#then I gave my parents permission to clear the air because I surely didn't want to

[fauxintellectual]

As someone who has been multiple that I don't look gay or like a lesbian (ie a stereotype I guess) the funniest thing my friend told me yesterday is that one friend briefly thought I was straight (didn't remember that I said lesbian) and so the second friend thought "I hope she figures it out one day"

Apparently in her eyes she says she can never see me with a man and I have a noticeable disinterest in them. Never felt so seen before

[trudy-shams]

What we become -Part 11

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Steve had decided to drag you along to see Sharon after you two had your "reunion" of sorts. You had dozed off and on for a few hours after you two had spent considerable time exploring each other, thoroughly.

But honestly, you were still tired and slightly sore and just wanted sleep.A few more hours in Steve's arms would have been nice and you told him as much but he was clearly a man on a mission, insisting he wanted to formally break the news to Sharon after which you two were "not supposed to get out of bed, ever". Steve's words, not yours.

You were not comfortable with the idea of being a part of this confrontation, or "discussion" as Steve said but he insisted that he wanted you to be there, saying there was nothing better than Sharon's corroboration of Steve's side of the story, to clear your head of any lingering doubts. He appeared confident that Sharon won't mind one bit since there was nothing romantic between them and they were just friends, in fact she might be happy as the burden of breaking this alliance off would fall on Steve in front of both families.

He playfully rolled his eyes and dragged you along " for the 4th time sweetheart, there is nothing to worry about, trust me" He gave you a boyish grin and opened the door. Steve had asked Sharon to come to Asgard,the one nearer to his place, Even though it wasn't the same outlet, visiting this place brought back so many memories, most of them happy and quite a few involving Steve.

As if reading your mind, Steve turned around and pecked you on the lips, eyes shining with so much love that you couldn't stop a smile from spreading on your lips. You eyes caught movement behind Steve, spotting Sharon standing up from her sitting position with a frown on her face. Following your lead, Steve turned around and smiled at Sharon, which she hesitantly mirrored.

"What is going on?" Sharon blurted as soon as you two neared her table. She eyed your intertwined fingers and then looked back at up Steve, not making eye contact with you at all.

You just knew this was not going to go as Steve expected.

Steve, oblivious to all this, beamed at you and squeezed your hand before addressing Sharon "Remember Shar, I told you I fell in love long ago but there was no hope for me" Sharon gave no outward response but a twitch in her eye told you she had heard him.

Steve looked back towards you and continued " Well, looks like there is hope after all"

There was a pause where Steve continued beaming at you, Sharon stood there like a statue and you were torn between smiling back at Steve, eyeing Sharon for a reaction and exploring imaginary dirt on your shoes.

You should have asked Steve to do this alone, it was weird accompanying your boyfriend while he was breaking up with his fiance.

God! This sounded so bad with no context.

"What is the meaning of this Steve?" Sharon had tears in her eyes and that is what broke Steve out of his lovesick stupor "you said that to me when I left for fashion school".

You immediately looked between Steve and Sharon while Steve looked like a fish out of water. Opening his mouth several times to say something and then closing.

After a tense few seconds, Steve, finally, spoke "Sharon, I know I never said that to you. Cmon, stop goofing around, my girl here is gonna leave me again" The easygoing air Steve was aiming for did not hit its mark.

There were tears streaming down Sharon's eye "Why do you keep doing this Steve.We are getting married in a few months, please stop this nonsense now. I am not putting up with this anymore, I won't pretend to break up with you just so you could fuck some random gir, again!"

If that wasn't a bucket of cold water, you didn't know what was.

You tried snatching your hand back from Steve but he held on, if anything, his grip tightened

"No, you are not running away from me again" he spoke to you before turning to Sharon " I don't know what game you are playing but you need to stop now. We are not getting married, no date has been announced and it never will and I never asked for your approval to fuck any girl"

You hissed and tried yanking your arm back.

Steve realised what he said "I don't sleep around with random girls sweetheart, that's what I meant"

Sharon interrupted and spoke directly to you now "I don't know what lies he has told you but he has done this exact thing multiple times before. At that time, I let it go because I love him too much and didn't want him to feel tied down but now so close to our wedding, this is unacceptable"

"Sharon,I am warning you. I will call your mother and tell her the truth about the baby if you don't stop fucking lying" Steve was pissed now.

"What baby, waa..Steve what complicated story have you weaved this time. Honestly, I don't care. Come back to me when you are ready to apologise and then we will talk" Sharon grabbed her things and stood upto Steve "..and No, you don't have my permission to fuck her"

Now,that pissed you off. Who the hell did she think she was?

"Too late for that now" You spit at her and she turned to look at you horrified but recovered quickly.

"Great, just great. Another conquest added to the list. Did she ask you to break up with me so you could fuck her the second time. Is she that good a lay? Fine, have it your way. Come to me when you are bored of her" Sharon glared at you and tried rounding Steve to leave but Steve grabbed her arm and pulled out his phone.

"I am calling Mrs. Barned right now if you don't tell y/n the truth"

Sharon scoffed "Sure, go ahead"

Steve sighed " I am sorry Sharon but you have left me with no choice"

Steve dialed her number and put the phone on speaker "If you confess, I will hang up"

Sharon stood expressionless, crossing her arms in front of her.

Mrs. Barnes picked up the phone and she had the same annoying tilt in her voice that Sharon had "Hi Steve, how are you honey"

Steve looked at Sharon for a beat who just raised an eyebrow at him.

"I am good Mrs. Barnes, I have called you to confess something to you"

You realised that everyone in Asgard had gone quiet. Jesus! Every single person in the sparsely crowded bar was looking at you three.

"Oh go ahead honey. What is it?"

"The baby Sharon miscarried wasn't mine. She was in love with some guy named Stephen and he was the father of her child. I agreed to take the blame just to keep her out of trouble" Steve spoke softly on the phone and you were so thankful that he kept his temper in check given the delicate nature of this declaration. He truly was a gentleman.You squeezed his hand softly and tried giving him a small smile, which fell the moment the next words were out of Mrs. Barnes' mouth.

"What baby are you talking about Steve?"

You stopped breathing.

Steve blanched and started saying something on the phone, which you couldn't hear over the ringing in your ears.

Sharon had a smirk on her lips when your eyes met.

There was pindrop silence in Asgard apart from Steve's vehement conversation on the phone.

You wanted the earth to swallow you.

Your cheeks heated up from embarrassment and you started looking at possible exits.

But then a lightbulb went on in your head.

You put your hand over Steve's cheek and saw Sharon tense in the periphery while Steve stopped speaking on the phone and looked at you with pleading eyes.

"Please believe me. I don't know why she..."

"Shh, it's okay baby. Whatever happened in the past doesn't really matter to me. What matters is today and our future, I know you love me and I love you. You can break up with Sharon and we will be on our way"

If Steve was shocked by your words, he didn't show it. He just stayed rooted on the spot, his eyes asking you a million questions at once.

But before he could say something and ruin your plan, exactly what you hoped for, happened.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter, of course it matters. I was pregnant with his baby and it doesn't matter to you. What if the baby was around, would you still say the same thing" Sharon was seething now.

You heard an audible gasp on the other side of the phone and Steve let out a puff of air through his mouth.

Sharon was still looking at you with anger, clearly missing what she had just confessed.

I mean, everyone in the bar collectively gasped but she was still oblivious.

You decided to help her catch up "But Sharon, your mother just said there was no baby" Sharon physically recoiled from you both and started blabbering " I mean, there was no baby. My mom meant there was no baby from Stephan. Of course, there was a baby from Steve..."

"Enough! Just stop. You and your mother are more vicious than I thought"Steve disconnected the phone and turned to Sharon with venom in his eyes  "I will tell my family the truth because it looks like your treacherous family knew everything all along. Keep the ring if you want, it means just as much as it meant before,nothing"

He then grabbed your hand and walked out of the bar.

As soon as you two were out of the door, he swung you to face him and hugged you tight "Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. Thank you"

You leaned back and cupped his face "It wasn't hard to, I beleived in you" you hugged him again and spoke with your face tucked in his chest "but I am also not stupid, no one would be dumb enought to call someone's parents with such a huge claim if they didn't beleive it to be true, specailly on speaker phone"

You could feel Steve's laugh rumble in his chest  while you continued with a grimace" I just wish you would have done this somewhere private. I am 77% sure someone recorded the whole thing"

----------------------

Nat's Wedding

"C'mon Steve, just one more dance" you were pleading with Steve for another dance while he was shaking his head.

Nat's wedding was a dream. Outdoor with the most lavish decor you had ever seen, even on TV.

But now at the reception, everyone was drunk and dancing like crazy.

"I think I have stepped on your toes enough for today" Steve grabbed your arm to pull you into his lap "and I think you need to rest too. I can't wait to get you all alone and help you out of this beautiful dress, can't have you tiring yourself out entirely on the dance floor"

"I am too tired to get the dress off by myself handsome" you said sleepily and grabbed his hair to attack his mouth.

After a few heated moments, Steve pulled away while you chased his mouth with yours " Okaay..no more drinks for you honey. Here, have a glass of water and you are not leaving my sight now" He bopped your nose and passed you a glass of water.

"But I want that fruity tall glass that Wanda has. Wanda, gimmie" you slurred a Wanda made her appearance followed by Vision.

Wanda had surprisingly become one of your good friends. She had filed for divorce from James a few weeks ago, stating that yours & Steve's and Nat & Pietro's love had given her the push she needed to follow her own heart.

"This is orange juice babe, you hate orange juice" She said while sipping on her drink.

"Orange juice sucks. I only like one kinda juice..Steve's" you smiled dopely at him while he shut his eyes and subtly shook his head over Wanda and Vision's loud bark of laughter.

"TMI baby and I think that is our cue to retire for the night" Steve made to get the both of you out of the chair.

"I can't goooo.. it's my sister's wedding, There are things that need to be done. What if she needs me to help her pee" you pouted at Steve.

Why was he looking at your face like that "I love it when he looks at me like that, it's usually wohooo night after this" you whisper yelled at Wanda and gave her an exaggerated wink.

Wanda put her drink down while trying and failing to keep a straight face "Honey, you know Nat has Pietro to help her now and then  I am here. You can go off to bed"

"With Steve" you added "I go to bed with Steve, every night, mostly" you then turned to Steve "baby, wohoo night?"

"Honey, with how drunk you are, it will really be a boohoo morning for you" . With that, Steve picked you up bridal style and bid Wanda and Vision good night.

"I can't wait" you said sleepily before grabbing onto Steve's shoulders and hugging him from your position in his arms "I love you"

You felt a pair of lips in your hair and a deep " I love you too baby, so much" from Steve before slowly entering dreamland.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

My heart

A surprise in this one, although the header picture gives it away! Its a long one

Warnings: SVU crimes, hostage situation, hurt detectives, medical stuff, nightmares and shock.

Enjoy x

"Come on now, you need to put the gun down. If you shoot me you'll get life. Let us go, my partner needs help he is bleeding out. Come on -you don't want it to end like this"

*BANG*

The day started just like any other, you and Rafael taking far too long to get out of bed because he wouldn't stop putting his hand up your pj shirt.

"Come to me at lunch" he was kissing you up your neck and had his hand up your shirt running his pointer finger along the base of your breasts,

"I'll see what I can do Rafi, but right now we are going to be late"

Showering and dressing for work. You walked into the bullpen to find everyone already at their desks,

"Morning Sonny"

"Morning Y/N"

"Hey Fin, Hey Amanda"

"Morning"

Liv came rushing out of her office,

"We have a situation. Get your vests I'll fill you in, in the car"

A young women game creator had been kid napped and was being held hostage. She had been sexually and physically assaulted all being live streamed. You all made your way over to an old ware house where TARU traced the live streaming. The building was surrounded. Fin and Amanda found her tided up on a lower level while you and Sonny headed up to the roof with your weapons drawn. A helicopter hovering over spotted the 2 preps on the roof both armed.

Rafael was in his office, he couldn't concentrate on work. He couldn't get you out of his mind. He had always thought in his past relationships he was happy till he wasn't. But he was wrong none of them were happy. But with you he was so happy, he didn't need to kid himself. Everything you guys had was everything he had ever wanted. He wanted nothing more than to get you into his office that lunch time and show you how much he loved you. He picked up his phone and opened it to message you:

10.40 am- Rafael: Have lunch with me Hermosa, I need to see you xx

Just as he put down his phone Carmen came rushing in not even knocking,

"Mr Barba" she ran over to the TV and turned it on.

"We are crossing over live to the scene unfolding right now. We have been informed that two armed men are holding two SVU Detectives at gun point"

It then crossed over to a picture of the roof top, Sonny and You both on your knees with your arms up in the air with two men standing in front you both, pointing their weapons at you and them wearing your bullet proof vests. All colour drained from his face. Without a word he jumped up grabbing his jacket and phone and ran out not saying a word to Carmen who was holding back tears herself.

Sonny was laying on the floor, blood rushing out of his forehead. The main perp had pistol whipped him so hard that it knocked him out when he was trying to talk them both down when they took your vests and guns. EMT rushed in as soon as Fin gave the all clear after he shot one prep in the leg and the other surrender. Amanda rushed over to you and picked you up off the ground pulling you into her arms.

"Aman- I ca-" you tried to get your breath but you just couldn't, you grabbed onto her arm so tight she thought you would leave bruises. You felt like you were drowning.

"I need help over here NOW" Amanda screamed

Sonny was on the stretcher and his head bleed under control but still unconscious. Another EMT unit came rushing in with oxygen, and slung the mask onto your face. They sat you down on the stretcher in case you passed out.

"Is she going to be ok?" Amanda was nervous, she was sitting beside you trying to keep you sitting up while the EMT looked over you.

"Yeah she is in shock, her blood pressure and oxygen are dropping" one of the EMT's answered back.

You were light headed from the lack of oxygen, you lent your head on Amamda's shoulder, grabbed her hand and closed your eyes.

