#splinter looks like a giraffe I’m so sorry

[neonseagreen]

More mutant mayhem art, this time fully finished!

[passivenovember]

snippet from a fic I will probably never post!! (cw: blood & gore, heavy angst)

--

Just before dawn, Billy cuts the tracking monitor from his ankle. It isn’t until something thumps beyond the bathroom door, slippery red fingers tapping hard against Mrs. Harrington’s marble countertop, that Steve wakes up.

He has to break the door down. 

Owens’ orders, you know. Billy can’t station himself in any room with a door that locks, even if that room has windows. Especially if it has windows. Billy’s a flight risk. He might take off, disappear, fly into the sun–

It’s a sealed deal, cut and dry, from Billy’s early days of recovery. Footnotes in a manila envelope Steve’s allowed to look at once, when Owens pulls him aside and says, he won’t leave unless he goes with you. 

And when Steve doesn’t think twice about it before he’s asking Billy to be his roommate, It’s important that you understand the commitment you’re making.

The burden you’re carrying like wool over your shoulders. That’s what Owens told him.

But it doesn’t feel like that, even with all the added weight of the hopes and dreams and the searing, punched-out attitude of a boy who cheated death more times than anyone will ever know.

So Steve hears the thump. Sees that his bedroom door is wide open. He sits ramrod straight and clocks the sliver of light twinkling like pixie dust on the carpet, and thinks.

Billy’s taking a bath in my tub. Thinks. Billy’s gonna die. Because the door’s shut.

And everything falls into neat, even bullet points as he gets his legs under him. The door’s locked and Steve fell asleep on the job, and now.

Steve harbors guilt the second his shoulder smashes through the door. For a lot of things. Too many to list, every coherent thought smothered with his shoulder flaring bright, splintering in pain. He charges into the bathroom like an angry, confused bull, and slips on his mother’s imported bath mats. Twists, like a newborn giraffe, in a trail of maroon.

There’s a lot of blood. Everywhere, like. 

The counter's dripping with it. And the floor is empty of Billy. The room cleared out.

Steve looks around wildly. He checks the windows. Feels a scream bubbling like the pink, glittering whispers of too much champagne when they’re locked. When he realizes that the thump he heard was probably the front door swinging shut, and. Billy’s gone. He took off, slit his wrists, and ran–

“I miss the ocean,”

With blood sluicing between his toes, Steve whirls and all the air rushes back into the room. Because collapsed, naked from the waist down in the very same bathtub Steve finds him sleeping every morning, Billy smiles sadly. 

But he’s alive.

Steve makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat, and Billy lurches into motion. His head is heavy, weighed down by emotions Steve had thought were packed away. Dealt with. Billy stares up at him, struggling to stay awake.

“I miss the sand,” He says, “I thought if I just–”

“You're an asshole,” Steve spits, and he harbors guilt for that, too. But he sinks anyway, knees cracking against the slippery, cold tile. “You’re such an asshole, Billy, why would you do this?”

“I’m sorry,” Billy groans.

Steve knows he means it, but can’t worry about that now. He takes Billy’s hand, frowning when something sharp presses against his fingers, confused and upset that he left something sharp where Billy could get to it, but. 

It’s a piece of porcelain. A jagged, repurposed remnant of the pot by the pool that holds his mother’s azaleas.

Used to hold. 

Steve breathes through his nose. Billy crumples under his fingers, crying so hard a line of snot connects one nostril to the left peak of Billy’s cupid’s bow. The one Steve dreams about tasting, even in moments like this. 

Fearful, now, that he’ll never get to.

That lights a fire under him.

Steve remembers a time when getting his hands on Billy was all he could think about, butterfly-filled moments stretching back into fury and hatred and hiding in plain sight.

But now, it’s a practiced movement ignoring pools of blood in the clawfoot, yanking the sleeves of Billy’s jumper up past his elbows until stretches of clean, scarred skin remove the knife that’s been lodged, dull and fatal, into Steve’s chest.

He releases a breath he doesn’t remember holding, every muscle in his body cut loose and tender.

It’s going to be alright. Billy wasn’t trying to do anything permanent–

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Billy slurs, “I thought If I just got it out of me I could go back.”

Steve comes alive, stripped bare. A live wire sparking in the ocean. If I got it out of me– 

He puts his hands on Billy’s face, cupping that stubborn, cut jaw until they connect. Until they recognize each other. “Where is it?” He demands.

“I took some pills,” Billy tells him, “The blue ones, so I wouldn’t feel pain–”

“--Goddammit, Billy. The tracking device. Where is it–”

“I only took enough to make me fall asleep for a little while, not to make me fall asleep forever,” Billy slurs. His lashes are clumped together. Deserted little islands that only spring like this when he’s been crying all night. “Please don’t worry. I didn’t mean to make you worry–”

And there, the size of a chocolate chip, sitting perfectly in the jut of the shower drain, Billy’s tracking monitor takes its final breath.

–

Steve doesn’t sleep all night.

Figures, as the sun rises over an ankle ringed in fresh sutures, that he might as well let Billy sleep. It was a terrible night, the top three worst of the last few years, and Steve parks himself under the boiling showerhead, knowing it’s the worst even if he’s counting when his Nonna died, and fireworks outlining Billy’s chest, black and blue. Starcourt itself.

Starcourt 2.0.

Billy sleeps. 

And Steve figures, once things simmer down, they should talk about it. 

But the thing about Billy is, there are landmines. They’re buried in shallow graves now, thanks to all the government-ordered therapy, but Steve counts them, anyway.

Figures, he might as well start with the bathtub because it grows rings. And if he’s starting with the bathtub, he should acknowledge the fight it took, draining anger from him like a leaky steel trough, to get Billy from the tub and over to the cozy-covered toilet seat to stop the bleeding.

And the fight to patch Billy’s healing body always leads to the tracking device in Billy’s ankle, and death averted with sprained wrists, taught pink scars, and tread worn from his favorite sneakers.

It leads to summer. Fireworks. Ultimate sacrifices and life that pales in comparison. Always.

But Steve decides to begin with the bathtub because it’s safest. And it’s all he can focus on, rings tracing up through perfect eggshell porcelain faster than he can scrub them away because if he thinks too hard about anything else, mind's eye drifting to a piece of his mother’s favorite azalea pot slicing two more centimeters to the left, he starts to panic. 

Steve counts his blessings that Billy made it out alive. Submerged in pain so hot it almost peeled the paint from the spot of popcorn spackle right overhead. 

It makes sense he would’ve done it there.

He sleeps in the bathtub. Wrapped in a quilt, his feet propped on the spigot because he won’t sleep anywhere else. Steve tells him he can. Tells him he should. They can’t afford the chiropractic invoices that keep filling in behind letters from Owens apologizing that he can’t fix this for them, for Billy, but Billy doesn’t care. He just takes his pillow into the amber-ringed clawfoot and says, “I’m not sleeping in the guest room anymore.”

Steve wonders where he’ll sleep now.

So he begins with the bathtub.

He burns Billy’s toast that morning, Steve’s Family Video vest absorbing the smell like a sponge. Billy pads into the kitchen already dressed in an oversized black hoodie, a pair of Steve’s Levi’s, and flip-flops. His uniform. His armor. 

It’s November. Steve wants to point that out, first. You’re going to get a cold. It’s freezing outside, dipshit, and I don't want to spend all day worrying about your toes–

But he’s got a list. He’s worked this out.

Bathtub. Brown rings. Guest bed.

Sutures. 

Billy sits gingerly in the chair closest to Steve, his hands folded delicately in his lap while he waits to be administered his breakfast. Steve remembers the hospital, wafting like a lifeboat on the torrid sea, housing Hawkins’ most reluctant prisoner. He’s taken back to last year, to driving Max through a grove of trees to watch Billy through a window, his fingers wrapped in bandages even as his shoulders pulled taught, choking down a breakfast much like this one. 

It’s amazing how everything changes and how nothing does.

Each morning echoing one after the other until Steve can feel pieces of his mind detach and float away. 

Billy doesn’t make a sound. His flips don’t even flop. He’s a ghost. 

Steve shovels their burnt fry up onto two plates anyway, making a lot of noise as he crosses to the table so Billy won’t go shocked still as he does. So he won’t panic. At least, not yet. Not first thing. Because he will. He does, at least once a day, and it’s the worst thing Steve’s ever seen. Ever felt. The way Billy’s lip quivers, his eyes going blank and distant even as Steve holds onto him, trying to get him back–

It’s loss. It’s death, but. It’s getting better.

Steve holds onto that as if it were a teddy to his chest. It’s going to be okay. He’ll always come back to me. We’re doing better–

But, last night.

