of environment Taehyung lived in prior to losing his memories.

“She also dressed differently from you. Actually...everyone from my memories doesn’t dress like you or the doctor or the policeman.” He tries to recollect his memories, but it only frustrates him more.

“Okay, okay. Don’t give yourself a headache. Take your time to remember everything.”

You continue to dry his head until you think it’s done. But just as you were about to leave, Taehyung places his hands on your waist to stop you from leaving.

Your cheeks turn red. “Tae-Taehyung? What are you doing?”

“Thank you…(Y/N), for visiting me all the time. Even though I’m a good-for-nothing, you keep me company.”

You scoff. “No one called you a good-for-nothing. And if anyone did, just ignore them.”

Without thinking, you pat him on the head, running your fingers through his damp hair. He peeks one eye out to look at your face, but when you two make eye contact, he quickly hides back into your stomach.

“You won’t leave me? I don’t have to be alone anymore, right?”

There’s no reason for him to question you, and you know full well that that can’t be the case. After all, you’re here for work, not to make friends. However, you can’t bring yourself to break his heart. The way his voice deepened, his tone sounding so...solemn. Like he experienced trauma that he never wants to go through again.

“I promise.”

And with that vow, he raises his head up, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes become smaller from how wide his smile is.

“I really like you, (Y/N), you know that?”

Your heart nearly skips a beat, then your ears turn red. You fan your face, telling yourself not to misread what he said. “Me too. I’m glad we’re friends.”

He raises his head up, a little upset. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What?”

“I mean…never mind.”

———

“Count very slowly to twenty, okay honey?”

A younger version of Taehyung nods his head.

“Close your eyes and cover them with your hands. Don’t peek because if you do, then you’re cheating. People don’t like cheaters.”

He nods again. “Are we playing hide and seek like the kids?”

In the middle of the forest, the woman has Taehyung stand against a dead tree. The woman cups his cheek with her icy hands, brushing his curly bangs back as she looks like she’s trying to fight the urge to cry. Her lips are curled inward, and she opens her mouth to speak. But finding difficulty in letting one word out, she lets out a shaky sigh, averting her eyes from Taehyung.

He can’t keep his eyes off of the purple and green bruises on her frail arms. His mother is so thin that she doesn’t have any fat in her. She doesn't even have muscles—she’s skin and bones. Her eyes look sunken, like her eyes are shrinking. However, Taehyung didn’t think too much about her mother’s malnourishment because his body looks just like hers.

“Y-yes. You know that I love you, right?”

He nods for the third time.

“O...okay...if you love me,  th-then close your eyes and don’t peek. And remember: you’re a strong bear—so strong that you can withstand the winter cold.”

He covers his eyes with his hands, counting from one. His mother waves her hand in front of him. When he doesn’t jolt from her hand, she takes this chance to flee. He keeps counting even after being the only one in the forest.

“Eight...nine...ten...elevephen...twelve...fo...four...four…? Fiveteen...si-six…” He loses count, though he thought it was strange that his mother made him count to twenty even though he can barely count to ten. “...Mom?”

———

“I came from Korea.”

In the room, the sheriff is keeping record as Taehyung continues.

“I think...my mom and I immigrated here a long, long time ago. She said that we had a better chance of living here than there.”

“By ‘long time ago,’ can you give me a specific time frame?”

“...I can’t. It was too long that I don’t know.” 

While he tries to recall his past, he looks out the window and notices you with Kim. Unlike the stoic faces he made, his eyes light up, losing interest on the sheriff and onto you. Tusk glances over to you, clearly sensing the light-hearted vibe coming from Taehyung.

He walks over to the window, raising his eyebrow. “You and that girl have gotten quite close.”

“I like it when she’s here.”

“Even though she’s the reason why you’re here in the first place?”

His smile disappears. The doctor and policeman are always dragging him down with pessimism, so he doesn’t like it when they talk to him.

“She did hurt me, but she’s trying her best to make it up. What she did is wrong, but I forgive her.”

But Sheriff Tusk doesn’t seem convinced. He sighs, closing his notepad. “Well, this is definitely a step forward. It looks like I’ll let (Y/N) off the hook, and I’m confident that you didn’t harm her either that night. If there’s anything else that comes up, then update me whenever you can.”

“Okay.”

———

You glance through Taehyung’s window, only able to see the top of his head. You aren’t sure what he’s doing, but you pray that he’s resting. You’re so distracted that you weren’t watching where you were going and nearly tripped over a rock hidden in the snow.

“Be careful!”

“I’m okay…”

“What were you looking at?” Kim looks up at the direction you were staring at, then she understands. “Is it Taehyung?”

You nod.

“You two became fast friends. I would’ve never thought that it’d be possible.”

“I guess it is.”

“What do you guys even talk about? You’ll go visit and be gone for hours.”

“Anything, but he likes talking about food mainly. Though, he likes almost everything that I bring in.” You smile unconsciously.

Seeing your cheeks turn red, that’s when it hits Kim. She smirks, elbowing you on the arm. “I get it.”

“What?”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“H-huh? What? N...No! Not like that.”

Not this again. You already went through this with Margaret, and you don’t want another misconception...right? You’re actually embarrassed to hear that in contrast to how indifferent you were when Margaret brought it up.

This is the first for Kim to see you in this state. You always appeared calm and collected—making almost every decision without hesitation. Having your more vulnerable side present makes you seem more human.

“If you try to deny it in that tone, obviously I’m going  to assume the other way around! You two hit it off pretty well in the beginning…I mean...You two got along great. You were even begging to see him.”

“Th...that…!”

“Why are you getting so shy? You’re a grown woman, no need to hide how you feel. You act like this is your first crush.” She laughs.

But when you don’t laugh along with her, that’s when she knew that her joke was true.

“Wait...you’ve never liked someone before?! I don’t mean to judge but...of all your years, you’ve never once dated??? Not even had a crush on someone??”

“Yea, I’ve never liked anyone before, but why are you assuming that I like Taehyung…?”

“You make it more obvious than the sky being blue. I’m not gonna lie, Taehyung is pretty handsome. Maybe if he didn’t act childish then I would’ve probably liked him too.”

“It’s not that he’s childish...More like, he’s very curious. But as I  said, I don’t like him in that sort of way.”

“Mm-hmm, you can deny it all you want. It seems like Taehyung’s into you, too. Well...no doubt since you’re the only person to ever talk to him and is around his age.”

You like being around him, but you’re not sure if you like him in that sort of way. You two barely met a few weeks ago, so it’s too premature to be walking through romance territory. Despite it being a few weeks, it truly does feel like you two have known each other for a long time though.

“Well, don’t be in denial for too long. We don’t have much time here until the train comes back, and I don’t think you would want to leave with regrets.”

“I know.”

You don’t like thinking about that. It’ll dishearten him, as well as you, when the time comes. But eventually, you have to tell him that you’re going back home.

“...You said that you’d like him if he wasn’t childish...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you so curious? I meant what I said.”

“So you’re saying you have a chance with him?”

She’s confused, but it takes her a while before realizing your intentions. She elbows your ribcage, laughing. “You’re jealous!”

“I’m...I’m not! I’m just wondering…!”

Kim never realized how easy it is to read you at times. You and Kim continue your conversation until you two return to the inn. As you two walk off, Taehyung watches from his window.

———

“Who’s the lady with you?”

“Lady?”

You’re in the hospital room, peeling the skin of an apple with a knife. The snow has been getting heavier these days and it’s been like this for a while now. The sky has become cloudy, and there’s no sign of the sun anywhere.

“She was with you when you first came here, too.”

“Oh, Kim? We’re acquaintances. We barely know each other.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you two were friends.”

“No, not really. She’s a nice woman though. Why do you ask?”

He keeps quiet, picking on his blanket as he sulks.

“I don’t have that many friends. The only other person that I talk to is my agent.”

His eyes widen.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“I thought you didn’t have anybody…”

You aren’t sure where he’s going with this. You set the sliced apples down on a plate, giving one to him to which he takes.

“I know a lot of people. It’s a part of my job as a journalist.”

“Are you...close with any of them?”

You’re confused with why he’s interested in your personal relationships. That’s when you get the hint, making you smile. “I’m not close with any of them.”

He sighs in relief and you laugh. Surprised by your laughter, he becomes embarrassed. “Wh-what??”

“Are you trying to make me feel bad about not having that many friends?”

He seems confused, so you realized that your initial assumption was wrong. His cheeks turn red, pouting. “That’s not it.”

You tilt your head, confused.

“I thought you didn’t have any friends or close family, so I was surprised with how close you were with that lady.”

“I know a lot of people, but it doesn’t mean that I’m close with them,” after Taehyung finishes one apple slice, you give him another. “Every relationship that I have with someone is different from the other. Like you and Kim for example. Kim is like my current work partner, and you’re…like a friend.”

It’s unusual to call somebody your friend. It was so easy for you to push others away, but Taehyung is the first person that you want to be close with. There was something about him that attracted you—like a fly buzzing toward a light.

And like an attractive light, Taehyung’s smile is just as bright. “I’m glad that I’m your friend.”

“Yea...me too.”

You thought about what Kim said, about how you feel about Taehyung. Of course, he’s a joy to be around—that bubbly yet curious personality of his is hard to dislike. It’s the sort of trait you don’t see too often in adults, especially in the big city, so it’s a breath of fresh air.

You peer over at the window, and it doesn’t seem like the weather is going to calm down. If anything, it looks like it’s going to get worse overnight. It’s so bad that you can’t even see a few feet in front of you.

“Oh no, it looks like there’s going to be a blizzard.”

The inn isn’t that far, and if anything, it won’t be an issue crossing over. But that isn’t the problem. Just the thought of going through a blizzard makes you feel...uncomfortable. Unwanted emotions return, the kind that darkens your mind.

Taehyung can sense the tension, so he thinks of something to bring you back. “Will you be okay?”

“Yea...I think so.”

But he isn’t convinced. Your face says it all, and you don’t want to go out there. He contemplates, then a light bulb turns on when an idea sparks.

“How about you stay here for the night?”

“Huh? No, I’m fine. It’s just snow, and this is a place for patients. I don’t want to take up space.”

“No one comes here and it gets a little lonely at night. If you go out tonight, you might get sick, then you’ll have to stay here for sure.”

“What are the chances that I get sick? Besides, the doctor might not—”

“I don’t mind.” The doctor shouts from the lobby.

His voice catches you by surprise. You didn’t think he could hear you two talk, so now it makes you conscious about how much he’s eavesdropped. The walls truly are thin here.

“See? Stay here tonight.” He reaches over, grabbing your hand.

His thumb strokes your knuckles and he gives you puppy eyes. You can’t say no to him when he gives you that look. You cover your mouth, hiding your burning cheeks as well.

“Okay...I’ll sleep in the room next door. Do you know if the doctor has any spare toothbrushes?”

“Yes, I do.” He shouts from the lobby again.

You sigh, wondering how much he’ll keep listening. “Thanks…”

———

You and Taehyung are brushing your teeths in the same bathroom. While you’re looking at yourself in the mirror, Taehyung is fixated on you. He’s trying to copy how you brush your teeth. Whenever you brush your right teeth, he does the same. When you move to your left, he does that as well. When you spit out the foam, he does the same.

After washing your face, you head to your room, and Taehyung follows. You look behind, stopping, and he stops as well. He’s holding a pillow and blanket, giving you the hint that he wants to sleep with you.

“What are you doing?” Even though you know, you still want to ask.

“I want to go to the same room. I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“But isn’t your room fine as it is?”

“Yea but...it doesn’t have you in there.”

You blush. “But sleeping in the same room is…”

He tilts his head, puzzled. With that innocent look on his face, you don’t want to say any further.

“Anyway, we shouldn’t sleep in the room.”

“But we stay in the same room during the day, and for a long time too. What’s wrong about sleeping in the same room?”

“It’s just…”

You know that he won’t do anything to you, but just the thought of sleeping in the same room is a bit too much. You truly are immature—being a woman in her mid-twenties and is still conscious about sleeping in a room with a man, not even the same bed.

“Is it because there’s only bed? You can sleep there and I can sleep on the couch! If you don’t like that, then I can move my bed into your room and—”

“That’s not it. We’re just going to be next door, so if you ever need anything, then just knock.”

He looks disappointed, but he doesn’t push further. “Okay…”

“Then...good night.”

“Good night.”

You walk to the room, and you look behind one more time, waving. He smiles and waves back. It’s saddening to see him look forward to sleeping in the same room as you, but you don’t want to push boundaries. You keep telling yourself that this decision is for the better.

———

The children are having a snowball fight. Just on the outskirts of the small  town, the kids build fortresses out of snow, using it as a shield to avoid the offense team. They’re running around and laughing, thankful for it to be snowing so they can play.

But approaching them with small steps is Taehyung, still as a child, his hands clasped to his thin jacket. He’s shaking violently, his skin so pale and frozen cold. His hair is a mess, dirt marks smeared all over his skin. His bottom lip trembles and has turned blue, but he still smiles.

His stench can be smelled from the distance, disrupting their fun. The smell of sweat is Taehyung’s signature scent, like a foreboding sign that he’s drawing near. He’s gotten skinnier since the last time he came to Little Bare. Bags hide underneath his eyes, his round cheeks absent.

“It’s Taehyung. Run away!”

The children hide behind the fortresses, and this hurts Taehyung. However, he remains determined and keeps smiling. “Can...I play with you guys?”

But his request isn’t heard. The children are occupied with making snowballs, combining it with the rocks on the ground to create spiky snowballs. They make enough to form a pile. They start throwing them at Taehyung, and although the first few miss, some hit his body.

He raises his hands up, using his hands to block his face. He runs off, but right at the last moment, one child is able to nail a snowball perfectly at the back of his head. THACK! Only he heard the impact to his head. It was hard enough that he fell forward, his face landing first.

The children laugh. “Hurry! Run before the hungry boy eats us!!”

They skip away to their homes. He loses consciousness for a few seconds before groaning. His head pulsates, touching where it hurts but immediately pulls his hand away because of how painful it is. Underneath his breath, he calls for his mother. He calls for her many times, but no matter how many times, she doesn’t return to rescue him.

Still, he wants to believe that his mother will return. She’ll return to him to make him a warm meal under a roof. He’ll finally get to eat candy like the rest of the kids, and maybe, just maybe, the kids will let him play with them. But for now, he has to prove that he’s strong in hopes that his mother will want him back.

As he gets up, limping as his desire to conform with the kids slowly turns into disgust. The animosity grows as strong as the dizziness that blurs his vision. He limps for what felt like hours until he returns to his new home—a large, ominous cave. The mouth of the cave is dark and hollow, like it can suck anyone of any size in.