"I'm going to lay her down, she needs fluids" another EMT informed Amanda.

----

"Liv, why didn't you call me" Rafael ran up to her.

"Rafa, I'm sorry, I just, I didn't think. Everything happened so fast"

Just then Sonny was rushed down into the back of the ambulance. Not even asking for permission, Rafael ran towards the building,

"BARBA STOP"

He didn't listen he just kept going making his way up to the roof, he wasn’t sure what he was going to be walking into, but that didn't stop him. As he got to the roof top he didn't even stop to take a breath. He came rushing through the doors to see you grabbing onto Amanda's hand while the EMT's were putting a drip in. Amanda noticed him out if the corner of her eye and turned to face him.

"Barba, what are you doing up here? It's a crime sence you need go"

"I'm not leaving Rollins" and he rushed over

"What happened? Is she ok?"

"She is in shock"

Amanda let go of your hand and Rafael moved into her place grabbing your hand and running his other in your hair.

"Rafi" you smiled up at him

"We have stabilised her but she needs to be monitored, we will be taking her in"

"I'll ride with her" Amanda nodded at him

----

You opened your eyes and the light hit you,

"You’re awake" Rafael was standing over you, "I'll get a nurse"

"Your blood pressure is back to normal, and your oxygen levels have gone up. I would still like to keep you here for another couple of hours"

"Thanks you Doctor" Rafael answered back as the door walked out of the room.

"Rafi, where is Sonny?"

"He is been moved to a ward, they are keeping him over night. His concussion was bad, he needed a few stitches"

"But he is ok?" your eyes filled with tears.

"Yes mi Hermosa. He is fine" Rafael kissed your cheek as the door to your room opened again.

"Y/N" Liv, Amanda and Fin came walking in.

"You’re awake" Amanda lent down and hugged you, followed by Liv.

"Fin, I want to thank you. You saved my life" you grabbed his hand.

"No drama, just another day at the office" you all laughed.

"No Fin, seriously, thank you" Rafael held out his hand and shook Fin's.

"Take tomorrow off Y/N. It's been a hard day" Liv looked down at you with a half smile.

"No I'll be fine" you gave a small smile back.

"No Hermosa, Liv is right, take tomorrow off and go back next week"

4 hours later you were discharged. Rafael wanted to take you straight home but you wanted to see Sonny before you left.

You walked into his room and his eyes were closed. His forehead was swollen and bandaged up. Rafael stayed at the door and watched. You walked over to Sonny taking his hand into yours and held it. He opened his eyes and let his eyes adjust.

"Hey Y/N" he gave you his big smile.

"You OK Sonny?" a tear fell down your cheek.

"Better now I've seen you’re OK" he pulled you in and you hugged him back.

****

"Y/N, Y/N, its OK, it's just a dream, its OK sshh I'm here" 

You were sobbing into Rafael's neck. You had a horrible nightmare.

"OH Rafi, it was horrible. Why would I be having nightmares? I didn't after Lewis"

"It was a different thing Hermosa. Just remembering the photo that was on the news makes me feel sick. But it's OK I'm here. I'll keep you safe"

****

Rafael had gone out to get some lunch, and you had just put some clothes away when your phone started to ring,

"Hey Nick, I miss you"

"Hey Y/N, I miss you too. How are you feeling?"

"I'm OK, the nightmares have started though"

*Knock Knock Knock*

"Hang on a second, I have to get the door" Nick stayed quite on the other end of the phone, you walked to the door and opened it

"OH MY GOD NICK" you squealed and jumped into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. He lifted you up off the floor and spun you around. Tears fell from your eyes. He put you down and put his hands on your shoulders.

"What are you doing here?"

"Barba called me and told me you needed your best friend. I got on the first flight"

He pulled you in and kissed you on top of the head.

"How long are you here for?"

"Just the weekend. Barba told me you go back to work on Monday, so I fly out Sunday night"

"I've missed you so much Nick"

"I've missed you too. Zara wasn't happy that I came without her, but Maria took her to her parents this weekend"

"Oh I miss my girl"

"She misses her Tia too. So are you going to keep me in the hall or let me come in?" He laughed, you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside towards the kitchen.

"Barba's not back yet? Hope he gets my order right" Nick scoffed.

You turned on the jug, and spun and raised your eye brows at him.

"You two actually planned this together?"

"Hard to believe right" he laughed hard

"Where are you staying?"

"Here. Barba said you had an air mattress"

"Really? Wow" 

Just then Rafael walked through the door and rounded the corner with two brown paper bags.

"Amaro, how was your flight?" Rafael gave Nick a half smile.

You rushed over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

"Yuck" Nick spat out with a laugh and you pulled away with reddened cheeks, Rafael had a pleasantly stunned look on his face.

"Thanks you Rafi, for organising this. You knew just what my heart needed" he winked back at you.

The weekend went by fast. Rafael asked for the same days off so he could be there for you. Nick wanted to go and see Sonny. You guys managed to catch him just before he was sent home.

"Jeez Y/N, I get one knock to the head and you bring your old partner back" you giggled at Sonny and wrapped your arm around his middle.

"Never Sonny, I don't want him back, your a better cook"  you stuck you tongue out at Nick, him laughing back at you.

You guys had a video call with Zara and she made Rafael promise to bring you for a visit. One night over dinner you spoke to Rafael and Nick honestly about how you were feeling after having another horrible nightmare the night before. You ended up in tears with Nick squeezing your hand tight and then Rafael pulling you into him and kissing you all over your face kissing away the tears.

Next thing the weekend was over and Nick had left. It was a tearful good bye from both of you,

"You call me if you need me, any time" he kissed your forehead, tears running down his cheeks.

"I always need you Nick. Thank you for being here for me" you hugged him tight leaving tears on his shirt.

----

You were in the study letting the air mattress down and tidying up. Rafael was standing at the door watching you. You had got frustrated because of how slow the air was coming out, so you laid on it, which made him burst laughing.

"Rafi, how long had you been standing there?" You frown up at him.

"Long enough" he smirked at you.

Once the mattress was down, he pulled you up to standing and placed his hands on your cheeks.

"Do you think you’re ready to go back to work?"

"I think so" you paused "nothing happened to me. I wasn't hurt"

"Physically" he ran his thumb over one side of your cheek

"Talking to you and Nick last night helped a lot Rafi, I didn't have a nightmare last night" he huffed at you.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive Rafi....I want to thank you for everything you have done for me over the last couple of days. Organising Nick to come, I know it must have been hard for you to find out what happened on the news. But you have done nothing but take care of me. I love you, thank you so much"

"Your my whole heart Hermosa, I love you more than anything, I would do anything for you"

[hellchilde]

The Thing With Feathers

wow it feels like ten million years since i posted a real fic

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén, Song Lan | Song Zichen & Xiao Xingchen, Xiao Xingchen & Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei

Characters: Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan | Song Zichen, Xue Yang | Xue Chengmei, Wen Qing

Additional Tags: Disabled Character, Blindness, Blind Xiǎo Xīngchén, Lack of Communication, Established Relationship, brief scene with blood, Recreational Drug Use, (but it's just weed), Alcohol, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Cock Warming, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reincarnation Vibes

Words: 8970

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to throw your life into sharp focus it to stumble over a dying criminal in the street and let it consume your life.

Or: Xiao Xingchen finds Xue Yang injured alongside the road and the rhythm of the carefully constructed life he has with Song Lan no longer seems entirely stable.

It happens when he's walking home from class.

This time, the reason for Xiao Xingchen's loss of vision is not so noble or meaningful. Sometimes things happen for a reason, but sometimes things just happen and it's shit luck and you have to make due with the cards you're dealt. Sometimes you're too young when your vision deteriorates to nothing, but at least that means you don't have to see their pitying looks in the encroaching darkness. But sometimes, there is a good man who is there for you and can help you pick up the pieces when your life changes too quickly for you to deal with. That is a spot of good luck, because this man is someone you love and could picture a life with, even if it's not the life your parents had intended, or the life you set out to start back when the possibilities were endless. This time, Xiao Xingchen learns the lines of Song Lan's face with his fingertips before his sight is completely gone, and lets him reshape their lives to accommodate this unforeseen obstacle to what could have been a story of happily ever after.

With a white cane in hand and a determined set to his face, Xiao Xingchen walks the increasingly familiar path between home, subway, school, subway, home. Never did he plan on learning a new language in his late twenties, but that language is braille, and he refuses to be totally helpless in a world designed against him. Audiobooks help, but he can't listen to them while he walks, has to stay vigilant with his remaining senses or let himself be pummeled by people who won't see him. Shame the onus has to be on him. So it might be dark, but maybe it's not, when he trips over something and sprawls inelegantly, embarrassingly to the ground. His cheeks and ears are burning, he dropped his cane but finds it quickly. Stupid, stupid, he should have felt it.

He reaches back to feel what he tripped over, and feels fabric, flesh. He gropes his way up, increasingly concerned when the person doesn't move or make a sound, and he smells blood. Then finally he feels the blood, sticky and warm but cooling, and is worried he is feeling a corpse until he feels the chest rise and fall and hears the wheeze of breath. He snatches his hands away, worried, and scrambles for the phone in his pocket. It has a voice-to-text option, and that makes up for the lack of buttons. He's never had to dial 9-1-1, and he thinks his voice on the line to the operator is nervous and panicked. He can't even tell her for certain which street he's on, except that it's five blocks from the campus where he had class.

That must be enough. The EMT's arrive and take stock of the situation, and they reassure him, and when he asks them if he can ride in the ambulance, they agree without too much argument. The ride to the hospital is horrible, though, because he has no idea where he's going or how far away and every turn makes him motion sick. He still doesn't consider leaving behind the man he found. The emergency room is chaotic, but one of the EMT's spares the time to lead him out to the waiting room, and someone eventually gets him some water.

“He's in surgery, and then they'll be admitting him for observation,” one of the staff says to him. He's already given his report to the police, explained his innocent side. He's not a suspect for what appears to be a violent crime, but they took his contact information. Otherwise, Xiao Xingchen doesn't know much. “You don't know him, so … you can go home if you want. I'm sure he would appreciate the kindness of a stranger.”

“Were you able to find an emergency contact?” he asks. So far, he has been the only visitor present.

“No,” the staff says. “Don't worry, the police are looking into it.”

“I would prefer to stay with him,” Xiao Xingchen says, because he does always try to be noble, even without a sword in his hands.

The staff member, maybe a nurse or a receptionist but probably not a doctor, reaches out to touch his hands where they're clasped protectively around his cane. He makes a face because he wouldn't have accepted the touch if asked permission, but at least it's kind. “You're a good man,” the staff member says. “We'll help you to the waiting room near where he'll be resting.”

At some point, someone gives him a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a cup of coffee. The sandwich is ham and soggy, but he eats a little of it, and the coffee tastes old and watery. At some point, Xiao Xingchen sleeps in his chair. At some point, someone informs him that the man made it through surgery and is sleeping. At some point, Xiao Xingchen awakens to the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“You didn't come home,” Song Lan's voice says, strained. “I was worried.”

“I'll be home soon,” Xiao Xingchen replies. “I have to make sure he made it through. I'm the one who found him, it's my responsibility.” He doesn't like the hospital, which is cold and antiseptic, and his chair isn't comfortable. He's still going to stay. He has to, even if he has to rely on the kindness of strangers to find the bathroom.

Song Lan sighs, too familiar with this side of him. “Call me to come pick you up,” he says quietly. “The hospital isn't far.”

Xiao Xingchen says goodbye and hangs up and only resents a little that the offer makes him feel helpless. He rubs at his eyes, which feel gritty and sore, and locates the remains of his soggy sandwich to at least get something in his stomach. He listens to the sounds of the hospital around him, beeping machines and ringing phones and quiet voices and people rushing by in non-skid shoes. He seems to be politely ignored, or perhaps forgotten, but he doesn't know how long it's supposed to take until he learns what happened.

At some point, another member of staff approaches him and sits beside him, clearing her throat softly. “I have some news, Mr. Xiao,” she says, accented Mandarin. He tries not to be insulted that they think his English isn't good. “The police have found out the identity of the man you found. Apparently … he's wanted for murder, and some other crimes. He works for some very bad men.”

Xiao Xingchen frowns, the information hard to take in. A criminal? He saved a criminal?

“You did a good thing,” she continues. “They'll bring him in to face justice. They wanted me to thank you.”

He manages to nod, trying not to reveal how shaken he is by the news. Why should it bother him so much? He doesn't know this man and has no connection to him other than finding him mostly dead on his walk to the subway. And yet he still feels betrayed. He did something good, he saved a man, and he turns out to be a criminal. It doesn't feel fair, but so little in his life feels fair.

His intentions have been to stay until the man wakes up and introduce himself, get to know him, but he no longer wants that. Instead he digs out his phone as soon as the nurse leaves and dials Song Lan's number to request a ride and pulls himself to his feet, legs feeling stiff from a long night spent in an uncomfortable chair. He still has that feeling that he should at least peek in on the man that he saved, but then, what's the use in that when he hasn't peeked at anything since his vision gave up on him?

It doesn't take very much help from others to make it down to the front of the building and out the doors – the elevator had braille, and the flow of traffic was relatively logical. He takes a breath of fresh air and stands by the curb to wait for Song Lan, his cane clasped in his hands. He hasn't bothered to ask the time, but by the temperature outside and the birds and the angle of the sun he can feel on his skin, he guesses it's midmorning. He's been out all night. No wonder Song Lan was worried.

He hears the car, and the door opens, and there's Song Lan's voice instructing him to get in. He reaches out to feel the edge of the car door and then climbs inside, settling gratefully into the familiar passenger seat to let Song Lan pull away from the hospital.

“Did he wake up?” Song Lan asks after a few moments of silence.