Billy grabs his fork from the wicker placemat, shoulders tensing as ceramic clinks against the tabletop. “Thank you,” Billy tells him. So quiet the kitchen walls creak as they lean in, trying to trap the honey-drip voice that never rings solid against their bones anymore.

Billy pauses, baby blues flitting anxiously to the toast. 

For a long, stifling moment, Steve holds his breath. He prays to every god who’s ever sat back to watch the world eat itself, that it’ll mean something when Billy looks at him with his eyes on fire. 

For a moment, he’s himself again. 

His lips, chapped and pink, fall open. Steve waits for the first blow, hopes for a break in this endless, terrible fog, but just as soon Billy deflates. He nibbles at his toast, eyes cast to the tabletop, and Steve dies.

Every morning. Everyday.

If it were six months ago, Billy would’ve said something. Would’ve insisted that for an Italian, Steve can’t cook for shit, that he’d never find a wife. Billy would have smiled and choked his breakfast down, anyway, because Steve made it. Because they cared about each other. Because they were friends.

If today were a year ago, Billy wouldn’t be here at all. He’d be across town. Inflating himself to the size of the moon, to distract Neil. Getting his teeth knocked in, for Max. 

Steve doesn’t like to think about that.

“Listen,” Steve tries, sitting heavily in the chair closest to his favorite ghost. 

His lips mold around the possibility of a million small deaths. Billy stares blankly at the tabletop, his chest heaving enough for Steve to feel the weight of how alive he is. They both are. Steve swallows thickly and almost says what he didn’t last night. 

How could you do you have any idea the position you’ve put me in you have to take responsibility for the target you’ve put on both our backs I almost lost you i almost lost you for five minutes and then I would’ve followed–

“You’ve got an appointment with Owens after physical today,” Steve says.

The light from the window above the sink casts spells on Billy’s fingers, nails chewed raw in some places, calloused scars scraping like sandpaper against his glass of orange juice. They’re still beautiful hands. Perfect fingers. The most gorgeous palms and wrists Steve has ever seen. 

“I want you to call me if you get tired before your visit with the big guy, okay?”

Billy swallows a mouthful of burnt toast, the crust of it crumbling like chalk at the back of his throat. He takes a sip of orange juice. “What kind?” Billy asks. 

So quiet Steve almost steamrolls over him. “What kind of what?”

“What kind of appointment is it?” 

Steve grips his coffee mug with both hands and toes at the edge of the cliff in front of him. “Electroshock, I think.” 

Billy tenses, pausing mid-chew. 

“Max will pick you up after because I’ve got work,” Steve tells him, not wanting to give Billy a second for anything to sink in, “I’ll be home around seven. If you get hungry before that there’s some leftover meatloaf in the fridge.”

Billy won’t look at him. 

Steve hates it. He leans forward, resisting the urge to do backflips to get Billy’s eyes on him, again, where he can keep Billy safe.

“I know you’re tired,” Steve tries gently. “I know this sucks, but you’ve gotta–”

“I didn’t say anything. Did I say one single thing?” Billy shakes his head, frown lines appearing around his mouth. “It doesn’t matter if I’m tired. I still have to go. The car will still pick me up at 11:30. They’ll make me strip down and they’ll hose me off and ask me the same questions they

do every week and I’ll come back here, with bruises from their needles and a rash from the treatment, and. And I’ll eat your meatloaf even though it tastes like an old boot.”

Billy saws through his eggs, using golden yellow blood to revive his toast, mouth scrunched unpleasantly on one side. 

To be honest, Steve isn’t sure he believes in the miracle of electroshock. 

When Owens first introduced the idea, Steve had questions. Why are we administering a treatment that was out of effect until six years ago? Why does Billy come home with burn marks on his face? Why are we putting him through that kind of pain–

Why do we want him to be in pain?

Steve holds his breath, skin rising with gooseflesh in anticipation, for. Something. Anything. But Billy deflates again. He sets his fork in a puddle of egg yolk, rubbing the nail bed of one finger. “They’re not gonna prescribe more pills, are they?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.” Steve fiddles with his mug. “I’ll run it by Doc and see what he says.” 

Billy stabs his fork through a crispy bit of egg white, some of that old, simmering fire scorching through the air. “I can’t even hold what they’ve got me on now.”

“Maybe we can ask about a change in the dosage,” Steve rises, padding to the fridge to retrieve the magnetic notebook he uses to make the grocery list each week. He digs around the junk drawer for a pen, clocking how the noise makes Billy pull tight across his shoulders but it doesn’t matter. He’s going to fix this and cling to the bright side. “I’ll call Owens at work and see what the deal is, ask about your schedule, see if we can–”

“You know I can’t go back there, right?”

Steve looks up from the notepad. He watches Billy pick at the hangnail, blood dripping steadily on the tabletop, and tastes Billy’s big, obvious statement on his tongue. 

Billy shrugs, jaw muscles clipped. “I took the tracking monitor out of my leg.” Billy tells him, like. 

Hail Mary pass.

Like, we’re in direct violation of the bible-thick NDAs they made us sign. This is punishable by law. They could take me awaytheycouldhurtyoutheycould hurt me and you’ll never see me again.

And the thing is, Steve knows he’s shit at this. 

Billy feels it, too, as if their everything, their situation, and their exile, and their relationship were an annoying fruit fly that won’t buzz into the big blue light. Nurse and patient minus all the thrill of sexy little skirts with matching thigh-high stockings. 

And that world-ending statement. I can’t go back there. Sits like a rock on the table between them, weighing the house down until it’s immovable.

Billy stares with tears clinging like snowflakes to his lashes, and Steve realizes, that.

This is his fault. 

Maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice that sounds a little bit like Nancy Wheeler tells him that everything is Steve’s fault. 

Everything, falling like dominoes into the copper-ringed tub.

“I should’ve been there,” Steve says to the room. To the house, and the foundation, and the winding, twisting roots long dead underneath snaking on toward dimensions where Steve is happy. Where Billy isn’t half alive. Steve clicks the pen trigger. “Where else are we gonna go?” 

Seconds tick by. Through the kitchen window, down the block, and around the corner, a lawn mower flares to life. The last cut of the season, before winter falls and the brakes pump and everything stops growing. Turns brown. 

Dies.

“I’m talking to you”

Billy shrugs. Stares at the kitchen table.

Blank. Empty.

Anger flares bright as the sun in Steve’s belly. “You don’t get to say shit like that to me,” He spits, “Not after last night. You don’t get to smear blood all over the bathroom floor and then say you can’t go back–”

“I’m listening,” Billy says, voice strained. “I’m. I’m thinking about what I need to do next.”

Steve doesn’t understand. 

“I just wanted to see what it might feel like to walk alone, for a little while,” Billy mumbles. “I know it’s selfish. I know I put everything at risk, and I put you in danger but I never wanted this to be my life. Or for you to put yours on hold to take care of me. You shouldn't have to do that.” Billy keeps his eyes glued to the tabletop, counting grains of burnt bread. His lips work around nothing, opening and closing as he tries to make sense of what lies in front of him. 

Eventually, he cracks.

“I have to get out of here, Steve.” 

He doesn’t look up from the table or the bread or the barrel of whatever solitary truth plants itself into his bones. Billy’s breathing is laborious, ragged as if each pull of air is taking all his strength.

Steve recognizes that some small, stubborn part of Billy, hidden behind layers of survivor's guilt and self-hatred as deep as the Pacific sea, hopes these outbursts of nothing will drive Steve over the edge. That this whole chapter will end with the Beemer spreading lines of maroon past city limits until he’s gone.

And for one ringing, angry red moment Steve thinks you’re right. 

I shouldn’t have to. I never thought this would happen and I never dreamed it would but now it has and we have no other choice.

Steve waits for Billy to say something more.

I’m sorry, maybe. He’d been so forthcoming last night when the pain pills were doing backstrokes in his stomach, but now. With the light of day, he’s stubborn. Resolute and almost, eerily, like himself. 

So, Steve ignores the big, obvious statement Billy thought would kill Steve’s love for good. He clicks the pen to life and scratches, sure and sudden, through the script he was crafting to beg Owens for another chance. 

He breathes through his nose and starts a new list. A shopping list, filling the page with only the necessities. 

Steve feels blue on his neck, burning as intensely as the sun. “Eat your breakfast,” Steve tells him, “I’ll be home before dark.”

[seodami]

Dearest treasure | KTH

|PART1| |PART 2| |PART 3|

Summary: Every kid in town was afraid of Kang Taehyun, the old -slightly creepy- man living alone for years and years in the same run down house. Every night he would go into his backyard with a shovel and dig a hole into the earth. No one knows why and there are kids rumouring about him burying people. Jungwon was a bright kid, wanting to find out the truth behind this widely spread rumour for a school project. And what he found out would change his life forever.

