#so there were better classes to fill elective slots with anyway

[morgenlich]

my high school offered a foods class, but it wasn’t one you could take with any of the honors classes so i never did

[ben243s-transformation-stories]

Was it only a dream? (Dark ending)

When one dreams, strange things can go through your mind. Fantastic things. The events I am about to relate came to me while I was sleeping a few nights ago, so bear with me if they seem strange. Are they just a dream, or a glance into a future that is yet to come? Only time will tell. Several elections ago, a very charismatic man appeared from nowhere. People were tired of politics as usual, and he managed to draw in quite a coalition of people from all ends of the political spectrum. He didn’t run as a Republican, or a Democrat. He started his own party. No one would have thought it was possible, but somehow he managed not just to garner enough votes to win the election, but he won in a landslide. His election took all of the elites in Washington and all the pundits by surprise. No one had even given him the slightest chance of winning against the two entrenched parties. It wasn’t long after he took office and gave a few speeches that he managed to convert a vast majority of congressmen to his side. Most even joined his party. Through what appeared at the time as a series of coincidences, he managed to appoint a large majority of judges to the Supreme Court. Something odd was definitely going on, but the new President would give a speech, and everyone would fall under his sway and forget what they had been so concerned about. Soon he was the most popular president ever in the history of the country. Everything seemed great at first. Using his charisma he managed to broker deals other presidents could only dream of. The economy was booming, unemployment was the lowest it had ever been, and peace had started to break out all over the world. Countries that most would have sworn could never get along were now fast friends. People began to let their guard down. This was exactly the opportunity He was waiting for. He quickly and quietly began to pass laws. Some allowed him to bypass congress and issue whatever edicts he wanted. Others made him President for life. Any objections were quickly struck down thanks to his control of the supreme courts, congress, and most of the state legislatures. Some people were more resistant to the Presidents charms, and tried to sound an alarm, but they went unheeded. Soon he had established what could easily be called a police state, though most people were happy and there was little need for actual police. While most parts of the population faired well under the new regime, there was one population that ostracized and made into an enemy. This was the LGBT community. In what was an amazing turn of events, a community that had gathered wide spread acceptance with most of the population was quickly and efficiently turned into a boogeyman. They had to be removed for the good of the whole. They were stripped of all their possessions and rights and forced to live in communities were they were treated like they were nothing more than animals. These communities were set up all over the country.  There were separate ones for gays, lesbians, transgenders, and any other groups considered deviants by the state. While the communities were fairly nicely appointed with everything the residents would need, they were obviously intended to be warehouses. Once a person entered the camp, they would never return to the outside world. The residents of the camp were made to remain naked at all times. They had all of their personal items confiscated, and lived in comfortable but sterile rooms. They received quality food and medical care. They were treated with the respect one would give a beloved pet. Most even had access to community centers with Movies and video arcades. Life in these communities was generally unremarkable. Most people spent their days going about their business, resigned to their fate. There was an adjustment period for new arrivals, but they quickly got used to their new lives. Younger residents were kept segregated from the older ones until they turned 18, and graduated from high school. A basic education was deemed important, but that was as far as they went. I am a resident of one of the Gay camps in the Washington area. I graduated from the high school recently, and have just been moved into my place with the adult residents. While they have been getting more efficient, I wasn’t identified as gay until I was about to start at a regular high school. Most people knew what happened to the people found to be gay, and didn’t want that to happen to them. I had met another boy like me at summer camp, and we had developed quite a relationship. About a week before we were supposed to start high school, we had been a little careless, and left the door to my room unlocked while we were making out. My mother came home and found us in a passionate embrace. She ran from the room crying. I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. She wouldn’t talk to me about it, and kept blaming herself. The next day, A van pulled up into our driveway, and a group of men came into the house. My mother told them where I was, and they barged into my room and drug me out to the van, and took me to the closest camp. I couldn’t believe my own mother would turn me in. I don’t know if she managed to identify my friend or not, but I hoped he managed to avoid being caught. I was processed and released into the juvenile section of the camp. I was surprised at how young some of the residents were. I wouldn’t have thought they could even tell what their sexuality would be at that age. Anyway, it took me a few months before I got used to the forced nudity, and seeing the other kids that way. It took even longer for me to get over the betrayal I felt from my mother. I did okay in school, but I’m sure that I would have done better in the outside world. We were carefully monitored, so there was no chance of us having any sort of relationship while we were in the juvenile section. We were kept so busy with school and other mandatory activities that I don’t think I would have had the energy had we been able. Still I made a few good friends in my classes. The adult section was much more free and open than the Kids section. We were allowed to interact with each other in any ways we saw fit. There were a few guards to keep the peace, but we were mostly on our own. I settled into my new room, which didn’t take long, as I had no clothes or possessions, and there wasn’t much more than a bed, a desk, a couple of chairs, and a TV on the wall. The TV served as our entertainment and news source. There was a pull out keyboard that we could use to browse the web, but we couldn’t send any email outside the camp, and were similarly limited with social media. The camp essentially was our world. After flipping through the channels, Surprisingly we got quite a few, I didn’t find anything interesting, so I decided to walk around a get familiar with the area. I quickly found the dining areas. They were set up more like restaurants than the cafeteria style ones in the kids’ section. It was around lunchtime, so I grabbed a quick meal before I continued my explorations. I spent most of the day walking around taking in the sights. The people seemed friendly enough, nodding and saying “Hi” as we passed by, but none seemed interested in starting a conversation. I finally managed to find some of my friends rooms, and we spent the rest of the afternoon talking, and went out to dinner the next evening. Most of my days went along the same lines. We would wonder around and try and find ways to pass the time. You would think not having to worry about a job would be great, but its really not. The days would drag on and on. Before long my friends and I would run out of things to talk about. Now I know why the others were the way they were, it was easier just to tune out before the boredom caused you to go crazy. The weeks stretched into months. It was mind numbing. I started looking for anyway to get out of the facility, but soon discovered there were none. Besides, they were always located a good distance from the “normal” people. How far would I get with no supplies? Every once in a while there would be an opportunity to sign up for a research project. While research on humans had been banned long ago, since we weren’t considered human anymore, we were the perfect choice. We were still required to be treated humanely, and the projects had to go through a rigorous review process before they could even be considered. I passed up most, as they sounded like they would be painful, and I wasn’t interested in being a pin cushion. One day I got a notification that a new project had been added. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to check it out. I read through the proposal and something caught my eye. It was a program for behavior modification. They wanted to see if they could remove or modify unwanted traits or something like that. As a child I had come to accept being Gay as part of me, and gotten used to it, but since I have been stuck here, I have come to see it as a curse, and I wouldn’t mind a chance to get rid of that part of me. I signed up right away as slots filled quickly. I should have read a little more. Buried in the fine print it explained that this was not to remove traits, but to add new ones. I spent the rest of the week in anticipation of the project, hoping it would make me “normal”, not that there was anything wrong with me now in my eyes. Maybe it would give me a chance to return to the normal world. I could see the rest of my friends and family again. Yes, even my Mother. It had taken a while, but I finally forgave her. When Monday rolled around, I ate a nice breakfast, and made my way to the building where the project was to take place. I arrived a little early and found a few other men standing around waiting. We exchanged pleasantries, the stood in complete silence. After a few minuets, we were led inside and told to find a seat. As we entered the room we were each given an injection. I’m not sure what it was, but it gave me a nice warm and secure feeling all over. Once everyone had found a seat, a man in a white lab coat came onto the stage. He introduced himself as Dr. Stephenson. He started to explain what the experiment would entail, but I found it hard to concentrate. I looked around and saw that the others in the room were starting to space out as well. Must have been the result of the shot. After some time had passed, I’m not sure I can accurately judge anymore, we were escorted to separate rooms. Once there I was placed in a seat and strapped in. I was facing a large screen. A technician entered the room, and activated the screen and jabbed me with a syringe, injecting me with a second substance. I don’t know what it was, but it was a nice green color. As it took effect, the tech started a video and quickly left the room. The next thing I knew, several hours had passed. The tech returned to the room. He attached a device around my neck that would monitor me and track me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the TV, and couldn’t help but think it looked like a dog collar. How odd. It was late in the evening when we were allowed to return to our rooms or the night. I didn’t feel any different. I got a few interested stares when people noticed my “collar” but no one would dare say anything. I grabbed a quick meal and headed to bed. As I dreamt, I saw myself free and running around in a large field. I would often stop and smell things. I had a sense of freedom and contentment that I had never felt before. If I could have seen myself while I slept, I would have seen my legs and arms flailing about like I was running on all fours. Little did I know, that the screens in each room had a camera, and the techs were watching me as I slept. They were pleased with the results. The next morning, I returned to the lab for my second treatment. This time everything was the same except the injection was blue. I don’t know what that meant, but no one would tell me. Didn’t want to influence the experiment.  Again, I apparently watched some kind of video while I was under the drugs influence. After I was released from the second treatment, I started to walk home. I noticed that it was particularly warm, so I started to pant in an effort to cool myself. I had walked quite a distance before I realized what I was doing. I quickly stopped and hoped no one had seen me. I had a similar dream that night. I was running free, sniffing things, this time I was walking on all fours. It seemed so natural to me. I didn’t remember much about it when I woke up, but it left me with a great feeling. When I got to the next treatment, I was given a quick questionnaire before the treatment. I wasn’t sure what the questions meant, but I’m sure they were to give some idea of how the treatments were working. This time the injection was red. It seemed to work faster than the others. Again, I was subjected to a video. Little did I know that some additional suggestions were being fed into the room by the techs. My mind soaked them all in, making them apart of me. When I was released, I had to struggle to walk up right. I kept dropping down onto all fours. I would often find that I started panting also. It took everything I could muster to get home without looking like I was crazy. Once I was back in my room, I dropped to all fours, and couldn’t get up for the rest of the night. My dreams were much more vivid. I started to see myself as a full dog. It was a wonderful feeling. It felt like I should have been this way all the time. It seemed like all my cares were erased as I chased squirrels and barked. When I woke up the next morning, I wasn’t sure I liked what was happening. I didn’t want to be turned into a dog. This isn’t what I expected at all. I resolved not to go any further with this test until someone explained to me what was going on. That was the plan anyway. But I found myself compelled to return for more treatments. No matter how much I tried to resist, I found myself back at the lab each morning. Over the next few days I was given a different injection, first red, than orange, than finally yellow. I found myself taking on more and more dog related traits after each treatment.  By the end of the week, I was being kept in what could only be called a dog run in the facility. I was no longer able to function as a human, and needed round the clock supervision. The techs took careful notes and seemed pleased with my progress. I tried to yell at them, and tell them this isn’t what I signed up for, but all that came out were barks. The best I could tell, I was still me inside. I felt exactly the same as I had before the process. I still liked all the same things, but the human speech just wasn’t there. Walking on all fours seemed natural. I had an overwhelming urge to obey the techs and Doctor. No matter how human I tried to be, I found it difficult to express myself as anything other than a dog. Over the course of the next week, I was watched around the clock to see how well the conditioning had taken. I found myself thinking and acting more like the dog I was becoming. I was in danger of losing myself completely. By the end of the second week, my human mind and personality were almost completely submerged. I was behaviorally no different than any other normal dog. The doctor was heralded for his great success and even won a few awards. I was paraded around at various speeches. Much to my dismay, I wasn’t able to understand much of what was said- except when I was given a command. At that point I found myself instantly obeying. After the tour was over, I was allowed to visit with my parents and family. I’m not sure how they felt about their son becoming a dog, but I very much got the feeling that they considered this better than being a gay man. That realization made me sad. And was like a punch in the gut. We spent the rest of the day playing. I tried to stay angry with them, but I couldn’t. Every time they would throw a ball or give me a command, the dog mind would kick in and I would completely consumed with the task at hand. I soon found out they had made arrangements to adopt me as their pet. I was given an exam and the needed shots. I was also injected with a microchip identifying me as their pet. As the tags were attached to the collar, a little more of the human me died, but I was happy to be with my family again. Even if it had to be as the family pet. Over the course of the next few years, the dog became the prominent part of my personality. I almost never thought of myself as human anymore. I was nothing more than their dog. It seemed like everyone was happier that way, so I didn’t resist as my mind started to slide. One morning, a van pulled up outside our home. It was Dr. Stephenson. He spent several hours talking to my family. I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but I know it was about me, as they kept looking over at me as they talked. Once they were done, my parents had clearly agreed to something. A leash was clipped to my collar and I was led away. After a short trip in the van, I was led into a waiting room. There I was injected with a sedative. When I woke up, I found myself in what looked like a surgical theater. I tried to get up but couldn’t. My movements must have alerted the nurses, as one soon entered the room. He undid a few straps and lifted me off the bed onto the floor. As the drugs continued to wear off, I noticed that my whole body felt different. I was standing on my toes, rather than my hands and knees, and I could see something extending from my face into my field of view. I wasn’t prepared for the shock as a mirror was wheeled in front of me. I was no longer human. I had somehow been transformed into a dog in body as well as in mind. As best as I could tell I was now a golden retriever. Something in me was excited by this, and my tail started wagging. My tail? Yep. I couldn’t believe it, but I had a tail, a muzzle, paws, the works. As far as I could tell I was indistinguishable from a natural dog. I opened my mouth and started panting. The doctor came in and ruffled my fur. He praised me. I felt wonderful. Waves of pleasure went through my body. I knew this was the way I was meant to be. Being human was all a mistake. After a thorough check up to make sure there were no complications, I returned home to my family, who were all happy to see me. I spent the rest of my life as their faithful pet. I was happy to finally be accepted. Even my mom seemed happy with me now. This wasn’t exactly what I had planned when I had signed the form so long ago, but I had to admit that I was happy with how it had turned out. My humanity was a small price to pay for my freedom. I was home with my family again and loved. What more could anyone want.