“I don't know,” Xiao Xingchen replies, collapsing his cane back down to make more room in the footwell for his legs. “They told me they found out who he was. A criminal wanted for murder, with mob connections. I didn't want to stay after that. I'm sure they'll arrest him.” He's still not sure how he feels about that. Bad, bad, like there's rocks in his stomach.

Song Lan thinks about that, his driving much smoother than that of the ambulance, mindful of not taking the turns too quickly. “Well, it's a good thing he's off the streets,” he says at last. “And good that you didn't let him die. It's best that he faces the consequences of what he's done.”

Xiao Xingchen nods and chews on his bottom lip, turning towards the window to feel the sun on his face. He's tired, more tired than before, and he thinks he'll sleep all day even if it'll totally throw off his sleep schedule. He feels depressed, for no reason he can put a finger on. How had he been the one to stumble on that man?

He takes Song Lan's help here and there to get inside, finding it reassuring to always reach out and find him there, and then they are safely behind a door and he finds the bed and collapses into it. When he wakes up again, Song Lan is stretched out beside him, breathing deep and even in sleep. Xiao Xingchen sighs, rolls over, and scoots unobtrusively out of bed to find the cigarettes he has hidden in a corner of the closet in case of emergency. He secludes himself on the fire escape to smoke in peace and rub his temple while he attempts to figure out what he's feeling.

He hasn't figured it out by the time he's finished one cigarette, and he has just enough self control to cut himself off after one, then retreats back inside to at least pretend to do some work.

~

The next time Xiao Xingchen hears about Xue Yang (which is the name of the man he saved, that murderer and mobster and … rapist, for all he knew) he is on the news. He emerges from their bedroom one morning in search of the coffee pot and some breakfast, and Song Lan actually has the TV on, a rare occurrence this early in the morning.

“... released from City Hospital this morning, in custody of the police,” the reporter says. “Xue Yang has known connections with alleged crime lord Wen Ruohan, and charges against him include murder, arson, assault, armed robbery, and fraud. Yang will be facing these charges in a court of law, following investigation into the listed charges, and is currently being kept in custody at an undisclosed location. Yang was found two weeks ago by a civilian on the street following a vicious stabbing, supposedly an attempt on his life carried out by a rival gang. The investigation into Yang's attack is still ongoing with no suspects.”

Xiao Xingchen feels his face fold into a frown, and he steps forward until he finds Song Lan, letting him press a bowl into his hands and starting to eat without really tasting.

“I guess he can walk now,” Song Lan comments with a dry voice.

“What does he look like?” It doesn't matter. Xiao Xingchen still wants to know, to satisfy some perverse curiosity about that evil man he happened to save from bleeding out on the street.

“Like a punk,” Song Lan says. “Like a smug little punk. Like he's going to get away with all of it.” He sets his bowl down and leans in to kiss Xingchen's cheek, running his hand over the other as if he can smooth out the frustration there. “Don't listen to too much of this. I'll be back tonight.” And then he leaves, the sound of his footsteps circling the kitchen island, pausing to pick up his coat and bag, pausing to slip on his shoes, and then the sound of the front door.

Xiao Xingchen takes a few more bites of the food – it's oatmeal, and it's alright, but it's not the way he would have prepared it – and the news is still on in the background, now on to some other story that he cares less about. He puts the bowl down and goes for coffee next, still half the pot left and soy creamer set out nearby. Thoughtful. Song Lan takes care of him.

He doesn't follow the direction. He gets his tablet and sets it up to search for this Wen Ruohan guy. He doesn't keep enough track of the news to have any idea about organized crime, but once his tablet understands what he's asking of it, it pulls up some articles. The text reader's voice renders the shocking events dry and bland, but at least it's something. It makes it sound like Wen Ruohan has fingers in pretty much every bit of crime in the city, maybe further out too. Not surprising that a criminal like Xue Yang would take up with him, do some of his dirty work. The top of the pack never lets that kind of thing touch him. That's why they can't make anything stick when it comes to bringing charges against him. The movies get that much right.

His next search is for Xue Yang himself. Most of what pulls up is the recent stuff about him being in the hospital, the stabbing, the murder charge they want him for this time. Few of the articles he finds come with image descriptions, so if there are pictures, he doesn't know what they are. He can access the public parts of Xue Yang's criminal record. People keep getting his name wrong, calling him “Mr. Yang.” He listens to the text reader list the dates and bare-bones facts of the previous charges. Some of them he had been arrested for, served time. Others seemed to disappear too quickly.

When Song Lan comes home, he is still on the couch, bent over his tablet, hair uncombed and falling over his shoulders and still wearing the loungewear he had put on that morning, which doesn't really count as clothes. He startles when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder, too wrapped up in what he had been listening to and thinking about to pay attention to the sound of the door opening or Song Lan saying his name.

“What are you … oh,” Song Lan says, and Xiao Xingchen feels the presence of him reading over his shoulder. “I see you didn't follow my advice.”

“I wanted to know more,” Xiao Xingchen says, feeling oddly defensive. He switches the tablet dark so Song Lan can't read over his shoulder. “Maybe he's a smug punk, but I saved him. I want to know what kind of man I saved.” Why he's weirdly obsessive about this, he still doesn't understand. Why he wants to know more of these dark details. It isn't like it gives him a thrill – well, not a good thrill, that would be kind of sick. It isn't like he's ever even interacted with Xue Yang. Except that he spent a good portion of one day covered in his blood and waiting for him to wake up at the hospital, and for some reason that made it feel like Xue Yang owed him something.

Song Lan sighs so it stirs the hairs on the top of his head, then pets them down again. Not the first time Xiao Xingchen has forgotten to comb his hair, especially on days he stays in. It's a worried kind of touch. “Will you please turn it off for a little while for dinner?”

Xiao Xingchen considers being contrary and refusing, but his stomach rumbles as a reminder that he only broke away long enough to eat some pickles and crackers in a lunch that required minimal effort but could hardly be counted as real food. He submits, then, pulling Song Lan's hand down from his head to kiss his inner wrist. He rises to his feet to follow Song Lan to the table, sits beside him and takes the prepared plate. Song Lan must have guessed some of his mood that morning, because a couple of the dishes are among his favorites from this particular restaurant.

That softens him, and he feels a little bad for considering being contrary or brushing off Song Lan's worry as being patronizing. Guilty, even. Doesn't Song Lan have enough to deal with without his boyfriend being bratty? It's the unfortunate truth of their circumstances that Song Lan shoulders more of the financial responsibilities, more of the housekeeping, more of the cooking. Xiao Xingchen does what he can, and he's gotten to be a pretty fair hand at cooking even without being able to read labels. It's still more for Song Lan.

Xiao Xingchen finishes up his pad see ew, wipes his mouth clean, and gets up to drape himself over Song Lan's lap. His chopsticks clatter lightly on the edge of the plate, and then his hands settle on Xiao Xingchen's waist. Xingchen feels a smile spread over his face, and his hands slide into Song Lan's hair, and he leans in for a kiss.

Being intimate like this has changed. As his sight faded, his other senses sharpened. In some ways it's useful, like being able to so distinctly smell the differences between spices, but his skin is now also more sensitive. Every touch, every brush of lips or teeth, has the potential to be overwhelming. It had caught him off-guard at first, the sheer electricity of it lighting him up more vividly than any lit room. It had been intense enough to scare him, and hence to scare Song Lan, and since then his touches had grown increasingly light and gentle, wary of startling him again. Or perhaps it is that Song Lan is no longer so certain of sharing himself with someone who can no longer see him. He has never been the most touchy-feely person, and Xiao Xingchen wouldn't blame him if the shine of their relationship had faded by now. Occupying that strange liminal space where he was part caretaker, part boyfriend – that can't be easy.

So how can Xiao Xingchen ask for that firmer touch, the way they could get so carried away with each other the way they used to when they were younger and more carefree? What right does he have to demand even more?

He still kisses Song Lan wild and reckless, soft lips and sharp teeth catching at Song Lan's mouth, kissing the flavor of Thai food off his lips. Song Lan sighs against him, hands slipping up under Xiao Xingchen's oversized cardigan and the t-shirt underneath, circling against his waist. There are calluses on his fingers, just rough enough to feel, and at least while they're kissing Song Lan isn't protesting. Xingchen squirms slightly, trying to get his hands to slide down, as if he could wiggle them down. They stay where they are, though Song Lan's grip tightens, starting to dig into his skin.

Xiao Xingchen breaks the kiss to pant softly against Song Lan's lips, only now realizing that he has one hand tangled up in his hair, the other pressed flat against his chest, feeling the steady thud of Song Lan's heart beneath his skin. His own heartbeat feels like it's echoing that beat, knocking up hopefully against his ribs. Maybe this time … maybe this time it would work out. Maybe this time he could somehow convey the kind of attention he was craving, and maybe Song Lan would be amenable to fucking his brains out.

Sure enough, Song Lan shifts his grip, finally down even if it is over his yoga pants, cups his ass and stands up with him clinging koala-style. Xiao Xingchen has no intention of letting go, pressing kisses into Song Lan's jaw, his throat, over his lips, wherever he can reach, his arms settling around Song Lan's strong shoulders and his back arching to press closer against him. This is better, this is closer to what he wants.

Song Lan deposits him on the bed, doesn't drop him, just setting him carefully on the mattress like fine china. But still he crawls over him, whispers kisses into his skin, teeth scraping lightly down his throat. The light touches make Xiao Xingchen gasp and writhe, his skin feeling so oversensitive that he can't even stand still wearing his clothes. Song Lan hovers over him, on his hands and knees, still barely touching him except for the brush of his lips.

“Zichen,” he breathes, needy, eager.

Song Lan pulls back, and Xingchen can just weather the feeling of being watched, breathing and trying not to feel self-conscious beneath the weight of Song Lan's gaze. His fingers are still in Song Lan's hair, twisting and trying to pull him back down. He bears it for a few moments, then stretches up to try and find his lips.

But before he can make it, Song Lan's hand takes his own, unpeeling his fingers from his hair and kissing his palm before pressing his hand to Xingchen's chest and sitting up. The gesture has an air of finality to it, and Xiao Xingchen can't help it, he covers his face with his hands. It's like being blind has erased any ability he had to control his expression, and he can only imagine what his face is doing right now, because it certainly feels all twisted up and hurt and mad and frustrated.

“I'm sorry,” Song Lan says, because he isn't good at reading people but he isn't blind, and he sounds regretful. “I'm sorry, it just wasn't...”

Xiao Xingchen rolls away, taking a moment, then sits up, his back facing Song Lan. “It's fine,” he says, as though merely saying the words will make it so, and he knows his voice sounds too tight. “It's fine,” he repeats. He wishes there was a switch in his body that he could just turn off, rather than having to sit with the coiling warmth still lingering in his stomach, refusing to dissipate just because Song Lan is no longer touching him.

He feels Song Lan touch his hair lightly, then the shift of the mattress as he stands up. The ensuite shower turns on shortly after, and entertains the vindictive thought of forcing his way in and pushing Song Lan up on the shower wall and just...

He doesn't know what. Song Lan had already made his “no” very clear, and Xiao Xingchen has no intention of crossing that particular boundary. He knows there wouldn't be any coming back from that. Taking care of himself feels equally out of the question. It's not what he craves, and doing it alone feels empty.

He goes to clean up after their dinner, finding some comfort in scrubbing off the plates and plunging his hands in the soapy water. It doesn't perfectly redirect his energy, but it takes the edge off. Then he steps out to the fire escape again, retreats, cowardice. The cold, damp wind slaps him in the face, and he takes a lungful of the foggy air, pressing his back into the wrought iron to feel it dig in.

He should tell Song Lan. There are things he should say, explanations, verbalizing his desire and upset and love and frustration. How it feels to be treated as an invalid, even when Song Lan does it so soft and gentle. Song Lan will tell his part too, the part where his desire can't always keep up with Xingchen's and that particular quirk where touching makes his skin crawl, where he treasures Xingchen and wants to protect him by wrapping him up tight in bubble wrap, kept and sweet and placed high on a shelf never to be touched.

He kicks the fire escape, just to make himself feel a little better, and wedges himself in. He should have brought his tablet. He could have done more research. Without it, he just listens to the sounds of the city at night, traffic and ambulances, someone singing, a baby crying in the distance. He lets it all flow and melt around him, lets his body relax into becoming the ambient temperature of the fog, cold and misty and amorphous.

By the time Xiao Xingchen retreats back inside, his thoughts are as cool and calm as the air outside. He slips into bed, fitting into the space behind Song Lan, slotting in, his knees in the crook behind Song Lan's knees, his cold nose tucked against the back of his neck. Song Lan smells clean, and Xingchen feels sorry for earlier, silly for letting himself get carried away. He's happy here. He is happy.

That thought circles his brain as he drifts off to sleep.

~

Time passes. Xiao Xingchen dials back his research to what he thinks is a normal amount of interest. There is always news to follow – Xue Yang seems to be at the same time the media's darling and their favorite villain. The tabloids keep commenting on how he looks, calling him angelic and sweet-faced while at the same time condemning him for what seemed like an ever-increasing number of crimes. Song Lan quickly learns to simply leave him to it, and in return Xingchen can moderate himself so he doesn't lose entire days to sitting on the couch and burying himself in news and police reports.

Life is pretty much normal. There's a routine, a rhythm, comfortable and familiar. Xiao Xingchen further adjusts to life in a world that isn't built to accommodate him, his steps ever more certain on his path. He can visualize his future stretching before him, and none of it looks bad. No surprises, no tragedy. He figures losing his sight is bad enough to fulfill the quota for drama for this lifetime.

Xiao Xingchen listens to the trial when it starts. From what he can tell, this is apparently very fast, but he doesn't know enough about the American justice system to confirm that. There's plenty of media coverage on it, but despite their efforts to highlight the most exciting parts, the trial itself seems to be fairly dull, nothing like the TV shows. That doesn't decrease Xiao Xingchen's interest, but it does help to prevent him from focusing too much on it.