Genre: fluff, angst, flashbacks, story of life, snippets of life, tiny bit humour

Warning: old Taehyun, mention of death, mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, death

Word count: 10152 (all 3 parts)

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader, (Yang Jungwon)

Note: Wow okay so this story took me a while to write and I listened to hours of das music to finish this🥺 this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it’s finally finished so I can post it on here yayyy!!! I hope you like it an enjoooyy (please tell me if you cried I would really appreciate your responses haha bc I did)

Main masterlist

2089 (present)

Deathly silence hung in the air as thick as smog. In Jungwons eyes pooled tears, ready to spill over the edges to fall into free fall and drop heavily onto his trousers. His heart was burning, not finding any suitable words of comfort or understanding for the old man in front of him. His throat felt like it was tied up so tightly, he couldn’t breathe. Oh, how didn’t he know? Oh, how could anyone talk bad behind his back? So much hurt…

Mr. Kangs head hung low, not daring to make any other noice than his sniffling nose. Hot tear drops were silently dropping down, it felt suffocating just watching him so full of hurt and sorrow. Suddenly Jungwon felt sorry to let him relive his whole life together with the terrible pain even the young boy could feel.

“I- I…I never could…forgive myself. It was my fault-“ the once handsome mans face was dark and the wrinkles now seemingly even deeper full of regrets and unspoken words. “You wouldn’t understand, boy-“

Jungwon couldn’t form any appropriate words at that moment and let the sadness let him take away just for a little longer. His story was heavy… he felt like he just heard something he shouldn’t have heard. Something so private and fragile. It had touched him more than he had thought.

“I didn’t want to live anymore… it was all worthless since then… I had no motivation to keep going.” His voice became a tad more stable, yet still quiet and weak. His tired eyes met the innocent boys and for a second the old man could see his younger self inside his big brown eyes. Sadness and nostalgia rolled over him and he averted his gaze.

“I tried ending my life many times since that day- it never worked no matter how much I wanted it… and then I just…I just mouldered…alone, broken- and just a shell of my old self. I wasn’t the once happy, bright, clever boy anymore. I could never be that again…”

Jungwons heart felt heavy, breathing wasn’t bearable. His hands unconsciously reached forward to the tiny lost figure sitting in his sunken mould. It was a simple touch but for Mr. Kang it was the first reassuring and comforting gesture he had received in a long long time. It made him tear up stronger, still staying silent. The young boy wanted to be there for the old man. He wanted to show him that he wasn’t alone in this.

Moments of depressing, yet healing silence passed, just the ticking of the old clock in the dark living room was heard. “I’m so sorry Mr. Kang…” Jungwon finally whispered, unsure if the man spoken to even heard it. He couldn’t do much but be there in this moment. Quite honestly he felt like crying himself. But he wanted to stay strong for him.

“One day-“ Mr. Kangs voice shook a little but he kept talking. “-I remembered the time capsule. My dearest treasure. So long ago. And I made it my life mission to find it. One last moment to hold onto and…look back to.” A thick single tear slowly rolled down Jungwons cheek. So that was it. That’s why… and everyone had dragged the vulnerable man down, putting even more dirt into his deep wounds.

“I-I searched everywhere. But…but i just…forgot. It’s my last wish before I finish this…” life he wanted to say. Finish his life. It made the school boy unbelievable sad. Oh how much he must’ve suffered his whole life. And before Jungwon could’ve decided differently, a strong feeling of wanting to help and support creeped up to him.

“I’m gonna help you Mr. Kang. We will find your treasure.” Jungwon reassuringly took the heavy, wrinkled hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was the first time since that day, that he felt hope again. Just a tiny tiny splinter but it was there. Hope.

The next hours, both of the males digged holes through the whole garden, not saving any sweat, too focused on finding the mans greatest desire. Mr. Kang had already reached his limit after three holes, following with the 14 year old boy leading him towards an old wooden garden bench to rest on. Jungwon on the other hand was full of verve and energy to fulfill his dearest wish. To find his dearest treasure. Mr. Kang watched him with surprise and thankfulness, never had anyone gone all the way out to help him with something so important to him. There was never someone who he could’ve went to. After that day, he had broken off all the contact with his old friends. He wanted to feel alone at some point. He deserved the pain. That’s what he had always told himself. But now he was old and weak and just wanted nothing more than to be finally reunited with his beloved family. He missed you everyday. He heard his daughters laughters everyday. And he saw his son running around outside in the garden everyday. He finally wanted to be with his family everyday.

It had already gotten dark and cold at this point, Mr. Kang had brought the hard working boy a jacket and a warm tea. The sun was already long gone, just the small lights from the veranda and from the street shined over towards them. Jungwon was still digging, his once tidy school clothes now full of dirt and dust and drenched in sweat. He couldn’t give up. He knew that. So he kept digging and digging. The moon was fondly watching at the pair below, shining just a tad brighter tonight for them. Short friendly small talk about school went quickly over to heartfelt conversations about life and this and that. Nobody, not even the moon, would’ve thought that the bitter, lonely 87 year old Taehyun and the bright, cheerful 14 year old Jungwon would’ve ever even crossed paths, yet life showed again how unpredictable and full of surprises it could be. This night, a tight bond between the two men was woven. So unexpected but yet so lovely.

The clock already told them it was 6 minutes before midnight when another noice cut through the silent night air. A metallic sound. Gasping, Jungwon threw the shovel away, excitement now rushing through his veins. He fell onto his knees, not caring about the moist soil on his trousers. His hands digged through the last part, brown earth now sticking behind his nails, and moments later, he pulled out a medium sized metal box, securely wrapped in plastic. Jungwon felt like he just won the Olympics, he felt like he did it. He did it…

A quick gaze onto the bench showed him the sleeping old man, now seeming even tinier than before. With shaky steps and a weird feeling of proudness and fulfilment, Jungwon waddled over to the sleeping form, gently waking him up. The box in his hands was tightly in his grasp, not letting go. Mr. Kangs heavy lidded eyes flew open in an instant when he saw the metal box in the boys arms. Tears burned in his thankful eyes, reaching towards it with shaking arms. Everything felt heavy, yet his heart felt the lightest it had felt in a long long time.

“Thank you…so much.” Tears were now unstoppable rolling down his cheeks. It squeezed Jungwons heart, knowing he could make this man happy again, fulfilling his last wish. The both of them moved up to the house again, warmth engulfing them with its now familiar scent. Comfort. The old man reassured the boy to stay but seeing the box being opened, Jungwon felt as if he got to see something way too private. But he stayed, looking over the sniffling mans shoulder when he pulled out a small pink toy dolphin. His hands were shaking. “This was my daughters. It was her favorite toy when she was…two years old.”

Taehyuns heart clenched, seeing all his treasures in front of him. He desperately pressed the small toy against his chest, letting all his emotions in. It was intense, yet it was all he ever wanted. Seeing the familiar drawings of a green giraffe, sitting on a cloud with a family next to it. He could read all their names above the figures. Oh Taehee…

Looking through the photographs, old memories surfaced and made the man tear up even heavier. He didn’t knew how much he really had missed them. It was as if his empty shell was slowly filled again, reliving all of your best and worst moments. He saw a picture on his old friends Hueningkais 18th birthday. All of his friends were there, cake smeared all across your faces, the brightest smiles someone could ever see. The day he had first met you… Another picture had all of your friends sitting around a small bonfire, being cuddled inside blankets. Taehyun saw his younger handsome self smiling unsure into the camera with you sitting beside him. He could only laugh sadly at the memories of your camping trip where he first had kissed you, the guilty feeling just as clear.

“She looks so happy here…” Taehyun noticed with a testy smile, gently touching your face on the picture, seeing you and him laying on a bed, arms tightly slung around your frame, as you held the camera. His large eyes showed nothing but the purest form of love as he looked over to you. Oh he was such a lovesick fool. “You were a pretty couple…” Jungwon whispered, glancing over the handsome young man and the pretty women. He wished to find someone in his life later, he could look at with just as much love as he did. Taehyun nodded, pulling out the next photo. It was the two of you kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, big smiles on both of your faces. Taehyun remembered, it was when he courageously decided to fly around half the globe to you to fix your relationship. He didn’t want to give you up, thank god he didn’t. Another photograph showed you holding your first ultrasound picture, tears streaming down your face. You were both so young and already on the way to becoming parents. It was scary, yes it was one of the most scary moments in life but it was all worth it. The next picture showed you in the hospital bed, looking weak, yet happy. Taehyun was kneeing down next to you, his gaze focused on you and the tiny newborn baby in four arms. A tear dropped down onto the photo but he quickly wiped it away. “Our little Taehee…”

The next picture showed a kissing couple dressed in a gorgeous white dress and a neat black suit. The priest between them was smiling fondly at the newlywed couple. On another one he could see the couple dancing in midst of their guests, white petals laying all over the place. Taehyun sobbed, holding a hand over his mouth. Jungwons hand reassuringly squeezed his shoulder. He was there for him. Taehyuns and your parents were dancing next to you, he could see his friend Yeonjun and Beomgyu dancing with each other playfully and many more of their closest circle. It had been so long. And he missed it. It was such a happy memory.