[marksleepy]

a lot more

genre: fluff, artstudents!au (is this how you do it) word count: 4,947 a/n: this was one hell of a ride

The lurid light seeps through your eyelids and you rouse yourself from your slumber. It’s unusually bright this morning. It doesn’t occur to you it may have been way past the time you’re supposed to be up. You rub your heavy-lidded eyes, sleep deprivation makes locating your phone an effort. You kick the duvet dangling from your foot off the bed and retrieve your phone from the floor.

Eight unread messages. Four missed calls.

Donghyuck where are you [7:30 AM] we’re still meeting right? [7:35 AM] dude [7:41 AM] class is starting [7:41 AM] and it’s the first day of the start of electives [7:41 AM] ok technically second day since everyone went for one before summer break [7:41 AM] but still [7:41 AM] YOU’RE STILL SLEEPING AREN’T YOU [7:44 AM]

“Shit,” you hiss. It’s 8:12. You were supposed to meet Donghyuck at the school gate 45 minutes ago. It isn’t necessary, but he’d claimed that he feels uncomfortable walking to class alone.

“Ask Jeno or something,” you’d groaned into the phone the night before.

Donghyuck had whined. “He doesn’t want to wake up earlier than he already has to.”

“Neither do I!”

You shake your head and rush to the bathroom to brush your teeth. So much for agreeing with Donghyuck’s plan. You throw on something decent and grab your bag and the sketch you’ve been working on over the summer before heading downstairs. You’ve left it lying on the ground, something which you swear you’d never do but still do it. You haven’t even started painting it yet. Running your fingers through the mess you call your hair, you slip on your shoes and tear out the door and dash to school. Forget about waiting for the bus; it’ll take too long anyway.

You step into the doorway of the class. Everyone looks up from their canvases, paintbrushes poised. The eyes of the lady sitting behind the teacher’s desk go wide behind her bifocals. Her expression softens upon seeing you fighting for breath, your palms resting on both knees, back curved.

“Pretty sure this isn’t how I’d expect my first impression of you to be,” she says, looking down at her clipboard. “Y/N? I believe.”

You nod, too out of breath to say anything. She beckons to you and points to an empty seat in between a girl and a boy with the softest caramel-coloured hair you’ve ever seen. You manage a light “sorry” before scurrying to your seat facing an easel. You sit your bag on your lap and start rummaging through it for the familiar amethyst tube you use to store your paintbrushes. Palette. Your paint set. No purple tube.

Exasperated, you sigh loudly, earning the curious stare of the caramel hair boy to your left.

“What’s wrong?” he mutters, dipping the tip of his paintbrush in a jar of sooty water. You catch a glimpse of his canvas. Cerulean waters and gold-coloured sand. It reminds you of Beach in Pourville, only his provides a more vivid splash of colours.