Song Lan has a launch party for work. Xiao Xingchen doesn't know enough about computers to know what it's really for, some piece of software or another, something Song Lan has been working on for months. It's a cause for celebration, and while Xingchen doesn't relish the need to dress up, he lets Song Lan help him with it. Most of his wardrobe is in interchangeable shades of neutral, white and black and gray – he made sure of that before his sight was gone. But it's better to be safe than sorry and accidentally choose something inappropriate or clashing. Anyway, he knows Song Lan quietly enjoys dressing him, making sure he looks nice. It suits the same part of his personality that's so good at the nitty-gritty details of code, a fierce, strict streak of perfectionism.

Xiao Xingchen has no doubt that they make a sharp picture when they arrive. He left his cane at home, since it would be too cumbersome in a party setting, and thus holds Song Lan's arm to navigate their way inside. It's a club, it smells like a club, alcohol and bodies and several layers of perfume and cologne, and there's music playing with a low bassline that reverberates in his ribcage. It's probably dark, which means that people will be asking all night long why he's wearing his dark tinted glasses. Hopefully sticking close against Song Lan's side will decrease the need to explain.

Parties like this are always a little awkward. Xingchen is friendly and willing, but he doesn't speak the same language as these technology prodigies. Maybe he could have wandered and found other partners of Song Lan's coworkers, but he was always wary of losing track of Song Lan in an unfamiliar place. And Song Lan is good, he's considerate, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in whatever conversation he gets involved in that Xingchen falls by the wayside despite being attached to his arm.

It's still fun and interesting to be out of the apartment, chatting with people, picking canapes off the trays, accepting the drink that Song Lan passes to him. It's one of the fruity ones that he likes, but strong enough that he can taste the alcohol under the juice. He's playing the role of arm candy tonight, but he lets it be fun, lets himself be the sweet and sparkly juxtaposition to Song Lan's dry, serious demeanor. Song Lan's coworkers forgive him easily when he doesn't know the more technical details and humor him by talking about other, more accessible topics.

Inevitably, though, they turn back to talking shop, and Xingchen tries to follow but it all starts to sound like gibberish. He sighs and ceases to pay much attention to the conversation since they're not really paying attention to him, and he sips his drink, wishing the music were better. Though, of course, the inevitable result of sipping a drink all evening is that he has to use the bathroom. Xingchen realizes it with some dismay. There's no good way to bring it up without sounding like a complaining toddler, but he doesn't even know which way to point himself to find it if he were to just wander off. So he just … waits. Song Lan will have to go eventually as well.

Except the situation is steadily growing towards urgent, and Song Lan shows no indication of breaking away from his conversation, focused the way he can get sometime. Xiao Xingchen starts to fidget anxiously, hoping to somehow telepathically convey what he needs. Unfortunately, he doesn't magically develop psychic powers. He's inches from giving in to the embarrassment of asking to be escorted to the bathroom when he feels another hand on his free arm.

“Hi,” a female voice says, one that he doesn't recognize. “Song Lan, do you mind if I borrow him for a minute?”

Xiao Xingchen could curse, and desperately hopes that Song Lan makes up an excuse to keep him from being pulled to another conversation with strangers. He can't focus on being friendly when his body is screaming at him. He feels Song Lan look up in surprise, finally breaking from his own conversation.

“Oh, right, of course,” he says, gently taking Xingchen's hand from his arm to pass him over to the woman. “Xingchen, this is Wen Qing. She's a doctor and a friend.”

“Alright,” Xingchen says, voice cracking, shooting Song Lan what he hopes is a desperate look before Wen Qing tugs him away. He's panicking, he thinks he might die, he wants the earth to swallow him up. He clears his throat and touches Wen Qing's hand, her pace never slowing. “I'm sorry, I'm terribly sorry, but...”

Before he can finish, she pulls him through a doorway. Their footsteps turn echo-y, and he feels a glimmer of hope. She continues pulling, then places his hand on what feels like the handle of a urinal. He makes a sound, desperate still, and feels for the edges of the porcelain before letting go of her entirely so he can relieve himself.

“You looked like you were suffering over there,” she says, only far enough away to give him the space he needs to get the job done. “I know how Song Lan can get too intense in his conversations and forget the world around him.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, shooting a small smile in the direction of her voice. “Unfamiliar places are always a little difficult, especially without my cane. I hope it wasn't too obvious.”

“Not to the tech nerds,” she says, putting her hand on his shoulder to help lead him over to the sinks after he gets his slacks fastened up. “They might be geniuses, but they're oblivious to any kind of subtlety. Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Xiao Xingchen says again, washing his hands and then relaxing a hip against the sink. He isn't in a rush to go back out to the music he doesn't like. “So you're a doctor?”

“Cardiac surgeon,” Wen Qing clarifies. “I normally don't get to see below the belt. But don't worry, I'll remain professional.” It sounds like she's smiling too. Xingchen isn't surprised to find that she's friends with Song Lan, with that dry kind of humor.

“I wasn't too worried about it,” Xingchen says. “Do you come to a lot of these things?”

“A few. I was dating one of them for a while, made some friends. They keep inviting me, and the appetizers are good, and every once in a while I get to help somebody's poor boyfriend find the bathroom.” He feels her pull his jacket straight, adjusting his collar slightly. “So. Been together long?”

“Since college,” Xingchen tells her. Maybe she isn't very close with Song Lan, to have not heard the story before. “Actually, we met in the airport when I arrived in America. I was so lost and overwhelmed, and he stepped in to help me find my way in a new country and a big city. It was just a happy coincidence that we ended up going to the same school while he was getting his graduate degree. And then from there, it's basically just history.”

Wen Qing laughs and touches his shoulder again. “Somehow, I doubt it's 'just history,' but we can leave it at that, if you want,” she says. “That's very sweet. I'm just glad you look as lost by all their talk as I am. Do you smoke?”

“Ah...” He doesn't want to lie, but also isn't sure about how likely it is his answer would get back around to Song Lan.

“Doesn't matter,” she says quickly, taking his arm again to lead him out. “Come hang out with the wives. We're all the wives, regardless of gender.”

Together, they wind through the party, past snippets of conversation and a speaker rolling out bassline in waves. Wen Qing pulls him out of a door, and the sound of music is dampened. A comforting cloud of cigarette smoke wafts around them, and there's a soft hum of conversation.

“Hey, wives,” Wen Qing crows. “I bring fresh blood.”

“One of us,” someone chants, and Xiao Xingchen grins and gives an irreverent salute.

The wives are apparently the company he was craving. He no longer has to pretend to understand or be interested in the technobabble, and instead he can pluck crackers smothered in cream cheese and prosciutto off of the platter that they stole from the catering staff and sip from the bottle of wine that they had also stolen. He can listen to one of them chatter about a thesis project on Emily Dickinson and steal drags from cigarettes and blunts passed to him. It's closer to the way he and Song Lan operated in college, parting for their own friend groups before drifting back together, and the wives are closer to the kind of people he would choose for friends, free to be bohemian while their significant others take advantage of the tech boom and bring home the bacon.

Xiao Xingchen hasn't bothered to check the time on his phone, but it feels late by the quality of the air and the conversation. They've stopped talking about anything of substance, and he's leaning on Wen Qing's shoulder. He's a little drunk and a little high and feeling soft and easy. Song Lan's touch doesn't even startle him when it comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Let's go home,” he suggests in a low murmur, and Xingchen peels himself up. The wives moan and complain, and someone reaches for him, fingers catching on the edge of his jacket with a soft cry of, “Chen-chen, don't leave us!”

Xiao Xingchen gives his goodbyes and makes his promises to stay in touch – his phone is full of their phone numbers. He leans on Song Lan to make their way out and down to meet their car. They slide into the back seat, and their hands find each other on the seat, fingers folding together in the most intimate touch Song Lan would allow in public.

“Time's it?” Xiao Xingchen asks, sleepy and smiley and soft.

“Close to one,” Song Lan replies. He sounds a little drunk too, and his thumb runs over the space between Xingchen's thumb and index finger, fitting into the hollow. “Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” he hums and smiles more. “They were nice. Wen Qing was helpful, and you know how useless I am when you talk shop.”

“I should have known you'd get along with them. I should have introduced you earlier. I'm sorry you were bored with me.” He snorts softly. “Chen-chen.”

Xiao Xingchen's giggle is significantly less dignified, but at least it's not too loud out of consideration for their poor driver. “You know I can't help if they think I'm cute!”

Song Lan doesn't protest, but he doesn't have to. They're back home, and he thanks the driver, and comes around to help Xingchen out of the car and back into their building. They're quiet due to the late hour, so the sound of the keys feels like it echoes in the still night air. Xiao Xingchen lets himself inside with a sigh of relief and kicks his shoes off, and opens his mouth to suggest they go to bed only to have Song Lan's lips and teeth and tongue providing an effective gag.

Song Lan backs him against the wall in the entryway, and his hands span Xingchen's waist, broad and solid. Xingchen can taste the alcohol in his breath, but he probably tastes the same. His head spins, his stomach flips, feeling simultaneously over- and under-fed on those canapes, but thrilled with possibility. The kiss is rough, with teeth, not like delicate good morning kisses or gentle good night ones that he's gotten used to. This kiss demands, and expects him to answer – and so he does.

Xiao Xingchen moans into it and grips back at Song Lan's shirt, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Sleep is no longer on his mind. Instead, he has to get his hands on Song Lan's skin or he might just evaporate. He tugs until he can get Song Lan's shirt out of his slacks and he can slide his hands underneath, flat against the skin of his stomach. His skin is warm, solid, and he can feel the frantic rate of his breathing beneath his touch. It feels like a dream, like it's so much that it can't be real, and at the same time it's so real, so perfect, everything he wants.

It feels like Song Lan needs this as badly as he does. With hands tight around Xingchen's arms he pulls him away from the wall, further into the apartment. Xiao Xingchen assumes they'll go to the bedroom, to the bed as usual, but he finds himself bent forward over the couch instead, the familiar fabric under his fingers and the back digging into his stomach. Song Lan presses against him, rubs against his ass, pushes his shirt up and runs his hands over his back. Xiao Xingchen lets out a shaky breath and pushes back against him, just as demanding and desperate.

Finally, finally Song Lan reaches around to get his slacks unfastened, pushes at them impatiently, and locates the zipper to shove it down. Xiao Xingchen squirms to help get them down his legs and winds up with them stuck around his knees, but at least it's some relief. Song Lan seems to think that's enough; his fingers grip into the flesh of Xingchen's ass, squeezing and massaging and spreading. He pants into the couch cushions, his breath coming back hot and wet against his cheeks and the sensitive tip of his cock bumping up against the back of the couch in a way that isn't altogether pleasant but at least it is some sensation. He's hard, he needs it, his skin feels like it's sparking with heat at every brush of Song Lan's fingers.

He remembers with some despair that they don't have any lube in the living room and is just about ready to straighten up, drag Song Lan back to the bedroom so they can do it properly. Then he hears something tear and feels slick fingers slide against his ass. Song Lan came prepared. Such a good, thoughtful boyfriend, even if it is frankly out of character for him to anticipate sex like this. When it happens, if it happens, there's so much delicate kissing and foreplay and it's consistently in the bed or the shower where they're prepared. But he can't even speculate on it, Song Lan's fingers feel too good, pushing the lube inside him fast, impatient. He wants to spread his legs but he's trapped by his slacks and can only pant helplessly against the couch cushions.

Thoughtfully, Song Lan's clean hand reaches down to brush his hair out of his face, tracing the line of his jaw. The fingers inside him spread once more, then slide out, and that's all the warning he really gets before he feels Song Lan's cock press steady and inexorable inside him.

The sound he lets out would be embarrassing under any other circumstance, low and broken and wet. It's been long enough that he almost can't handle the stretch. It's almost too much and makes him choke. His knees feel weak. His spit is making a wet spot on the couch cushions. Song Lan still doesn't stop, not until his hips are pressed flush against Xingchen's ass. His breath is coming heavy now, ragged. He's thoughtful again when he pauses to let then both get used to it, his hands resting on Xingchen's hips, one of them tacky with drying lube, and he pets soothingly at one hipbone like Xingchen is a skittish horse.

Like that, Xiao Xingchen remembers that he's supposed to breathe, and he takes a deep, shaking breath before letting it out loudly, and he can feel it relax down his spine. Song Lan pets him again, approvingly, then eases out of him only to slam back inside. Xiao Xingchen chokes on another cry, and that seems to encourage him, the pace rough and quick.

Time ceases to exist. Xingchen can't see, obviously, but the pleasure feels like starbursts of color in his mind. The apartment is very quiet, except for the wet slap of skin and too much lube (Song Lan was always careful like that) and their labored breathing, punctuated with moans and whimpers punched out of Xingchen's throat. It is so rough, he knows he is going to be sore, aching and remembering this for days. But it's so good too, Song Lan's cock stretching him and hollowing him out, making a space inside him. He's so hard it hurts, and his own cock is leaking. Song Lan's hand reaches down to cup it protectively, preventing it from smearing over the back of the couch. The pressure is maddening without friction to go with it, and Xingchen sobs out his pleasure, trembling and pushing back on him.

When he cums it's a punch to the gut, fingers white-knuckled against the couch cushions and a cry ripping out of his throat. His heart feels like it's hammering so hard that all he can hear for a few moments is the whoosh-whoosh of his heartbeat. But he realizes quickly that Song Lan has felt it. He drapes himself over Xingchen's back, fucking him hard and fast, racing towards the end. It must crash into him too, because he grunts and transforms into a heavy, shuddering weight, pressing him into the couch, his cock twitching inside.

Time still doesn't really exist. They might stay draped over that couch for hours, for all Xingchen can tell. His ass is sore, he can barely breathe, he's going to have bruises where the couch is digging into his midsection, and he feels like he hasn't been this happy in months. It's not just the sex – though, to be fair, the sex is amazing and a big part of it. It's what comes with the sex. He feels connected to Song Lan like this, special, needed. And then, taken care of, because eventually Song Lan straightens up and helps him up, drops down to help him work off his shoes and slacks so they can walk back to the bedroom. His arm supports Xingchen around the waist because he's for surewalking with a limp right now. He helps him get his shirt off and brushes his hair back over his shoulder and kisses his cheek, so sweet.