There were other photographs with you being pregnant, both of your baby pictures, your friends and your parents and a ton of little Taehee running around bubbly in her adorable dresses and overalls. Taehyun hadn’t seen these pictures in a while and it tore his heart into a million pieces. The last picture was inside your new house, the house he never could bring over him to leave. You were all sitting on the carpet, smiling into the camera. The little baby boy snuggling closer in his blanket and the girl pressing a soft kiss onto his tiny head. Taehyuns arms were slung around your frame, head laying on your shoulder relaxing. They were so happy. So happy.

He pulled out an edition of your favorite book with a hand written text inside: ‘For Taehee and Taejun- may they find wisdom and happiness in their long lives. From mum and dad’ Taehyun remembered. Oh he remembered everything. You two would always read this book together since your honeymoon, where you discovered it in one of the local bookstores. Since then it had always be your favorite book. And it hurt him seeing his children never got to read it. Their future was just robbed because of one moment. It was unfair. Why did he get to live when they couldn’t? He never understood.

The last thing Taehyun pulled out of the box was the pink letter littered with dozen of glitter stickers. ‘To my love’ stood on top of it in your cursive handwriting. He gulped, knowing exactly this was made for him personally. It was the letter he dreaded reading. The moment he waited for. The reason he wanted to find this box in the first place. His love. Jungwon stood stiff and still next to him, not daring to say a word. With shaking fingers, he carefully opened the envelope without tearing it. He could immediately recognise your pretty handwriting and already teared up when he read over the first sentence. ‘To my dear love Taehyun, whom I always love’ with another nod, he dared reading through the heartfelt letter.

‘So this is where life led us, what? To be quite honest with you, my 17 year old me would’ve never thought about marrying the handsome boy from Hueningkais birthday party, let alone have his children and buy our first house together. Life went wild with us, am I right Tae? But I regret nothing. Not even when I stole your favorite hoodie out of your closet without you knowing. Everyone was so done with my reckless personality and I often felt misunderstood in my younger days as you know. But you just always seemed to just see the best in me. Even when I felt like giving it all up. You were always there for me. And you were the only one to fully understand and accept me how I am. This is something I never told you in person but I can’t remember how life was without you before. In my mind, you were always there and I know that you will always be there for our family in our long future. I hope when you read this, we are both still happily married, watching our children and grandchildren laugh about all our ridiculous photos inside this box. And Taehee, oh she must be so happy to see her favorite toy again haha. Taehyun, you are my best friend, my first love, my first heartache, my true soulmate and the best husband in the whole world. You are and will always be my love, no matter how time will turn our lives around. We are always together. I love you always,

Your dearest wife Y/N

(P.S. don’t worry about getting old, you are still my handsome prince I fell in love with!)’

At this point, Taehyun was a sobbing mess, not caring what the young boy might think of him. This letter had touched his soul, his deepest heart. He felt every word you’ve written just as if it was you whispering each of them into his ear. He never felt the urge that strong before to be by your side, hug you, kiss you all over your face, tell you how beautiful you were and whisper how much he loved you and would forever. His life made sense only with his family by his side. There was nothing left to live anymore for Taehyun. And he knew that for a long time already.

Jungwon in this moment didn’t knew what to do anymore. He felt like he had fulfilled his mission, making the old man happy for a last time. With quiet steps, he took his video camera, he totally had forgotten and put it in his backpack laying on the floor abandoned. It was his sign to leave, let the man dwell in his emotions and memories. He was done here. With careful steps he went closer to the sobbing man again, softly putting his hand on his shoulder. He looked up as if he knew what the boy was about to say.

A small smile was on his wrinkled lips, clenching on the boys heart. He weakly pushed himself up just to pull the sweaty, in dirt covered student into a warm embrace. It was the first hug since ages it felt like. The hug remembered Jungwon of his own grandmother and tears stuck in his throat. He missed her. “Thank you so much, Jungwon. You are a wonderful kid. You’ve fulfilled my dearest wish. I will forever be thankful to you. May you be blessed forever. You were the only one willing to listen. Thank you.” Jungwon nodded in his shoulder, trying not to burst into tears on the spot but failed nevertheless in the end. He was so glad seeing the happy man in front of him, now seeming even younger than before. The deep sunken eyes didn’t seem frightening anymore. They were warm and welcoming. He could see sparkles of youth inside them. Yes, Jungwon did the right thing.

When the clock showed sharply half an hour past midnight, Jungwon bid his farewell to the man, he weirdly would consider his friend now, knowing he could sleep well tonight. Taehyun insisted on him keeping the jacket he gave him as well as one of the pictures inside the box for his school project and as a token of gratitude. On his quiet walk back home, he smiled endearingly down to the old photograph he carefully held in his hand. It was the last picture. Where the family of four smiled happily into the camera, sitting onto the fluffy rug Jungwon recognised now. He would treasure this picture forever. It was a generous gift, knowing how important it had been to Mr. Kang. He was so thankful.

The next day, Jungwon excitedly presented his project in class. Even though his mother yelled at him concerned where he was until this late, he managed to edit the video for his project, tearing up in the process but still felt motivated to keep going. It was important that he made this his best project. Not for him or his grade, no, it was for Mr. Kang. He was determined to change everyone’s horrible opinion about the old man.

It was eye opening for everyone. Even Park Jongsong, the scary older student, couldn’t come up with a counter attack and stared wide eyed at the screen in front of the class. It was freeing, knowing that just a bit of courage and kindness could lead you to such wonderful moments. He changed everyone’s opinion about ‘Killer Kang’. And he managed to make an old sad man happy again.

After school, the kind student hurried over to Mr. Kangs house. In bright daylight, the garden looked like a battlefield with tons and tons of freshly digged soil laying all around. Now with a much happier feeling, Jungwon crossed the chaotic lawn, knocking energetically onto the old wodden door. After a while he still hadn’t heard any steps so he tried knocking again. “Mr. Kang? It’s Jungwon. I wanted to show you the finished project. It went amazing.” The boy excitedly bounced on the balls of his feet, too giddy to stand still. There was still no answer, so Jungwon made his way towards the backyard, now being familiar with every inch. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomache.

And when he saw the open veranda, the old man sitting in his mould on the old couch, Jungwon let out a relieved breath. With careful steps not to step inside one of the many holes in the ground, he made its way over to Mr. Kang, not without knocking on the wall outside. Still no answer. Maybe he hasn’t heard it or he was sleeping. Jungwon waddled over to the familiar couch, seeing Mr. Kang sitting in his usual spot with his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful, Jungwon first thought the old man was sleeping tightly. Yet when there was still no answers or reactions from his side and when he noticed there was no movement of his upper body, he understood…

Mr. Kang passed away last night. Tears welled up in Jungwons eyes and he heavily let them flow when he saw all the contents of the metallic box scattered around the small desk in front of him. The photos, sorted into time accuracy, the book untouched, the adorable drawings of his young daughter, the green giraffe smiling cheekily at him. The pink letter was open and the neat handwriting was still the same as yesterday. And in Mr. Kangs hands, layed the pink toy dolphin.

Jungwon went onto his knees beside him on the fluffy carpet, letting his hot tears fall freely without restrictions. He may had lost a friend today but he knew deep down, the old kind man was happily reunited with his family. He had gained everything he lost. And for that…how could Jungwon still be sad?

For now and forever, the courageous 14 year old boy, who acted righteous and kind, carried Kang Taehyuns life story out into the wide world, spread his last words so no one would forget the once mysterious man everyone feared to look at. Kang Taehyun, a man who got everything he wished for and then got it taken away from him. A man, who loved dearly. A man, whose story would never be forgotten.

[whitecrownsblackthrones-archived]

Live a Royal Life & Get a Tragic Ending

The Betrayal

Setting: Scotland Fatal Flaw: Loyalty, Trustworthy

"How could you do this to me?" You've known Jack for decades. The Lord of the estate, whilst you were the Duchess. Your best friend through thick and thin, Jack has always been there to steer you away from your more reckless decisions. You take one last glance at his smile: the smile that has guided you through all these years. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but people change. I'm not just a ten year old anymore. I can make my own decisions. And this is the path that I chose. I'm sorry. I truly am." You don't get the chance to say goodbye as he locks the door behind him, sealing your fate. You can feel any hopes of a good, positive future slip between your fingers. You know what's going to happen. You've read enough books, seen enough movies. The water comes slowly at first, pooling in puddles around your ankles, making your socks uncomfortably damp. Before you know it, it's up to your knees. You begin to dance in the water: your last moments might as well be happy ones. But soon enough, the liquid reaches your chest, and you find yourself beginning to sink with the weight of your clothes.