He leans on the rocky walls, scratching his arm while dragging his body deeper into the darkness. He places his hand on the wall, leaving bloody handprints and smearing them as he moves. He falters, landing face first, which worsens the damage to the head. He turns his head to the left, and there’s a mysterious marking of a grizzly bear with strange symbols around it. It’s been there ever since he found the cave.

His vision blackens as his eyelids become heavier. One tear drops from his eye, apologizing to his mother that he couldn’t be as strong as she hoped for. Within two weeks of her disappearance, he’s giving up. Fighting became a chore, and now sleeping seems like a better option.

And thus, he closes his eyes for good. And the last thing he thought of was a wish. A wish that he could’ve made at least one friend.

But before he does, the drawing of the grizzly bear on the wall begins to glow.

———-

Taehyung gasps for air, clawing at his throat. He felt pressure on his chest, and it was so clustered that he could’ve sworn that he stopped breathing. He sits up, not realizing that he had been crying in his sleep. Looking down at his pillow, there’s a large puddle of tears and on his eyes as well.

He brings his knees closer to him, covering his ears as he squeezes his eyes shut. Stop it. I don’t want them anymore, he repeats in his head. His memories are terrifying, as if every time he goes back in the past, all it ever becomes is jumping straight into a nightmare. Waking up from an unwanted dream makes this damp room seem scarier, like there’s no one to protect him.

“(Y/N)...” You’re the first person to come to mind. But when he calls for your name, you’re not there. He recalls that you’re sleeping in the room next door.

He gets out of bed, grabbing his pillow and blanket as he walks out of the room. He drags his feet to your room, knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)? Are you asleep?”

There’s no response. He looks at both ends of the hallway, paranoid that some evil ghost is going to appear in either direction. He clutches onto the pillow tighter.

“(Y/N)?”

The calm snow has turned into a blizzard again, and the gales whistle in the cracks of the windows. The wind shakes violently against the window, almost like a robber trying to break in. It scares him more, so he lowers his head, praying that you heard him.

“(Y/N)? Are you there?”

It reminds him of his childhood after his mother left. After wandering in the forest for a long time, he found a cave. While he was excited to live there, nighttime was never his favorite. The large opening left him vulnerable to wild animals to potentially attack him. And standing at the center of the hall reminds him of that, that exposure of his body to the cold world, his life taken away at any second.

“I’m scared...so please…”

The doorknob twists, startling him. He gasps, holding his breath in, but he lets it go when it was you that opened it. You’re rubbing your eyes, yawning. “Taehyung? What are you doing up so late?”

He hastily enters your room, closing the door for you. “Is it okay if I sleep here?”

You don’t make an immediate response, which scares him that you’ll decline.

“I had a nightmare.”

It might be because you’re half-asleep, but it doesn’t take that much persuasion to let him sleep. “Alright...but sleep on the couch.”

“Okay!” He takes baby steps to the couch, placing his pillow by the arm rest and lays down. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Sleep tight.” And just like that, you go to bed.

Taehyung watches you sleep, seeing as you’ve already knocked out within seconds. He tries to fall asleep as well, but no matter how many times he tosses and turns, he can’t sleep. He’s gotten comfortable being the person he is now, happy to be here and seeing you every day, not the depressed child who was abandoned by everyone.

Some time has gone by, and he still can’t sleep. He’s staring at the ceiling, listening to you breathe steadily. The nightmare he had is as vivid as ever, experiencing the phantom pain that came with the head injury.

“(Y/N)? Are you still awake?” Without a response, it tells Taehyung that you’re not.

He sits up, staring at you. He gives it a few seconds before getting out of bed. He stands over your bed before making the rash decision to sleep next to you.

He lays down, his face just mere inches away from yours. Despite being so close, he finds your face mesmerizing. He’s so close that he can feel your breathing.

Taehyung wanted to lay next to you just to see how it’s like to sleep next to someone. It’s so comforting knowing that there’s someone next to him, like the paranoia has been swept away. The longer he stares at you, the redder his face turns. Even though it’s the middle of winter, his face feels hot. He sees you every day, but he can’t understand why he’s nervous now.

He wants to move closer, but your hand is in between your and his face. Rather than move it away, he bites his bottom lip in contemplation. He’s already crossing the line, so he’s afraid that you’ll push him away if he tries too much.

He puts his hand over yours, intertwining his fingers. Your hands are smaller than he thought, his palm already engulfing it. Not only that, but your hand is so warm. Your fingers jolt, which nearly made him pull his hand away. But after that, you’re still. He sighs in relief.

Laying next to him is you, the person who’s taken care of him since the beginning. Judging on his fragmented memories, you’re the first person to ever fight to be with him. It doesn’t matter the reason, he’s just happy that someone thinks that he’s worth it. But at the same time, you’re the person who got him into this mess. You’re the one who threw that rock, just like the other kids. You made his head bleed like how they did. And yet…

He forgives you.

He gently presses his forehead against your forehead. He wished you could stay with him forever so that he can never experience abandonment again. Taehyung is afraid that you’ll end up being like his mother—crying for your name but you never coming to his rescue.

———

The blizzard has died down, and the blaring sun blinds your eyes. You flutter your eyes open, using your arm to cover them from the light. You sit up, exhaling as your vision adjusts to the morning rays.

“Good morning!” Taehyung exclaims as he opens the windows.

You had forgotten that he slept here last night. Even though it’s early in the morning, Taehyung is as energetic as usual.

“Did you sleep well?” You rub your eyes.

“Better than ever.”

You barely remember what happened last night. You know you got up to open the door, but after that, it was a blur. Taehyung also looks chirpier than usual, though you don’t know why. It could be because he got what he wanted and sleep in the same room as you. Whatever the reason, you’re glad that he’s smiling.

As you get out of bed and into the bathroom to wash up, he glances at you. His smile is gone, contemplating some thoughts in his head.

In the bathroom, you splash water in your face after brushing your teeth. You look at yourself in the mirror and massage your cheeks, feeling a little conscious about making weird faces in your sleep. You hope that you didn’t make any noises during the night either.

You walk out of the door, startled when Taehyung turns out to be just by the entrance. “Whoa! Sorry, did I almost hit you?”

But he ignores your question, folding his hands together. “(Y/N), I was just wondering...but you live in the city, right?”

“Yea, I do.”

“...When are you leaving?”

“Uhm...we’ve been here for a pretty long time now, so I think I have a few days until our train comes to pick us up.”

He looks pained just hearing that. “Then...if it’s okay with you, can I show you something before you leave? I think I finally know who I am, at least, the more important parts of myself.”

“This...came out of nowhere, but I’m glad you remember everything. What do you want to show me?”

“It’s...where I used to live. It’s not that far from here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You live near here? Sure, I don’t mind, but are you even allowed to go out?”

“...Yea. The doctor gave me permission to leave. Is it possible to go later tonight?”

Tonight? You’re unsure about it. It’s too dangerous, especially if you two stray too far away from the town. “Can’t we go tomorrow morning? It’ll be too dark if we go later.”

“I know, but I’m afraid that if we wait in the morning, then i’m going to forget. Please! It sounds crazy...a-and stupid, but I don’t want to sit around and wait anymore. There’s...something I want to confirm with myself. My memories are jumbled up, and I feel like if I go as soon as possible, then everything will make sense. If not, then can we at least go when the sun’s setting?”

You’re still hesitant about it. But seeing the desperation in his eyes, it’s apparent that with or without you, he’s going to go on his own. The tale of the Winter Bear is real, and if Taehyung is taken by it, then it’ll be blood on your hands. If not that, then a coyote can eat him too.

It’s that feeling of responsibility coming back again. If you say no and he’s in danger, you have to live with guilt. You can’t bear to lose another person because of your selfishness.

“O...okay, I’ll go with you. But only in the condition that we go back as soon as you show me.”

“Thank you so much!”

Even though he seemed happy earlier, there’s an air of seriousness. You thought it was strange that he lives near here, and despite Little Bare being so small, no one knew he had been nearby all this time. Although he’s vague about it, it does make you curious about him.

———

“You’re going out again?” Kim crosses her arms.

While back in the inn, you’re putting on your coat. The whole day has already gone by, and you’re going to meet Taehyung just like you planned. However, Kim isn't impressed by it.

“Is he even allowed to go out? It doesn’t seem like he completely recovered.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Apparently, the doctor said that it was okay.”

However, Kim doesn’t seem to agree with your answer. She creases her eyebrows, putting her index finger to her chin as if thinking.

“What?”

“You know...you’ve been seeing him a lot lately. More than actually doing work.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for not helping. Is there anything specific you wanted me to do?”

“No...it’s okay. I already have a basis for my book. Besides, if this was to help you reconcile with your past, then it’s alright.”

“...I feel horrible, like I didn’t help at all.”

She shakes her head. “No, you did a lot more than you think.”

You crease your eyebrows, not entirely sure what she means by that. Regardless, you’re glad that you somehow helped her, though not sure with what and how.

“But...I’m really curious. What relationship do you have with Taehyung? I know you told me that you just met him, but to be frank, whenever I do see you two talk, it seems like you guys have known each other for years.”

You don’t respond. This should be an easy answer, yet, you struggle.

“Miss Suniya told me about you. Mind if we chat for a little bit before you go?”

“Sure...” You sit down on a chair, then Kim sits by the edge of the bed. “What did she say about me?”

“She told me that you have selective memory loss.”

You’re not surprised that Suniya told her about your condition.

“I’m sure there are things that you do and don’t remember about this place, which is why it probably wasn’t so hard to convince you to come with me. The reason why I never bothered you to help me with the book is because I wanted to give you the chance to regain the repressed memories naturally.”

You don’t know where she’s going with this. “...Why is it important that I remember?”

“Well, I...this...you…” she stumbles with her words. “I just want to tell you that you’re a really special person.”

“...Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t think you understand how hard it was to get into contact with you,” She steps closer. “Miss (Y/N), you’re the only person who’s ever seen the Winter Bear and survived. You’re the reason why I became intrigued with this myth in the first place, but those blockbuster people paid news outlets to get rid of articles written about you to sell this myth as a friendly story, so I hit a dead end until I read your article and knew that I found you.”

Things are beginning to click, but you don’t like where this is going. “This...isn’t only about the myth...is it?”

“Do you not realize how big this story is going to be when I write about your encounter with the bear?! People are gonna go crazy over it, then people won’t look down on me for studying mythology. So that’s why, Miss (Y/N), I want to know your relationship with that Taehyung person. My instincts tell me that there’s more to him than what meets the eye.”

“So...you’re doing all this to make money?”

“Why else are we here?” Kim crosses her arms. “Miss (Y/N), don’t pretend to be a hero when we both know that you tagged along for the money, too.”

“This doesn’t feel right...and what about Taehyung?”

The misery that you went through only to be exploited for money is one thing, but for her to use Taehyung, it’s a different story. You’re so infuriated with her that everything in your vision turns red. You thought about punching her, but you manage to control yourself.

Kim gets on her knees, right before your feet. “Who cares about what he thinks? Miss (Y/N), we are writers trying to survive, aren’t we? No matter how many people compliment our writing abilities, words aren’t going to put food on the plate.”

“Stop it…”

You have a flashback of being a kid again, but in the hospital, being checked for any injuries. You didn’t show any physical pain, your mentality however…

“No, I don’t want to…”

“I need you to go back in the past and try. It doesn’t hurt to remember Annie, right?”

The image of your mother crouching over a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries her heart out. You two are in the police station, waiting for any updates to Annie’s disappearance when a policeman broke the devastating news that they won’t continue the search.

“Don’t you want justice for your baby sister? So you need to come out and describe how the Winter Bear looks like.”

You cover your ears, fragments of your memories that you tried so hard to bury are returning to the surface. You remember the forest, knee-deep in the snow, meeting the friend you made during your stay here. You remember intertwining your pinky finger with your friend’s finger, promising that you’ll be friends forever. A childish vow that you wished you never committed. Because you also promised that friend that you’ll introduce Annie.

“So please, remember—”

“Stop it! I should’ve never come along with you!”

You get up from the chair, marching right for the door and slamming it behind you. Now standing on the other side of the door, you lean on it, rubbing your eyes as you grunt. You don’t want to remember; it’s better if they never come back. You like the way things are. You have nothing to worry about, you want to feel like there’s nothing to worry about. For now, you just want to see Taehyung.

———

At the front of the inn, Taehyung is already there, wearing a thick jacket but is still in his patient uniform. It’s already dark out, but you can see him clearly. When he sees you, he smiles and waves. However, you seem fazed with what Kim said. He’s quick to catch on to your discomfort, so he wraps his hands around yours. It catches you by surprise, but it goes away when he beams.

“How are you?”

“Great, how about you?”

“Good! It’s a lot colder than the last time I went outside.”

You chuckle. “Yea, you’ve been locked up in that hospital.”

“The hospital isn’t that bad. Anyway, are you ready?”

“Sure. How hard is it from here?”

“Not too far,” he takes you by the hand. “Come on, it’s already getting dark.”

He drags you to the direction of his supposed home. You look back at the inn, your senses finally returning and realizing that you’re really going to Taehyung’s residence late at night. You know you can trust him, but there’s something off about this that lingers in the back of your head. Yet, you don’t want to go back either, especially after hearing Kim’s real motive. You want to stay with Taehyung because you feel safer with him. Unlike many adults you’ve encountered, he’s transparent.

———

“Taehyung...are you sure you know where you’re going?”

As you two head deeper into the forest, the lights that came from the town disappear. You hold onto his hand tighter, fear crawling up your skin. It doesn’t help that it’s night either. In contrast to you, Taehyung is undisturbed.

“Yup, it’s beginning to look familiar.”

You regret choosing to go later in the day. If anything, you feel like a complete idiot for agreeing to go this late. It might be because you’re older and know the dangers of the world, but the woods seem far scarier compared to when you were a child.

“I don’t like this…! Let’s go back.”

After saying that, you hear a branch crack and it startles you. You let out a yelp, instinctively grabbing onto Taehyung’s arm. It doesn’t frighten him, so he’s clueless about why you’re afraid.

“If you’re scared, then hold on to me.”

Now conscious about your actions, you pull away, your cheeks flush with red. However, Taehyung doesn’t give you a chance to reconsider and drags you back into his arms. He wraps around your shoulders, squeezing you closer to his chest as he gives you a cheeky smile. You avert your eyes, sulking, but he’s not wrong about you being scared. You hold onto his shirt as you two continue walking.

To distract you from your fears, he changes the topic. “What kind of house do you live in?”

“Mine? Hm...well...it’s nothing fantastic. I live in a one-bedroom apartment.”

“That’s it?”

You nod. “It’s probably a little bigger than your private room back at the clinic.”

“Really?!”

“It’s small but so expensive...How about your home? I never got to ask if you live with anyone.” Though, judging by how no one that he knew came by to pick him up, he most likely lives alone.

“I live alone...and my home...is a little different from a normal home. It is big though.”

“Oh really? That must be cool. And to have it all for yourself too.”