Xiao Xingchen makes to go to the bathroom. He still smells like smoke and wine and sex, and Song Lan won't want that in their bed. But before he can pull away, Song Lan pulls him back in close, nuzzles his hair and kisses him again in a way that makes his heart feel soft and warm, honey in his chest. He lets Song Lan lead him to bed, even though he has the distinct sensation of cum slowly starting to leak out of his body.

“Here, keep it in,” Song Lan rumbles low, curling up behind him and pressing his fingers into Xingchen, pressing it back inside. Xingchen sucks in a breath, his body feeling oversensitive and raw but good. It's not too much. Then there are some sounds behind him, and then he feels Song Lan's cock press into him again. That is almost too much, and he makes a small sound, not sure if he could handle a second round.

But it's not to fuck him. Song Lan settles, their bodies pressed close, fitting perfectly. Song Lan's nose presses into his shoulder, and he kisses there a few times. Without too much preamble, they fall asleep.

~

The next morning, of course, they are stuck together. It's a little disgusting, but there isn't a thing that Xiao Xingchen would have changed about the night before. He stirs a little, then makes a sound of complaint, his body protesting the movement from the waist down. Song Lan wakes up next, and Xingchen can practically hear his grimace when he remembers the position they were stuck in.

He's as careful as he can manage when he pulls away from Xingchen's body, pressing a gentle hand to his arm to indicate he should stay still. There are some bathroom sounds, water running, and then Song Lan returns with a warm, wet washcloth to gently wipe him clean. Xingchen has to bite his knuckle; his ass feels raw, sore and swollen. He can feel precisely how hard they went. He still doesn't regret a moment.

Song Lan treats him soft and sweet that morning, brings him breakfast in bed and combs his hair. They're both quiet, Xingchen because he's hesitant to say anything that will break the spell, and Song Lan because he seems exhausted from socializing so much the day before. Sometimes it's harder than others. Then to recuperate, he's quieter than usual, minimizing his interactions, sometimes even with Xingchen himself. Xingchen doesn't take it personally, and usually uses the time to indulge his own inner introvert and work on his own projects.

Nothing wrong with that, except that they continue to not talk about it. Xingchen can't make the shape of his desire into words, the way Song Lan's touch lights him up, the way he craves the desperate way they came together after the launch party. Song Lan's touches feel apologetic, half guilty, wary of pushing too far, like he's afraid of his own attraction. They haven't had to navigate anything like this before, where before they were coasting on instinct and now the waters feel choppy.

Xiao Xingchen finds it a welcome distraction to turn to the trial. There's no shortage of material – Xue Yang continues to be the media's darling or scapegoat by turns, sometimes both in the same article. He figures out how to find the best news channel to listen to what he can, certain amounts of testimony from witnesses and arguments from lawyers. He thinks its a small blessing that he himself was such a useless witness when it came to the stabbing incident, so he hasn't been called to court. In any case, that's how he first hears Xue Yang's voice, surprisingly young, always irreverent and teasing, even when he's supposed to be taking the court show seriously.

And it really does seem like a show. The prosecution is fighting as best they can, but the defense is barely working at all, their questions lazy and confident at the same time. The judge doesn't seem in any kind of hurry to help the prosecution when the defense steps out of line. Everything is played to the media like a huge circus, and everyone is marching towards a foregone conclusion.

Then, as quickly as it started, it's over. The media coverage disappears overnight. It's not old enough to be old news, but that's how it's treated. Xiao Xingchen has to search and search to find anything about the conclusion, and all he can find is basically a footnote stating that a settlement was reached, which sounds frankly preposterous. The charges against Xue Yang included murder! He hadn't thought it was possible that a settlement could be found against a potential murderer, especially when the prosecution had brought witnesses and evidence galore. It feels profoundly unfair, a sincere lack of justice, and he wonders how natural-born Americans feel about their supposed “justice system.”

His dissatisfaction with the finale of the trial makes it hard to put it all behind him. He struggles with sleeping and focusing on his projects and his studies, he's snappish and short-tempered and withdrawn from Song Lan. Even if Song Lan asked what is troubling him, he has no confidence that he could articulate it to any understandable degree. So Song Lan can't help, and Xiao Xingchen doesn't know how to help himself.

It's on a random day when Xingchen hears a knock on the door. That's unusual – Song Lan left for work, but he would have texted if he forgot his keys, and Xingchen doesn't think they're expecting any deliveries. He debates just leaving it, pretending he's not home, but the knock comes again, more insistent.

Heaving a big sigh, he picks himself up from where he had been lounging, attempting to read and feel somewhat productive but mostly just feeling listless. It crosses his mind that Song Lan might have gotten it in his head to do some kind of gesture, getting him flowers or something – not that flowers aren't thoughtful, but he thinks the gesture is now lost on him since he can't see them. He doesn't think he brushed his hair this morning, but this delivery man will just have to tolerate him looking a little messy. He finds the door and opens it, trying to put a pleasant expression on his face.

“Hello, can I help you?” he asks, and waits for a response.

None comes. He waits a few moments, then frowns. Was something dropped off? He considers bending to check for a box, but there's a feeling rising, a prickling feeling on the back of his neck that tells him he's being watched. But if there's someone there, why aren't they speaking? Why aren't they telling him why they're there? Belatedly, he realizes this might be some kind of burglar who could take advantage of him. He doesn't have a weapon, but there's an umbrella in the stand next to the door and knives in the kitchen, and though it's been years he still has his martial arts training. How much that will help, he doesn't know, he hasn't even attempted to fight anyone even to spar since he lost his sight, and he doesn't think running through the exercises and stretches in the morning will really help if someone actually attacks him.

Whoever is at the door still hasn't spoken, and it's making his nerves go haywire, his heart pounding even though he hasn't even moved. Maybe he's being stupid and getting freaked out over nothing. Maybe there's no one even there, and there's no reason for his skin to feel nervous cold/hot. “Hello?” he says again, this time significantly less confident, his voice giving out halfway through.

There's another few moments of silence, then a wild cackle, not an attractive laugh at all. It feels familiar, somehow, though it's not until Xue Yang speaks that Xiao Xingchen recognizes him.

“Wow. I guess you're real, huh?”

[live-laugh-lesbian80083]

La Vie en Rose

1 - Don't Forget About Me

Summary: Everything about her is perfect. Her grades, her looks, her personality, everything. Desiree Hale is known as little miss perfect all throughout middle school. But when she makes the transition from being in eighth grade to being a freshman, everything changes. Not because of the change in her surroundings, but because of a girl. A girl with gorgeous brown locks and stunning eyes to match, with a voice that sounds like an angel and a smile that could melt anyone's heart. The moment Desiree laid her eyes on the girl, she knew there was something different about herself.

Word Count: 3,205

Warnings: None

Please do NOT copy, rewrite, or translate onto another site. Permission will not be given if asked for it.

Water splashes on the light gray concrete, soaking the people nearby. Meat sizzles on the grill, sending a delectable aroma through the air. Adults and children cover the lawn, chatter fills the surrounding space. The Sun's rays beat upon everything it can reach, making anything hot to the touch. This is what a Fourth of July party looks like. People having fun interacting with each other and forming relationships with people they had just met.

But not me. I've been sitting in the corner underneath an enormous oak tree with my journal full of short stories and other random notes. No one has bothered talking to me. It's not like anyone would want to talk with the girl who has her face buried in a journal. They're too busy enjoying the sun and partying. I'm not a big fan of the sun. Or parties. I'd much rather sit inside and read or write all day.

I turned the page in my notebook and began jotting down random thoughts that pop into my mind. As I looked up to relax my eyes, I noticed a girl my age approaching me in a bright blue two-piece swimsuit with a bright smile on her face. I smiled back and watched as she sat next to me on the grass.

"So, what brings you to this miserable party?" She asked, her smile not fading.

"My parents are friends with the hosts." I deadpanned. "You?"

"My parents are the hosts." She chuckled.

Silence. We stared into the distance and watched my little sister -who's only six years old- jump into the pool with a bright pink ring sitting around her waist as my dad caught her. I smiled when I heard her screams of joy.

"What's your name?" The girl said as she cleared her throat.

"Oh, it's Desiree." I stuttered, clearly being thrown off guard by the sudden question. "What's yours?"

"Zoe." She replied.

More silence. That's enough of our conversation. It's obvious neither of us gets out there or talk to others often. We've only said six things to each other. And every time we try to converse, it always starts with her asking a question.

"Wanna come to the pool with me? I think it's a lot cooler than sitting out in the sun." Zoe comments. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Actually, that sounds nice. I'll be right back." I said, standing up as my arms naturally spread to the sky to release tension.

"If you're changing, I could show you where the bathrooms are." She commented.

"That's alright. Your mom told me where they were when we got here." I replied, grabbing my bag and hurrying into the house and towards the bathroom.

Once I was inside, I quickly stripped off my clothing and changed into my black two piece. I turned to look at the mirror and pulled my dark brown hair into a high ponytail to prevent it from getting wet. Smiling, I made my way out of the bathroom and found Zoe standing by the door, waiting for me.

The two of us ran to the pool and dove into the deep end with grins spread across our faces. Fully submerged in the water, I opened my eyes and looked to my right to see Zoe watching me. I smirked and began swimming to the surface. As I broke the fine line between the water and air, I felt my lungs gasp for air and my wet hair stick to the back of my neck. There was no point in that ponytail. I quickly stroked to the edge of the pool where I met with Zoe and got greeted with a splash of water to the face. I let out a dramatic gasp and pushed water towards her as well. Before we knew it, we made our way back out to the middle of the pool again in a huge water war. The two of us looked up to see my dad running towards us from the surface. I took in as much air as possible into my lungs and dove under the water just before he got to the pool. Zoe continued swimming in place and tried to protect herself from the oncoming tidal wave, but it was no use. Dad hit the water, and I felt myself get pushed towards the other side of the pool. As I felt the water calm down, I quickly resurfaced and swallowed a breath of fresh air.

"Dinner's ready, girls." Dad laughed as he swam over to us.

"That wasn't necessary." I said, brushing loose strands of wet hair behind my ears.

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you heard me." He replied as he stepped out of the pool. "I was also extremely hot."

Zoe and I glanced at each other and laughed, making our way out of the water. We hopped in line and draped brightly colored towels around our shoulders to dry off a bit. I grabbed a paper plate and collected a hotdog, some condiments and a small bag of Doritos. I thanked the man standing by the grill for the meal and scanned the yard for Zoe to find her sitting under the tree we met at. Smirking, I rushed to the grass. Standing at her side, I placed my food onto the ground and lay the towel flat next to where Zoe had done the same. I then sat criss-crossed on the fabric and dug into my meal.

"Tell me something about yourself." I prompted, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I uh, I play guitar and bass. I'm planning on trying out for the Jazz Band at my high school at the beginning of the year." She replied simply.

"What school are you going to?" I questioned.

"James Madison. You?" Zoe answered.

"Wait, no way, me too!"

"Really? What classes are you taking?"

I told Zoe almost every single one of my classes. Art, choir, French, and theatre for my electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math one, and world geography for my core classes. Zoe's classes were a lot more complex than mine. Band, creative writing, and debate for her electives. Earth science, honors language arts, secondary math two, and AP human geography for her core classes. Not to mention if she makes it into the jazz band she'll have an extra-curricular.

We talked about our friends and lives in middle school. How I was perfect with grades and had little to no issues while she had to deal with drama and barley passing classes. Why we both made such big changes for high school is a significant question that neither of us know the answer to. The conversation dragged away from school and ventured into our home lives. Zoe told me about her brother Connor, and I told her about my little sister Brooke. She talked about how Connor has changed. How they used to be friends and would play with each other when they were younger and how they've drifted over the years. How much she wishes they could be close again and how it can't happen because of things he's done.

Zoe has dealt with so much shit throughout her life. From fights with her brother to being ignored by her parents, all she wants is to be seen. Usually I'd say the two of us are different people, but in reality, we aren't. After Brooke was born, I felt lost. My life took a sharp turn I didn't see coming. But yet again, doesn't everyone who has younger siblings been through the same thing I went through? I bet it doesn't last as long for them as it did for me. The rejection, I mean. It's been six years. Six damn years and my parents still give Brooke the attention they gave her when she was born. And what have I been doing? I've tried getting them to notice me, but it never works. I learned how to paint and made them something for their anniversary. It ended up in the basement. I drew my dad something for his birthday and it ended up in the basement. I learned how to sculpt things out of clay and made a sculpture for my mom and it ended up in the basement. Everything Brooke makes gets hung up or put on display. Everything I make gets put away. On the outside, we appear as a happy family. On the inside, we appear as a happy family. But it doesn't feel like it.

I finished eating quicker than I had expected and offered to throw Zoe's trash away for her. After many tries, she gave in and let me, telling me to grab her a Dr. Pepper while I was by the drinks. I complied and grabbed myself one.

"Thanks." She said as she popped the tab on the can, sending small droplets of the soda into the air.

"It's no problem." I replied, doing the same.

Everyone at the party had resumed their activities before the meal in no time, which meant Zoe and I had returned to the pool. We were floating on a raft together, chatting about anything that came to mind, when we suddenly felt someone flip the raft, throwing us into the water. I screamed and accidentally swallowed a bit of water. Zoe did the same. We both resurfaced, coughing the liquid out of our lungs while diabolical laughter rang through the air.

"What the hell was that for, Connor?" Zoe yelled, continuing to cough.

"Your screams were hilarious!" He laughed, falling dramatically into the water.