You search for an exit, scrabble desperately for some sort of a plug. But now it's up to your neck, your lips, your nose, your eyes. You fall slowly into the depths, wondering what fate befalls Jack. What have the stars got in store for him now?

The Assassin

Setting: Vienna Fatal Flaw: Naivety, Low Self-Esteem

"I thought you loved me?" You're pleading with him now, your hands tied to the kitchen chair. As the newly appointed Queen of the country, you are expected to uphold order and morality. You gasp as you look the man you've always adored straight in the eyes. "Well, you thought wrong." The tears stain streams down your cheeks and your eyes become hollow in the darkness. The sun is setting on the balcony, and his lips are cracked. They used to be so soft, so loving, so beautiful. You two used to be so perfect. You smile at him weakly, the humorous words that used to pass between your lips lost in dusk's fatal gaze. What happened to Happy Ever Afters? Sunsets are supposed to exist for the soul purpose of dinner parties, sitting there gracefully. Full of adoration. Sunsets aren't supposed to end like this. "Why can't you just love like we used to love, darling? Why can't you just love me like tomorrow will never come? Because I don't even recognise you any more." As soon as those words pass your chapped lips, you feel a primitive howl of pain escape your mouth. As you look down upon your body, you see the sword where it entered your chest. And these are the last words you say as your eyelids close. "Please..." But he's gone into the arms of night herself.

The China Ballerina

Setting: Alexandria Fatal Flaw: Trustworthiness, Perfectionism

You hold the figurine in your hand as you step onto the dance floor. You know the risk, but you focus on your lover: the way his hair falls over his eyes, the way his pupils follow you. As soon as a dainty ballet pump touches the crinolin, the guns fire. The lucky ballerina. All you wanted was peace between the two nations. Freedom. Basic human rights. You sigh as you watch multiple triggers being pulled. Click after click after click. Your eyes flicker around the room, trying to spot ever danger, evaluate every single gunman's aim. You love him, you think, trying to concentrate on the man in the suit. He's rushing over to you. Time stops, splintered into a million shards. The world splits into a million bubblegum possibilities. And then you fall. Ballet pumps catch on giraffe legs. Why couldn't you have done anything, done something to prevent it? You try to level your head as you trip. Your breathing stills. The little china ballerina falls, defeated, from your palm.

The Last Dawn

Setting: London Fatal Flaw: Greed, Impulsivity

you have been charged with multiple offences. we are afraid that we cannot offer any more second chances. the correct punishment, we believe, in this instance, is public execution. You stare at the notice in your hand, your eyes not quite registering the meaning of the words. Oh christ. Jesus Christ. *** You start to panic as you awake the next day in a damp cell. Your first thought being "This is a dream," you start to examine your surroundings. On first inspection, you appear to be in some kind of metal stable: the ground under your feet is muddy, damp and cold, and hay is stacked in the corner to form haphazard bedding. And then you remember your letter. A knock at the door awakens your senses. "Come in," you shout, without thinking. A bolt clicks, a lock turns, you can hear the light Christmassy jangle of keys. And then he steps in: an iron-booted guard sporting a crew cut and a clean-shaven stubble. Before you know it, you are led away. The outside world blurs around you as you start to feel completely and utterly alienated from reality. However, the next thing you start to focus on is a guillotine attached to a wooden podium. You feel a prick in your arm as you are shoved forward, and sharp pain in your hips as you are hoisted onto the platform. Three. Two. One. You take your last breath. And then blackness.

Tagging - @tetsuwan-atom​​, @sphinxsmuses​​, @frznkingdom​​, @fxtelism​​, @fckin-multi​​, @akumanoken​​, @strawberryxdreams​​, @fushichonoflugel​​, @graceful-cure-swan​​, @more-than-a-princess​​, @somnium-delicata​​, @moonxsuncelestials​​ & whoever else wants to take the quiz!

[themurphyzone]

Mayor Murphy Ch 9

This chapter is based on something that aggravated me a lot on Animal Crossing Population Growing as a kid. 

Ch 9- Mission: Retrieve Pikachu

“I lost my favorite Pikachu, and I’m way too hungry to go out and look for it,” Bones complained. “Can you two go out and look for me? I’ll just stay here and mope miserably for the rest of my dog years.” The dog laid on a bed in a far corner, tail limply hanging between his legs. 

Vinnie patted him on the back. “Sure thing. We’ll have that, uh, you said a Pikachu? Could you describe it so we know what it looks like?” 

“Um, it has two black eyes, a mouth, a body, and it’s the color of a banana that hasn’t browned yet.” Bones shook his head, his ears drooping. “Man, my brain is completely mush. All I can think of is Pikachu and food, yip yip.”

“How helpful,” Balthazar grumbled. 

“No worries! We’ll get your Pikachu back! Where did you see it last?” Vinnie asked. 

“Flora thought it was cute and wanted to borrow it for a while,” Bones muttered.  

“See, what’s so hard about that?” Vinnie asked. “We head to Flora’s, grab Pikachu, and the task will be over before you know it!”

It was a beautiful day, so Murphy set up the booth by the seashore. He hung up the sign that had ‘Free Friend’ painted in rainbow colors with a stylized arrow pointing to him. 

“Now all I have to do is wait for someone to wander by. Then I’ll ask them to be my friend so we can do fun friend things! Like singing by the campfire, or making bracelets, and can’t forget snowball fights! It will be glorious!” Murphy exclaimed. 

Something hit the back of his head and bounced off. He turned around to see a bottle lying in the sand as well as a furious Eloise, who was clutching another bottle in her trunk. “Pipe down! You’re disrupting my meditation time! This is the only clover patch in town, and I intend to use it properly!” 

Right. She was one of those crazy Leprechaunists. “Do you want to be my friend?” he asked. 

His effort was rewarded with a bottle to the face. 

“Guess not.”

Flora had a thing for plastic flamingos. More accurately, she had a thing for pretending to be a plastic flamingo. There was a sign in her front yard declaring “Flora’s not here. She’s pretending to be a yard decoration right now. If you want to talk, find her yourself!” There was a whole maze of them outside her hot pink house. Balthazar had seen these things before in suburban homes. They were an eyesore, in his opinion. No functional purpose at all.

As a trained agent, he was supposed to be able to pick out a needle in a haystack with ease. The key words were “supposed to”. 

“Found her yet?” Balthazar called, tossing aside a plastic flamingo with a party hat. 

“No! But you have to see this one! It’s got googly eyes!” Vinnie tapped the stand, making the eyes jiggle. He laughed. “We should get one of these things. Maybe two, because I wouldn’t want them to be lonely.” 

No. Just no. There were enough flamingos to last a lifetime. His nightmares were going to switch from the world going down in flame and ashes to flamingo armies enslaving humanity, he was sure. 

“You take the left flank, and I’ll search the right,” Balthazar ordered. “Leave no stand unchecked!” 

Vinnie looked up from his shrimp crackers. “I was listening,” he protested. 

“Did you have those the entire time?” Balthazar asked. 

“I always have a bag of snacks on my person,” Vinnie said. “Thought you knew that?” 

Next to him, a flamingo wobbled and craned her long neck slightly. She seemed to be eyeing the shrimp crackers. Vinnie noticed and offered the bag to her, drawing back when she thrust her head in and noisily gobbled down the crackers. 

“That’s one way to out a flamingo,” Balthazar remarked. “Now, Bones said you had his Peekaboo-”

“Pikachu,” Vinnie corrected. 

“Gesundheit,” Balthazar said. “And he’d like it back.”

Flora said something, but the bag was stuck on her beak so everything came out garbled. Vinnie pulled it off for her. “Thanks, I owe you! For the crackers and the bag, pinky! Asking about Pikachu, huh? Pikachu’s gone. Puck was visiting and he liked Pikachu so much he didn’t even ask me if he could have it! Just up and took it!” 

Balthazar rubbed his temples in irritation. 

Murphy’s friendship booth wasn’t attracting anyone except for a few crabs that wandered by. And even then, they seemed more interested in the shells that decorated the base rather than the bear behind it. 

Maybe it wasn’t noticeable enough? Murphy groaned. He didn’t have the Bells for more materials. 

“I don’t have him! I swear I don’t!” Puck shouted, straining at his ropes. “Please don’t break that hockey stick! That was from my first tournament ever!” 