“It was, and I thought it was cool because of how roomy it was...but it didn’t take for me to dislike it.”

“Oh...I’m surprised nobody has ever mentioned that you lived nearby...But speaking of your home, I was wondering, how long have you been living here?”

“Ever since I was a kid.”

“Really? And you’ve never ran into the Winter Bear?”

He shakes his head. “I rarely see bears in general.”

You thought it was strange how he’s lived here since he was a child and yet, he has never been kidnapped. If he’s lived here since he was young, then he would’ve been long gone.

“...My mother always told me that I’ll grow up to be strong. She said that I’ll be so strong that I won’t need to sleep like a bear who hibernates. And I believed her.”

Your ears perk up, listening to him attentively. You recall when Margaret that bears technically don’t hibernate.

“But a part of me thinks that it was mental training to prepare for when she abandoned me.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s when I found a home to live. It was hard living by myself. Kids from Little Bare made fun of me for being a dirty boy and threw rocks at me until I ran away.”

“What are you talking about…? Little Bare doesn’t have any kids…”

“I hated living alone because it was scary, and all I wanted was a friend, or anybody who was willing to keep me company.”

What he’s saying is beginning to sound suspicious. You slowly pull yourself away from him, and it doesn’t seem like he minds.

“You know...travelling through my memories...I’ve always seen snow. Little Bare is always snowing no matter what year it is.”

“Taehyung...Little Bare doesn’t snow all the time. You know that...right?”

“Yea...so I wonder how the other seasons look like. It’s been so long. I learned that snow soaks in all sounds, which is why it’s always quiet during winter. I hate the silence more than anything. I want to know how it’s like to live where it’s filled with laughter.”

Taehyung draws near to his home, which is located in the middle of the forest. Horror slowly seeps under your skin when you start noticing how...familiar this place is. It was difficult to see the resemblance because of how dark it is, but once your eyes adjust to it, it looks as clear as your memories.

“So...it’s a little disheartening to hear that you’re leaving soon, (Y/N). I was hoping you could be here longer.”

You know this place all too well. Your legs begin to tremble, mortified that you have returned to the place that you desperately tried to keep buried in your subconscious. Standing before you is a large cave, towering over you and Taehyung. It’s like a gaping mouth ready to swallow anyone that comes in.

You fall backward, your hands buried in the freezing snow. You can’t get your eyes off of the cave as you hear haunting cries of children’s souls trickling from the depths of the hellhole; one of them sounds exactly like Annie.

Taehyung sees the pure terror in your eyes, crouching over as he tries to help you up. However, when he reaches his hand out, you finally remember exactly who Taehyung is. It makes sense why it was so easy for you to get along with him and why it felt like you’ve known him for so long. Back when you were six years old, this very person is the cursed Winter Bear—the monster who took Annie away.

You swipe his hand away, so shaken that no words are expressed. Your breathing becomes unstable, panic sets in, and your mind goes all sorts of directions. You think about one thing, but your mind heads the other way. You see Taehyung’s mouth moving, but you can’t hear it, only muffles. You can only hear a static ring fly across your ears. Even in the freezing temperatures, you’re sweating bullets.

“(Y/N)...I—”

“S-STAY AWAY!” You crawl backward, swinging your hand side to side to defend yourself from him.

It’s that innocent look in his eyes again that you vividly recall. He was able to transform into a bear and a kid, but when you first met him, he was a child just like you who found you playing in the snow by yourself. He lured you in with fictional affection, promising that he’ll never let you be neglected. It was all a ruse to lock you in that cave, just like the hundreds of souls in there, including your little sister’s.

He looks hurt, but he understands. Right as your memories are coming back to you, it’s returning to him as well. The screams of his victims, the scared look on their faces as they try to escape, and his vicious obsession of chasing after them. He pulls his hand back, knowing full well the crime that he committed twenty years ago. Just one glance at you and he knew that you won’t forgive him. So when you fled, he didn’t bother to chase after you.

All you hear from behind is the aching cries of a young man.

———

Keep running.

Don’t look back.

Focus in front of you.

You run through the forest without a light source. You don’t even know if it’s the right direction back to town, but anywhere is better than there. It was just like that time when you narrowly escaped Taehyung’s grasps. He was so occupied with your sister that he lost sight of you. Just like history repeating itself, you barely escaped his grasp.

You hate yourself for falling into his trap for a second time. Like a pied piper luring children, it was like his curse never uplifted. No wonder it didn’t take a lot for you to turn down the chance to come back to the town. You never learned from your mistakes, and that’s because you kept running away. You ran away so often that you even forgot his face.

Tears blur your vision, so you use your forearm to wipe them away. Despite the revelation, the resurgence of painful reminices, you feel awful for running away from Taehyung. You can’t forget the times spent with him, sharing personal stories of yourself and vice versa, and your friendship deepening. You promised him that he can rely on you, but you already broke it. But...how do you keep a promise with the monster who not only took your sister, but also took away your childhood?

You’re so focused on wiping the tears away that you bumped into someone and fell down. You scream in terror, kicking your feet as you try to get up.

“Hey! (Y/N), calm down!”

The person tries to grab your flailing legs, but you only kick harder. “STOP IT! LET GO! HELP!”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), it’s me! It’s me, relax!!” You feel two hands cupping your cheeks so you can look at the person. “It’s me, Suniya.”

You stop panicking. But your mind feels foggy, and for a moment, you’ve forgotten where you’re at.

“We work together. You’re a journalist, and I’m your agent. You’re twenty-six years old and live in the city. You graduated from the University of Redlands, and you’re the daughter of two parents who live miles away from you. You came here with a researcher to study the town called Little Bare. I came here because I was worried since I couldn’t contact you, then Miss Kim led me here.”

Your breathing becomes steady, regaining control of your unstable mind. It all comes back to you, and now that you got the chance to process what’s happened, your body becomes weak. The only thing you want to do now is cry. You hold onto Suniya, burying your face in her arms as you wail like a child.

Suniya is in shock, never seeing you cry this much before. She knew how much the Winter Bear affected you, but not to this extent, and it breaks her heart. She hugs you back, tears streaming down from her eyes as well.

“Suniya...I...lied. I lied to him again. I ran away. I got scared...I-I couldn’t think...then I left him there...An-Annie...I heard her cry. She was crying so much…”

“It’s okay...you’re safe. Don’t cry.” She hushes you.

She rocks you back and forth as you continue to sob. Your sentences are everywhere, but to question you in this state isn’t going to help. For now, what you need is to hide in somebody else’s arms until you’re okay.

———

“I shouldn’t never fucking agreed to this!” Suniya shouts.

In the room that you stayed in, Suniya is arguing with Kim. You’re sitting in the fetal position in the halls, your back against the wall. Even though the doors are closed, you can hear Yesosang’s voice as clear as day.

It’s the next morning, and you couldn’t sleep a wink. You and Suniya stayed in another room from the inn, not letting Kim know that you returned. The moment the sun rose, Suniya went straight to Kim’s room and has been arguing with her since.

“I thought I had to worry about you because (Y/N) can be a handful but...it was her that I should’ve been more concerned about. You're an absolute scum.”

“Please, try to understand from my viewpoint. Miss (Y/N)’s story needs to be heard—”

“‘Heard’? You mean use?! You don’t give a fuck about what she went through. I should’ve known better and not leave her in the hands of a stranger.”

“You didn’t need to word it that way. I was just trying to help her. I feel like, as a scholar in pursuit of knowledge, she has every right to remember every second of her memories.”

“Oh, don’t give me that scholar bullshit!! You’re no different than those Hollywood people exploited this damn town for money, and you’re not even different from us who are trying to live each day trying to make money. (Y/N)’s repressed memory is not your textbook!”

You can’t handle all this shouting anymore. You’re upset with yourself to make Suniya come all the way here, wasting her family time just to find you. Even though she blames Kim, you feel accountable for agreeing to go on this trip. Suniya can blame your mental instability all she wants, you’re still an adult, and you still said yes.

You wonder what Taehyung’s doing right now. Hopefully, he isn’t cold.

“We’re leaving tonight. You can stay stranded here for all I care. When we get back, we’re going to make sure that every publication doesn’t want to work with you,” Suniya stomps out of the room, taking you by the hand and dragging you with her. “Let’s go, (Y/N).”

As you two walk down the halls, she can sense the immense amount of guilt you’re carrying. She knows you’re blaming yourself, so she slows down and holds both of your hands.

“It’s not your fault, so stop worrying.”

You want to stop, but the guilt won’t leave. Once again, it’s suffocating thinking about what you could’ve done to prevent this from happening.

———

Outside, a gust of wind nearly blows Suniya off of her feet. She was only able to keep still because she was holding onto you. “Holy shit, is the weather always this bad??”

“It became like this recently.”

“Ugh…if this continues, then we might not be able to leave. Sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine.”

Just as you two were returning to the inn, Magaret chases after you two. “Hold up just a minute! (Y/N), can I have a word with you?”

“Who are you?”

“It’s okay, Suniya. Margaret’s been taking care of me.”

She hugs you, almost making you break your back. “Oh dear god, I’m glad you’re alright. I heard that you went off into the forest with that young man. He didn’t touch you, did he?”

You shake your head.

“Thank god. Sheriff Tusk is currently looking for him and will make sure that his ass goes to prison.”

“Wait, what?”

“You can never fully trust men. They’re deceitful and only strive for one thing, and that’s—”

“Is there something important you wanted to say to (Y/N)? We’re in a bit of a hurry to leave.” Suniya saw how disturbed you became when she mentioned Taehyung.

Margaret scoffs. “In this weather? Lady, you’re gonna die if you go today.”

“Why?”

“It’s gonna be ‘nother blizzard happenin’ tonight, and it’s crazier than it’s ever been before. You outta stay one more night.”

But Suniya doesn’t have the patience to deal with another person. “Look, I know you guys don’t have that many outsiders, but I know when locals are trying to make tourists cough out as much money as possible. We’ll be taking our leave.”

What Margaret said about Sheriff Tusk going out to look for Taehyung, so it worries you that he’ll get in trouble. But knowing how quickly Suniya wants to leave this place, she won’t want to stay.

“Wait...I think you should listen to her…”

“You too??”

“The weather here can be pretty bad. We should stay one more night.”

“...Will you be fine…?”

You nod. “I’m not a kid.”

But she seems hesitant, but seeing as the weather is getting worse, it might be for the best. Besides, you’ve been here longer than she has, so she has no choice but to abide by your request. “Okay…”

Margaret’s eyes haven’t left you, clearly showing how worried she is for you. However, she doesn’t say anything as she knows you might want to brush it off. “Yea...it might be for the better.”

———

Later that night in the inn, you’re laying in bed while Suniya is taking a shower. And just like what Margaret said, the town is going through yet another blizzard. This time, it’s heavier compared to the first one. You’re still thinking about everything that happened the night before. You don’t know how you were unable to recognize Taehyung since the beginning.

Did you really repress your memories that much that you forgot his face? The cries from the children’s souls are still imprinted in your mind. Perhaps in the back of your head, you had a hutch that it was him, but his purity made you doubt yourself. Maybe you were keen on going back to him to confirm that it isn’t him from twenty years ago that you ignored the red flags.

Despite the tragedy that he caused in your family, you can’t forget the times spent together. Exposed to the reality of the world made you disregard that there are kind people like Taehyung. He’s caring...but you keep going back to when he lured you and Annie to his cave. It’s conflicting, like two sides of him that you know are real, yet they challenge one another. On one side, he’s your antagonist, but on the other side, he’s like a savior.

There’s a knocking at the door, alerting you. You get up, wondering if you should open it, but seeing as the knocking won’t stop, you get out of bed and open it. On the other side is Kim.

“Hi, Miss—” You nearly slam the door in her face, but she put her weight on the door just in time. “P-please, just give me a minute to explain! I just want to apologize for my selfishness!! I should’ve known better than to take advantage of your trauma.”

You take a second to rethink before opening it for her. You glance at the bathroom, hearing the showerhead still going off.

“You have until Suniya finishes showering to tell me.”

“Thank you…uhm...Again, I’m sorry...I was caught up with my own goals that I lost myself for a second. But...there are a few things that I’ve been doing way before I met you…” she shows you a vanilla folder in her arms. “Here’s some information that I’ve gathered from the town’s archives. It was not an easy task to obtain, so please take good care of them.”

 She passes the folder to you. When you open it, it’s filled with records that look so old that it’ll crumble at any second. Some of these papers feel like it’s decades old too.

“What’s this?”

“My research. I hope this is enough for you to forgive me...I think it’ll really help you with figuring out who Taehyung is and what this curse is.”

And just like that, Kim leaves. You close the door and set the folder down on the desk, spreading every individual paper out for you to read. Some of them are extremely old—going as far as the late 1800’s. The papers on top of the stack are about every recorded disappearance in Little Bare, even some that came after Annie’s. In total, there are a little under sixty child disappearances. As you go through each article, from most recent to oldest, you notice that at some point, the Winter Bear lore became big in the news in the 1950s when a wealthy child went missing. There was even an attempt to make a film out of it but was cancelled due to how controversial it was. To some extent, there was a children’s book in the 1940s about the bear as well.

But as you go back in time, there tends to be less coverage in the early 1900s, most likely due to new coverage of the two World Wars being more favored. A majority of its timeline has been skipped over, and now you’re in the 1880s with newspapers with titles like Exclusive!! Small Town Cursed with Black Magic or Real-Life Witch Doctor Lives!! Cave is an Accessway to Hell. The columns come with pictures of supposed real cave drawings, all are shapes resembling animals, some are birds, dogs, fish, and...bears. There are outrageous claims that the one responsible for those drawings used their blood.

However, as you skim through the articles, it explains what the purpose of those drawings are. Each one resembles the strength of each animal, bird = flight, fish = underwater breathing, etc. There are also theories that the etchings give the holder the ability to shapeshift, though it’s limited. In the third and last article, the title says, Breaking News: Immortality Exists...Or Does It?

Once you go through the papers, you make it to the last few papers. It’s been clipped together with a paperclip, and it’s a record of residences who previously lived in Little Bare. As you flip through them, some pages stick out to you. Some names in each year are highlighted with yellow, and it doesn’t take long for you to learn the pattern. Every name that Kim has colored in are Korean immigrants, and, in particular, there’s a large spike in Korean names in the 1910 records. In that exact, there’s only one name that has been highlighted and circled.

The name is Kim Taehyung.

After 1910, the Korean population here decreased significantly, to where there were no more. And the paper at the bottom of the stack is a black-and-white copy of a photograph with all the Korean immigrants that moved into Little Bare in that year. One there’s a pair that stands out to you. It’s a younger version of Taehyung smiling, and standing behind him is a woman, presumably his mother.