I eventually caught my breath and finally got a glance at what this Connor character looks like. He has pale white skin and unruly dark brown hair. He's incredibly slim with little to no meat on his bones. I brushed loose strands out of my face and tucked them behind my ears. A wave came from behind me, water splashing across Connor's face. I turned to see a wicked grin on Zoe's face. I know exactly what's happening. A water fight. I quickly dove under the water as the fight began, the siblings splashing each other with water. Reaching the concrete wall of the pool, I swung my leg onto the ground and popped myself out. I cautiously ran over to a bucket of water balloons and grabbed one, chucking it at Connor's back. He turned around with a playful glare, paddling himself towards me.

"Shit, shit shit shit shit." I muttered under my breath, grabbing as many balloons as I could, sprinting onto the grass.

I heard Connor leave the water and his wet feet against the concrete. I turned around to see Zoe climbing out of the pool herself, rushing to the pool house. Getting distracted with Zoe's actions, I felt a balloon hit the back of my thigh. My head whipped around to see Connor running in the opposite direction.

Zoe ran up next to me and handed me a super soaker, saying, "Those balloons aren't getting you anywhere."

I gladly took the gun and searched the yard for her brother when I saw an arm disappear behind a bright green bush. Pointing at the bush, we nodded at each other and sneaked up on the boy. I verged left while she went right. Slipping into the groups of people, we approached the bush with smirks on our faces. Zoe held up her fingers, silently counting us down from three. Three, two, one! Both of us blindly fired our super soakers at the bush, hoping we hit Connor. Swifter than we expected, he emerged from the bush and threw his hands into the air in surrender.

"Okay! I surrender!" He yelled.

"We'll forgive you if you get us popsicle." Zoe said, not putting her gun down.

"That's not how surrender works." Connor fought.

I squirted him with water. "Well, it's how it works around here."

"Jesus, fine." he replied, walking over to the cooler with his hands remaining in the air.

"Keep your hands where we can see them." Zoe called out.

"I am." Connor said. He grabbed three rocket pops and headed back over to us. "Have we made peace?"

"Yes." Zoe and I said in unison, each of us taking one popsicle.

As all of us peeled the wrapper off the cool treat, Connor and Zoe's dad approached us. "We're starting fireworks in the front if you'd like to join us."

"We'll be there in a minute." Zoe smiled.

She snatched the wrappers from all our hands and tossed them into the trash. I hurried over to my bag and slipped on my pair of blue shorts, completely disregarding my shirt. No one will care if I'm wearing a swim top and shorts. And besides, it's way too hot. She held out her arm to me to which I took, hooking my arm around hers. For only knowing each other for a few hours, I think we're getting along well. I've never clicked with anyone so easily before so this feels too easy. Maybe Zoe's being forced to hang out with me. It doesn't feel forced, though. Or maybe our personalities function perfectly together. Whatever it is, I don't think it matters. The bond we have is like a friendship that started many years ago. But it's only been hours. And hopefully, it lasts much longer than hours. Maybe we can have what those friendships that last for years have.

Skipping towards the gate that separates the backyard from the front, I grinned and started humming the theme to The Wizard Of Oz to myself. Zoe must have heard me, for she began singing the song. I laughed and sang along as we joined the rest of the party. Glancing around the area, I found an empty spot on the grass. I pulled Zoe to the spot with me and noticed it was right next to my family.

"So that's where you went." My dad commented, throwing a handful of glow sticks at me.

"Did you not just see me chasing Connor around with a squirt gun?" I questioned, taking a seat on the grass, pulling Zoe down with me.

"Apparently not." He replied.

Zoe, Connor, and I each grabbed a handful of the glow sticks off the grass and cracked them in one snap. Light illuminated in our hands and I took one of my red sticks and poked Zoe's shoulder. She poked me back with a blue one. And the war began. We poke each other back and forth with the glow sticks, breaking into a fit of giggles.

"How about you two use the glow sticks for something other than poking each other?" My mom recommended.

"No, I don't think we will." I replied, continuing to poke Zoe.

"Yeah, this is a lot more fun." Zoe added, poking my arm.

After poking each other for way too long, we tired of it and grabbed those plastic connectors and connected the ends of the glow sticks, forming bracelets just in time for the sun to set, putting us into darkness, the glow of streetlights illuminating our surroundings. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright white light appear. My head snapped to look at the light to find it was someone handing a sparkler to a small child. I smirked and turned to Zoe to find her looking at me. Her cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink as her gray eyes flickered away from my blue ones.

"Hey, wanna go get some sparklers?" I asked.

"Sure!" She smiled.

We headed over to the table that held all the fireworks and grabbed a few sparklers. A man neither of us knew lit them up for us, and off we went into the middle of the street. We waved the sticks around in the air, creating patterns with the sparks. I tried spelling my name in cursive, but spelling Desiree in cursive isn't the easiest thing, and neither is Zoe. Instead, we drew pictures like hearts, stars, and cats. Yes, we drew cats in the air with sparklers. Why would we not? Is that not something that everyone does? Eventually the flammable portion of the sparkler was no more, and we had to toss them into a bucket of water on the curb.

The rest of the night was full of laughter and pure joy, something I sadly haven't experienced in a long time. Fireworks were exploding around every corner you turned. People were running in the street with explosives in their hands, with no fear in their eyes. Zoe and I quickly tired of the noise and went inside. Zoe dragged me upstairs to her room. And it looks exactly what you'd think it would look like. Periwinkle bedding with pink decorative pillows and a white chunky knit blanket displayed across the foot of the bed. The walls are a lighter shade of blue with pink flowers painted on top. White panels cover the bottom half of the walls, creating a sense of contrast. Above her bed sits a display of all the pictures she's taken with her friends and boy, is there a lot.

"Sorry, it's kind of messy right now." Zoe apologized.

"It's alright. My room is in worse condition right now." I laughed. She laughed too.

She began explaining to me how she discovered her bedroom was the perfect place to view fireworks. By simply flicking off the lights and pulling up beanbags to the window, it gave us a front-row seat to a firework show with no noise. You can see the explosions of bright colors for miles and miles across the city. Some are mere specs of light, while others are large bursts of color that illuminate the room. The sounds of the explosions are small pops, some being more powerful than others. The two of us sat in a comfortable silence for quite a while before a pair of feet came down the hallway and towards the bedroom.

"Des, it's time to go." My mom said, cracking open the door.

I groaned and stood up. "Thanks for making this party a lot more tolerable." Zoe said.

"It's no problem." I replied. "So, maybe I'll see you at school?"

"Yeah, maybe. It was nice meeting you." Zoe stood and followed me out of her room.

"You too." I smiled.

Once downstairs, Zoe joined a group of people in the backyard while I headed out to the front door behind my family. I slid into the backseat and pulled my phone out of my backpack to see multiple texts from my friends. I responded to them one by one and quickly resumed my quiet and reserved personality I had at the beginning of the day. Eventually all my notifications had receded, and it left me staring out the window of the car, watching as buildings and fireworks sped past us in blurs. Suddenly I gained the feeling you get when you think you forget something somewhere, but you don't know what it is. After sitting and thinking about it for a bit, I realized what I had forgotten. I forgot to ask for Zoe's number.

[apotatomashedbybts]

The Stains Of Your Love

[GENRE: angst, mature, fluff

Pairing: Jimin×reader, Jungkook×reader

Word Count: 3.8k+]

[Summary: Jimin and your relationship was perfect, everyone said so, you thought so too. But love is not always what it seems to be. What if you get hurt by the person you love the most? Will you flee away? But how far will you run until love finds you again? ]

Part II : Healing Heart

Standing on the balcony of your room you breathed in the dawn air. It had been one year since you left Korea but the wounds were still fresh.

"Honey, you are up already? Happy birthday dear!" your mom hummed after entering your room.

"Thank you mom!" You replied and hugged her.

After you returned from Korea your parents were quite worried about you. You gathered enough courage and told them about Jimin cheating on you. They had always trusted you and believed in your decisions so when you decided to live here permanently they didn't object and you were grateful for that.

Your dad had already wished you at midnight as he hated waking up early. But like every year your mom wished you at sunrise because that's when you were born. When your mom went back you sighed remembering that every year Jimin wished you too at the same time. But this year he won't mostly because may be he didn't want to and partly because you changed everything that could have made him contacting you possible. You wondered how was he doing. Was Yujin taking care of him as you used to? Was she loving him enough? Was Jimin able to erase you from his memories?

Your chain of thoughts got cut by the beeping sound of your phone. Ga-yeon had already wished you at midnight so you were confused as no one of your colleagues knew your birthday. You checked your phone, there was a message from an unknown number.

You frowned your eyebrows and tried to remember if you gave anyone your number who could have passed it on without your permission. But you couldn't find any. Your heart skipped a little when the thought of Jimin texting you crossed your mind. You suddenly got nervous and your heart began to race real fast. To trim down the feeling you sat down and took a deep breath. But it was of no help. Then you read the text again and noticed the words 'you won't know me' . You didn't know why but you became quite disappointed. Then you scoffed to yourself, how could you even expect him to text you! You entered the bathroom and turning on the shower you broke down into tears. You clenched your hand over your heart as if trying to reduce the pain but it did not work, not a little bit. Like the shower above your head, tears were coming out from your eyes.

"Sweetheart! Are you okay? You have been in there for pretty long!" Your mom's words made you break out from your broken state. You replied, "Coming mom! I won't take long!"

After coming out from the shower you got ready for going to office. You checked yourself in the mirror and immediately regretted crying for so long.

"Sweets, is everything alright? Your eyes are.. not looking that great." Your dad asked you with concern clear in his voice when you reached the breakfast table.

"Oh! It's nothing to worry about dad! May be because I stayed in the shower longer than usual." You replied smiling. The least thing you wanted was to make your parents worry about you. You had been quite successful in putting up a cheerful curtain over your sadness in front of your parents over the past year.

After reaching your office you tried to observe everyone if anyone knew about your birthday. But no one seemed to pass your criteria and that got you frowning more. You didn't want any more drama in your life, one was more than you could take. You sighed and concentrated in your work.

At evening you thought of going to a nearby bar but you knew you'd end up getting a lot more drunk than you were supposed to. So you decided to head back home.

Seeing the darkness that engulfed your house you frowned hard. This reminded you of that night when your apartment was covered by the same unusual lightlessness. Of course you knew that something like that won't happen here but you had hated darkness ever since. You cleared your throat and called out, "Come on guys! I know it's you. It's not necessary. I am not a kid anymore. Mom, dad, Yeon come out!"

The room lighted up the next moment and with a sheepish smile Ga-yeon came out behind the sofa and said awkwardly, "Surprise! He he!"

"It was not our plan!" Your mom entered the living room with her hands up, "It's all her idea!" and she pointed to your best friend.

"Oh! Come on! I know you like it! And see who came to wish you!" Saying this Ga-yeon turned you around.

"Uncle! Aunty! When did you come?" You exclaimed happily.

"Just this morning y/n! Happy birthday dear!" Your best friend's mother said with a loving smile.

Ga-yeon's parents had always loved you since they knew you and you had loved them back equally. You asked yourself that what did you do to get such a best friend because you perfectly knew that Ga-yeon made her parents come here all the way from Korea just to make you feel loved using your birthday as an excuse.

You turned to thank her but your face suddenly turned into a scowl after seeing a boy beside her who you were certain enough you didn't know. Ga-yeon smiled cheerfully and said, "Hey y/n, meet, this is Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook, my cousin! He has been here in Australia for awhile and I thought it'd be great if you two can become acquaintances at least."

You didn't want to turn down your best friend after all she had done for you. So you decided to let this one slide though you had promised to yourself to not get into touch with unnecessary persons anymore.

Jungkook turned out to be a much cooler guy than he seemed to be but you decided to keep your distance. He had been in Australia for last few years and was majoring in photography from University of Canberra. It's his last year here. He would go back to South Korea after completing his courses.

The night ended quickly between so many people and you couldn't remember when was the last time you laughed so hard in the past year. The main credit for making you laugh surely went to Jungkook and somehow for a moment he was able to erase Jimin from your memory.

At night Ga-yeon texted you

Clearly trying to avoid your best friend's indications you kept the phone and tried to sleep. Memories of Jimin were still unspoiled in your heart and letting someone in your life at this moment would be too much for you and would be an injustice to the person. As you closed your eyes Jimin appeared in front of your eyes. You tried to shake that away but couldn't. You sat up straight and thought how could a person change so much? The same person who flew from Korea to Pretoria only because he couldn't let you alone on your birthday two years ago was the same person who hurt you so bad. You looked at the moon outside your window and cursed it. It was the same moon under which Jimin vowed to love you forever.

The next day you woke up quite late and rushed to work somehow stuffing breakfast into your mouth. At lunch time you went to the subway opposite to your office. When you took your food you saw Jungkook waiting for his order on the line next to yours. You tried to avoid him but he saw you.

"Hey! Hi!" He said, clearly surprised to see you there.

"Hi!" You cursed yourself for your wrong step.

He took his food and came to you. "You come here often?" He asked you.

"Ah! No no! Just when I skip my breakfast." You smiled at him.

You two sat together at a table and continued to talk. Mostly it was Jungkook who was talking, asking about your day, talking about his passion in photography and all. You didn't pay attention to him that much yesterday but as now you were talking with him you noticed his features distinctively. He had a really handsome face and his smile was like that of a bunny. When he scrunched his nose shyly while talking you found it quite cute and smiled to yourself. But the feature that attracted you the most was his doe eyes. They were so expressive and beautiful as if they were holding all the innocence of the world.

You pinched your thoughts to stop yourself from getting in too deep. You looked at your watch and realised that lunch time was going to be over in a few minutes. So you took your leave from Jungkook and headed to your office. After many days you were genuinely happy and you didn't know why.

.

For the next month you kept running into Jungkook almost everyday. You tried to wave it off as a coincidence but somewhere in the core of your heart there was a bud that had started to grow unknown to you.

Somehow Jungkook had the ability to make you forget Jimin and deep down though you wondered how he did that, you appreciated the feeling.