Instead of dropping the stick, Balthazar held it close to Puck’s beak so he could clearly see the wood splinter as it slowly broke under an iron grip. Behind him, Vinnie disposed of the other sports equipment that had been broken, deflated,and ruined during the interrogation. 

Puck gulped, sweating nervously. “Okay, I’ll tell you! He’s with Savannah! She thought he was cute!” 

“Savannah’s here?” Balthazar gasped, then cleared his throat. “How do you know her? She’s not to be trusted. Attractive women like her are very deceitful.” 

“With an attitude like that, I’m starting to see why that blind date mission was a bust,” Vinnie muttered. 

Balthazar whipped around. “What was that?” 

Vinnie scratched his head. “I, uh, said I was craving pie crusts! Yup! Cause you can’t have a filling without the base! Man, now I really want pie.”

“How do you know Savannah?” Balthazar asked. 

“Uh-well. we kinda met when she wrangled me with her killer lasso by mistake,” Puck blushed. “She’s the loveliest zebra I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” 

“Zebra,” Balthazar said, secretly relieved that they wouldn’t have to deal with higher-ranked agents. He was sick of being one-upped. “Which way did she go?” 

“Lasso practice,” Puck said. “Out by the apple orchard I think.”

Balthazar untied the ropes that bound Puck to the chair, leaving him to mourn the loss of his hockey sticks. 

Murphy had dozed off, only to be rudely awakened by a painful zap. “I didn’t take the giraffe’s sassafras!” he yelled. “Don’t arrest me!” His shirt was tattered from the shock, green fur slightly singed and smoking. 

Peering over the booth, he found a small, yellow mouse snickering at his discomfort. “Hi. Would you like to be my friend?” Murphy asked. 

“Pika!” the mouse nodded, holding out his paw. 

Murphy shook it, and the mouse’s cheeks sparked with electricity as he zapped him again, completely destroying his shirt. 

The mouse laughed and scampered off. 

“That was my...favorite shirt,” Murphy said dazedly. 

“Oh, that little ol’ thing?” Savannah said. “Nothin’ but trouble, I tell y’all. Started eating mah apples so Ah chased him off. He scuttled off to the beach.” 

Finally. Nice to know there was one sane animal in this town. However, now that they knew this ‘Pikachu’ was a living creature and not just a doll or action figure, things could get complicated. Balthazar had no qualms about stuffing it in a bag and dumping it on Bones’ doorstep, but Vinnie usually objected to that sort of thing. 

As they headed down to the beach, they saw Eloise meditating in a clover patch and took extra care to sneak behind her so she didn’t start proclaiming her love for leprechauns again. 

Down on the beach, two canine police officers were dragging an unconscious green bear off the sand. “Murphy. Why is it always Murphy?” one of them complained. 

“He must’ve knocked that bear out,” Balthazar mused. “And somehow got in and out of town without anyone noticing. What if he also stole Pikachu from Bones? Dakota, we must find out where Agent Murphy is hiding at once! That Pikachu is in danger!”

Vinnie groaned. “You owe me dinner when this mission inevitably fails like the others.” 

Balthazar glared at him. 

“What?”

Pikachu hopped off the train and weaved in between the larger animals’ legs. A hippopotamus almost stepped on his tail, and he barely moved the appendage out of the way. Disoriented, he ran down the stairs on all fours to a less crowded area, turning in a random direction. 

Only to slam into a glass door. 

“Whoops, sorry about that!” a voice exclaimed. “Lucky for you I always keep a minimum of five first aid kits in my backpack!”

[a-slightcatchoflightning]

Little Glass Dinosaur

For @casual-laurie :)

FBG Prompt: Teen Lofty collects glass dinosaur ornaments, has done since he was a kid. While Dylan’s cleaning his room, he accidentally knocks one off the shelf and smashes it. What happens?

Tw:// broken glass

Words: 2604

Dylan stepped around Lofty’s bed and leant over it slightly to reach the windowsill – he was dusting his son’s room for him, since Lofty rarely had enough time with the newfound pressures of university. Lofty trusted Dylan not to go through his things, and Dylan trusted Lofty not to hide anything truly important from him. They’d made that agreement ten years ago, and it wasn’t one Dylan would break.

As he stepped back a little to look out the window, Dylan’s duster caught on a loose splinter of wood on Lofty’s windowsill. Grumbling with mild irritation, Dylan yanked the dusting rag away from the windowsill altogether and into his hip, his fists falling into natural placement on either one.

He didn’t expect it to pull one of the many glass ornaments off the windowsill with it though. He especially didn’t expect it to pull Lofty’s favourite glass ornament with it.

“Good Lord” Dylan dropped into a crouch and placed the duster on the floor beside the broken figurine.

Ever since he was eight, Lofty had collected glass figurines, mostly of animals. They were his prized possessions. Each had a name and a backstory, and each was kept clean and was loved dearly.

Collecting the pieces of the figurine carefully with his hands, Dylan scooped them up with the dustpan he’d also been carrying and went through to the kitchen, guilt creeping over him as he tipped the pieces out onto the kitchen table.

“Good heavens” He muttered to himself as realisation struck. The figurine the shards belonged to were of none other than Lofty’s little glass dinosaur – this was the dinosaur that had started everything off for him.

Dylan slumped into a seat and stared at the broken pieces of disfigured glass and wondered if Rita could remember where she first got the dinosaur it used to resemble.

He could remember, as even more guilt washed over him, how Lofty’s face had lit up as he unwrapped his first ever birthday present, age 8. Himself and Rita had sat with Lofty at the kitchen table, where he sat now, and had helped him with the paper, since his dyspraxia made it harder for him to unwrap the presents.

Lofty had been overjoyed that day, and ever since, he’d collected glass animals.

“Okay, call Rita” Dylan told himself under his breath as he stood and rushed anxiously to the phone; there was no point sitting around and reminiscing over a broken glass dinosaur, when he could solve the problem easily.

On the first ring, Rita picked up.

“Reenie?”

“Dylan, you okay?”

“Uh I’ve had a bit of an accident actually… I was wondering if you could help…”

“I would’ve thought you were a bit old for that sort of accident” Rita laughed down the other end of the phone and Dylan sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Ha-ha.” He replied sarcastically, “No, I dropped Lofty’s dinosaur figurine”

“Oh.” Rita instantly deflated on the other end of the line, “Dylan, that’s pretty serious, you know how he feels about that old thing… Have you told him yet?”

“Not yet no” Dylan admitted, “I was wondering if you remembered where you bought it from?”

“Oh!” Realisation hit, “Right that’s why you’re calling me; yes of course I do! Let me just find the address…” Dylan could hear the sound of drawers being clunked open and shut on the other end of the line and he waited as patiently as possible, while counting down how much time he had left on the large clock hanging on the kitchen wall.

“Rita? I’m sorry to rush you, but he gets home from uni in just under an hour… I don’t want to upset him…” Dylan’s voice was fast and losing patience by the second, but the rushed reply relieved that slightly.

“Yup, here it is: it’s the glass emporium in town!”

“That’s going to take me about ½ an hour to get to; I’m not going to be able to do it in time…” Dylan’s voice trailed off as he realised just how damaging it could be to Lofty for the first gift he received to be destroyed, especially when Dylan was the one who broke it.

“You know what? I’m not busy at the moment, how about I drive round and give you a lift?”

“Thank you Rita” Dylan let out a half-smile of gratitude, though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“It’s okay; I know what it’ll do to Lofty if I don’t. See you in ten”

“Thank you, see you” Dylan hung up the phone, relieved that Rita wasn’t busy and still knew where the dinosaur came from. Placing the phone back on the holder, he turned and swept the shards back into the dustpan, since the dinosaur was irreparable and tipped them into a carrier bag, before carrying it out the back door and dropping it in the black bin.

Once inside, Dylan grabbed his wallet and took his coat from the hook, waiting impatiently by the door for Rita to arrive. It was unlike him to be impatient or anxious over anything, but when it came to Lofty’s happiness and wellbeing, nothing would get in Dylan’s way to try and ensure it was the best it could be.

Finally, the doorbell rang and Dylan swung the door open, revealing Rita, who thankfully to save him any embarrassment, mirrored Dylan’s own slightly frantic expression.

“Come on then” She spoke quickly and they both made their way over to the car, beginning to drive as soon as the last click of a seatbelt sounded.

“How did you remember where it was from?” Dylan asked, in attempt to make some form of conversation through the fierce determination that hung in the air between them.

“Oh it was a business card they gave me; I’ve bought other ornaments for his collection since, so I make sure to keep the card in the address book.” Came the reply as they turned left at some traffic lights.

Dylan felt a tiny weight lift at the realisation that the lights had been green. As they were the only set of lights in the area, they weren’t usually such a big problem for him, but he was feeling more on edge than usual today and needed whatever sign of good luck he could get.

“O-kay” Rita spoke slowly as she concentrated on finding a place to pull in along the narrow lanes of the carpark, “Right… d’you remember what it looks like?”

“Yes” Dylan unbuckled himself and they stepped out of the car simultaneously, making their way hurriedly over to the little glasswork shop.

As they stepped inside, Dylan was reminded of the many times he and Lofty had entered the emporium throughout the years, and how careful Lofty had been not to smash any of the figurines.

Blue stained-glass dolphins hung on dreamcatchers from the walls and a clock-face made entirely out of glass made to resemble the sun took up a brick wall on one of the shop. Stepping under some lower-hung eaves into a cavern-like area, Dylan’s eyes fell to the stand where Lofty supposedly found most of the figurines he liked, as he recognised several: A giraffe with brown and yellow stains made to resemble its coloured coat was placed beside a small elephant-shaped paperweight. Dylan scanned the objects individually, conscious of his lack of time, but grew more anxious with guilt as he failed to spot one identical to the little glass dinosaur which used to inhabit Lofty’s windowsill.

Fearing having to give up, Dylan searched the smaller half of the shop again, repeating his movements to see if he’d missed any.

Twenty minutes remaining… The number hung in his head as he searched even more desperately than before.

“Dylan?” Rita stood behind him holding up a blue and white striped paper bag, folded over at the top. “They had one left; it was on a display near the door.

Relief hit Dylan like a ton of bricks; “Oh thank heavens, thank you Reenie!” and then he realised, “Wait… let me pay you back for that.”

“Dylan, lets focus on getting home in one piece for now, and we can sort that out later.”

“Ah yes, good idea” Dylan nodded, placing his hands on his hips, and then removed them again, cautious of the amount of glass surrounding him, and not wishing to pay a large bill for breaking numerous pieces with his elbows.

***

Once back in the car, Dylan felt himself finally relax ever-so-slightly; it would take less than five minutes to get back to the boat, and then he could put the dinosaur back where it belonged and pretend like nothing ever happened. While he hated that he’d have to lie to his son, the consequences of his not lying would be far more detrimental to Lofty, and Dylan was willing to accept lying over that.

“Thank you so much Reenie” Dylan smiled gratefully at her as he stepped out of the car, before turning and leaning back in, “Come in for some tea?”

“Okay” Rita smiled back up at him, “Thank you”

Dylan walked ahead and unlocked the door to the boat, while Rita went to find a better place to park. Breathing a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the boat, he paced into Lofty’s room and unwrapped the figurine, placing the little glass dinosaur back in its original position on the windowsill.

He stepped back and vowed to dust the next day – this time with no breakages.

***

“Dad, I’m home!” Lofty called through the boat as he shut the door behind him and removed his jacket.

“Through here, my boy” Dylan replied and Lofty went through to his bedroom, dropping his bag on his bed and glancing out the window absentmindedly, before turning and following the voices through into the kitchen.

“How was your day, Dad?” Lofty asked, coming forward and hugging Rita and then Dylan in turn.

“Not bad, did a bit of tidying; what about you?”

“Quite tiring actually” Lofty answered, taking a seat beside Dylan, “They’ve got us making our own lesson plans for a case study about secondary schools”. Lofty was studying to become a teacher at Holby University, and as much as he enjoyed it, he also found it quite tiring at the same time.

“If you need any help, you know where to come for it” Dylan smiled, gesturing towards himself and Rita.

“Thank you, is there anything I can do?” Lofty asked, the smile not leaving his face as he rolled his hoodie sleeves up. He often asked this question upon getting home each night, but Dylan rarely asked him to do anything when he did.  

Tonight however, Dylan could think of one thing that didn’t get done.

“If you’re not too tired, you could dust your windowsill?” Dylan asked, “I was going to do it today, but I got a bit busy elsewhere” He admitted, still feeling the guilt from earlier despite having fixed the problem.

“Sure thing” Lofty smiled, “Oh and can Iain and Max come over later please?”

“Of course” Dylan smiled back, watching fondly as Lofty took a dusting rag and loped out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

***

Lofty hummed some of the songs from Joseph – the performance he’d been in the previous month with the university drama society – as he turned each figurine over to dust it’s underside, before placing them gently on his bed to avoid dropping or knocking them on the floor. About halfway through doing this, he picked up his favourite, a little glass dinosaur Rita had given him for his eighth – or rather first – birthday.

And then he froze.

Each figure had its name painted in tiny font on the base with pink nail polish; something he’d done since he’d first started collecting them, but now… Where was Harry’s name?

He knew where it should be, and he was completely sure it was there, since he’d dusted it only last week, and the name had been there on its left foot, bold as ever.

Taking the dinosaur carefully in both hands so as not to drop it, Lofty walked slowly into the kitchen where Rita and Dylan still sat, talking over mugs of tea.

“Dad?” Dylan’s blood froze as he saw what Lofty was holding, and he felt panic creep over him; had they picked up the wrong figurine? Dylan was sure they hadn’t, he could recognise which one’s Lofty did and didn’t have from a mile away.

“Yes, my boy?” He answered as nonchalantly as he could manage.

“I think something’s happened to Harry… My figures, they all have their names painted underneath, but his has gone, and I know it didn’t rub off because it can’t have done.” Lofty looked confused and a little upset, so Dylan gestured to the chair opposite him as Rita nudged him under the table, prompting him to come clean.

“Uh” He coughed, “Ben, I think I should tell you something…”

Lofty looked at him, confused as ever.

“I dropped Harry this afternoon when I went to dust your room, and Rita and I went out and bought a replacement because we didn’t  want to hurt you by having broken your first ever birthday present…”

“Oh…”

“I’m sorry Ben” Dylan looked guiltily across the table to where his son stared at the object in his hands dejectedly.

“You didn’t have to lie Dad.” Lofty’s voice was quiet as he placed the dinosaur down on the table in front of him and looked up at Dylan, “You could have just told me straight, I wouldn’t have been mad”

“I’m sorry” Dylan replied earnestly, and Lofty knew he was serious.

“It’s okay Dad” He spoke softly twirling the dinosaur absentmindedly in a little circle.

“Reenie and I were discussing a trip back to the glass shop so you could choose another to add to your collection this weekend actually” Dylan told him, reaching across the table to take his son’s hand.

Lofty squeezed back and Rita smiled quietly at the two of them.

“Thank you, but I need to save for a new laptop” Lofty replied with a smile once more. Dylan wondered for a moment how Lofty managed to keep smiling constantly.

“Oh no, I’d pay for it, don’t worry about that!” Dylan corrected himself, “I know you’d like one of the more modern laptops.”

“Are you sure?” Lofty asked, “The figures are expensive…”

“Of course; as an apology for breaking it, and they aren’t so expensive you know; I’d do anything…”

“Thank you Dad” Lofty smiled up at him, before standing carefully, cautious of the little glass dinosaur, and moving around to Dylan’s side of the table to hug him tightly.

“It’s okay, my boy” Dylan chuckled as he hugged his son back.

“Really, thank you Dad” Lofty repeated and Dylan held him a little tighter before loosening his hold so Lofty could step away.

“And thank you Auntie Rita” He hugged her too, thinking back to his first proper birthday, ten years ago.

“It’s okay Lofty” Rita smiled as Lofty pulled away and took his dinosaur again carefully.

“I’m just gonna go put Harry back in my room” He smiled, turning on his heel and making his way back to his room carefully. He placed the dinosaur back in its place and decided to leave the rest of the dusting until the next day as he put the rest of his figurines back in place on the windowsill.

For now, he was going to spend the evening with Dylan and Rita, just like old times - Until Max and Iain arrived anyway...

[unholyhelbiglinked]

For Better or Worse | Chapter 1

I had my mind made up that drowning was the way to go. Of course, if anyone had to choose a way that they would meet their end the go-to answer is always in their sleep. Not me, though. I always felt like I would miss something if I died in my sleep.

Aren't you supposed to get this huge flash of what your life was like before you bite the dust? Like a giant run through of everything you did? I was never sure if it was as poetic as it sounded. Maybe it was just a scratchy rewind of everything.

When I was younger I used to go to blockbuster all the time. There was nothing to do but watch the woman working in the back-room rewind tapes. They were big, and square. Bulky. She would stare at the screen in front of her as the whole movie played backwards.

She always knew the ending before the beginning, which seemed like it was cheating in a way. But it was her job; to make sure whoever had the tape next could enjoy the film without going through what she had.

I just hoped death wasn't like that. Drowning would give me an option to check it out though. It would be painless, scary- but painless after you stopped clinging onto the last of the air your lungs had.

Cynical? Yes. Realistic? Maybe.

My mind did have a tendency to wonder against everything. I would spend hours at a time just watching my father fix up boats. When you're surrounded by nothing but choppy sea water you start to imagine what it's like beneath the surface.

Truth of the mater boiled down to water not being safe. Water not being some soft cushion to land on when you fall. It was dangerous against the current of a storm, the wind making waves as sharp as blades. The height of which you jump making it as hard as a rock.

Water was like any surface. Like a fire, burning from the inside out. Like a cracked pipe, or broken stop light. It originated and took over every inch of your body until you couldn't feel a thing.

There was not flash of life. No way to see what you had lived, or noticed what you missed. It was all fast. A crack of lighting, the splintering of wood. Everything combined made death loud. Loud and daunting.

Drowning isn't so bad. It's surviving that really kicks your ass.

"I'm telling you Gracie, she's not that competitive." Ricki's voice pulled me from my thoughts, my boots against the grained wood as I struggled peel the golden letter from the side of the boat, it's hinges rough and creaking like the rest of the ship.

"No, not at all," I mumbled, pulling softly against the soft surface.

"So, competitiveness is good in a girl" She started, her dark grey eyes looking almost blue against the mild mid-day environment. I glanced at her, handing the rusted over 'P' to her. She was delicate with them, thinking that she could save every part of a boat. Right down to the name bolted into its frame. I always found it trivial to name something that could easily sink anyway.

"She was like the hulk."

"it shows she knows what she wants."

"The cards went everywhere." I spoke, hopping down from the small step stool I was on. My boots echoed against the side of the dock, huge vessel we were working on was some sort of a pride for the town- at least that's what the mayor said.

It used to be an underwater attraction, a large ferry that sunk to the bottom of the sea years ago. He wanted it restored and brought back up to health for the town to use to attract tourists. No one cared about the ferry they rode in on, though.

Ricki and I ran a towing company of sorts. We were ready to go out and rescue anyone that got caught up in between the main land and the island, but our main jobs resided as mechanics for broken down boats.

The docks were crowded, filled to the brink with fishermen waiting for the season to start and the ferry service. A few other placed would sell burgers, and rent out little jet skis to ride along the beaches. Different companies would move in and out; but there were always the main businesses.

"Hannah is a great girl." Ricki through her hands up in the air, a few strands of dark hair falling into her gaze. She was wearing a long sleeve shirt despite the heat-nothing seeming to bother her.

"Oh, no- I'm not disagreeing." I lifted my own palms in surrender "I'm just saying, I swallowed that little top hat piece."

She scoffed shaking her head as I grasped the red tool box by our feet, the metal clanking around as we started to make our way back to the shop a few steps away. It was small, small enough to house a little sitting area and an office. We had a warehouse closer to the water on the other side of the docks, but hadn't been in it lately. Our main focus on the restoration.

"After a trip to the emergency room, I'm skipping out on the next game night."

"Huh," She opened the door, a blast of cool air pressing against me. "That's fine. The real games didn't start until you left anyway."

The light was cascading against the inside of the shop, an inky blue taking up most of the sky. It was getting late, almost six o'clock. Ricki had taken off about an hour ago, my main attention on finishing paperwork up for the latest client.

It was simple stuff; how much the parts would cost, how long it would take. It was one bit estimate.

The soft sound of the wind echoed through the place, a dull breeze warm against my skin. This place was nice during the night, nothing but the sound of a few fishermen docked for the night enjoying a beer or two and seagulls screeching against the night air.

My phone going off changed all that, it vibrated loudly, the whole desk wanting to shake as I glanced over. It was from Kelsey. My stomach dropped slightly, this wasn't good. I had warned her that I was staying a bit late tonight.

"Hello?" I held the hot phone to my ear, already shutting off the light to the office. It wasn't completely dark at this point, I could still see my feet in front of me, which was good as I searched for the key to the place.

"Hey Grace, I'm so sorry to bother you like this."

"Is Addie okay?" I asked hurriedly, locking the door behind me.

"She's fine," Kelsey said with haste "Sort of. I can't get her to calm down, I've tried everything."

"Alright," I let scratched the back of my neck, staring at the edge of the dock. The deep yellow street lamp gave me a little more room to see. There was a ferry coming in at the end of the dock, it was pretty late, the last one of the night I suppose. "Thanks, K, I'll be there in a few."

I hung the phone up a few seconds later, shoving it into my pocket as I kept my gaze on the ferry. Only one person was getting off, her tall frame almost inky against the rest of the light. I could hear her heels against the hollow wood.

Walking in those must be hell. I stuck with combat boots, knowing anything would get stuck in the old grooves of the dock. She was carrying a large suitcase, the wheels almost as loud as her steps.

I shook my head before walking towards the parking lot towards my truck. Kelsey only lived a few minutes away from the shore, but once Addison came into play I usually made it there in half the time.

My chin lifted towards the fisherman sitting on top of his blue and white cooler near his boat: The Siren. We had fixed it up a few months ago. He was a good guy, one that was usually quiet. The loud sound of a bang made us both freeze, though.

"Well damn," he mumbled, raising his beer to her lips. "I ain't never seen someone eat shit as hard as she just did."

I slumped my shoulders, my light jacket pressing against the edge of my neck as I let out a small sigh. I took one step back before turning around and walking back towards the end of the docks. All I could see was an angry mass of a human against the pale moonlight.

As I got closer, I got a better look at her. She was pretty tall, or at least I thought she was. Her skin was a deep cream, eyes looking a forest green against her pale and sharp features. She was in some type of skirt suit combo. Her undershirt a purple silk button down. It made her lips stand out against her dark hair. It looked almost black in this light- flowing over her shoulders almost effortlessly.

She was gorgeous. Like a Siren, I suppose.

"Are you okay?" I asked with a bit of a smile to my voice as she finally took notice to me. Her anger at the situation not changing a bit.

"Yes, clearly." Her voice was gravelly and alluring- the sound of it sending chills across my spine, a bit of blood gushing from a scrape on her chin. I lifted an eyebrow as I extended a hand towards her. She eyed it for a few seconds.

"Let me help you up,"

"I don't need help." She huffed "Do I look like I need help?"

She looked like a baby giraffe trying to gain her footing on a broken heel and spirt. Her shoe was busted, that much was clear. I just stepped back and watched with curiosity. She brushed her clothes off, like her and I weren't the only two people on the dock who could see he deshelled appearance.

"Well, yeah." I responded, "Kind of."

"I don't." She snarled, leaning heavily against the suitcase as she took both shoes off, leaving her barefoot and almost the same height as me. "I'm fine."

She stared at me for a few seconds, cocking her head to the side before she started to tug the suitcase behind her. It started to rumble against the wood, getting caught in a few grooves every once and awhile. She was too determined to notice.

"You're bleeding," I pointed out as I started to walk next to her.

"Are you following me?" She glanced over as I shoved my hands in my jean pockets.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head as she stopped under one of the yellow street lamps.

"What's so funny, huh?"

"There's only one dock." I lifted my jacket covered hand towards the sea "I'm not trying to walk on water. Besides, I don't know if you understand which way is towards land or not." I quipped back quietly. She heard me though, the two of us alone in the silence.

"I know where I'm going." She said after a few seconds, starting to walk again. I joined in, knowing I had to get to Addie soon. She was upset, something that I needed to take care of as soon as I could.

I nodded, she had a lot of anger to her, not something I was looking for in any encounter. She was beautiful, yes, but I could already tell she was a handful. Maybe the fall had made her irritable, I wasn't quite sure. But I knew she would have a rough time here.

We had reached the end of the dock in silence, the girl flinching due to the rocky surface under her feet. It had turned to gravel, my own boots crunching against the substance. "Wait," she said quietly as soon as I started to go towards my truck. It was the only car in the whole lot, everyone else too tired, or too drunk to drive.

"Do you know where the bookshop is?" She asked timidly, a bit of hostility leaving her voice.

"Ah, yeah." I lifted my chin slightly "It's about three miles up the road."

She thanked me with a small nod as she started to walk in that direction.

"Wait! You're walking?" I jogged slightly to catch up with her. She let out a thick sigh in response. Of course she was walking. "You can't walk."

"Do you have a better idea?" She ran a hand through her hair, exasperated.

"The taxi service went out a year ago," I shrugged my shoulders "we're too primitive for uber, and public transportation is a mistake in its own right so... I can take you."

"I don't know you."

"But you know Hannah?" I lifted an eyebrow, the woman's head cocking to the side at the mention of someone familiar. She let out a small huff, maybe in surrender, I wasn't sure. Something about her was on edge, like she didn't want help from anyone. I knew it didn't matter if it came from me, or some random boater. "She would never forgive me if I let you walk."

She let out a breath of air, one that was a mix between a scoff and laugh. "No, I suppose she wouldn't."