That’s when everything clicked for you. And in that moment, you take the picture from the folder, put on your boots and scarf, and take your thick coat before running out through the doors. You can’t wait for this blizzard to die down, and you have a feeling that it won’t if you don’t go now.

But you stop in your tracks, returning to the room, almost forgetting something. You look through the drawers to grab something small before putting it in your pocket before dashing back out.

———

The blizzard is more intense than ever before, even to the point to where you can barely see anything. Even opening your eyes wider already feels like they’ll freeze. You trek onward to the cave, praying that he’s still there. You’re fully aware at how ridiculous and idiotic this is, like you could’ve waited until it calmed down. But deep down, you know it won’t die down until you find him.

Thankfully, you made it to the cave without any problems. You pick up the pace as you enter the cave, shivering almost to death. Even with multiple layers of clothes, you’re freezing to the point where you can’t feel your feet. In front of you is the black hole that belongs to the cave. The cries of the childrens that Taehyung has taken lurks on the other side. You gulp, clenching your fists to stop them from trembling. You look over your shoulder at the blizzard. You can’t turn back now, so you have to push forward.

You turn on the flashlight on your phone and continue walking. The deeper you went, the louder the cries became. The walls start closing in, and on there are also the same animal drawings from the newspapers. The sound of water droplets complements the hollow cries. It’s getting so loud that it’s beginning to unnerve you. You want to cover your ears, but even if you do, the dreadful cries won’t leave.

But you know that the kids are trying to warn you to leave. They don’t want you to make the same mistakes they made. They’re children—pure souls who lost their young lives. They don't have any intentions to play tricks on you, so that’s why you have to keep pushing through because you have unfinished business.

“(Y/N)...” A young girl’s voice calls out from behind.

Even though you haven’t heard that voice in years, you know exactly who it is. Turning your head around, an apparition of Annie forms. There she is—in her blue-and-white striped dress and pink jacket with the brown boots. She hasn’t aged a bit, but she’s crying.

“Don’t go. Go back home where you have a warm house and people who care about you.” Annie whimpers.

Hearing her speak weighs heavily on your chest. You can’t hold back the tears, so you let it out.

She extends her hand out. “If you don’t hurry, then you’ll freeze to death here.”

Your knees almost gave in, nearly making you fall. Even though you know full well that she can’t be alive, a part of you feels relieved to see her again. It may not even be her, just a recreation that Taehyung made. She has to be his recreation because a two-year-old wouldn’t know to say this.

You approach her spirit, crouching down to her level. You wipe your eyes, exhaling while you smile. “Hi Annie, thanks for warning me. You’re just trying to look out for your older sister, aren’t you?”

She continues to cry, nodding her head.

“It’s okay, you can trust me now. Your big sister is now a grown up. I’m just going to talk to our friend.”

“But! That’s not a friend! He’s a monster who’s done bad things. It’s his fault that I died and that Mom and Dad hates you. He’s made you miserable. He’s the problem!” She cries even louder.

You tilt your head, your grin not once leaving. “I know, but sometimes people do things because they’ve been wronged, too. They won’t know that they’re doing something bad until they learn the good in the world. Our friend was just lonely because he left his homeland, then his parents left him, and no one wanted to be his friend.”

Annie finally stops crying.

“So when he finally made a friend, he wanted it to last forever. That’s why he took their souls. It didn’t help when he had more bad luck and became immortal and has supernatural powers. I just know that deep down, he’s a good person who’s been on the wrong path for a very long time. Right...Taehyung?”

You stand up, turning around after the spirit of your sister disappears. The cries from the children dissipate, and the only one left crying is Taehyung. You approach him slowly, and as you get closer, you can hear him repeatedly mumbling, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ under his breath.

“Am I right, Taehyung? It just got out of hand, and your fear took over you.”

“...I hate opening my eyes to this empty cave. Because I know that whenever I went to town, everyone else would have friends or families to return to when I had nobody. And I never asked to be cursed to live forever either! Why couldn’t I have died a long time ago?!”

He continues to wallow in his own misery.

“And it’s worse when I’m only awake during winter. I don’t even remember what spring, summer, or fall looks like...”

A bear who doesn’t sleep during winter isn’t strong, but a lonely animal because he’ll be the only one awake. Taehyung may be able to live for a long time, but in exchange, he has to hibernate for nine months because the curse is too strong to hold.

“I don’t want to be attached to you. I’m afraid that I’ll try to take you away, but I’m also scared that I’ll never see you again. (Y/N), you’re the only person who’s ever showed me kindness after a hundred years...and I’m afraid that I’ll never experience that again. So please...leave me when you still have the chance. You have a life out there.”

“You don’t have to stay here! You can live with me and—”

“You think I haven’t tried leaving? I’ve tried leaving so many times, but each time I try, I feel like I’m on a leash. The further I go, the more suffocating it gets. An invisible rope is around my neck, but I don’t die. You don’t understand...I’m stuck here forever.”

You don’t want to think about the many attempts he’s tried to end his life. You can’t imagine how you’ll turn out if you were stuck in his position. You’ll probably become insane like him, too. Waking up to the same snowy setting with no one to be there for you. After all, the color white can make people go insane if you see it too much.

You tighten your fists. “Then...then I’ll stay.”

“What?!”

“Let the children’s spirits free and I can stay with you.”

But he shakes his head. “No...don’t give me hope. Just go! Don’t waste yourself with me.”

“No, you listen to me. I’m willing to do it.”

“But...why?! I’ve made your life horrible, and I selfishly took your sister away. I’m the cause of all your problems! I don’t deserve anything from you.”

The pressure of the lives he’s taken away is beginning to weigh down on him, and it’s so much that he can’t handle it. It’s a complicated conflict where he took away so many loved ones from their family, including Annie, but the world was so unfair to him before he fell under this cave’s curse. He didn’t kill because he enjoyed it, but because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions and ended up releasing it in a way he never consciously meant to happen. No matter how hard you try to forget what he’s done, it’ll never leave. It’s engraved into your memory regardless of how much you’ve tried to repress it. You can’t forget but…

You scour through your pocket, showing him the watermelon-flavored candy. He’s confused, but in exchange, you beam. “This is my favorite flavor, and it’s yours too, isn’t it?”

You unwrap it, giving the candy to him. When he doesn’t accept it, you nudge it to him, then he hesitantly takes it.

“Eat it and let the bitterness go away.”

He stares at it, unsure of what your intentions are.

“Almost every kid loves candy, and it’s because of how sweet it is. It’s so sugary that it distracts them from their sorrow. But...it’s also special because of how short-lived the candy is. At some point, it’ll melt in your mouth, and then you’ll want another one, and you can’t keep eating it, otherwise your teeth will rot.”

He clenches it in his fist. “...Why are you going so far for me?”

“Because I like you.”

His eyes widen, almost as if he’s never heard of from somebody else. He thought he heard you wrong. Taehyung is so starstruck.

“I know I can never forget what you’ve done to Annie and what happened after...and honestly...I’m still conflicted. But after getting to know you, I realized that you’re a victim like anybody else. You can’t bring back the kids, but what you can do is learn from your mistakes. So...let the kids go and promise to never take another person’s life.”

You kiss him on the forehead for good luck. After pulling yourself back, but while you were caught off-guard, he leans over to give you a peck on the lips. He feels your chapped lips, which you find embarrassing, but doesn’t matter to him—only that his feelings have also been conveyed to you too.

He pulls back, too timid to look at you in the eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint you, so I vow to never take another person’s life, not even yours.”

“What…? T-Tae…”

“Like what you said, I can’t always be looking for ways to be in an infinite paradise. It’ll just leave me miserable, and I don’t want that to happen to you. What we had was special, and I’ll never forget it. So...it’s okay, you can go.”

From behind, you can hear children laughing. Small hands reach over, grabbing you by your jacket and dragging you away from him.

“Wa-wait, Taehyung! What are you doing?!”

He watches as you try to fight the children’s grasp, knowing full well that if they weren’t there to help him, then you wouldn’t leave. You have a feeling that this will be the last time you’ll see him, so you become choked up in your tears.

“No, don’t do this!”

But he doesn’t respond, afraid that if he says something, he’ll break down.

“Taehyung, I promise I’ll be back! I won’t leave you again! When you open your eyes for winter to come again, then I’ll be there to wake you up. And...even if I’m long gone, then I’ll make sure that you’ll never, ever, have to be alone,” You reach your hand out, extending your pinkie. “I promise.”

With one last look in your eyes, he saw hope. Over a hundred years later, he saw light at the end of the cave, that maybe one day, the curse that had been laid upon him will become a blessing. Maybe this time, he can see someone precious again without taking their life. Even if you don’t fulfill your side to the promise, just the facade of hope is enough to make him look forward to next winter.

Within a blink of an eye, he reaches over and wraps his pinky around yours. He’s so thankful that he’s crying uncontrollably.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

And with one swift move, the children’s spirits pull you out of the cave, separating you from him. Before you close your eyes, you could’ve sworn that you saw Taehyung in his child form, eating the candy that you gave him.

———

You regain consciousness after feeling someone shaking your shoulders. The first person you see is Suniya, bawling like a baby. When you opened your eyes, she froze, not sure about what to do next.

“Sun...Suniya?”

“Oh, thank god!” She hugs you tightly. “I was so scared that we lost you.”

You’re still in the woods. Though, the snow is beginning to melt and the sun is blaring down on your face. You look around to find all the townspeople surrounding you, including Kim.

“Jesus Christ, you gave all of us a fright, girl.” Margaret wipes her tears with her sleeve. “Goin’ out during the middle of a brutal blizzard. Are you insane?”

You look down at your hands, and they’re not trembling anymore. “I guess I am.”

It felt like a dream. In fact, every second you spent with Taehyung felt like a dream because of how fast time flew by. What you experienced in the cave, you don’t know if it actually happened.

You turn around, seeing that the cave is hollow. It’s a lot smaller than what you last remembered. The entrance is like a black hole, but it isn’t empty. But what’s better is that you don’t hear children crying anymore. You look back at the crowd, glancing at Kim who’s crossing her arms. One look and she knew that you overcame your trauma.

Suniya helps you up, putting your arm around her neck. Though your body is fine, your muscles feel weak.

“Come on, let’s go back and get you warmed up.”

“What the hell were you doin’ here, by the way?” Margaret asks.

“There’s just something that I needed to do...and I’m not done with it yet.”

[The End]

———

EPILOGUE

“Alright, next, I’m going to teach you how to make a campfire.”

You are standing in a circle around a bunch of kids. They’re wearing thick jackets with badges on them and have dark green hats with the symbol of a brown bear over a snowflake over them. They’re hugging their arms, shivering to the old.

“Do we have to make one now?”

“It’s too cold to do anything, Miss.”

“Can’t we just learn it back at the cabin?”

You shake your head. “The whole reason to make a campfire is to build it outside. Not only is the fire meant to keep you warm, but it also helps cook food and used as a light source.”

You grab some branches from the ground, wiping the snow off of it.

“You see how wet it is? It won’t make a good fire. It’s going to be difficult, but you need to find dry wood like this.”

You compare and contrast between the two, kicking snow off of the ground until you see dirt. You place the wood, taking out two rocks and creating friction to spark them. And just like that, you’re able to create fire. The kids stand around your campfire, awing at it as the flames rise.

However...the flames go out within seconds. “Oh…”

The children laugh. “What was that?”

“That was terrible!”

“Hold on, just give me one second…” You grab the wood to make a second attempt. “I swear it worked the first time.”

“Miss (Y/N), why are we camping during winter? Doesn’t girl scout camps happen during summer?”

“Yea! All my friends go during summer. My parents kept saying that this camp saves more money...but it’s unfair.”

“Well...let me tell you something. They can teach you all the methods of surviving during the summer, but almost every tip is thrown out the window when it’s snowing. I have a friend who used to be your age and didn’t know how to survive on his own in the winter. His mother abandoned him a long time ago and no one wanted to take care of him. So he was on his own.”

This gathers the attention of all the girls, so they surround you as you continue the story.

“He was starving and cold because he didn’t know the basics of survival, like making a campfire. He didn’t know how to fish nor did he know how to build a tent.”

“I hope she went to jail for abandoning her own child.”

“Why would his mother leave him?? That’s so messed up.”

“Sometimes, it’s not because they want to, but because they can’t. We’ll never fully know why she left him, but I think she did love him.”

“What? I think she hated him.”

“Because before she left him, she told him that he’s a strong boy. Maybe she left him because she knew that he'd survive. Of course, this is by no means a good method of parenting, but she had faith in her own son that he’ll make it through the winter.”

“I don’t think she cared about him,” one of the girl scouts crosses her arms. “Couldn’t he go to the police for help? They’re always there to help him find his home!”

“Yea, but it wasn’t that simple. You see, he was considered as...different, I guess you could say. People many years ago thought completely opposite from us, so no one wanted to help him.”

“Is he still alive?”

You fall silent, and this builds anticipation for your response. They draw closer to you, unable to handle the suspense.

“He’s still alive.”

They sigh in relief.

“Do you girls want to meet him?”

“Wait, can we??”

You nod. “He’s a little shy at first, but he’s super friendly.”

“How does he look like??”

“Hmm...he’s super tall,” you raise your arms up in the air. “And he has broad shoulders. His hair is so curly that it almost looks like cotton candy. He also has a mole under his nose and the most charming smile anybody has ever seen.”

You stare at the sky with dreamy eyes, and that’s when the girls understood the subtle hints. They elbow each other, giggling and covering their mouths.

But you’re clueless. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you have a crush on him, Miss (Y/N)?”

Your cheeks turn red, and they squeal with excitement. You press your knuckles on your lips as you become more flustered.

“Keep it a secret, but he’s my boyfriend.”

They scream, stunned that their leader has someone in her heart. You shush them, worried that their voices would disrupt the town’s peace.

“Di-did you guys do things...like kissing??” One girl whispers.

You nod, and they hide their screams behind their covered mouths. Then, you rub your stomach, feeling a lump. “Pretty soon, we’re gonna be a family.”

The girls have no idea what you meant, but they’re not at the age to learn about that yet.

“He’s the most important person in the entire world to me. He sleeps a lot, so I don’t get to see him that often, so every second I have with him matters until I get too old. Because of that, he’s afraid that one day when he opens his eyes, I won’t be there anymore. So, even if I’m gone, he’ll have enough friends that he won’t ever have to feel alone anymore.”

From behind a dead tree, you can see Taehyung hiding behind it. You snicker, certainly knowing that he heard the entire conversation. He’s probably trying to fight back his tears. Every time you visit him during winter, he would sob and express about how much he doesn’t deserve you. But since he went through decades of suffering, this is the least you can do to ease it.

You raise your head, pointing your direction to him. “Taehyung, would you like to sit with us?”

He peers his head over the tree, holding the bark gently while staring at the ground. He raises his eyes, trying his hardest to hide his smile.

“...Thank you.”