In the midst of all these coincidental meetings you became so used to his presence that if you didn't come across him a single day you felt like you were missing something.

You questioned yourself that were you ready yet to love someone? The face of Jimin in front of your eyes answered 'no'. But still that didn't stop you from wanting Jungkook to be a part of your life.

.

You were quite surprised when after reaching your office your colleagues told you that director was looking for you.

"May I come in sir?" You knocked the door of the director's room.

"Oh y/n, yes please come in!" The director said.

After you sat down he continued, "Director of Foreign Service of Korea, Mr. Jihoon Jung called our office this morning. He was asking for you. As you have changed your number he couldn't contact you so he contacted me instead. I thought it'd be better if you give your number to him yourself." Saying this he made a call to your previous work place.

Director Jung: Hello y/n, how have you been doing?

You: I am doing fine sir. Thank you for asking. How is everyone there?

Director Jung: Oh! Everyone misses you here a lot. Except that everything is going well.

You: Oh! Sorry sir! Tell them that I miss them too.

Director Jung: Yes! I will tell them. But y/n I called you for a specific reason. As you were one of the most efficient workers here I think I can do this for you at least and I also thought that I should let you know about this. Yesterday Jimin came to our office and was asking about your whereabouts. Of course I didn't tell him anything because you didn't want me to. He didn't look good. I don't intend to interfere but I think you should check up on him.

You couldn't talk for a second. Hearing Jimin's name after so long made your legs go weak but you can't let that show in front of your now director. So you continued the phone call as normally as you could.

You: Oh! I will look into it sir. Thank you for letting me know.

Director Jung: Okay then! Have a good day. I'll take my leave then. Bye.

Seeing your somewhat shaken state Director Wilson asked you if you were okay. You pretended to be fine and took your leave. The whole day your mind was stuck into that one thing and concentrating in work was hard. You wanted pull your hair and cry. Suddenly the thought of Jungkook crossed your mind. You hadn't seen him for two days and you were missing him though you would never admit it to yourself.

"May be Jungkook can help!" You wondered and texted him.

After keeping the phone you sighed heavily. You rethought your decision. Were you doing the right thing by trying to confine yourself in him? But you couldn't back off now.

"He would feel bad." You told yourself.

But from when did you start to care about his feelings? You sighed again and took a sip from the drink that your colleague gave you awhile ago. You didn't notice it at first but after taking a sip you realised that it was the same drink that Jimin loved a lot, strawberry frozen iced tea. You looked at it for a really long time and your mind sped back to that day when Jimin brought the same drink for you at your apartment. You didn't like it so you teased Jimin about liking it so much. Then Jimin in reply to your teasing said, "You know what, if you taste it like this then you will find it really tasty." With mischief in his eyes, he drank the whole drink in one sip and then kissed you. Though at first it tasted like the drink but the temptation of his lips took over you and the kiss that started as an answer to your teasing ended in an ethereal love making session.

You sighed again as you felt your heart squeezing in your chest. You were trying hard to stop the tears from coming out and it seemed more difficult than holding a herd of mad oxen at a field. You smiled at your own stupid humour and looked at the watch. You wanted the time to pass quickly.

After picking you up when Jungkook asked about where you wanted to go you vaguely asked him to drive to the opposite direction of the road that took you to your house. Throughout the whole journey you said nothing, just looked outside the window and processed what to say to Jungkook. You wanted to tell him about Jimin but didn't know how to. Jungkook didn't initiate any talking as he wanted to give you your time. In a short time he had known you more than you had expected, he knew when to keep his mouth shut and when to be a chatterbox. The silence in the car was comfortable and you were grateful for that.

After driving for about two to three kilometres you suddenly told him to stop. The sight of a decent bar had caught your eyes and you wanted to go there.

"You know this place?" Jungkook asked confusedly.

"No" you smiled at him, "but the name is good!"

Jungkook looked at the name again and murmured to himself, " 'Bliss'! May be you deserve some of that."

After downing the first glass of vodka a feeling of loss washed over you. To fill that up you started to drink one glass after another. Jungkook looked at you with concern. When you didn't stop after the tenth glass he held your hand gently and told you to stop.

You looked at his hands holding yours gently and remembered that day when Jimin held your hands too but not so gently. You scoffed and stared at Jungkook with watery eyes. How long had you stared at him you couldn't keep track but at some point you started to tell him about Jimin, about how you met, about how he proposed you, about how much you loved him, about how much he loved you, about how happy the relationship was, about how he hurt you and about how he still continued to hurt you.

Seeing you break into tears made Jungkook's heart crash. He pulled you into a hug and tried to comfort you. But you were too drunk at that point to feel his comfort. He wished if he could too just like you keep his feelings before you but he couldn't.

You held onto him like creeper on a tree and mumbled, "Take me home right now, I want to lie down. I feel sick!"

Your house was too far from there to take you in your current state so Jungkook decided to take you to his small apartment which was not far from there.

Reaching his apartment he put you down on his bed. Though drunk you could still feel the difference between your bed and Jungkook's bed. You patted your hands on it and said, "Yours is comfy, I like it! But mine is better. He he!" and lied down with a thud.

You stared at Jungkook's figure walking around the room and blurted out, "You are really handsome, you know? You can make any girl's heart flutter!"

After sorting out some things in his messy room he came to you and smiled, "Really? Did I make your heart flutter then?" He asked and started to take off your shoes.

You sat up straight and looked at him lovingly. After he kept your shoes aside you grabbed his collar and pulled him forcefully which made him lie on top of you.

You two stared at each other for God knows how long and an alien feeling flooded your mind. You whispered to Jungkook with watery eyes, "Please love me."

Jungkook looked at you as if trying to study you and then kissed your forehead whispering,"I do." You soaked yourself in the feeling and closed your eyes as some drop of tears trickled down by the side of your eyes and after that you passed out.

.

At morning you woke up with a terrible hangover. You grabbed your head as if trying to make the pain bearable and rubbed your eyes to drive the sleepiness away.

You were surprised to see yourself in an unknown place and then like a movie almost everything played in front of your eyes. You looked down and cursed yourself out of embarrassment. Then you realised that you were not wearing the dresses that you wore yesterday instead you were wearing a pair of pajamas. You were shocked and the question that came to your mind immediately was "Did Jungkook do what I told him last night?" and gasped silently.

Just then Jungkook entered the room looking as hot as ever in his showered hair. In his hand was a tray containing a cup of tea and breakfast.

"Oh! I was going to wake you up! Here I made you breakfast, buttered toast with two poached eggs and ginger tea to cure your hangover. No need to worry! You can eat it! I am quite a decent cook!" Jungkook went on merrily.

"Umm Jungkook!" You stopped him midway and asked, "about last night, did you do it? Where are my clothes? Did you change it?" You pulled off a serious face. Your mind was racing at fast pace and you prayed his answer to be no.

At your question Jungkook laughed softly and said, "Don't worry! I didn't. I called Yeon last night and she did it." Then keeping the breakfast on the side table he approached you. After sitting down beside you he took your hands in his and softly said, "I will never do anything that might hurt you, then or afterwards. You are too precious to be treated like you are not." Then he made a quoting hand gesture, "And I will only do the 'it' if I get the permission from the sober you, from the you who loves me." He said almost whispering and stood up to walk away. But you hold his hand stopping him and looked at him with yearning eyes, "What do you mean by the me who loves you? Do you see me as more than just a friend?"

The pain in your eyes made Jungkook weak. He turned around and said, "Yes y/n, I do. I love you, more than you can perceive. I have loved you for a long time now. You don't know, you are worth so much more. And I am willing to make you feel the happiness that you deserve." There was longing, pain and many other emotions that were mixed in his eyes and voice as he looked at you.

You didn't know how to reply, the memories of Jimin still haunt you everyday. You replied, "I don't know if I am ready yet to.."

Jungkook kept his index finger on your lips gently to stop your talking and said, "I know y/n what you are going through. I will never force you to do anything that might make you uncomfortable or sad. Just know that I will wait for the day when you will finally let go of the bad things and love me, I will wait for you. But promise me that today won't become an obstacle in our future days of friendship. Please."

You could see the truth in his eyes and that's why you had always liked his eyes. You knew that it would be difficult for you too to stay away from Jungkook. Though aware of your feelings that had started to grow many days ago you were still not ready. You didn't want Jungkook to be dragged into your sorrow. He deserved the better you.

You sighed and replied, "I promise."

Then as if trying to lighten the atmosphere you said quickly, "Oh no! For you I'll be late to office today." and started to frantically search for your phone.

Jungkook looked at you adorably and answered smiling, "It's already 10:45 am. And you must have forgotten that it's weekend. You don't have office today."

Hearing him you facepalmed and laughed sheepishly. It became a moment in your heart that you decided to cherish where you both laughed at each other with love, a love that was known to you and was unknown to Jungkook.

After washing your face you two ate breakfast together and you were quite impressed by his simple cooking. As it was the weekend and both of you had nothing to do Jungkook asked you to spend the day with him. Somehow you couldn't push aside his proposal.

You two went to your house and while you showered and got changed into a comfortable and casual outfit Jungkook talked with your parents.

When both of you waved bye and went out your parents heaved a sigh of happiness which they felt after a really long time. It was about time you should find happiness, they mused together.

The day passed by in a blink and you were genuinely happy and grateful to Jungkook. You felt bad that you couldn't reciprocate his feelings but you were chained to your emotions, negative emotions.

At night you texted Ga-yeon about your day and she as usual gave a perverted reply saying that she knew it was bound to happen and she also knew that you loved him too which of course you denied.

After a long time you felt like updating your social media. You had deactivated all your past accounts and created new ones in which you seldom posted. But today you felt was a perfect day to post and let some people know about your happiness and its source.

A/n: The second part is up! Sorry for the delay guys! I hope you like it too. I guess there are going to be more parts. Thank you for reading. Do like and comment! Love you all 💜💜💜

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Embrace of Fate:  Chapter 5

Juudai stared at the cards, picking through them over and over, hoping for the fainest hint that something would change. That he could once again see the bright colors and hear Hane Kuriboh’s voice.

Only nothing happened. No matter how much he stared, how much he listened, there wasn’t anything to be heard. Bright white alone looked back at him. Even when he listened to people he could normally hear – like Manjoume or Shou or Asuka or Fubuki-san – he heard them as if someone shoved cotton into his ears.

His cards tumbled from his hands and he didn’t bother to pick them up. What use did he have for them when he couldn’t see them?

Paper, that’s all they are now. Just paper and ink. No spirits in them, no souls that waited for him to call.

But throughout all of this, there was one more point that was even worse, and he wished that it wasn’t. For all the confusion that his soulmate mark gave him over the years, for all that he couldn’t remember who his soulmate was, and he worried and worried that something had to have happened to them that he couldn’t do anything about…

He’d always hoped that his soulmate was out there somewhere. His faith that they lived hadn’t wavered in his entire life.

But now his arm was bare and smooth, as if the mark and the counter hadn’t ever been there at all. He rubbed at it hard, wondering if he did this often enough, he might at least get an image of the mark.

Just like with the cards, nothing changed. Nothing looked as if it ever would.

He rubbed his forehead, wincing. Nothing had been right ever since his duel against Edo. He wasn’t sure of why; just that since that moment everything seemed so cold and so white.

In the deepest depths of his mind, he thought he could hear the tiniest of voices, whispering enticingly to him. He wasn’t sure of what it said in detail, only that it seemed like a promise. A very wonderful promise, everything that he’d ever wanted and even things he’d never known that he wanted.

Juudai ignored it. If it didn’t get him his cards back, then he wasn’t interested in it, and it probably wasn’t real anyway.

Voices in his head were never real. He didn’t remember much from when he was a child, but he remembered that, at least. His parents made it very clear once he got home from the hospital: if he kept hearing voices, they’d have to take him back. That was what the treatments were all about. It would make him better. He wouldn’t -

Juudai wasn’t sure of what he wouldn’t anymore, but the sickness he’d had involved some sort of treatment and he thought it involved hearing things. He must have been extremely sick for that.

He tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room. At least when he looked up that way he didn’t expect to see anything. Not like when he looked at his arm or at his cards.

His arm tingled. Just a little and so much more like he’d slept on it wrong than anything else. He didn’t remember anything else like that before.

Juudai absently rubbed his arm, thoughts tugged inexorably back to his missing soulmate. No one knew exactly how tightly wound together soulmates could be. It seemed to vary between match-ups. Some people could barely stand to be around one another. Others couldn’t bear to be away from each other more than necessary.

I guess we’re in the middle. After all, he’d gone so long without his soulmate, even though their bond had been confirmed.

Or sort of. The mark meant that.

Only he didn’t have the mark anymore and a tiny part of Juudai wondered if he’d ever see it again. Nothing could erase a soulmate mark. Even when one part of the bonding passed away, the mark could still be seen. Faded and grayish more than anything else, but it was there.

He hadn’t ever studied what it would take to erase a soulmate mark completely. He didn't’ think anyone ever had. Or if they had, no one talked about it. That didn’t surprise Juudai at all. Who would want to study anything that could maybe destroy a soul?

That was all he could think of that would maybe wipe away a soulmate mark: a soul being destroyed. Just the thought it made his stomach churn and his heart skip beats, his skin break out into a cold sweat and his breath stutter in his throat. He tried not to think about it. Souls couldn’t be destroyed. A soulmate wasn’t even a real soul; it was just a word people used to describe someone who matched them.

But wouldn’t that mean my soulmate doesn’t match me anymore? Or... Juudai swallowed at an even worse thought.

What if he didn't match them? What if whatever happened to him so he couldn’t see his cards meant that he couldn’t be their soulmate anymore?

His heart stuttered and he lurched to his feet, icy talons of fear swiping all over him. He couldn’t stay here anymore. This was Duel Academia, home for duelists: and he wasn’t a duelist, not anymore. He couldn’t be one without his deck.