Cheeks flushed, you stammer, “Uh… I, uh, left my paintbrushes at home.”

He circles his hand around three paintbrushes resting in a silver tin on the wood stool beside him. “You can use mine,” he grins, facing you.

You accept them readily, heat from your cheeks fading and draining into your fingers. “Thank you…” you trail off.

“Renjun.”

You blink, a small smile playing on your lips. “Y/N, but you already know that.”

He turns away and focusses on his painting. You marvel internally at his work. He has clearly not wasted summer surfing the web. Or maybe he had, just that he has better time management. You turn to observe the girl next to you, whose painting of a cherry blossom tree almost looks ready to be displayed. You take a deep breath and pick up one of your (read: Renjun’s) paintbrushes, gently poking the rounded tip to your chin. A sketch of your grandmother’s front porch stares back at you. You stayed at hers for a week in summer, spending most of your time there lounging on the porch, with her yorkie nipping at your legs every few seconds. You love visiting your grandmother, so when your teacher had informed new art students that the assignment for summer was to just put something down on canvas, you immediately knew what that something was going to be.

“Alright, that’ll be all for today,” the teacher speaks. You’ve forgotten her name (surprise, surprise!), and do not have any idea how to casually ask for it.

She tucks a dark strand of hair which has been bothering her cheek behind her ear. “I want your paintings in by the end of this month. Leave it in the art studio at level two if you’ve completed your piece. There will be easels for everyone.”

The class hums, synchronised, and starts to pack. You bring your canvas to the back and rest it on the voluminous white table, together with several other wet paintings.

“Remember to collect them before going home,” Miss Something calls out, slotting pieces of papers in her sapphire blue file.

You take the paintbrushes and palette to the sink area, somehow not that surprised to see that it is enveloped in layers of dried paint. You fill a container up with water and run the brushes through it, watching it turn ebony. You hate washing paintbrushes, but returning dirty ones to their owner seems pretty insolent. The class starts to empty, leaving only you and this other girl whose fingers are flying over her phone screen. You quickly work some soap into their bristles. After rinsing them, you find some rubber bands on the teacher’s desk and tie them around the brushes.

Renjun’s long gone. You bring his brushes up to eye level and examine them. He has carved what you assume to be his initials on their handles. You run a finger across the engraved ‘H.R.’. The girl drops something on the ground, making you jump. You pick up your bag and leave the room, clutching the trio of brushes.

“You’re alive.” Donghyuck slides into the seat opposite you. “Sigh.”

You scowl at him and unwrap your sandwich. “You can’t sit with me.”

He blithely disregards what you’ve said, picking up some kimchi with his metal chopsticks.

“I overslept this morning,” you start, biting into your snack from the 90-seconds sandwich vending machine. “And I forgot my paintbrushes.”

“I didn’t ask,” Donghyuck says. He chortles when you send him another death glare. “Kidding. So what did you do? Paint with your hands?”

“I always paint with my hands.”

“You know what I mean.”

You take another bite, chewing for a bit before answering, “Someone from class lent me his.”

Donghyuck glances at you. “I’m surprised someone would actually lend stuff to you.”

You reach over and punch his shoulder. At that moment you see the familiar caramel hair boy walk past. You wait till he’s walked further before gesturing to Donghyuck.

“Renjun?” He’s confounded. He shakes his head, shoving rice into his mouth. “He attacked me so many times I’ve lost count.”

“You know him?”

He nods. “Dude, he’s evil.”

“Be nice. He’s nice,” you tut.

“He may look innocent but he’s evil. Trust me. He’s in my vocal class.”

You scrutinise your last bite of sandwich. “So you don’t like him?”

Donghyuck smiles. “He’s a good friend.”

You roll your eyes and pop the small piece in your mouth. He gets up with his tray, and you follow him to the tray return area before ambling to the next class together.

Sharing only one class with Renjun, you’re pleased to see him seated before his unspoken designated easel. You cross the room in a few strides and sit down next to him, fumbling around in your bag for that amethyst tube which you had double checked was in your bag before leaving home. You pull the lid off and draw out the paintbrushes which are engraved with his initials.

His eyebrows shoot up when you tap him on the shoulder. “I wanted to return these to you earlier but I didn’t have the chance to, so… Here you go,” you say, handing the paintbrushes over.

A smile creeps onto his face as he takes them from you. “Don’t worry about it. I have loads.”

You place your canvas on the easel, glad to say that it’s a WIP. You gently squeeze different coloured paint onto your palette. Dipping your brush into a clean jar of water, you then put the tip of your brush in the well containing light pink paint you’ve mixed. You transfer the tip to the canvas, carefully working on the potted flowers hanging from the ceiling of the porch. You move on to working on a cream rocking chair, often dipping the brush in water when the colour isn’t to your satisfaction.

“Wow!” You flinch at the voice and tip the transparent jar holding your paintbrushes over, sending them rolling away from you.

“Oh my God,” the same voice continues. “I’m so sorry.” You see Renjun and two other students getting up to pick up the runaways. You rise from your stool and stoop to get hold of one, but Renjun beats you to it.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats. He places your brushes back into the jar, and you thank the pair who helped before turning to him and say, “It’s okay.”

He looks at you, his face besmirched with a contrite expression.

You wait till heads turn back to their work. “You scared me. Don’t apologise,” you speak silently.

Renjun studies your face, fiddling with his paintbrush. He diverts his attention from you and points at your porch painting. “That looks incredible.”

You scratch the back of your neck. Your tongue suddenly feels too dry. “Thank you.”

You gawk at his painting. The colours look as though they’re leaping off the canvas. His artwork is close to being lifelike. You can smell the salty sea, feel the warmth radiating from the sand.

“You’re really good.” You pause. “And fast.”

“I’ve always loved Art,” he gushes. He opens his mouth to say something but stops. You can tell he spends most of his time painting. His hands are invariably splattered with paint.

“I—”

“Less talking, more painting,” Miss Something taps on the surface of her desk with an unused paintbrush, and that sends you and Renjun right back to work.

Unknown Number hey. sorry if this is weird but it’s renjun and i got your number from donghyuck [9:29 PM] i wanted to ask if you’d like to work on the new art assignment together [9:30 PM]

Your heart lifts when you see the messages.

You hi renjun! [9:31 PM] don’t worry it isn’t weird [9:31 PM] and i would love to. i wanted to ask you actually [9:31 PM]

Your phone lights up only a few seconds later.

Renjun great! [9:31 PM] btw [9:32 PM] i never knew you were donghyuck’s friend [9:32 PM]

You yeah. we’re close [9:35 PM]

Renjun i hang out with him often [9:37 PM] maybe we should too [9:37 PM]

You lie back on your bed and close your eyes, unable to rid the smile off your face.

Donghyuck takes you to the newly opened waffle house on a Saturday. Or is taking you. He slips his hands into his shorts pockets. Only Donghyuck wears shorts when everything is numb with cold outside.

“These legs deserve to be admired,” he claims.

You snort. “I hope you freeze to death.”

A cool zephyr ruffles Donghyuck’s hair. He pokes you. “Spill.”

He leads you into the waffle house bustled with habitués and first-timers. Both of you order immediately after being ushered to a vacant table. You study the waitors and waitresses passing your table.

“Spill,” Donghyuck says again.

“Spill what?”

“I know Renjun texted you.”

You fiddle with the tissues in the ivory tissue box. “Who’s that?” You feign confusion.

“Ha ha.”

“Is this a sleepover or something? Let’s giggle about random stuff, why don’t we?”

He throws the paper wrapper of a drinking straw at you. “Just so you know, I invited him too.”

“Mm,” you intone. “Wait, what?”

A waitress walks over to your table and sets two plates of waffles down, with small plastic cups of maple syrup on the side. She flips a strand of hair from her face and tends another table, her kitten heels clicking across the tiled floor.

There are some people near the entrance, some peering in the place but frowning when they realise the interior is teeming with patrons. Nope. No Renjun.

Donghyuck chuckles. “I was joking. Eager much?”

You pick up the plastic cup and pour the syrup over your waffle, disappointed. “No, I’m not.”

He sighs dramatically and dunks his cut waffle into the syrup, tapping it lightly on the edge of the cup before devouring it.

“He said we should hang out, so I thought…” you say between chews. “Can we talk about something else?”

Donghyuck raises a brow when you mention the first part. He doesn’t ask any more, instead starts prating on about how he did a hidden camera prank on a senior Mark.