[End]

A/N: Thank you for everyone who read this, especially considering how long it is lol. I wanted to get this out during winter, but it took longer than expected ha ha. I hope you guys are all safe and healthy!! Don’t be afraid to leave any comments :) Have a beautiful day. ^^

Masterlist

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Ectotherm (all parts)

Hey, all! I really wanted to contribute to the Great Good Omens Snake-Off. Short crack fic about Crowley being driven out of Ireland by St. Patrick.

(Spoiler: the punchline was “Of course I’m going to take it personally -- I was the only snake on that bloody island!”)

But I am burned all the way out today. Instead, please enjoy my Snek!Crowley Angst-with-a-Happy-Ending, “Ectotherm” - all the parts gathered together in one place, for the first time ever!

(If you enjoy, please consider reblogging!)

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

In twenty-four hours he had been subjected to the inferno of a burning bookshop; the hell-born flames of the dread sigil Odegra enveloping his Bentley; the terrifying freezing-hot-burning-cold presence of Satan himself; and a column of Hellfire intended not for him but for Aziraphale, because the Archangels were determined to destroy the best thing that had ever walked the floor of Heaven.

Well, forget them.

And so, they sat at the Ritz raising their glasses to the world, ready to share a meal and start their life together.

Only Crowley suddenly realized he couldn’t eat. He’d thought he was hungry, but the food just sat in his stomach, heavy and cold. Even the wine seemed to sour, once it was past his tongue.

Just nerves, he thought, and did it really matter? He’d always preferred to watch Aziraphale eat, see the joy bubble across his features. It was enough to know that they could do this every day for eternity if they wished, and right now he certainly wished it.

He felt a little better when the coffee arrived, almost-painful heat radiating out from his stomach.

“My dear fellow, that’s your fourth cup!” Aziraphale protested, as he downed another.

“It’s good! And I didn’t complain when you ordered a second piece of cake.”

“Well, I…I was rather thinking you might like some, too.”

With a rush of giddy emotions, Crowley realized he liked the sound of that very much. He picked up his fork and sliced off a bite of red cake with thick white icing. “What is it?”

“I thought I’d try something different, something a little modern. This is red velvet cake.”

Only Aziraphale would think a flavor that had been popular for over sixty years was a little modern. Crowley smiled as he tasted it – rich and sweet and strangely light on his tongue. “You know, it’s not bad,” he said, reaching for another bite.

And a little heat rose to his face as he realized that Aziraphale was sitting there with hands folded, smile on his face – watching Crowley eat.

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

They went for a walk after the Ritz, but he found he was very tired. He tried to shrug it off.

“I’ve had a busy week, and I missed my sleeping day,” he explained. “I don’t – I don’t need to sleep, you know, but I still get exhausted. I’ll be fine.”

“You should sleep, then,” Aziraphale said, tone slightly scolding. The angel seemed determined to make sure Crowley took care of himself, as if he hadn’t learned to do that long before the Garden. It turned out, being fussed over wasn’t so bad. “I can walk you back to your place. Or. Er. You can come to the bookshop. I don’t have much to offer, but there’s the sofa, and perhaps we can have a drink…”

“Bookshop sounds lovely.” He always had to fight back a smile when he remembered the many nights they’d sat in the back corner together, sharing wine, sharing stories, complaining about work, just being themselves. Actually, he didn’t have to fight back that smile at all anymore – he could wear it for anyone to see. For Aziraphale to see.

None of that today, though. Crowley was rather embarrassed to find that the moment he stretched out on the sofa, he started falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do to fight it off.

He was dead to the world before Aziraphale had even settled into his armchair, and didn’t wake up until the shop was filled with bright Monday sunlight. A fleecy tartan blanket covered him from shoulder to toe, but he still shivered, and his stomach felt strangely heavy. Too much cake, probably.

Crowley sat up stiffly, running a hand through his hair and blinking around the shop. His eyes landed on a customer, who jumped in surprise, then quickly walked out.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Aziraphale hurried over. “How are you feeling? Better, I trust?”

“A bit.” Crowley rubbed at his face. “Didn’t I have glasses?”

“You took them off before falling asleep.” Aziraphale pulled them out of his pocket. “I was worried you might roll over them in the night. You slept very heavily. Is that normal?”

He shrugged, pushing the dark lenses back onto his face. “Probably. Didn’t wake up, didn’t dream much, seems like a good sleep. Does it have to be so blasted cold, though?”

Aziraphale glanced at the old-fashioned thermostat. “I do keep it a little cool to discourage customers. You scared away three different people just by sleeping there, you know. Perhaps I should get you a permanent bed right in the middle of the floor.”

“Only if you promise to turn the heat up.” Crowley wandered closer to the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. That was better. “I’m…” It wasn’t a word he used often.  “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About the customers? Don’t be, they were trying to touch my first edition Verne novels and I was running out of ways to be inconspicuously rude.”

“No about…falling asleep. I know you had…” Plans? Expectations? They’d never really talked about what Our Side would mean. “…you had hopes, for our first day, you know, free.”

“And every one of them is being fulfilled right now,” Aziraphale said, with such sincerity that Crowley started to smile. “Ah, I lied. Now all of them are being fulfilled.” He took Crowley’s hands in his. “Just standing here, talking to you, not worrying about who might see us, it’s more than I ever thought would be possible. I am perfectly content as we are.” He frowned suddenly. “Except that your hands are freezing.”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the demon’s, rubbing them, trying to warm them up. It certainly did make him feel better, and not just because his fingers had been a little numb from the way he’d slept.

“I was actually worried…” Aziraphale started again, still staring at their hands. “Oh, I assume you have your own, er, hopes. Since you’ve been thinking about this so much longer than I. We should probably discuss that, but, well, just to warn you, I haven’t thought much about…that is, I’m not sure that I want…ohhh…”

Crowley lifted one hand to tilt Aziraphale’s face up, to look into his eyes. The heat of it was almost unbearable. “I haven’t really thought about it either,” he confessed. “Never thought we’d make it this far. Everything from this point on is just a pleasant surprise.” With his other hand, he squeezed the angel’s fingers gently. “I don’t think I’d say no to more of this, though.”

Aziraphale blushed, the heat of it rushing to fill every space inside Crowley, and his eyes dropped briefly. “Your hand is still freezing,” he finally said, pulling away with a smile. He bustled across the shop to pick up his coat. “I know, let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice, warm day. We can feed the ducks in St. James’s Park…No. Let’s do something different. Something daring.” There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he turned back. “Let’s feed the ducks in Regent’s Park.”

It was indeed a gloriously warm day, and they spent over five hours exploring every path in London’s third-largest park while a small sign sat in the bookshop window reading Out to Lunch – Back in a Jiffy.

Every once in a while, Aziraphale’s hot hand found its way into Crowley’s cold one. Again and again, until it felt completely natural.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

It had been three weeks since the world had ended and begun again, everything ticking along nicely as Aziraphale liked to stay. Crowley caught himself thinking more like Aziraphale these days, which was both worrying and wonderful.

Except that any time Crowley was indoors, he felt lethargic, cold, a little cranky. Aziraphale had miracled up a thick scarf in grey tartan. It was hideous and embarrassing and he wore it all the time even though it didn’t really help. He knew what the tartan gifts meant.

He took more hot baths than he ever had in his life, including the years he’d spent living in Bath. He soaked until he felt lightheaded, feverish even, and bundled himself up to try and trap in the heat.

Yet still, an hour later, he huddled in his seat, shivering, unable to concentrate on a game of chess, or even draughts.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Aziraphale asked as Crowley moved his black piece forward.

"Stop asking me that. I know how to play this, I've been beating you for centuries." He glared at the angel sitting comfortably in his armchair.

Two weeks ago, Aziraphale had summoned his favorite seat into Crowley's study, across the desk from that ridiculous throne. Despite his complaints, at the time he'd welcomed the idea of the angel being as comfortable in his space as Crowley was in the bookshop. Of sharing all those idle moments as he had dreamed for so long. Of finally opening his life enough to make room for the only other being that mattered.

Now, he couldn't help thinking how awful the chair looked, how it clashed with his decor, with his whole flat, how much he hated the way Aziraphale smirked as he picked up one red piece and, there he goes again, captured every single one of Crowley's in a rapid series of jumps.

Really should have seen that coming.

"Well, my dear," Aziraphale folded his hands. "Shall we try for best seven out thirteen, or should we switch to something more your speed? Naughts and Crosses, perhaps?"

With a sweep of his arm, Crowley knocked the board and pieces off the desk, scattering them across the floor.

"Crowley!"

The demon didn't respond. He didn't have the energy to respond - every muscle in his body screamed to just stretch out and rest.

He walked into the next room, where the heat lamps over the plants kept the air at nearly 40 degrees. All but the most tropical had already withered, and even the few remaining trembled at his approach, knowing they weren't up to his exacting standards. But he wasn't here to berate them, just to try and soak in some of the heat.

"Crowley? My dear, are you quite alright?"

He leaned against the counter, trying to will his shoulders to relax, his stomach to unknot, his brain to start functioning again. He didn't even notice Aziraphale's approach, until the too-hot hand landed on his shoulder.

"DON'T!" Without thinking, Crowley spun, shoving the angel away with all his strength. "Don't touch me, don't come near me, don't even speak to me, you arrogant sod!"

Then he tore off the tartan scarf and threw it into the corner.

Over 6,000 years, Crowley and Aziraphale had had many fights.

The everyday ones, the endless bickering and teasing, they both knew never to take to heart.

The truly fierce ones, a request for Holy Water, and a plan to run away - these had nearly shattered them, yet they'd still understood, on some level, that each wanted what was best.

The argument that night was like nothing they'd ever experienced. All the bitter pettiness of their daily arguments, but with every ounce of ferocity Crowley could muster.

Later, as he lay on the ceiling, shivering in the heat, Crowley replayed every word, crystal clear in his mind, hoping that at least the burn of his shame could warm him up.

It wasn't anger. It was lashing out.

Crowley was afraid. Something was wrong, and he didn't know what.

--

Crowley couldn't get warm.

He tried wearing more layers.

He tried wearing fewer layers.

Eating hot food.

Lying under a tree.

Lying in direct sunlight.

Finally, there was only one conclusion he could reach.

“I’m cold-blooded.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aziraphale sniffed. His ego was still somewhat bruised from their argument, but he was clearly making an effort.

They sat facing each other across the café table, opposite sides. Aziraphale had ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream melting down the sides. A second fork sat, waiting for Crowley, and the angel kept giving it significant looks, but the demon wouldn’t unwrap his hands from the enormous cup of coffee he’d ordered, the largest they served.

Aziraphale sighed and folded his hands. “Crowley, dear. I know the…transition to our new life hasn’t been as smooth as we hoped, and we’ve both said things we regret, but I’ve never felt that you were –”

“No, Aziraphale.” He took a sip of coffee. It was something American-style, hot and bitter and lacking any particular flavor. He didn’t care. He just needed absurd quantities of near-boiling liquid. “I mean it literally. Somehow, after the Apocalypse, I became cold-blooded. I can’t get warm no matter what I do.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, as if waiting for the punchline of an unfunny joke. “That’s simply impossible. How many times have you told me off for making those assumptions, just because you used to be a snake? You have a mammal body, and it does…mammal things,” he waved his hands to indicate that he still wasn’t completely caught up on modern science classifications, “including being warm…”

He trailed off as Crowley reached across the table, taking his hand. Even after being wrapped around the hot ceramic mug, it still wouldn’t feel right. “What are you always saying these days?”

“That your hands are freezing.” Aziraphale shook his head. “It can’t be true. That’s not proof…”

Crowley gestured to the plate. “I can’t eat because my stomach is too cold to work. When I do eat, I have to lay down because any extra movement takes away energy I need for digestion.” He tugged at the tartan scarf, back around his neck where it belonged. “Extra layers don’t help, because they just insulate me from the warm air. Blankets don’t help because I’m not creating enough heat on my own. Even turning up the thermostat doesn’t help because this blessed body is made to shed heat, not retain it.” He stared into his mug of coffee. “I can’t move when I’m cold. I can’t move when I’m hot. Sunlight helps for a little while, but the days are getting shorter.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, knowing what he was about to say would make the angel pull away, wishing it wasn't true. “I…I don’t think I like being touched anymore.”

He didn’t fight it when the hand vanished, taking its warmth with it. Crowley just slumped, closing his eyes in defeat.

The squeal of chair legs against hard floor made him glance up. Aziraphale had moved to sit beside him, pulling his chair as close as he could.

Carefully, Crowley leaned his head to the side, resting it on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting their bodies press together. It was easier this way, a sort of passive contact, unrestrained, letting the heat flow between them.

“Are you…” He could hear the way the breath caught in Aziraphale’s throat. “You seem so certain. Is there any chance you’re wrong? Any other explanation?”

Crowley gently shook his head, letting it wobble back and forth on the angel’s shoulder. “This is how it felt when I was a snake. You don’t forget something like that.”

“At least now you know. Surely what you learned from being a snake can help you navigate…”

“I looked it up,” Crowley muttered. “A snake can handle a range of fifteen, twenty degrees easily. Human body…a little more than one degree. At 35 I’m freezing to death, at 38 I’m burning up from the inside. I don’t even know how I’ve lasted this long.” He pressed himself even closer into Aziraphale’s side. Half of him was still cold, even as his shoulder and his thigh screamed in the heat. It wouldn’t balance properly. “It’s going to kill me.”

He felt the tension all through Aziraphale’s body. “Crowley, no!”

“Fine, it’s going to get me discorporated, and I’ll wake up in Hell, and they’ll kill me.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Maybe. It’s getting harder to concentrate every day.”

“Then I’ll look for a solution.” He offered his hand and Crowley grabbed it, grateful for the almost-too-hot touch. “I might as well, since I’m responsible.”

“What are you talking about, Angel?”

“Your body was fine, then I used it and…it must be something I did.”

“Don’t say that.” He pulled away enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I agreed to switch bodies, I knew there was some risk. And I don’t think you could have caused this. Somehow this is Heaven or Hell, still interfering with our lives.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, nodding. Crowley wasn’t sure if he really believed it or not. “Still. If this was done to you, there must be some way to undo it. And if there’s a way, I will find it.” He swallowed, turning to look at their linked hands. “But, in the meantime…It’s probably best if you turn back into a snake.”

“No!” Crowley all but shouted, anger mixing with fear. “No, Aziraphale I won’t. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“Isn’t it better than dying?”

He clenched his jaw, biting back his reply. He honestly wasn’t sure it was. An eternity as a serpent, no driving, no music, no wines, no gardening, no feeding ducks, no holding hands…

Crowley twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s, lifting up the hand clasp between them. “I fought…We fought…so long for this. I can’t just…I won’t give this up. I won’t, Angel.”