There wasn’t any use of packing. All he had here were Osiris Red uniforms and he didn’t need those anymore anyway. No books – he couldn’t even see the pictures in them and he’d never bothered reading most of them – and there wasn’t any need for his PDA either. Even when he tried to hold it, he ended up dropping it for how much his hands shook.

Where are they? Juudai wondered as he started out of his dorm room. The others had all visited him earlier – hours? Days? Something else he wasn’t certain about. Now they had all vanished and he couldn’t imagine where they were.

He’d taken a few steps out before another slash of fear ran down his spine and fairly well against his will, he turned.

The first thought through his mind was that he saw a spirit, and it might not be the kind of Duel Spirit that he wanted to see. Then his eyes adjusted and there in the shadows, far too close to his dorm, there stood a tall figure dressed in a Duel Academia uniform. Not one like his; what he saw here was far more like the Obelisk Blue uniform.

Not quite, but close enough.

The stranger raised one hand and gestured towards Juudai. Juudai started to take a step back, but the soft blur of white in his head had other ideas. His feet moved forward without asking permission from his brain, taking him closer to the stranger. Juudai wanted more than anything to get out oft here, to get into a boat and leave the island, never to return.

What he did was follow the stranger deeper into the forest, until he couldn’t see the Red dorm building or the main building or hear the crash of waves on the shore or smell the thick salt in the air that said he was home.

In a small clearing, the stranger turned and stared down at him, lips curved upward into something Juudai thought probably should have been a smile but which came nowhere close to making him happy or relaxed.

“I know you.” Juudai murmured, throat dry and limbs weak. “You’re...” The name failed him, but the other only continued to smile.

“I know you, Yuuki Juudai. Though you should be my servant, you are not.” The tall stranger’s waterfall of evening blue hair glinted in the moonlight as he continued to stare at Juudai. His eyes – an odd shade of violet – turned toward the blank area where Juudai’s soulmate mark had been. “You are in quite a predicament. You can no longer see your cards and your mark has vanished.”

Juudai wanted to say something to the effect of Tell me something I don’t know or Can you get them back for me? He’d never been one to ask for help, but in this case, he thought he had little choice.

But words continued to fail him. That white blur overpowered what he wanted to say, in favor of him staring at the stranger almost hungrily. He didn’t know what was meant by should have been his servant. Juudai didn’t serve anyone. He never had and he couldn’t think of why he would serve this one.

Because he’s strong. Because he’s wise. Because he can help you. Juudai wouldn’t go so far as to say that the white blur spoke those words, but he could feel them inside of himself regardless.

“You may call me Saiou Takuma. I am Edo Phoenix’s manager.” The stranger made no move. Juudai couldn’t say that he was in danger, but he still wanted out of here as fast as he could get himself to go. Only he wasn’t moving. That white blur kept him in place.

Somewhere underneath the blur, something else, something he couldn’t define, twitched ever so faintly, so much so that Juudai didn’t notice it all that much, not when this guy kept looking at him and white light all but surrounded him.

“Okay. Nice to meet you.” Juudai dragged the words out, trying to move over and over and still not able to do it.

Saiou’s smile didn’t change for a single breath. “You can’t see your cards. Your soulmate mark has disappeared.”

“I know.” Juudai bit those words off, wondering what this guy wanted. The longer he stood there the less he wanted to be there and the more that white blur in his mind wanted to overwhelm everything. He knew he had to get away. He knew that he couldn’t.

“I can change that for you. I can make sure that you get it back.” Saiou’s persuasive voice echoed softly in Juudai’s ears. “That’s what you want. You want those spirits of yours. You want that soulmate of yours.” For a heartbeat he stared down into Juudai’s eyes and all Juudai could see was burning white.

“The one who is in pain..”

Juudai jerked, eyes widening, heart pounding. “What?” His soulmate in pain? No. Couldn’t be. Juudai refused to let it be. His fingers tightened and his throat dried to the point he wasn’t sure if he could talk anymore.

“You don’t remember them. How interesting.” Saiou’s features fell into a blankness that Juudai had never seen before. His voice held an echo to it now, one that called up images in the back of his thoughts that Juudai hadn’t ever heard or seen before.

Every breath of those images terrified and enraged him. He wanted to scream, to wrap his hands around something and squeeze until there wasn’t anything left at all.

He didn’t want to hurt Saiou. The longer he stared at that nightmare, the more he wondered if Saiou even knew what was going on at all. That blankness, that mocking tone…

“What do you know?” Juudai forced the words out of himself, taking a single step forward before his muscles all locked down. “Where are they? Who are they?”

“How delicious. I really wouldn’t have presumed that the procedure worked so well.” A mocking, sliding taunt of a voice and Juudai hated it so very much. There had to be a way to stop it, and yet if there was, he didn’t know what it could be. That deep darkness in his mind that the white blur prevented from moving more than the tiniest scraps, stirred and twitched and heaved, though not enough to do anything.

Juudai’s fingernails dug into his palms. Tiny beads of ice-cold sweat beaded down his cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember that either? Well, I don’t see any reason to tell you – unless you become mine.” That smile twisted up across Saiou’s lips. “Give yourself to me and I will give you back your duel sight. I will give you back your mark. I will give you your soulmate. And all I ask for it is you”

Juudai’s heart skipped a beat and then another. Breathing hadn’t ever been so difficult in his life. There it was laid out before him. If he accepted this offer, he would have it all back. Everything that he’d missed, whether he knew that he missed it or not.

“Is it that bad of an offer? I will restore everything that you’ve lost. You’ll never lose it again, I swear. I could even provide you with a new deck.”

One of Saiou’s hands moved and cards appeared all around Juudai, each one with a shimmering white square, that faded away to show new images. Heroes of all kinds stood there, similar to the Elemental Heroes, but one important change.

“These are the Heroes of Light. Aren’t they what you would want? Powerful heroes that will help you and stand beside you. No one can ever take them from you. Do say yes. I’m certain that your soulmate would approve. They miss you.”

Juudai raised one hand to reach toward the closest, his fingers ghosting ever so close to the card. He couldn’t read the name on it but this one looked tall and strong and powerful, with all manner of muscles and clad all in pure white from head to foot. All of them wore white, he noticed. He strained harder to see the names, but they were too blurry.

“What are they called?” He asked, traces of reluctance in his tone.

“This one is Hero of Light: Earth. He’s quite powerful and his effect allows all other Heroes of Light on the field to be immune to destruction by battle. Strong and steady as the earth itself.” Saiou – or whatever wore Saiou’s body at the moment – smiled a warm and comforting smile. “Once you accept these, you’ll see them all. You want to, I’m sure.”

Juudai wanted to touch the cards, to see if those glorious images would remain there when he laid his hands on them. His heart beat faster in anticipation. Whatever this was, whoever it was, they weren’t asking anything of him that was wrong. In fact, they weren’t asking anything of him at all.

It couldn’t be wrong to do this. He started to open his mouth to agree when another thought crossed his mind.

“You said my soulmate misses me? You know where they are?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been watching over them for years.” One of those soft, far too pleased with themselves smiles came. “I can take you to them, or bring them to you. They’re very hurt and without you, they might not survive. They’ve done so this long, but if they hear that you’ve turned away from them, I can’t promise what they would do.”

Juudai pulled his hand back, fingers tightening once more on his palms. Something didn’t feel right about this. That tiny dark spark inside of him screamed even louder, screamed so that even he could hear the faint echoes of it, demanding to know what he thought he was doing, how dare he do this, how dare he step away from what he was, he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t betray his nature…

He couldn’t fall prey to the Light of Ruin.

“I know you,” he murmured, staring into those violet eyes. “I know you.” He’d known who this was all along, even if he hadn’t been able to bring the name to his lips. “You’re the Light of Ruin. You want to destroy everything.”

Juudai couldn’t have said, in that moment, how he knew that. But he knew that he knew it, like he knew the sun was warm and grass was green and water wet and somewhere out there his soulmate loved him and he loved them.

“So what if I am? So what if I do? What can you do to stop me, Yuuki Juudai? You’re alone. There is nothing that can be done by you against me.” Saiou's’ eyes mocked Juudai’s anger. “I have seen the future with his eyes. This world belongs to me and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Not now and not ever.”

Juudai took a few steps back. “You’re wrong. I don’t know what I can do, but it’s something. Maybe it’s not even me. But someone can stop you.”

“Are you so sure? But you’re right on one thing: it isn’t you.” All around him the images of the cards and monsters vanished, popping out of existence with little puffs of smoke. “Because you can’t duel. And so long as you can’t see your cards, you never will be able to again.”

Juudai’s feet worked with him now, pulling him away and darting down through the trees until he reached the docks. He didn’t look behind himself, not until he’d already taken a boat and headed out onto the moon drenched waters. Looking at the silver-touched waves sent his stomach lurching and if he hadn’t needed to pilot the boat, he thought he would have just curled up somewhere and tried to forget the rest of the world existed.

He did glance over his shoulder once, when he was too far from the shore to see anything clearly back on the island. He could feel those eyes on him and he jerked himself around, staring at the waters ahead.

What was that? He knew, even if he didn’t put it into words. That was a monstrosity. That was the worst thing that he’d ever faced, up to and including Darkness, Camula, and the Mythic Demons.

That thing, the Light of Ruin… That’s why I can’t see spirits anymore. And why my mark is gone./i> Juudai shuddered, hands clenching harder on the wheel, wanting to do something and not knowing what it was. Whether he liked it or not, the Light had been right about one thing – if he couldn’t duel there wasn’t anything that he could do about it.

He would have to count on his friends being able to do it. They were strong. They would be able to manage this without him.

Another look, but by now he couldn’t see anything of the island but a vague smudge in the distance. It looked a lot like how the white blur in his mind felt. He shuddered and looked ahead again. If he could find a way to get that out…

If anything could get it out. Was there something stronger than the Light?

Juudai didn’t know. He wondered if he’d ever find out.

Saiou – or the Light of Ruin – stared in the direction Juudai vanished off into for several moments, before turning and walking deeper into the forest. The Light allowed more of Saiou’s mind to take back over. He would remember a bit of the encounter with Juudai, enough so that he’d not ask annoying questions, but not so much that he would cause trouble for the Light itself.

The awareness of the Light turned elsewhere, shifting and changing and twitching. In point of truth, it hadn’t expected Juudai to take up the offer. It would have been quite pleasant if he had; it wouldn’t have taken long at all to get to the serious business of destroying everything in sight, and keeping Juudai and Yubel both alive long enough to watch everything shiver into non existence.

But now Juudai had departed the island, and the Light made plans for his inevitable return. What it said about seeing the future through Saiou's eyes remained the absolute truth. Juudai would return and fight again, but the Light intended to destroy him, through one path or another. The future had been set, but the paths to reaching that future remained as uncountable as the stars themselves.

Saiou will deal with this. His Society of Light will get everything in readiness for when the fool returns.

Even without having lips, the Light smirked at that. Juudai was indeed a fool, whether or not he knew of his own true nature. He would learn far too late how much of a fool he was, and the Light so looked forward to that.

It wasn’t entirely impossible that Juudai could find a way to defeat Saiou. Many of those possible future paths led to such events. As for what came after that… that was what the Light chose to deal with now.

There was awareness. There was a flicker of a soul tied to the Gentle Darkness. The Light forever found this repugnant, but it would have to work with what it had, for now at least.

What the Light saw, if ‘saw’ was even the correct word for an entity that could regard all of creation at once, was a demonic arm floating inside of a slender tube. That tube provided nutrients to a degree – the energies that Yubel needed to survive and couldn’t get hold of at the moment without assistance. The arm flexed and shifted on occasion, full of Yubel’s indomitable will, forged into diamond hard perfection by pain and heartbreak and passion.

I’ve spoken to your beloved. The Light didn’t believe in beating around the bush, at least not when matters wouldn’t be served by doing so.

The moment that it spoke, Yubel’s awareness flickered towards it. Any human viewing would have seen little more than an arm moving around and a shimmer of pure white light. The shimmer expanded to take the arm in completely and the Light could see all of Yubel now, even the parts that no longer existed. Yubel’s essence: their soul stood there now.

“What are you talking about?” After all the years that they’d been together – though the Light knew well that Yubel didn’t think of it in any such was – Yubel still hadn’t wavered from their utter devotion to Juudai.

One thing the Light prided itself on was being quite patient. It had forever to work.

As I said. I spoke to your beloved. I asked if he wished to be with you again. The Light picked up a few human traits here and there, and copied others for the effect of it, or on occasion just for the raw amusement of it. Sometimes even the Light didn’t know which was which. He didn’t seem interested. In fact, he looked far more involved in dueling than anything else. I thought that you’d want to know.

Yubel’s eyes narrowed, a low hissing sort of growl erupting from the depths of their throat. “You lie!”

Do I? What would it serve me to lie about this? It’s as I’ve said all along – he doesn’t love you anymore. The Light sadly made a gesture that roughly analogized to shaking a human head. He didn’t even have your soulmate mark anymore. I suggested ways that he could recover it but it was as if he didn’t even know you or care about you. He didn’t even know your name.

What erupted out of Yubel’s throat weren’t coherent words in any sort of language. The Light stepped back as Yubel ranted and raved, swearing vengeance and demanding more information. For now, the Light would remain careful on what it told Yubel. Lies could be easily picked out and exposed for what they were. Truth, tailored especially to the proper needs, would be far more difficult to disclose.

What amused the Light most of all was how their plans for Juudai meshed well into one another. His friends would be his downfall, one way or another, and his love for Yubel would lead to the forging of the Light’s finest weapon against him.

The Light almost anticipated the defeat of Saiou, which would lead to the arrival of Yubel back into Juudai’s life. Seeing the look on his face when they crossed paths again…

Absolute bliss, and it hadn’t even happened yet. What a glorious future remained ahead of them.

Notes: Okay, one chapter to go. Third year. I might write something circling around season four in this world eventually, but I have so much else to do first.