You spot the familiar red vans resting on the wooden chair stretcher, visible from under the easel. It’s no longer news to you that Renjun is unfailingly early for art class. You only share this class with him, but you suspect it applies to every other class he takes. He offers a small smile when you lower yourself onto the seat next to him.

“New piece?” you gasp. He stops sketching, face cracking into a greater smile, albeit bashful-looking.

He looks at your canvas. “Are you ready to submit that?”

You press your lips together tightly and shrug. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean? It looks amazing.”

You glance at your porch painting. It does look better than your previous works. The deadline for submissions is next week—ample time for you to ponder if you’re going to submit it early. Renjun returns to his sketch. He suddenly remembers something. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you reply, pulling pencils out of your paint-splodged pouch.

Miss Something looks up from her drawing, and you and Renjun duck down tout de suite, laughing silently behind the canvasses.

“About the assignment,” he says sotto voce. “My parents are going to town today, so you can come over. If you’d like to.”

You force yourself to look away. “Sure.”

You spend the next hour working on a new sketch, the waft of paint no longer detectable.

The first thing you notice when you step into Renjun’s house is the coppery swinging cradle chair. Or the girl on it, to be exact. She focuses on you and Renjun and waves, the book on her lap temporarily forgotten. She looks like a doll. Renjun runs over and leans into her outstretched arms. They exchange a few words before she jokingly chases him away so that she can resume reading. She smiles at you and looks down at her novel.

You follow Renjun up the stairs and enters the first room on your right. His clothes are folded and neatly stacked in his closet, the sliding door with slats left ajar. There are drawings of a milk-white animal with a big snout on his wall, and below them lies a small single bed with a fair amount of pillows atop. It looks exceptionally comfortable, maybe because of lassitude.

“Who was that?” you ask.

Renjun throws his bag on the bed. “My cousin.”

Oh.

He walks over to his closet and slides the door shut, then saunters to his windows to raise the blinds. You put your bag down at the foot of his bed.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he queries. “I can make hot chocolate too.”

“Sounds good.”

He proceeds to the door. “Make yourself comfortable.”

You flop down on his bed, deciding to just lie down and rest your eyes for a bit. You can hear the clanking of cups downstairs and faint conversations. The whirring of the fan coaxes you into dreamland.

You wake up to the sound of pencil scratching, feeling your heart stop when you’re greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. You sit up, locking eyes with the caramel head. The room is a lot darker than when you had last seen it.

“Good nap?” Renjun greets you, taking a bite out of his choco pie. You jump out of his bed and smooth down your hair, collapsing onto the seat opposite him, the rectangular table the only object between both of you. He picks up an empty mug and a thermos and pours some hot chocolate in it, stopping at about three quarters full.

“Here.” He places it down in front of you.

You grab it by the handle. “How long was I asleep?”

He looks at the digital clock. “About an hour and a half.”

You let out a puff. “Why didn’t you wake me up? We didn’t get anything done.”

“You looked so peaceful sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Your face heats up. He watched you sleep. And you don’t even know for how long. Not even Donghyuck has seen you in your most vulnerable state.

“Sorry for sleeping in your bed. I’ve messed it up.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I’ll be sleeping in it later anyways.”

That comment somehow makes you flush harder. You clear your throat and take a sip of the hot—now lukewarm but still good—chocolate.

Renjun pushes his sketch to the side and leans forward. “So I was thinking we could do juxtaposition art. I googled it while you were asleep and thought it was pretty interesting. It’s all about contrast, usually with two things which wouldn’t normally be seen together, I guess.

“I thought we could do something cool like a balloon with needles, or like a gigantic boat that’s about to sink in an ocean, or an elderly with a small girl, or—Sorry am I talking too much?”

You blink once, twice, at him. That sounds like it would actually work, and though they aren’t related to art, your other projects were disastrous. Not because you were put into a group with a bunch of ne'er-do-wells (right), but because your ideas sucked. You also wonder what goes on inside Renjun’s brain. “How?”

“Is that bad? Maybe I’ll look for—”

“No, Renjun,” you interrupt. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Be a genius.”

He titters, eyes curving upwards. You sip on the drink again, hiding your smile behind the white mug. There is a light tap on the closed door before it’s pushed open. “Renjun,” his cousin starts. She looks at you as well. “Y/N. Dinner’s ready. I ordered pizza. And Renjun, your parents said they’ll be coming home late tonight.” She disappears down the hallway.

You see one regular and three cans on the table. Renjun’s cousin pulls off a slice from the box and grabs a can. “I’d love to stay kiddos, but I’m meeting a friend.” She slips into her shoes and unlocks the front door. “It’s nice meeting you,” she smiles.

“You too,” you say. You watch the door close behind her as Renjun annihilates his pizza slice. You catch him glancing at you a few times, or maybe it’s the other way round. The pair of you munches quietly, taking gulps of the overly gassy soda, the two mugs of hot chocolate neglected upstairs.

“Why don’t you hang out with me anymore?” Donghyuck whines one Thursday afternoon.

You sigh theatrically. “Don’t blame me. You ditched me twice to hang out with Mark and Jeno.”

“Thrice.”

“That’s even worse.”

He exhales deeply and looks at you, eyes serious. “You can always hang out with us, you know? Yeri joins sometimes.”

“Thanks, Donghyuck. But why are you making it sound like I don’t have friends?”

He suppresses a laugh. “Do you?”

You flick his forehead.

“Kidding.”

You find yourself at Renjun’s so often you’ve lost count. He comes over to your occasionally, but you prefer going over to his. You sit on his bed, playing with his Moomin plush—a softer and larger version of the ones on his wall. Renjun holds up the artwork for the nth time, turning it so it faces you.

“One to ten,” he says.

“Easily ten,” you laugh. You and Renjun had decided to go with the balloon and needle, and it turned out better than expected.

“It’s a scale breaker, Y/N. Miss Lee’s going to love it.” At least now you know the art teacher’s name.

You chortle. He sets it back down on the table and climbs onto the bed next to you, legs dangling off the side.

“What should we do now?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you state. “It’s your house. What do you do for fun?”

He begins to mull. “When I’m not drawing, I sing. When I’m not singing, I watch movies.”

You tug Moomin’s tail and look at him. “Can I hear you sing?”

He looks at you, petrified. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on.”

“It’s… awkward.” He steals Moomin from your hands and rubs his ears.

His eyes light up. “I can send you some files. I used to record my singing.”

“You’d do that but not sing for me now?”

“It’s different. You’re not staring at me.”

“I’ll close my eyes and sit facing the window. How about that?”

He pokes his chin with his index finger. “Fine.”

You move yourself to the front of the window. Renjun coughs, and there’s silence before he starts.

You don’t know the song he’s singing, but the voice that flows to your ears isn’t honey-like like Donghyuck’s, isn’t bubbly like the sophomore Chenle’s. It’s scintillating. It’s Renjun’s. You close your eyes even though you don’t have to, smile widening.

He stops too soon for your liking. “Renjun,” you say, opening your eyes and facing him. “Just what can you not do?”

He smiles meekly.

“I know.” You raise your hand. “You can’t resist the temptation to attack.”

At that, he wraps his arms around your neck playfully. You hit his arm, eyes wet from laughing too hard.

That night, your phone notifies you that you have messages.

Renjun downloadfile.mp3 [10:00 PM] bye i’m going to get off my phone forever [10:00 PM]

You download and open the file, and immediately his singing roams your room. You locate your earphones and plug them in your phone. Earbuds in each ear, you rest your head on the pillow, drifting off and dreaming about this particular boy with soft hair and sunshine smile.

Miss Lee indeed loves your and Renjun’s work. So much she hung it up in the art studio next to the door so that everyone can see it. You cross your arms securely across your chest and admire it, grinning. You also see your porch painting on one of the easel—Miss Lee likes it too. You don’t have anymore classes for the rest of day, or for the week (yay Friday!) and Donghyuck has invited you to lunch. You whip out your phone to see three messages.

Donghyuck 1 pm @ usual place [12:43 PM] DON’T be late [12:44 PM] at least try to show up ;) [12:44 PM]

It’s already 12:55. You get out of the art studio and pootle off to meet him.

Donghyuck isn’t alone. Renjun stands beside him, laughing at something the former says.