“You’re not giving anything up,” Aziraphale insisted. He brushed his lips across Crowley’s fingers and, oh, add something else to the list of things he wasn’t willing to lose. “I will still be here. My feelings for you won’t change at all.”

“They’ll probably change a little,” Crowley pointed out.

“I want to spend every day with you, talk with you, see you happy. And it doesn’t matter if you’re scaled or human or turn into a fish, that’s not going to change.”

“I won’t be happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But please. Give me the time I need to save you.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, letting the angel do the same back, even though part of his mind screamed and squirmed to escape the heat of contact. He told himself this wouldn’t be the last time.

--

Crowley was warm.

He stretched out in his favorite basking spot by the window, feeling the winter sunlight play across his scales, heating him up. Oh, there were heat lamps tucked in the corners for when he needed them, but nothing beat the feel of real sunlight.

Every now and again, the door would open, a customer hoping to browse for a Christmas gift. The rumble of footsteps through his belly woke him, and he reared up his head, tongue flicking out to catch the scent of the blurry shape by the entryway.

Almost every time, the visitor took one look at the enormous red-bellied black snake and vanished soon after.

The hours ticked by, slow and sweet, like drops of honey. Crowley was aware that he should be filling them with fast-paced reckless activities of some form, but he couldn’t quite recall what…just a general sense of dissatisfaction.

Still, whatever he had lost, the best was still here.

When he’d drunk his fill of warmth, he twisted his way through the shop, sliding around stacks of books and potted plants (hissing at the ones that didn’t seem to be growing well enough). There, at the desk, sat the angel.

Aziraphale was rarely anywhere else these days. Bent over old grimoires, reading glasses balanced on his nose, pile of notes beside him. He hadn’t glanced up for any of the customers. Three cups full of cold tea sat beside him. He hadn’t even risen to get a new one in a while.

A pair of folded-up sunglasses sat in one corner of the desk. He never picked them up, but sometimes touched them as he worked.

Crowley twisted around his leg, climbing, finding his way along the chair and across the shoulders until he was draped across Aziraphale, watching him work.

“Hello, my dear. How was your day?”

Crowley hissed dismissively. One day was the same as another for a snake. “Progressss?”

“I’m close. I really think I’m close.” His voice was just a rumble, rising from his chest through Crowley’s belly, distorted, missing half the notes. He couldn’t pick up on the nuance, couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. Just like he couldn’t see all of Aziraphale’s face at once, just the jaw, the little smile, the rest curving away in the distance.

“Ssssupper,” Crowley reminded him. The angel needed lots of reminders.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I really want to keep at this a bit longer.”

“Resssst.”

He held up his hands before him, letting Crowley slither from one to the next without trying to grasp. There was something about hands, something important. It was just on the edge of his memory, but snakes don’t have hands. It slipped away.

“No, I can’t rest yet. Not until…no.”

“Pleassssssse.”

“I can take a small break, but no dinner. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

When Crowley was coiled back around his shoulders, Aziraphale stood up, walking across to the little secluded corner of the shop. This was another important area, though Crowley couldn’t exactly remember why. He thought it involved a lot of sitting, drinking…water? Not water. He forgot what he used to drink.

The angel fiddled with his collection of round discs. “How about some Vivaldi, since it’s almost Christmas? You always liked his Seasons.” Crowley nodded.

He couldn’t really hear the music. Noises on the air meant nothing to a snake.

But once Aziraphale was stretched out on the sofa, Crowley made himself comfortable on his chest, and felt the deep thrum of the music as the angel sang along.

Warmth rose from Aziraphale, too, just like from the sun. It was a different kind of heat. Purer. Better.

Whatever else he had lost, Crowley still had that. And he was content.

--

Aziraphale collapsed across the sofa, head and shoulders wedged into the corner, too exhausted to even keep himself upright. The long black serpent lay on his stomach, watching him intently.

“Oh, Crowley,” he tried to keep his voice steady, despite the tears he could no longer hold in. “You were wrong. It was my fault. I’ve – I’ve worked it out now. Obvious, really. Serpent. Human. Two corporations, woven together.” His voice started to crack. “When we changed places I…I sort of dropped a corner. Let one bleed into the other. I – I’m so sorry.”

Crowley took a moment, processing this. “Accccident.”

“Yes, but I…” He held out a hand. Crowley didn’t like to be scratched, or petted, or held. But he did glide across the hand, bringing his snout closer to the angel’s tear-streaked face. “I could have killed you, Crowley. I could have destroyed you over something so…so foolishly simple. You must hate me.”

“No. Nevvver.”

He wiped furiously at his eyes with his free hand. They itched with fatigue as they never had before. “I’m almost there, Crowley. Just a little more. I can see where I dropped it. I can see how to separate them again. I just…just need to figure out how to secure the ends, so it doesn’t happen again.” The sobs broke through again. “I’m nearly there, my love. I’m nearly there.”

“Resssst.”

“I can’t. Not when I’m so close. Crowley I…I need you back. I want to see you human again. And I know you hate this, I won’t leave you in this form a moment longer than necessary, I just…”

“Ssssleeep.” Crowley retreated, coiling up on Aziraphale’s chest. “Ssssleeep. Lovvvve. Sssssleeeep.”

Aziraphale drifted off under that watchful golden gaze, allowing his mind the rest it needed to put the last few pieces together.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

The angel had spent the morning carving lines and curves deep into the wooden floor, until Crowley could feel every scratch and dip through the sensitive skin of his belly. Now the angel was trying to keep him at the center of the pattern, while he ran around the edge doing – something.

There was a heat lamp, but it was too far away. Why wasn’t he under it?

Crowley started sliding across the floor, coiling and uncoiling in the direction of that delicious, life-giving heat –

The angel suddenly loomed before him, hands flapping. “No, no! I told…the center…few more minutes.”

A few minutes? Crowley was cold now. He wound to the side, planning to dart around, but the angel’s feet suddenly shifted, coming down sharply in his path.

Startled, Crowley reared up, nearly as tall as the angel, to hisssss from his maximum height, head flattened, vision suddenly clear enough to see the angel’s face: eyes wide, jaw tight. Frightened. Crowley gave another hisssss, hoping that would be enough to scare the interloper away, clear a path to the heat.

But the angel merely raised his hands, moving more slowly this time. “…sorry, my…adjust the lamp…break the circle now…start all over…” The words were murky, distorted, most of them too low or soft to be perceived. “…explained…ten minutes ago…remember?”

Ten minutes? That was a long time.

No, no it wasn’t. The cold was just making his mind fuzzy again. He gave another longing look at the heat lamp, then at another, further away, tucked safely in a corner where he could bask and hide. He felt exposed, anxious, very much in danger. What if this was some kind of trap?

Then he looked again at the angel’s face. Not frightened. Worried. Sad. Tired.

Crowley trusted Aziraphale. He couldn’t remember precisely why, but it was undeniable – a deep, profound trust. If Aziraphale said he had to stay here, stay he would.

“Fasssssster,” Crowley grumbled, and twisted back to where he’d been before. A moment later, the light from the heat lamp grew a little warmer. Still not quite enough, but better.

Two more slow circuits around the marks on the floor, adjusting things and muttering, and finally the angel sat down, facing Crowley. He held out his arms, but Crowley was in no mood to be handled, pulling back into his coils.

“I need…preferably your face.” Crowley flicked his tongue, but otherwise didn’t move. “Please…”

Reluctantly, the black and red snake moved closer, lifted his head until the angel could cup his jaw with burning-hot hands. He didn’t like it and nearly pulled away, fighting the urge to retreat.

Necessary, this is necessary. He tried to relax into the contact, tried to pretend it didn’t feel wrong.

The angel’s blue eyes fluttered shut; Crowley could just make out the tense wrinkles forming in his brow, but the stiffness in the fingers around the snake’s jaw was unmistakable. It wasn’t enough to be painful, but it was close. Crowley’s back half twisted and writhed as if ready to pull away, even while he focused his entire being on keeping his head still. Necessary. Trust him. It’s necessary.

Finally, the angel’s hands fell away, and he dropped back, breathing heavily. His eyes opened and he smiled. “…finished.”

Good.

Crowley turned and slithered under the heat lamp, stretching out for maximum comfort.

Just as he was settling in for a good late-morning nap, the angel appeared beside him again. “…you hear…finished…”

Now what? Perhaps he should go find one of the more secluded lamps, to avoid interruptions.

“…fixed you…”

Shrugging off the nap for the moment, Crowley raised his head just enough to tip it to the side. Fixed…?

The angel knelt at the edge of the heat lamp’s warmth, and spoke again, much louder. “…fixed…change back…”

Crowley tilted his head the other way. Change back…?

“Human! Crowley, human.”

It all came back in a rush. Arms. Legs. Hands. Drinking strange red water, watching birds swim, moving very fast in a large black box which made the angel very angry – human.

He reared up again.

Nothing changed.

“Hhhhhow?”

The angel shook his head, mouth working, but Crowley couldn’t hear a sound. He pushed closer, far closer than was comfortable, until the heat pits of his face were filled with the angel’s warmth, until he could see the tears gathering in blue eyes.

Crowley focused on those eyes, that shape, on every part of his life in human form that he could still make sense of.

Still no change.

Hissing with frustration, he abandoned the warmth of the heat lamp, shooting away to weave among the plants, drape himself across the sofa, even nudge his face at an open book.

No effect at all.

He couldn’t remember how to change back.

As he circled the shop again – feeling his energy sap away in the cold – he noticed the angel sitting once again at his desk. Crowley climbed up his leg, across his back, draped over his shoulders and around his chest. Felt the pure warmth, cleaner and sweeter than sunlight.

The angel wasn’t working now, of course; his chair was pointed away from the desk, as if to avoid even looking at the piles of paper. He clutched something in his hands, shoulders heaving, chest shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry…I tried…I tried so hard, but I couldn’t…I’m too late.” The voice was a little clearer now, rumbling through Crowley’s belly.

“Sssshhhhhh,” Crowley comforted as best he could, trying to nestle his head on the angel’s arms. It wasn’t a gesture he was comfortable with, but he could remember now that arms, hands, were important. Perhaps if he could get closer…

“If I hadn’t been so foolish…oh, my love…I failed you…”

But Crowley wasn’t listening. He was looking at what the angel held in his hands. He was looking at –

“Glassssssesss.”

“Wh – what?”

“Glassssess.” Crowley nudged at the angel’s hands until they parted, revealing a pair of black lenses held by silver frames. “Pleassse. Glassessss.”

It wasn’t easy to put a pair of sunglasses onto a snake’s head, even one so large as Crowley. They dangled rather uselessly down either side of his jaw, the lenses didn’t exactly cover his eyes, and where they did the world became a murky black soup he had no hope of seeing. But it felt…right.

He turned, trying to face the angel, but somehow lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.

“Crowley? Are you…Crowley?”

The voice was too crisp, too sharp, to rich. It was startling.

He shook his head and hissed, but it sounded strange. Thick. His tongue couldn’t get out because there were too many teeth.

Crowley blinked. Not because he had to, but because he suddenly realized he had eyelids.

A hand drifted over and adjusted the glasses, settling them correctly over the ears and across the nose – no that was his hand, his fingers.

His eyes slowly panned up and he was shocked at how clearly he could see the angel standing over him, looking more pale, more drawn, and just a bit thinner than he remembered, clothes a rumpled mess, eyes red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Crowley!”

Two arms suddenly around his shoulders, pulling him up onto legs he barely remembered how to use, wrapping around him, pulling him into the indescribable softness of Aziraphale’s embrace. It took him a moment to remember that he had arms of his own, that he could twist them, twine them, pull Aziraphale even closer.

He could still feel Aziraphale’s warmth pressing into his chest and stomach, but it no longer felt like a blazing fire, or the strange glow of life-giving heat. It was simply a body, pressed close to his. Two bodies trembling, shaking, shoulders heaving, breath ragged.

Aziraphale was still crying, still mumbling apologies into the demon’s shoulder.

Crowley was laughing.

They didn’t let each other go for a long, long time.

--

Crowley was warm.

No, Crowley was happy.

It wasn’t as easy to fit both bodies on the sofa in this form, but they managed – Aziraphale stretched out, Crowley, lying across his chest, legs in a tangle, head tucked against his throat, listening to the sigh of breath, the rumble of heartbeat.

They hadn’t talked about it. Aziraphale had finally admitted to being tired, and they just found themselves here as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I suppose I’ve gotten used to this,” murmured Aziraphale, who never used to lie on his own sofa, trembling fingers tracing through Crowley’s hair.

“I’m used to it, too,” he mumbled back, but used to it didn’t begin to describe it. This was right, this was home, and he knew it was more than a leftover serpentine instinct to bask that had brought him here, that would keep bringing him here for as long as Aziraphale would allow it.

Aziraphale’s right hand was still twined with Crowley’s left, resting on the angel’s chest. Crowely couldn’t stop studying it, turning it, running his thumb across fingers and knuckles and nails. He could feel more than just heat now, he could feel the softness, the rough callus on the side of one finger where Aziraphale rested his pencil as he wrote, the faint hard edges of papercuts. It was an entire world to explore, that hand, full of more wonder than Crowley had ever suspected.

“Might be more comfortable in a bed,” Aziraphale whispered, clearly already on the edge of sleep.

“I’ve got a bed,” Crowley said idly, still looking at the broken edges of Aziraphale’s nails. He’d never seen them like that before. Aziraphale had kept them perfectly manicured since the invention of manicures. “Lots of space, too. More than I can use. But then, all my plants are already here…” He trailed off, realizing what he was saying.

“Mmh,” was Aziraphale’s only reply. The fingers combing through Crowley’s hair were now almost still.

“S’alright, Angel. You rest. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

--

Notes for Americans: Draughts is checkers, and Naughts and Crosses is Tic-Tac-Toe. All temperatures are in Celsius, and I hope I have them accurate.

Snake notes: I am not a herpetologist (reptile/amphibian scientist) but my cousin is, and he provided some notes on snake behavior and biology, which I've used here and elsewhere in my writing, though my attempts to render ectothermic traits onto a warm-blooded body are entirely my own.

Some fans like to HC Crowley as cold-blooded in all his forms, which is fine, but it certainly means more than just "he's a little chilly when it's cold out"! I have a full list for if I ever want to do a cold-blooded-Crowley story, but not all of them made it into this one. Relevant points include: - Ectotherms need to bask to get their heat up to a comfortable temperature before any major activity - Digesting food is a long, slow process. Snakes prefer to rest somewhere warm and safe while this happens - Bundling up can help retain heat (snake sweaters!) but only if the snake is already hot to begin with - Snakes can only actually be safely away from their heat lamps for half an hour or so (depending on ambient temperature) - Torpor is a sort of involuntary state of reduced metabolism that ectotherms enter when it gets too cold. Various other terms also apply, depending on how long the period is, and how intense the cold, but keep in mind - INVOLUNTARY. - Snakes do not like to be touched, handled or contained. Snakes are just not comfortable with physical contact the way mammals are, though they will tolerate it if you stay within the right boundaries - Do not startle a snake.