“We’re going to watch a movie, then crash Renjun’s house for a sleepover,” Donghyuck begins once you join the pair.

“What about lunch?” you ask.

“Popcorn.”

He treads down the path, and you and Renjun follow him.

Yeri and Mark are standing beside the ticket booth. Yeri reaches out and ruffles your hair. You slap her hand away in mock anger as she sniggers. Mark hands you, Renjun and Donghyuck the tickets and together the group walks into the dark cinema.

You’ve been wanting to watch a scary film for a while, and your face sags when that isn’t what’s showing on the screen. It’s no wonder, Mark would rather take five mathematics exams than watch horror films.

You shove some popcorn in your mouth. Because you’re sharing with Renjun, you make sure he’s taken some before putting your hand in the tub. Yeri laughs at the screen beside you. You catch a glimpse of Donghyuck throwing popcorn seeds at Mark. Whatever’s on the screen certainly isn’t entertaining you like it is entertaining Yeri. You turn to Renjun, but he’s already looking at you.

He looks as if he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to do.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask, then splutter because that sounded eminently narcissistic. And no, that isn’t what you mean.

He smirks, then shakes it off by looking at the screen. “Not really.”

“Same.”

You let the background music from the movie fill in the air of silence between you and Renjun. 45 minutes into the movie, you don’t know what made you do it, but you wait for the exact moment for Renjun to dip his hand into the popcorn tub before doing the same.

He freezes. Then he’s holding your hand with fingers intertwined in the confined red tub. You feel Yeri nudge you, and turn your head to see Donghyuck with that vexatious look on his face.

You’re freshly out of the shower, snuggled in Yeri’s sweater you’ve borrowed. Renjun’s now taking a shower—he’s the last person to because he believes in being a good host—and that leaves you in his room with the trio. You’re starting to feel uncomfortable.

“Look at the time.” Donghyuck sneaks a look at his nonexistent wristwatch. “It’s confession time.”

Mark looks up from his phone, but stays in his position on the bed—tummy side down. Yeri stops spinning on the chair. You let out a “pfft”.

“So Y/N,” Donghyuck says. “Do you like someone?”

You sit still, noiseless.

“You want me to be more specific? Sure. Someone who loves drawing, someone who loves painting, someone who loves—”

“Donghyuck, you could’ve just said “someone who loves art”,” Mark cuts in.

Yeri shakes her head. “No. You could’ve just said “Renjun”.“

“I-I don’t like him,” you stammer, suddenly feeling too hot in Yeri’s sweater.

Donghyuck falls onto the bed next to Mark and says, “Would you hold hands with someone you don’t like? Voluntarily?”

You look at Donghyuck from where you’re seated on the carpeted floor. “It wasn’t voluntary.” Liar.

“Oh, so Renjun did it?”

“Can we stop talking about this?” You look at the door then back at them.

“Fine, Y/N. But you’d better do something about it, or I’ll do it for you.”

You start to say something but Renjun enters the room, board games in each hand. You thank your lucky stars, moon, sun, whatever that he didn’t walk in earlier.

It’s two in the morning, and everyone is full and dog-tired, having stuffed Twiggies and juice in their mouths non-stop for the past few hours. Mark and Donghyuck snore quietly on Renjun’s bed, chests lifting and dropping calmly. Yeri cuddles a pillow on the floor next to them, her face obscured by her hair. Renjun tidies up the games and pushes them under his bed. He drags two throws out of his closet and smiles apologetically at you.

“These are all I got, unless you’re up to kicking Mark and Donghyuck off the bed,” he whispers.

You laugh into your palm. “Tempting.”

He settles the throws down on the floor at the end of the bed and turns off the light.

“Is this okay?” He lies down next to you and spread a blanket, throwing it over the two of you.

You hum softly. He faces you. You see the outline of his face, then his eyes, nose, and lips when your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and also with the help of the white light the moon is casting through the windows.

Renjun raises his right arm, his knuckles gently brushing your cheek. He closes his eyes, and stays that way for a few minutes, hours even. All you can hear is Mark and Donghyuck’s shallow breathings, Yeri's periodic movements.

You can’t sleep, not at all. You study Renjun’s sleeping face. He looks younger, smaller, vulnerable.

“I like you. A lot,” you whisper, heart beat accelerating. You feel foolish. He can’t even hear you.

Except he can. He opens his eyes and runs his fingers through your hair, grinning. “I like you a lot more.”

Looks like you’re not the only one who can’t sleep tonight.

ok clarification time. i know nothing about art. my last art class was two/three years ago. i didn’t learn much. and renjun’s cousin knows your name because he told her when he’s downstairs preparing snacks. i wrote this whenever i take a break from studying. i hate studying asdvpdvskdpwd :( so this has been rotting in my drafts ahahaha. lastly and always, thank you for reading! i really appreciate it

[kashmiresims]

Family Breakfast

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There was something a bit abnormal going on when Cypress woke up in his old bed, in his old room at his parents’ house. There was a distinct noise above him, as if someone was walking around. If he knew any better, it couldn’t have been Cedar, because his younger brother was notorious for sleeping in when he didn’t have somewhere to be in the morning. School hours never agreed with Cedar’s sleep schedule and Cypress knew it all too well being the one who had to constantly make sure Cedar was awake in time to make the bus. Cypress popped open an eye and rolled over, grabbed his phone off the night stand and flipped it open to see the time. 9:00 am. He pulled himself out of bed to investigate the movement. When he emerged upstairs in the kitchen he had a moment of surrealism because both his parents were shuffling around in their pajamas. In normal times, he might have been lucky to see a glimpse of either of them hurriedly exiting the door with a piece of toast in their mouth on the way to work. Instead, his mother was in her pajamas, bending over the breakfast bar reading a newspaper already with a cup of coffee and his father was in the middle of making omelets. The last time the planets had aligned and his family was in residence together for breakfast like this was when he was about seven or eight and it had been Mother’s day.

“Hi sweetie,” his mother, Willow, said and looked up with a smile as he entered. She wasn’t into her silver years yet but considering how much pressure she was under at work, in the lab, he was surprised she didn’t have any silver strands standing out in her regular red hair. “Don’t you guys have work?” Cypress asked dubiously. “I’m on call,” his father, Lee, mentioned. “I must go back to the lab this afternoon,” Willow added, “Luckily it’s a soft holiday so they could afford to let me have a late morning.” That seemed a bit more typical; when would they both have a Monday completely off? His father was a specialist at the Mercy Medical Center in Scandalica City while his mother was a researcher with top-level clearance in a government lab. Between their work and family, the work had taken more and more of a priority over the years, especially as they excelled in their respective career ladders—earning acclaim and accolades for their contributions to their respective fields. “Anyway, how have you been, sweetie?” Cypress folded his arms across his chest and found himself smiling, “I’m great; I have my own two-hour radio show at the station now.”

“That’s wonderful! You get a lot of listeners then?” “Well, maybe not the most—it’s a later time slot…on Thursdays. I just got one of Orion’s songs approved by the director so the station can play it on request and put it in regular scheduling too.” “Oh, how nice!” Willow beamed and took a sip of her coffee. “I bet Orion is over the moon to know that.” It occurred to Cypress that Orion didn’t even know of the new development yet! He would be over the moon once he knew. He wondered if he could surprise Orion somehow, such as tell him to listen at a specific time and then play it for him. In reply to his mother, Cypress just smiled wider. “Anything else going on?” she asked. He raised a brow, “What is this? A crash course catch-up?” They both suddenly smelled distinctive burning and looked over at Lee who was fanning trails of smoke away from the pan on the stove. Her and Cypress exchanged faces of half-mocking grimaces followed by knowing smiles of sympathy since they were going to have to eat burned food in order avoid hurting Lee’s culinary pride. Her smile faded to something of an apologetic look, “I’m sorry I haven’t been available to talk the past few weeks. You know how work goes.” “I know,” Cypress said and didn’t need her to elaborate. Usually communication with his parents only consisted of emergency subjects like injury or financial crisis—neither of which he had suffered recently so there had been no reason to call either of them since the start of semester. They weren’t the type of people that had a lot of time to simply ‘chat.’ “Breakfast is ready!” his father scooped the omelets onto individual plates and called loudly even though Cypress and Willow were right there in the room. Cypress figured it was meant to carry all the way down to Cedar and rouse him. They took their plates and sat at the dining table. The omelets were straight up brown from pan-charring. Lee Wellington liked to dabble in cooking when he had time to do it but he clearly hadn’t practiced making omelets enough for them to come out perfect every time. “If you aren’t doing anything next Saturday, we all got an invite to your uncle’s election-watch party—it’s at his house around 8:00.” Cypress grimaced. Uncle Elm was repugnant, even at his best. “I don’t really want to go…” Cypress said and poked at his breakfast, trying to find unburned parts. “Are you even voting in the election?” Lee wondered with a slight frown, “Or are you going to refrain like most young people today?” “I’ll vote, but it probably won’t be for Uncle Elm,” Cypress replied honestly. His mother looked slightly offended. After all, Elm was her own twin-brother. He didn't understand why though, since she often complained about Elm's problematic ego. “Oh, by the way, Nick moved in with us,” Cypress mentioned, being reminded of it since they were discussing Nick’s father. Both his parents looked at him with surprise and stopped eating. “Wait, what? Why?” Willow asked incredulously, “I thought he was all set at that fraternity Elm loved so much?” “Well, he quit the fraternity.” “Why did he quit!?” Cypress shrugged, “I don’t know, why don’t you call and ask him? He didn’t offer up a reason so I figure it’s something private. I’m not gonna nose in on his business, Mom.” Willow frowned, thinking hard, “He’s probably just doing it to ruffle his father’s feathers. He’s always been that way—even as a kid. No better time than right before an election.” Cypress bit his tongue and stopped himself from snapping out that Uncle Elm usually deserved it. Cypress and Nick had been close all their lives and Cypress had seen the toxic behavior that Uncle Elm had subjected his sons to. It wouldn’t help to tell her that Elm dropped Nick’s tuition payments either. He didn’t want her to get involved and try to help and only make matters worse. His mother, unless she could be proven wrong, had a very stubborn personality and assumed her way was always the right way. Cedar wandered upstairs then, still wearing his pajamas like the rest of them. He was just as surprised at the sight of his entire family being…family-ish. Then his eyes landed on what they were eating. “Burnt Chicken Zygotes. How Appetizing.” 

The sarcasm was palpable until Lee cleared his throat, “Actually son, these would be ovums, the state of an egg before fertilization.” The disgusted look on Cedar’s face didn’t lift at the clarification and he ignored the plate of steaming omelets and instead went to open the fridge to find an alternate breakfast. Unfortunately, Lee didn’t realize his son disliked eggs even when they weren’t burnt. That was the drawback to never being around for a family breakfast. Cypress could see his father was a bit disappointed that Cedar wouldn’t even give his omelets a chance, even after all the effort he had gone to make them for his family. Cedar had taken a seat at the breakfast bar with a can of instant breakfast drink which couldn’t have tasted much better. It was the ultimate offense to their father’s cooking. Cypress cut off a piece that was burnt and tasted it, to make up for his brother’s blatant refusal to. “I can’t remember, but did you pick a major yet?” his mother asked. Cypress gagged, simultaneously from the taste of burnt egg and the thought of having this conversation. “Not yet,” he choked out and beat his fist against his chest to stop himself from coughing. His mother’s brow creased ever so slightly, “Still? I thought your advisor would have given you a deadline by now. Have you still not found a career path?” Cypress shrugged, “I’m working on it.” “The longer you drag your feet, the longer you will be in school. Your general education credits can only get you so far. If you were looking into something in one of our fields—” Willow gestured at herself and then to Lee—"That’s at least five more years of grad school if not more on top of your remainder of undergraduate classes.“ "Trust me I’m not looking to go into either of those fields,” Cypress said. “And what’s wrong with studying science or medicine?” his mother arched a brow, anticipating offense. “Nothing really, though I’d like to have time to spend with my family,” Cypress said, the insult was blatant but yet veiled in a nonchalant tone. Both his parents’ faces filled with guilt. On some bitter level of his subconscious, he had meant it to hurt. On the surface, though, he felt bad as soon as he said it and saw their reaction. They were providing for their family, they were a part of the greater good—helping people overcome ailments or disease—but at the cost of nearly being strangers to their children. No one said anything more on the subject and they continued to eat their burned omelets in silence. When they were done, His parents vacated the room to go about their regular morning routine of getting dressed for the day, leaving their pajama-clad sons in the kitchen. “Wow, I never thought you’d call mom and dad out like that,” Cedar said in slight awe as soon as he knew their parents were out of hearing range. “I shouldn’t have. They have enough to worry about as is,” Cypress replied. He hoped he hadn't set a precedent for Cedar to start smarming at them for their lack of time to spend with him. “Still though, maybe they’ll think twice before they agree to work on Christmas again.” Cypress shrugged, but hoped so too. “Oh hey, I was meaning to ask you...” Cedar clasped his hands together nervously, “I have next Friday off of school and wanted to know if I could shadow you on campus. I’ll get extra credit if I write a paper on the experience.” Cypress grit his teeth, thinking it would be a bad idea since it would certainly expose his little brother to how much he hated college classes. He didn’t want to jeopardize Cedar’s chance at higher education just because his opinions were unfavorable. But Cedar was looking at him so hopeful and they’d get to hang together again which was usually a good time. “Please?” “Shouldn’t you ask Mom and Dad?” “They think it’s a great idea!” “Did you really ask them?” Cypress arched a brow. Cedar’s smile wavered, “Well…not exactly…but please? I’m dying to know what it’s like at college!” Cypress let out a sigh and rubbed his neck, “I guess it’s okay for you to tag along but don’t draw attention to yourself. They’re mostly lecture classes–no attendance call–so you can probably slip in unnoticed.” Cedar gave a shout of triumph and thanked Cypress and not without a huge hug of gratitude. As much as he liked being home with his family, he figured it was time to leave so he got dressed and bid his dad and brother farewell. His mother was on her way out the same time he was. She was going back to the lab. “Cypress,” she said his name and it made him pause in front of the door. She set down her work briefcase and looked at him with a troubled expression, “I’m sorry.” “For what?” Cypress knotted his brows with mild confusion. Willow crossed her arms and looked away, “For being a bad parent, for leaving you boys alone all the time, for forcing you to take responsibility for your brother, for pushing you into college when you clearly hate it…” Cypress grabbed his mother into a quick, fierce hug, “Don’t apologize, Mom. It’s hard…for all of us but you and Dad do your best–you both do good work. Don’t feel bad about that. And don't worry about me, I'll find something to major in.”

he hugged him back and then pulled away, touching his cheek, “You know, whatever you decide to do with your life I’ll be proud of you. You’re smart, and talented, and driven…” Cypress brushed her hand away with a small laugh, “Stop, you’re embarrassing me.” “In front of no one but yourself, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn't?” It was a rhetorical question. She gave a quick peck of a kiss to where she had just touched him and picked up her briefcase, “It was great to see you again, sweetie.” She opened the front door and a blast of cool air gusted into the house. It was the coolest it had been so far in the autumn season and Cypress momentarily regretted not packing a jacket to wear back to his place. “You too, Mom,” Cypress wiped at his cheek, still smiling as he watched her leave. He’d grown up watching her leave to go to work–at least a thousand times, and this was first time he didn’t feel a pang of sadness about it. 

Cypress was slightly surprised to see Nick awake before noon on a day that there were no classes. He caught sight of his cousin sitting in the living room.

“Hey,” Cypress greeted and leaned against the archway, “You finally doing your laundry?” “Yeah, figured I’d so something productive on our day off,” Nick folded a plaid shirt and stacked it on top of a pile of the same he’d already done. He leaned back into his seat on the sofa with a thoughtful expression, “Where did you run off to?”

“Oh, just to visit my brother. He convinced me to sleepover,” Cypress replied. “I had a family breakfast.” Nick raised a semi-surprised brow, “And how was that?” “It was nice. Dad burnt the eggs but it was…different.” Nick nodded, seeming to retreat into thought. He seemed different, ever since he had moved in with them. Usually Nick was highly sociable but his unusual bouts of quietness threw Cypress off a bit. Nick also often over-shared information but he hadn’t offered any reasons for leaving his frat nor hints of where he disappeared to on some nights. Nick only mentioned he was taking care of his 'tuition problem.' “Well, it was probably a better experience with your parents than mine,” Nick finally said and stood, placing his piles of folded clothes into his laundry basket. Cypress could agree with that assessment. With his parents’ tenancies for being workaholics, they didn’t have time nag nor ridicule their sons–not that they would–not like Nick’s father did. “So what’d you do last night?” Cypress asked, following his cousin up the staircase. “Dude, so much happened. I don’t even know where to begin,” Nick replied in an exasperated tone. He seemed thrilled and frustrated, two very different emotions that he somehow could pull off at once. Nick opened the door to his bedroom and his lips quirked at the sides, “Though I think I have a chance to be friends with Illyana again.” Cypress couldn’t help to smile at that news; he had wondered if she and Nick would ever patch up from the last time that turbulence had cracked their friendship apart. Illyana was close with Nick, even before Cypress. She’d always been Nick’s first friend and whether Nick admitted it or not, Cypress could always tell she meant a lot to him.

“That’s great news!” Cypress nodded in approval. Speaking of great news, he still had yet to tell Orion about getting his song played on the radio! Cypress turned from Nick’s room and crossed the upper hallway to the door across from his own and knocked. He figured Orion was still asleep so popped open the door a moment later. He was greeted by an empty bed. He was mildly caught off guard at Orion’s absence. “Hey! Where’s Orion?” Cypress called back across the hall toward Nick. “He never came home last night!” Nick answered but didn’t seem too worried about the fact. Cypress knotted his brows, trying to think of where Orion could have gone as he looked around the room. There was the usual pile of records Orion needed to sort and put away, some of his clothes strewn about the floor. But something different, something small, caught his eye just under Orion’s bed near the night stand. Cypress walked over and bent down by the side of the bed to find a pill bottle. It was labeled as Tranquilicis.

He stood up while studying the bottle in his hand. The name on the prescription was not Orion’s. It was scratched out but from what was left, the name looked to be ‘Sun Per’ Cypress pulled open the drawer of the night stand, intending to put the bottle in it so it wasn’t just laying around but he stopped suddenly. There was a pile of empty bottles in the drawer already. He took them out one by one and read the labels, all for Tranquilicis, all for ‘Sun Per’ or ‘Ha Pi’; the full name was never in full view. Where had Orion obtained these? A horrible thought struck Cypress all of a sudden. There were two pills left if in one of the bottles. He opened it and dumped them out into his palm to study them. They seemed to be in tact, not the kinds of street pills that were pulled apart and stuffed with other illicit drugs in order to smuggle them around indiscreetly. His father had warned him about those kinds of pills when he entered college on the account there seemed to be an overabundance of ER visits from young adults who overdosed on them. He let out a breath of relief to know they weren't those types of hard, disguised drugs. However, he felt a knot form in his chest, because the alternative was just as bad and he was not finding a way around the truth to what he was seeing. He sank to a sitting position on Orion’s bed and set the two pills on the night stand while rubbing his head in frustrated worry. There was only one assumption he could make and that was that his best friend was abusing prescription drugs.

[junker-town]

NFL draft 2017: One position that each team needs to address

All 32 teams have spots on the roster that could use an upgrade.

It’s April and with free agency in the books, the 2017 NFL draft is the last real chance for teams to make significant changes to their rosters before training camp begins at the end of summer.

Of course, there are still some veterans who could be on the table to patch holes. At quarterback, Jay Cutler and Colin Kaepernick are still free agents capable of competing for a starting role, and players like Tony Romo, Jimmy Garoppolo, and AJ McCarron have been subject to trade rumors.

But if a team can find a rookie quarterback it feels good about and can build around, that’s a much less costly option and comes with more upside. That’s the value of the draft — a way to cheaply build up a team with the future stars of the NFL.

Here is one position that each team can’t afford to miss out on in April:

Arizona Cardinals — Inside linebacker

The biggest concern for the Cardinals in their success is tied to players in the final stretches of their careers. Carson Palmer and Larry Fitzgerald both reportedly mulled retirement earlier in the 2016 season before electing to come back, so the team would benefit from having players they can eventually turn to at quarterback and wide receiver.

But a more immediate impact could be found if the Cardinals draft a new starting inside linebacker after Kevin Minter left to join the Bengals. Arizona lost plenty of defensive talent earlier in the 2017 offseason — with Calais Campbell and Tony Jefferson also departing — and needs to find some help on that side of the ball in the draft, and the middle is a good place to start.

Atlanta Falcons — Edge rusher

Teams that make the Super Bowl typically aren’t filled with holes and that’s the case with the Falcons. Atlanta already made an effort to shore up its defensive line with Dontari Poe and Jack Crawford, and that means it has the luxury to do pretty much anything with its first-round pick.

Still, the way it could best fill out the roster for the future is to continue to find young players who can make an impact off the edge. The league’s No. 1 offense had to compensate for a defense that finished No. 27 in points allowed, and finding rushers is the best way to continue to build a foundation on that side of the ball.

Baltimore Ravens — Cornerback

Getting Brandon Carr makes the urgency to add to the cornerback depth less desperate, but Baltimore still has little it can really feel comfortable with after Jimmy Smith. The former first-round pick missed five games in 2016 and eight in 2014, and the secondary would be in trouble if Smith misses time again in 2017.

Buffalo Bills — Cornerback

Losing Stephon Gilmore leaves big shoes to fill, and the positional group only got thinner when slot corner Nickell Robey-Coleman was cut in March — although his declining play warranted the move. Kevon Seymour looks like the likely starter opposite Ronald Darby, but the team could find a new starter in a class full of good defensive backs.

Carolina Panthers — Defensive end

Charles Johnson underwent back surgery, and the Panthers traded Kony Ealy away to the Patriots. The cupboard isn’t bare for Carolina with Mario Addison back on board with a contract extension, but the Panthers could certainly use some help at the position.

Chicago Bears — Defensive back

Now that the Bears have Mike Glennon, the team has a starter at quarterback for 2017. Whether he’s the future of the position for the franchise remains to be seen, but Chicago can turn its attention elsewhere on a roster that needs infusions of talent all over.

Adding Prince Amukamara gave the Bears a Band-Aid in the secondary, but the team needs more help than that. In a draft class stacked with talent at cornerback and safety, don’t be surprised if Chicago adds multiple young players to its secondary in April.

Cincinnati Bengals — Defensive end

There are a few holes for the Bengals to address as the team continues to get picked apart in free agency. It lost two starting offensive linemen this year and a running back, and cut into its linebacker depth by parting ways with Rey Maualuga.

But the team has had a need at pass rusher for a while and has really just been operating with Geno Atkins’ push from the inside and Carlos Dunlap coming off the edge. Expect the team to do its best to find a premier pass rusher early in the draft.

Cleveland Browns — Quarterback

A rebuild isn’t close to done until there’s a quarterback to build around, and that’s still the biggest hole that needs filling for the Browns. The team parted ways with Robert Griffin III and Josh McCown, only adding Brock Osweiler who likely won’t be with the team for much longer anyway.

Cody Kessler may have a future with the franchise, but if the Browns get a chance to take a quarterback they like, they can’t afford not to pull the trigger.

Dallas Cowboys — Edge rusher

A lacking pass rush looked like it was going to be a major problem for the Cowboys in 2016, but the lack of a double-digit sack artist didn’t slow the team down much. Still, Randy Gregory isn’t coming back in 2017, and Benson Mayowa led the team with just six sacks.

Replacing the production of DeMarcus Ware isn’t easy, but the Cowboys have to give it a shot and add another young player to the mix, if not more than one.

Denver Broncos — Offensive tackle

Donald Stephenson, Ty Sambrailo, and Menelik Watson are the leading candidates to battle for starting offensive tackle spots for the Broncos in 2017, but the team could certainly stand to find improvements. Finding a bookend left tackle could push the battle to the right tackle spot, where all three are likely better suited anyway.

Detroit Lions — Linebacker

With DeAndre Levy sidelined for the majority of the 2016 season due to an injury, the linebacker position was somewhat of a disaster for the Lions. While the team added former Falcons linebacker Paul Worrilow in free agency, that isn’t quite the fix for the entire position group, and adding another starter in the draft would be a boon to the Detroit defense.

Green Bay Packers — Running back

Eddie Lacy is gone. James Starks is gone. The top rushing options for the Packers are Ty Montgomery and Christine Michael, which is hardly a comforting duo for Aaron Rodgers to work with. Green Bay hasn’t been a team to attack needs in the draft and it typically takes the best player available, but there’s a strong crop of running backs at the top and one could certainly be available at the bottom of the first round.

Houston Texans — Quarterback

The Texans are as close to having a Super Bowl roster as any team but are missing the one piece that can make them feel truly comfortable about their chances. Sure, Bill O’Brien says the team is excited to have Tom Savage and Brandon Weeden, but it’s hard to imagine Houston is going to be OK with the pair and not want to add at least one more player who can compete for a starting role.

There’s still a few veterans who could fit the bill if the Texans don’t address the position early in the draft — *cough cough* Tony Romo — but the Texans could certainly pull the trigger on a passer if one they like is on the board at No. 25 overall.

Indianapolis Colts — Edge rusher

Erik Walden led the Colts in sacks during the 2016 season with 11, but he never lived up to the $16 million contract that Ryan Grigson gave him in 2013. And Indianapolis was fine with letting Walden reach free agency, where there hasn’t been much interest from other teams. Second on the team in sacks was Robert Mathis with five, but he announced his retirement at the end of the season. Third was nose tackle David Parry who just got arrested in February.

Adding Jabaal Sheard and John Simon is a start, but the Colts need to find players who can continue to add to their nonexistent pass rush, whether that’s from a linebacker or defensive end.

Jacksonville Jaguars — Tight end

The addition of Julius Thomas didn’t live up to the five-year, $46 million contract he received from the Jaguars in 2015 that made him one of the biggest free agency additions of the offseason. After back-to-back seasons with 12 touchdowns in Denver, Thomas had just nine in two seasons in Jacksonville and was traded for cheap to the Miami Dolphins.

Marcedes Lewis is about to turn 33, and the other options at the position are relatively unproven Ben Koyack and Neal Sterling. So the Jaguars look like a likely candidate to take a stab at one of the deepest and most talented tight end draft classes ever.

Kansas City Chiefs — Quarterback

Alex Smith hasn’t been a bad quarterback since joining the Chiefs in 2013, but he hasn’t pushed the team over the hump either. With his 33rd birthday coming in May, Kansas City has to start considering a future after Smith and that could begin in 2018 when his cap hit swells over $20 million or in 2019 when he becomes a free agent.

Los Angeles Chargers — Safety

The post-Eric Weddle era hasn’t been a smooth transition for the Chargers. Jahleel Addae and Dwight Lowery left plenty to be desired, and the Chargers defense allowed the fourth-most points in the NFL in 2016. While the offensive line could use help too, the team’s No. 7 overall selection could definitely be used to shore up the back of the Chargers secondary.

Los Angeles Rams — Wide receiver

The Rams tried to pair No. 1 overall pick Jared Goff with weapons during the 2016 NFL draft, taking wide receivers and tight ends with four of the next five picks. Unfortunately, all four were third-day selections and combined for 28 receptions for 228 yards and one touchdown.

Adding Robert Woods helps, but it doesn’t do much more than fill the hole left by the departure of Kenny Britt. The team could very much benefit from finding a legitimate No. 1 receiver who can be a top threat for Goff to work with and would complement Woods and Tavon Austin, although that may be difficult for Los Angeles to find without the benefit of a first-round pick.

Miami Dolphins — Guard

After trading Branden Albert to the Jaguars, the Dolphins will move 2016 first-round pick Laremy Tunsil from guard to left tackle — the spot he was drafted to fill. But that leaves a hole at a position the team has long struggled to fill. Finding a player to slide in between Tunsil and center Mike Pouncey would help an offense that found its rhythm during the 2016 season when it committed to a power running game centered around Jay Ajayi.

Minnesota Vikings — Offensive line

Only a handful of quarterbacks were sacked more often than Sam Bradford, but the Vikings offense was really hampered by its inability to run. Adrian Peterson, Matt Asiata, and Jerick McKinnon combined for just 3.2 yards per carry behind an offensive line that never made much room for them.

Signing Riley Reiff and Mike Remmers was a start but far from a complete fix. The team should look to continue to add talent up front.

New England Patriots — Defensive end

Chandler Jones was the best pass-rushing threat that the Patriots had, and the team hasn’t had much success finding a replacement since trading him to the Cardinals. The band-aids of Jabaal Sheard and Chris Long didn’t do much and are gone now.

The emergence of Trey Flowers gives the team promise at the position, but adding another threat up front will be a priority, although the Patriots currently don’t have a pick in the first two rounds to work with.

New Orleans Saints — Defensive back

Defense has been a problem for the Saints for a long time, and with some money to actually spend, New Orleans scooped up Manti Te’o, A.J. Klein, Rafael Bush, and Alex Okafor in free agency. But the team’s pass defense could use even more help after finishing No. 32 in the NFL in yards allowed.

New York Giants — Offensive tackle

The Giants invested heavily on the defense a year ago, and now it’s time to turn attention back to the offense. Quarterback, running back, and tight end could also be addressed, but the best place to start is up front.

Ereck Flowers hasn’t been the answer at left tackle, and D.J. Fluker is a patch at right tackle, at best. Still, the Giants insist they still believe in Flowers, so the team might look elsewhere for offensive upgrades.

New York Jets — Defensive back

There are plenty of reasons why the Jets struggled in 2016, and, ultimately, the team’s future will depend on its ability to identify a quarterback it can work with. But with Christian Hackenberg and Bryce Petty, and Josh McCown now in the mix too, it seems unlikely that the Jets will dive headfirst into a class that doesn’t have a clear top passer.

Instead, the team can look to improve upon a secondary that allowed 30 touchdown passes and hauled in just eight interceptions.

Oakland Raiders — Middle linebacker

The Raiders have poured money into the roster, and it has paid off for one of the most exciting young teams in the NFL. But those big free agent acquisitions haven’t addressed the fact that the Raiders are lacking at middle linebacker and have been for a while.

Perry Riley served as the stopgap at the position in 2016, but he was allowed to reach free agency where no team has been too interested in scooping him up. Getting a better option in the middle of the defense would upgrade a defense that was near the bottom of the NFL.

Philadelphia Eagles — Cornerback

Right now the best options for the Eagles at cornerback are a pair of Jaguars and Colts castoffs — Dwayne Gratz and Patrick Robinson — and 2016 seventh-round pick Jalen Mills. It’s entirely possible that the Eagles could find both of their starting cornerbacks for the 2017 season in a draft class that is deep with talent at the position.

Pittsburgh Steelers — Outside linebacker

The Steelers have put an emphasis on upgrading the defensive side of the ball, selecting a pass rusher and a cornerback in the first round of the last two drafts. But now Pittsburgh needs to find players to pair with Bud Dupree and Artie Burns.

James Harrison won’t be around much longer, and Ross Cockrell isn’t the most reliable option opposite Burns. But the need to upgrade the pass rush looks a tad more urgent than the need at cornerback.

San Francisco 49ers — Quarterback

New offensive-minded head coach Kyle Shanahan inherited a roster with four quarterbacks all leaving in free agency. While there were reportedly pushes for Kirk Cousins and rumors will likely continue until draft day, the only patches at the quarterback position for the 49ers have been Brian Hoyer and Matt Barkley.

Finding a player to build an offense around is Shanahan’s top priority for now.

Seattle Seahawks — Offensive line

Protecting Russell Wilson with a discount squad of offensive linemen proved to be a bad idea in 2016, to say the least. There’s already been an emphasis on adding players up front with Luke Joeckel and Oday Aboushi signing in Seattle, but there’s more work to be done.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers — Safety

Adding J.J. Wilcox, formerly of the Cowboys, was a help for the Buccaneers at the position, but he was mostly a special teamer for Dallas who filled in as a backup safety. Chris Conte and Keith Tandy aren’t better options at strong safety either, leaving Tampa Bay with a spot that could certainly use an upgrade before the beginning of the 2017 season.

Tennessee Titans — Wide receiver

For a while, the Titans looked like the team that would land Brandin Cooks in a trade. Instead, Cooks went to the Patriots and the Titans didn’t add a pass catcher in free agency to make up for the miss. Marcus Mariota would certainly welcome the addition of a top receiving talent to complement Rishard Matthews.

Washington — Defensive tackle

There’s been a rotating door of interior defensive linemen scooped up in free agency, but the team has struggled to find a long-term answer in the middle of its defense. Ziggy Hood is the latest patch, but Washington was close to the bottom of the NFL in run defense. For some reason, the team seems to never draft defensive linemen early, but that’s a philosophy it may want to reconsider this time around.