Thank you all for reading! This was originally from my Christmas Prompt fic, “Boundless Love.” I’ll post the link in the comments!

[sariasprincy-writes]

How Trust is Won

How Trust is Won

If there was ever a night when Sakura had thought that shit had utterly hit the fan, it was this night.

In a clearing somewhere between Fire and Mist country, Sakura was knee-deep in mud and up to her elbows in blood. The rain poured heavily down upon her. It made her hair stick to the sides of her face and the back of her neck. Droplets of water dripped off the tip of her nose and clung to her eyelashes, but she didn’t dare wipe them away. Not when Genma’s life hung by a thread beneath her fingertips.

Around her, the clash of battle raged on. Steel-on-steel echoed through the clearing, ricocheting of the trees and fading up into the night sky high above. Nearby, Itachi and Shisui held off their attackers. The ones that had managed to set such a carefully crafted trap that Genma had no choice but to sacrifice himself to keep the rest of them safe. What Sakura wouldn’t give to wrap her fingers around their throats.

She didn’t know how long she worked. All she knew was that her other teammates were still fighting tooth and nail. There had been eight when the battle began. How many there were now, she didn’t know.

Out of the corner of her eyes, a quick streak of light seized Sakura’s gaze, a strip of moonlight peeking out between the clouds caught the edge of a blade. She looked up just in time to jerk her head to the side where a kunai had been on path for her eye. It grazed her cheek, but her hands nor her chakra waivered from her fallen comrade. Not even as the enemy nin who had thrown the deadly weapon advanced on her.

He made it as close as two yards away before Itachi flickered between them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, his katana raised for battle. Under the brief light of the full moon, the blade gleamed red.

Sakura spared them no more notice. It took all her concentration to close the large gash in Genma’s side before she began the tedious task of sealing blood vessels closed and repairing organs. His muscles would need to be stitched back together as well, but that would be last after she stemming his internal bleeding and got his blood pressure back to safe levels.

Time passed without meaning until the sounds of battle grew fainter before cutting off abruptly with a wet, gurgled cry. Sakura glanced up sharply, ensuring it wasn’t one of her own teammates. When she found both Itachi and Shisui still standing some years away, exhausted and bloodied, but otherwise unharmed, her gaze dropped back to the task at hand.

“How is he?” Shisui asked, joining her soon after.

“Holding on for now,” she told him. “If he survives this, he has a long recovery ahead.”

Over the sound of the rain, Sakura barely heard Itachi’s footfalls through the muddy ground as he joined them. “Can he be moved?”

Normally her answer was ‘no’, but they were in the middle of unincorporated country, which left them open for another attack. Not to mention, the night was growing later and the rain didn’t seem in any hurry to lighten up soon. In fact, it seemed like there was a chance it would worsen.

“Yes, but not far,” was her answer as she finally let her chakra flicker out.

Without hesitation, Shisui bent down and picked their fallen comrade from the soggy, forest floor. Shisui had lost his ANBU mask at some point during the battle, revealing his mud and blood-stained face. His Sharingan was still active and spinning slowly as he scanned their surroundings as if expecting another impending attack.

Itachi removed his own mask and clipped it to his hip as his deadly eyes did the same. “There’s a border town less than ten miles from here. We will make for that.”

With that decided, the shinobi disappeared into the trees without another word, leaving only corpses in the muddy earth behind. 

Twenty minutes later, they reached the small town. In the shadowed alley between an inn and a dark clothing store, Shisui and Sakura stood with Genma propped between them while Itachi went in alone to secure a room.

A crow summoned them not long after and after pinpointing Itachi’s intentionally leaked chakra, Shisui flickered all three of them into a room near the end of the small inn. Inside, there were two, queen-sized beds, but that was all Sakura took in before they were moving. Itachi helped Shisui lower Genma down onto the one closer to the center of the room. Away from any threats that may come through the window.

As they situated their unconscious teammate, Sakura shrugged off her pack and dug for her supplies. In her storage scroll, she withdrew an IV drip with antibiotics and blood, and made quick work of hooking Genma up to both before she returned to her work with chakra.

Sakura had no sense of time. She worked well into the night. Until Genma’s pressure stabilized and her chakra finally flickered out of life from her hands. On the bed beside him, she sat back of her heels, her eyes roving over the needle in his arm up to the bag hanging from the bedframe. Double and triple checking that there were no kinks. The lights from the bedside lamps cast just enough light for her to see.

It was the sound of rustling from the next bed over that finally pulled Sakura’s gaze away. Itachi was still awake and to her surprise, sitting on the edge of the bed watching with a piercing stare as if he had been there the entire time. The only reason she knew he hadn’t was because he was no longer covered in blood and dirt.

His armor was gone, piled in the corner along with his pack and katana. He had changed into a black shirt and a pair of standard shinobi pants. Something he could quickly slip his armor over if they needed to make a quick escape. His hair was slightly damp too, but not from the rain. Rather a shower. The place she suspected Shisui had disappeared to if the faint rush of water was anything to go by.

“He’s out of danger for now,” Sakura said. She murmured the words in the quiet of the room, but even then her voice sounded rough. Her throat was dry with dehydration from expending so much chakra over the course of the night.

With only a whisper of fabric, Itachi stood from the bed. He crossed the room to his pack and returned a moment later with a canteen. He pressed the palm of his hand between her shoulder blades to help support her as she tipped it back to drink. Only once she’d had her fill did she pass the container back to him with a fleeting smile of thanks.

“I want to keep an eye on him over the course of the night,” Sakura continued, her words still murmured but her voice not quite as hoarse. “Make sure there’s no changes for the worse.”

Itachi nodded. “Shisui and I will take turns. You need to rest.”

“We all need to rest,” she countered softly.

She grimaced slightly as she untucked her legs from under her, her muscles stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. When she glanced back up at Itachi, she found him frowning.

“What?” she asked.

He didn’t immediately reply but she watched with interest as he sorted through the pile of medical supplies she had dumped on the bed until he found a piece of gauze. Her brow arched with curiosity before she hissed faintly as he pressed the bandage to her cheek. With everything else going on, she had forgotten about the injury there.

“I can heal that,” Sakura said, raising her hand.

Itachi shook his head once. “Do it in the morning. You are exhausted.”

She opened her mouth, only to close it as her hand fell. Those words had never been truer. She wondered if given enough time, if she could fall asleep right there, sitting up.

Her eyes fluttered closed as Itachi used his canteen to wet the gauze before he gripped her chin with one hand and wiped the blood and grime away from her skin with the other. She had the faint thought to ask him why he was doing it, but in her current state of exhaustion, she just couldn’t find the energy to form the words.

“I’m sorry,” Itachi said after some minutes.

Brows furrowing, Sakura forced her eyes open. Her confusion only grew when she noticed the small frown pulling on the corners of his mouth.

“I should have gotten to you sooner,” he explained quietly. “You trusted me to have your back and I failed you.”

An odd expression passed her face. “You didn’t fail me, Itachi. I had no doubt that you would be there. You’re my teammate and my captain. I trust you. With everything.”

There was a soft smile on her face as she finished. Still, he searched her expression a moment longer before the stiffness to his shoulders finally eased. Silence fell between them again as Itachi resumed dapping at her face, even quieter than before as the sound of the shower suddenly cut off.

There was a strong sense of familiarity between them, one Sakura couldn’t remember having before. She had been on Itachi’s team for near that of a year, yet he had never been this open with her. As if tonight he had finally accepted her in ways she had yet to fully understand. Onto some deeper level. One that went as far as his relationship with Shisui and Genma.

That thought made her relax fully into his touch as he cleaned her face until he was nearly entirely keeping her head up as the weight of what they had just gone through weighed down on her. Only the shallow breaths from Genma and the faint shuffling of clothes on the other side of the door from Shisui to fill the quiet.

When the door to the bathroom finally opened, Sakura was blinking sleep from her eyes. She peered blearily at Shisui as he walked out and eyed their injured teammate.

“Is he stable?” he asked.

Sakura opened her mouth, but before she could reply, Itachi nudged her knee. She glanced back at him as he nodded towards the now-open bathroom. “Go shower and then rest. You have earned it.”

“Yes, captain,” she said with a small, teasing smile.

She saw the corner of his mouth twitch before she gave one final, lingering look at Genma and finally pushed herself up. Her knees felt a little weak and she ached in placed she couldn’t remember aching before, but the thought of a warm shower and then a big bed kept her moving. It wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as her mattress back home, but as long as it didn’t have bugs and didn’t smell, she wouldn’t complain.

Using what little chakra she had left, Sakura disobeyed Itachi’s order and healed the cut on her cheek before she scrubbed her face and the rest of her body clean. She stood under the warm spray of the shower until she was nearly asleep on her feet. From her pack, she pulled out a shirt and a pair of shorts similar to Itachi’s in case they needed to make a quick getaway before she brushed her teeth. She could always run a brush through her hair in the morning.

Shisui was already asleep when she entered the room, but Itachi was seated in a chair against the wall at the foot of Genma’s bed with a book in hand. She dropped her bag next to Shisui’s at the foot of their own bed before she made another check on Genma. Still stable.

“I will wake you if anything changes,” Itachi murmured.

She flashed him a faint, grateful smile before she slipped under the sheets beside Shisui. He was on his side, his back to her as he faced the window. His breathing was light, his shinobi instincts keeping him from falling into too deep of a sleep.

With Shisui at her front and Itachi behind her, she had never felt safer and she drifted off quickly, knowing that if anything were to happen, her boys would have her back. That she had absolute trust in.

end

[bubblepop-32]

If Bruce was De-aged and the only one who could make him stop screaming is Jason. (Part 4)

Bruce gets de-aged, but his memories aren’t as young (but not as old) as what they’re supposed to be. And he desperately needs Jason.

What if the last thing de-aged Bruce remembers is Jason’s death?

I wanted to read de-aged Bruce with our man Jay but I literally can’t find any ;A; 

There’s going to be good ol’ fluff and bonding between Jason and small Bruce, but there’s also going to be angst. And swearing (mostly from Jay) 

If this is your first time... >> Part 1 << and >> Part 2 << then the previous part >> Part 3 <<

Part 4

There was just silence. No screams, no whimpers, nothing. The dim light from the corridor filtered through the tiny crack.

He took in another breath and pushed every other thought out of his head. He opened the door fully in one smooth motion and stepped in. He kept his eyes trained forward, towards the room as he nudged the door closed behind him. There was a click, then a small clack and then, it was just dark. The curtains were pulled apart but it didn’t help to make the room any lighter since the moon was on the other side.

He automatically felt around for the light switch but decided against flicking it at the last moment. He didn’t need to startle the kid, nor did he want to see him either. He’s seen the large family portrait of Bruce and his parents enough times to know. It only took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dark room.

True to what Alfred said, any vases, racks or anything that can be thrown was removed from the room. The room looked oddly bare but it made a shadow that was huddled against the wall appear very distinct in the hazily lit room.

The figure had white bed sheets wrapped around him and parts of the sheet was still half on the bed. Jason stood at the door for a long time with his feet anchored to the spot.

Jason could deal with Bruce’s stubborn and overbearingly protective attitude, the Bruce that won’t even try and understand him and the Bruce that stalks his every move. He can yell at him, curse at him and growl at him and then maybe through it all reach some sort of a truce.

However, this shivering child that’s sitting with his knees drawn up and his head buried in his arms isn’t the man who gave and took everything from him at the same time. He couldn’t yell at this child nor scream frustrations at. Every mannerism he constructed in order to deal with Bruce collapsed and he was left with nothing to use.

There was a rustle as the sheets were pulled tighter around the child. “…Dick?” The voice was small, gritty and nothing more than a whisper. Jason’s breath hitched. It was Bruce’s voice but tuned higher, softer and unguarded. Jason didn’t know how to describe it. There was a child-like roughness to his voice that Damian never had. “…Is…that you?” These words came out trembled and breathy, and Jason was really starting to wonder if this was Bruce at all.

Jason walked slowly towards the sound source with light footsteps. Well, at least the screams he heard over the phone wasn’t going on anymore and this Bruce already seems calm enough. The kid unfurled slightly as he feebly tried to make his voice louder.

Zatanna wants Jason to loosen child Bruce’s grip on his memories. He has never been trained in this field but he considers himself a master of carrying impromptu missions.

He does his homework most of the time and formulates a concise and detailed plan followed by a dozen of back up plans. He familiarises himself with exits and gathers his weapons. For example, he smoothly manoeuvred himself out of an invitation from the lovely granny next door when she invited him over for apple pie last week. Don’t get him wrong though – he caught wind of a human trafficking hand over of teens between the ages of 14 – 18 from an external organisation to a syndicate within Gotham, and there was a meeting between the two parties at the docks.

But this, this is different.

As Jason neared, he could make out the child’s raven-black hair that covered most of his face and the bandages that were coming loose from his hands. Dick must’ve tried to come in many times but to be forced out by disorientated screams since this kid automatically thought that it Dick was the one who came in.

“…’m sorry. I didn't recognise you and I must’ve hurt you.” The words were muffled by the sheet that was wrapped tightly around him. There was a tiny hint of something else in that voice, something like regret and guilt.

Jason was completely unnerved by the fact that this kid’s voice was so similar yet just so different. Zatanna didn’t even need to tell him to imagine that this wasn’t the Bruce for him to separate Bruce from the small figure. His brain was already doing it for him.

“…I didn't mean to hurt you.” There was a small sniffle. “I…don’t want us to fight.”

Jason came to a swift realisation that he was referring to the bad blood that ran between him and Dick when Jason donned Robin’s costume. Now the kid just sounded melancholic – something a kid shouldn't sound when they’re only ten.

The child finally, finally raised his head to look at Jason’s feet, which stopped two meters away.

Jason watched as the child’s eyes made its way up…all the way until the pair of big shimmery eyes locked with ones that were contaminated with Lazarus green. Wide eyes stared back at Jason and Jason stared back. The facial features softer, plumper and more youthful. Everything was soft, lacking the deep set of wrinkles that older Bruce had gained from consistent frowning.

The child, who Jason still refuses to believe is Bruce, sharply inhaled and unsteadily backed away in a mess of limbs, bloody bandages and tangled sheets. The sheets caught the base of a tall floor lamp and pulled it off balance which tugged the entire lamp sidewards as the small kid struggled even more.

Amongst it all, the kid haphazardly banged his elbow heavily on the bureau and let out a cry of pain. This effectively stopped Bruce from moving, which was not a good thing as the lamp swayed past the point of no return right beside him. It swayed with great momentum, then paused, then started falling.

Jason didn’t even stop to think about what he was going to do. “Hey! Watch out!” Jason yelped in surprise as he dove towards him.

The lamp crashed into Jason and the room was suddenly filled by a wild cacophony of metallic clangs and heavy, dull thuds.

“Ow- Fuck-” he curses and hisses. Jason tossed the rest of what the floor lamp was aside. That fucking lamps that fell on him hurt. “Why the hell is the lamp so heavy?!” Jason says through grit teeth.

He got his answer when he caught a glimpse of escrima sticks, dozens of batarangs, three knives and a couple other gadgets that had tumbled onto the, which apparently all fell from the floor lamp. Jason didn’t even know what he should question anymore. Why in a lamp, why in a room that’s barely used and just why?

Child Bruce let out a scared whimper and started writhing even more when he heard the loud clashes, not knowing that Jason just saved him from getting squashed. Hell, child Bruce doesn’t know who the person he just embarrassingly referred to as Dick is.

Child Bruce had realised that something was completely off the instant he saw that pair of deep-set, off-coloured eyes. Normally no-one would be able to distinguish eye colours in the dark but Bruce knew they were green because they glow. There’s a subtle haze of colour that lingered in the man’s eyes that made them stand out in the dark and then, he knew that this was not Dick or anyone else he knew for the matter of fact.

The loud crashes of metal fills his head with shrill echoes. They were like screams – horrific and sharp and painful. It was dark and he couldn’t see anything, making everything he sees and hears go static like a dead TV station.

“Who are you?! G-go away!” Child Bruce kicks and struggles but finds himself cornered. His breathing rises erratically and his heartbeat skyrockets. “N-no!”

“Fucking hell-” Jason got a knee to his chest, which happened to have a fresh bruise. It didn’t hurt but this kid really is trying to give him new ones. “I’m not going to hurt you, so please stop struggling!” He growls.

Through the darkness, the low plea that came from Jason sounded intimidating to Bruce. Child Bruce was already scared and this made it even more so. He can’t feel his limbs, his head is on the verge of splitting apart and there was a stranger in the same room with him. All he could hear is his heart thumping and his rugged breathing. “Go away!” he screams, on the verge of tears.

His ears were ringing and he wants all this to be just over, then just go home –

(I have Mother and Father--)

No no no no they aren’t- they’re not here anymore- they’re gone. His memories tells him so. But he saw them! Mother had just read him stories and Father had tucked him into bed-

(Alfred is waiting for him at home with a warm cup of tea, and then he’ll be able to give the new books to--)

A spike of pain twisted itself into the side of his head.

Jason.

He left him alone. He shouldn’t have left.

Jason, his boy, his son.

Child Bruce could feel heat radiating onto his face as he watched the world burn in front of him. Fire flickered far into the sky as burning rubble groaned and cried as they pushed against each other. It must be hell. Cradled in his arms was a figure that laid limp. He called his name but he remained still and silent. He called again, then again and again and again.

Jason.

The bruised and mangled body remained still in his arms.

No no no no no no NO!

Child Bruce’s arms and legs gradually came to a stop, however, he started whimpering, ragged and raw. Jason felt as if someone grabbed his heart and twisted it. The kid sounds like an injured pup, and Jason feels that he was the one who caused it.

‘Shit, this isn’t supposed to go like this.’ Jason hopes that the floor lamp caused enough noise to attract attention because a person who knows what they are doing would be extremely helpful right now.

He could just wait it out or run out to grab someone who would be more capable to help the kid more than he would be, but leaving this child alone is a spell for disaster.

“Hey…Hey, kiddo. It’s alright. It’s ok.” Jason says, moving himself away from the child. He shuffled back and remained crouched on one knee with a hand open and his palm facing upwards. It’s a gesture to show that he means no harm and that he’s not holding onto anything that will either. “It would be great if we could talk. Let you know who I am.”

Jason had no idea what he was saying but if it was anything that will get child Bruce out of his whimpering ball and do some ‘calming down,’ he’ll be able to get well out of this place before the sun rises.

Guess Jason must have done something worse because child Bruce’s whimpering only grew louder and more desperate.

The last thing Jason needs is Bruce to have a panic attack. He had always dealt with this kind of shit by himself, but when someone else comes into the equation, he doesn’t know how to do anything. Dick is the guy who deals with Bruce’s meltdowns most of the time and surprise surprise, he isn’t Dick Grayson.

Amidst the ragged whimpers and breaths, a strangled gasp comes out Child Bruce, “Jason!”

Jason pulls back, shocked. “Bruce?” He whispers. He couldn't stop a bubble of hope to swell inside of him.

Child Bruce looks at him with wide eyes and Jason feels a painful squeeze in his chest when he sees that the kid hadn’t called his name because he recognised him. He could tell by the way how the kid’s eyes didn’t linger on him.

“Jason- n-no-” Child Bruce cries. His whole body was shaking like leaves being thrashed around in a storm. “N-No!” He grips at his hands and pushes himself against the wall, shoving the bureau back as well.

A sudden waft of rust and copper filled the air and Jason caught on to it immediately. Taking a dunk in the Lazarus pit sharpened his senses and he still hasn’t decided if it was a good thing or not.

Jason stood up, took three large strides to the light switch and flips it.

A huge mess of weapons lay scattered all over the floor and curled right against the wall with the mess scattered around him is a child. The boy’s dark ebony hair was tousled in a mess and the cuffs of the white shirt he’s wearing is tainted in a vibrant colour of red.

The bandages that had once wrapped neatly around the boy’s hands, by Alfred, now came undone and hung loosely like red and white tapes. Except there was more red than white. Jason swore under his breath.

‘Don’t tell me the weapons that tumbled out nicked the kid somewhere.’

Child Bruce seemed to take no notice of the blood that was oozing out from his hand.

A scream tore from child Bruce’s mouth. The screams Jason heard through the phone really cannot even begin to summarise the pure embodiment of pain, loss and desperation that came with it. Jason’s heart clenched and his voice dies in his throat.

Jason grabs the bed sheets that were tugged from the bed wraps child Bruce in them. He was hesitant at first, slowly approaching the child when his first burst of screaming ended in hurt sounds.

Child Bruce, however, is so out of it that he’s unconsciously seeking for anyone that would keep him safe and pull him out of his sea of raging memories.  

Jason gathered child Bruce in his arms, fully prepared for flailing arms and legs. The kid struggled at first, gurgles of whimpers and tired screams rang out and Jason found himself bringing the kid to his chest with the kid tucked under his chin.

Jason doesn’t gently rock the kid, pat the kid or whisper sweet reassurances in the kid’s ear. But he holds on to the trembling child with a fierce steadiness. He ignores the growing ache in his right arm and shoulder.

He goes over to some drawers and tugs on them. Five drawers open later, he comes face to face with a comprehensive tray of bandages, tweezers, rubbing alcohol, antiseptics and then an array of more things. He takes a tray out and set’s it on the bed.

Now, the difficult part. He was going to plop the kid down on the bed beside the tray, but the kid’s making the saddest sounds when Jason pried him away from his chest.

“Kiddo, if you don’t mind…” Jason says as he looks down and his words catches when he sees heavy tears rolling down the kid’s unblemished cheeks. His eyes are pressed shut and his hands gripped tightly around the bed sheet. So tightly that blood from his hands was seeping into them. “…Alright. Fine.” Jason sighs exasperatedly.

Child Bruce isn’t going to budge from his spot in Jason’s arms because Jason has an inkling, that if he does, he’ll resort to screaming to express his anguish for ‘Jason.’ Not him, but the one who already died long ago in Ethiopia. Currently, he’s placated by Jason’s presence and Jason wants to keep it that way until someone who he can dump this kid on comes in.

But he can’t just go fixing child Bruce’s hands standing up. He doesn’t have three hands, unlike Alfred, who can literally look after an entire family of injured birds and bats at the same time.

So instead, he plonks himself on the bed with child Bruce, wrapped in a slightly bloody cacoon of bed sheets, resting on his lap. In most cases, having anyone on his lap would make him feel something akin to disgust (but that disgust arose from fear and confusion). Holding this child, who also happened to be Bruce, made him beyond bewildered. He doesn’t like the feeling at all.

“Hey kid, do me a favour by stop strangling your sheets with your grip.” Jason makes sure to be softer this time. It sounded weird to his own ears. Jason eases child Bruce’s hand with his free hand. The kid relaxes a little when Jason’s warm fingers brush his. “…There we go.”

Jason nudges child Bruce into a better position so that he could use his other hand as well to untangle the soiled bandages. Muscle memory guides his movements as he wipes away blood and grabs for fresh dressings.

Jason tries not to linger long on the bloody red crescents that marred the kid’s palm. The broken skin around them was starting to inflame. He powers on, applying antiseptic cream in a quick dabbing motion.

Child Bruce flinches the tiniest bit and Jason worked faster. He had to do this before the kid goes through another screaming fit. “You’re doing really well,” Jason says. There was no reply but at least the kid hadn’t started whining. Before he had set foot into this room, he had never heard Bruce make a sound akin to sad whines or noises.

But after all this, when he gets some sleep, those sounds will be plaguing his dreams.

Jason tucks the hand that he wrapped up back into the kid’s bed sheet cacoon and fishes for the other one. Child Bruce had pressed his face up against Jason’s shoulder and seemed to have finally stopped whimpering. His breathing, however, is still uneven and shaky. Jason could feel each breath he’s taking and each teardrop through his shirt.

This hand also had similar red crescent moon shaped cuts on his palm.

Soon enough, there was a tray of bloody bandages and a pair of freshly dressed hands. Jason’s arm that took the brunt of the falling floor lamp started aching a bit more. The shoulder that child Bruce had rested against was positively wet.

Jason heaves a sigh as he lets silence wash over. His shoulders slump downwards and he takes a moment to stare at the ceiling. Child Bruce was cradled in his arms, still swaddled in bloody bed sheets.

Child Bruce shuffled in his sheets.

“Kid, you alright?” Jason grunted to the small bundle encapsulated by his arms.

“Y-yes,” child Bruce answers. It sounded weak and breathy. Worn out.

“If you say so.” Jason thinks it’s time to get the boy off his lap, and then maybe into the bed. He gets up with a groan and walks to the front of the bed and lowers the kid near his pillow. “Alfred’s going to think I murdered you after seeing the bloody bed sheet.” Jason remarks to himself.

This time, child Bruce takes a proper look at the person’s face at the mention of the butler. The person’s face had deep-set eyes that are adorned with thick lashes and contoured by sharp eyebrows. Lips that were slightly downturned when resting. A nose that appears to have been broken on multiple occasions, but still healed nicely. The man’s wavy black hair brings out the lock of greyish-white that was above his eyes.

“Do I…should I know you?” Child Bruce asks tentatively. The man who pulled him out from the deep, dangerous sea of weird memories hesitates for a small moment.

Something at the bottom of his mind whispers at child Bruce soundlessly. A name. A hazy memory. The closer he wanted to reach out and grasp that name, the more it hurt. He knows he was just thinking about it, but his mind must have purposefully locked whatever it was back up.

The things that happened between him still being on the floor to him suddenly in this stranger’s lap seemed to blur too. Child Bruce has a feeling he doesn’t want to know why.

“Uh, no. Nope.” Jason says in a sudden spurt of panic. Wow from screaming back to actually speaking already? “Pass me that bloody bed sheet, will you? You wouldn’t want to sleep in that.”

Child Bruce fumbled to unwrap himself all whilst keeping his eyes trained on Jason’s face, then at how he reaches to grab blankets from the cupboard.

Jason tosses the blankets onto the bed but ended up tucking child Bruce in when child Bruce had trouble tugging the blanket with his hands. Jason grabs the soiled bed sheets, tray of used bandages and heads towards the door.

“Are you leaving?” Child Bruce whispers from under his blankets. He felt completely drained but fear buzzed viciously inside him. Dick must hate him and Alfred must be busy cleaning up the mess he’s made. They’re probably all somewhere else, and he shouldn’t be complaining. But he is terrified of being left alone with his mind.

“Yeah. You can sleep easy now.” Jason says. This kid probably wanted him out and away as quickly as possible. Jason stands in front of the door when child Bruce quickly speaks again.

“Can…can you stay?”

Jason turns around and unintentionally sends a confused glare. “You told me to ‘go away,’ kiddo, and I’m doing what you asked for.”

Child Bruce sinks deeper into his bed. “I said that? I-I don’t remember.” He furrowed his brows in frustration, trying to recall what had happened.

“No it’s fine, you don’t need to. Actually, it’s better if you forget about the whole thing.” Jason sighs and shakes his head. “Aren’t you scared of me?” Jason felt himself grinning bitterly.

“You’re not scary. You fixed my hands and you hugged me n’ that means you’re not a bad person.” Child Bruce reasons and Jason is reminded that this is a ten-year-old that he’s dealing with. “Good people aren’t scary.” Child Bruce mumbles. “I guess.”

Jason bites back on a laugh. Good fucking lord this kid was amusing. Who was the one who had a panic attack just a couple minutes ago? “What makes you think I’m a good person?”

Child Bruce splutters something and tries gesturing with his arms weakly but gives up and colour dusts his pale cheeks.

Jason chucks the bloody stuff on the floor and walks back to the bed, sitting at the foot of it. Jason feels unnerved by how child Bruce is still staring at him. “What.” Jason snaps. “Close your eyes. Sleep.”

“You’ll leave once I close my eyes.” Child Bruce answers. “And…and I don’t want to be alone.”

“Well, what do you want me to do. Tell you a bed-time story?” Jason says sardonically, to which child Bruce gives a tiny, shy nod to. “Seriously?” And child Bruce nods again, eyes still trained on Jason. Jason composes himself before he starts growling sharp remarks. “Fine.”

Jason ends up going with a grimmer version of Red Riding Hood, adding touches of his own imagination as he recites it from memory. Child Bruce didn’t dare complain about the differing story structure, not wanting him to leave.

Soon enough, child Bruce really does end up falling asleep, even though the lights were on. Jason pauses a while to see if child Bruce rouses from him stopping.

After no protests, he stands and silently turns off the lights. Taking one last glance at the kid that is now resting silently on the bed, he picks up the bed sheet, all the bandages and leaves.

--

Notes: 

The reason I referred to small Bruce as just ‘kid’ or ‘child’ when Jason just met him was to show how Jason didn’t really see him as ‘Bruce,’ but as just any other I kid. This is also sorta why Jason would step out of his comfort zone to do some stuff for him he wouldn’t usually do (like willing to put Bruce on his lap, tell a story etc).

I continuously referred to Bruce as ‘child Bruce’ for the same reason. Jason just doesn’t see this kid as the Bruce he knows.

Jason only slipped out Bruce’s name when child Bruce said his name because that was when his mind linked ‘child Bruce’ with ‘Bruce’ more clearly than any other time.

I’ll post the next part sometime, when my tests are over D’: