#this is why dean being a blood donor is SO important

[shallowrambles]

You get a lot of hangups when you realize you need people SO BAD and there seems to be nothing tying to YOU

they don't seem to need you at all.

[radiorenjun]

my first and last || huang renjun

¤ pairing : huang renjun x reader

¤ genre : fluff, slight crack, major angst, romance, drama, slight fantasy! au, slight coming of age!au, first love!au, slight 1880s!au, adventure!au, painter!renjun x street singer!y/n. runaway!au

¤ synopsis :  Huang Renjun was born on the coldest day on earth, which causes his heart to be frozen solid, requiring a replacement. The makeshift Doctor, Madam Wendy, who provides midwifery and medical services to the poor and the desperate of Edinburgh, grafts a miniature cuckoo clock in order to save it.

However his newfound cuckoo clock heart was so fragile that it could end him in a terrible fate of death if he does not follow the three rules said doctor had provided for him. One of which was he must never fall in love. Do come and enter this adventure through Renjun’s eyes as he falls for a street singer who hates wearing glasses despite of her poor eyesight.

¤ warnings: character death, HEAVY angst, mentions of blood, loss of family member, reader has terrible eyesight and is painfully oblivious, Madam Wendy mentions about her abortion, maybe some swearing (do people even swear in the olden days?), historical inaccuracies is sexy, heartbreak, renjun is mentally exhausted, mentions of taking ones life (once), adults smoking, reader wears glasses at the end. shakespeare shaming because i have a grudge against that man. hISTORICAL INNACURACIES. Renjun gets slapped by Wendy once, renjun gets hypothermia. i feel like this was quite rushed idk

¤ word count : 29.2k

¤ heavily inspired by  La Mécanique du cœur (the movie, not the novel because I’m not that cruel)

¤ playlist: my everything - nct u, instagram - dean, wayo - bang yedam, francis forever - mitski mitski, anxiete - pomme, faded in my last song - nct u, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, moi cest - camelia jordana, my first and last - nct dream, beautiful time - nct dream, 

¤ a/n: special thanks to @lebrookestore​​ for making this sexy header

‘Love. What does that feel like?' Renjun would always wonder. 

As his paint brush strokes the canvas, eliciting a bright yellow mark on the object, Renjun continued to stare into his painting with a void of emotion. Whenever the occasional question 'what does it feel like to love or to be loved?' pops up in his mind, he would often furrow his brows and purse his lips in a small pout in confusion at the thought. 

Renjun didn't know what it felt like to love, for his caretaker, Madame Wendy, had always told him since he was a young boy that 'love is the last thing you need in this world, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal.' Renjun didn’t care much for the aspects of love. How can he fall in love when he doesn’t even know what love is? What does it feel like to feel love? How can you feel love?

If you take one small glance at Huang Renjun, you would instantly have the assumption that he was a rather cold-hearted, emotionless young boy. Eyes so icy cold and void of emotion, it could send shivers down your spine. Though, fortunately for everyone else, it was quite rare of the young boy to walk out of his home. Some might say that he would step out of his home ‘once in a blue moon’ or whenever the sun shone brightly over the old town, which was quite rare considering it had been raining frequently these past few months in Edinburgh, France.

However, what they didn’t know was that the reason behind his infrequent appearance was quite tragic. He was an unfortunate young boy, really. Only a few people have known this, but long long ago, a sudden harsh snowfall hit his town on the day he was born. It was recorded as the coldest day on earth, for the snow had frozen everything in its path including the poor boy’s heart. Quite literally, not figuratively. 

Renjun’s biological mother had journeyed through the cold town to the house up the steeple. Rumors say, the quote unquote ‘witch’ of the town, who specialized in the medical department with her own unique ways that left doctors skeptical and poor. From what his caretaker had told him, she was holding her belly throughout the long journey as she tried her best to endure the cold without slipping on the frozen concrete. Muttering how if she could, she would’ve kept her child in her tummy safe and sound from the cruel world. 

How she slipped and fell unconscious in front of his current caretaker’s house with her tears frozen on top of her cold cheeks, how she was brought in and taken in just in time to warm up to gain consciousness and go through the birth process. He remembered being told how the moment he was born, he had to undergo intense surgery immediately for he almost didn’t survive. He remembered being told that his heart had turned cold. 

“Cold, not Gold, Renjun. A heart made of ice. As in cubes not cream,” as his caretaker would say. 

Since donors weren't available at the time as it was already way past midnight, he needed surgery before his heart stopped beating under the hard exterior of the ice growing around his heart. Luckily for him, Madame Wendy had improvised one with her excellent expertise. She built a small clock the size of her palm that nearly covered his whole chest at the time. Considering she was known for being a witch in town, (even though she tried to explain a countless amount of times that she was a mere mechanic with a medical degree) she miraculously provided him with a fragile heart made from scratch. 

However, the night of his birth was also the night his mother had decided to leave him with Madame Wendy, convinced that she would make a better mother for Renjun that she could ever have. It was quite a tragic tale. However, Renjun didn’t think much of it. Nor did he feel any sort of upsetting emotions like longing, curiosity and sadness. Why would he? He doesn’t even remember what his biological mother had looked like. He doesn’t know how to feel anymore other than the faux happiness his mother had taught him how to feel to ease the numbing feeling in his hollow, ticking heart held nothing but dust. 

A heart that was purely made out of strong wood, cogs and screws. One that makes soft, calming tick tocks that goes along with the soft pitter patters of rain drops with every beat, one that makes cuckoo’s every time it’s arrow struck 12. One that needs winding every single day with a golden key his caretaker had provided him ever since he was born. One with ironically three rules that he should always follow on a day to day basis. 

-

“Recite those rules once again, Renjun,” she ordered as she buttons up her adoptive child’s white shirt up to his neck. “Do I have to? I’ve been reciting this for years now,” Renjun would whine, looking down at his mother’s loving hands as she flicked her forehead softly with a face void of emotion. “It’s for your own good, Renjun. I can’t have you forgetting something this important, you know very well that your life depends on these three rules.” She tugged on the collar of her child’s shirt down. 

“Before I let you run off to town with me, I prefer that your heart would be much stronger,” she swiped her fingers through Renjun’s hair, swefting it to the side to make it neat. “Every beat of your heart is a minor miracle. You’re a fragile piece of work, far more fragile than glass,” the older woman explained, laying her hands on the boy’s shoulder with a grim expression. “I know,” Renjun replied with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders to release tension in his body. 

He sighed again, the young boy looked up at the ceiling to avoid his mother’s cold stare. “Firstly, never touch the hands of my heart,” he began, letting out an annoyed sigh as he felt his mother tucking his small key into the pocket sewed on his chest. “Yes, what else?” Madame Wendy asked, kneeling down to look at the child in the eye. “Keep your temper under control,” they recited in unison with the same emotionless tone. 

“And the last one?” 

“Whatever I do, I must never ever fall in love.” 

“Indeed, that’s why I’m so scared of letting you into town. You haven’t experienced love yet so far in your life, it is very important that you stay that way,” she said, standing up on her feet as her hand returned to Renjun’s shoulder. “I know,” he mumbled once again, looking up at his caretaker’s eyes as if to hide the fact that he wasn’t listening a total hundred percent to what she was saying. “It could be the very death of you, Renjun. Your fragile heart won’t be able to stand the emotional, mental and physical shock provoked with the feeling of love,” she explained once again, a worried expression glossing over her face.

“I know, I know. You tell me that almost everyday,” he muttered, playing with the small buttons on the clock that is his own heart. “My heart is not a toy, therefore it is not to be played with.” he almost rolled his eyes at the older woman, feeling her smack his hand away from his heart softly. “It is something that I want you to take seriously, Renjun,” she hissed, eyeing the small mechanic artwork on the boy’s chest. “How can I even fall in love when I don’t know anything about love?” 

-

To Renjun, today was like any other day of the year. The sun shining brightly against his skin, the cloudy grey sky accenting the sky’s beauty. His hair gelled to the side to reveal some of his forehead and leaving a few strands of his hair to tickle his skin perfectly, his calloused hand gripping his 60 x 90 cm canvas and his large box of acrylic paints to his side, his favorite paintbrush hanging against the skin in between his ear and his fluffy short hair. 

Spinning one of his smaller paint brushes in his free hand, right between his fingers as he walked down the sidewalk of his home town, trying to find a spot to sit and paint. It was his birthday recently, so his mother had delightfully just bought a fresh new set of acrylic paints, considering he finished them on his last painting which was the majestic dove fountain in the middle of the town less than a month ago. 

Renjun was only ten years old when his caretaker took him out to wander around town, which was on his birthday. It was then when Renjun was hitting the age of thirteen when his caretaker’s worry lessened when she saw that her child was nowhere to the point of Cupid’s next target. Therefore those annual town visits turned into monthly visits (under his caretaker’s supervision, of course) and when Renjun had turned thirteen years old, he had shown an interest in painting and drawing in his free time while Madame Wendy was working with a patient.

However, love can strike at any moment. And by the time Renjun became sixteen years old, he was finally allowed to venture into the town himself to paint landscapes and buy more art supplies at least once a week with a 5-6 PM curfew. Nothing more, nothing less. Cupid was cunning, therefore she believed that this was the best she could do. Considering he was a teenager, she couldn’t protect him as easily as she could back when he was still an infant. And that was what she had feared the most in her life. 

Renjun sighed heavily, looking around with emotionless eyes, a cold frown forming upon his lips as he leaned his chin on his palm, his elbow supporting on his thigh and his other free hand holding the canvas on top of his legs. He wondered if there was more to life than work and oil paints, eyes wandering on the busy streets filled with the latest carriages and the latest transportation vehicles. He felt as if his life had gone by boring and aimless without knowing how to express his emotions properly. Is this what life has come to in his 16 years of living? 

16 years of being almost completely isolated from this town without knowing what his caretaker was so worried about. Madam Wendy had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Renjun had witnessed love from time to time in the streets, watching a couple of different genders walking down the streets with loving expressions on their faces. Renjun could not decipher why you would be feeling such emotions. He had been venturing around town freely with his strict curfews for almost four months now. And all he’s done so far is wander around looking for something interesting to be his next muse or visit the local library to read books. 

One of the books Renjun was absolutely fascinated on reading was this book the librarian had recommended to him on his first visit, ‘The Great Expectations’ by Charles Dickens. It was a small story of a young boy named Pip who went through amazing life changing experiences and going through hardships with his rather abusive sister, his blacksmith mentor and falling in love as well with a girl named Estella. (He would always snicker whenever she comes up in a scene as her adoptive parent, Ms Havisham, ironically reminded him too much of Madam Wendy) 

He often wondered if Madam Wendy’s strong dislike towards the aspects of love was merely because of his fragile condition or was it because of something deeper? However, looking back at when he found his caretaker’s family albums which were mainly pictures of her winning awards and bragging about her medical degree, he highly doubts it. (It was still fun to imagine theories while it lasted, though!)

“Ms Havisham stares at Pip coldly, and murmurs to the girl at her side: ‘Break his heart, Estella. Break his heart!’” Renjun read, his eyes moving as he read the brief summary at the back of his book. Looking down at the cuckoo clock heart hidden under his cardigan, he clicked his tongue before chuckling bitterly to himself. “‘Break his heart’, huh? What utter bonkers, you can’t break someone’s heart. That isn’t physically possible,” he shook his head in amusement, placing his book on top of the box of acrylic paints beside him.

Just as he was about to leave and head back home, a peculiar merry tune reached his ears, causing Renjun to pause in his step, looking around to find the source with furrowed brows. If this was like those small street cat sketches he would draw in his free time, it would seem like his ears perked up in slight interest. The merry tune turned on a bright spark inside of the young boy’s chest, curiosity growing in his veins at the tune he has never heard before. It was as if the angels above had descended to the earth while playing a symphony of flutes and harmonicas, making soft high pitched catchy tunes in the air. 

Renjun felt entranced by the music, it was almost as if it was pulling him- beckoning him to come towards it, towards its source. It was as if his feet had a mind of his own as he fought with his own rational thoughts to either go back home or find the source of the beautiful merry tune. He couldn't help but walk to where it's coming from, curious of who was making such a wonderful tune. Sooner than later, he found himself walking down a small alley that led him into a steep staircase that led him to another part of his town. And with every step he took, the music grew louder and louder. Soon, finding light at the end to see the small part of town he rarely visits.

He put his palm on the dirty brick wall, ignoring the uncomfortable texture against his skin, head poking out as he tried to decipher where the majestic music was coming from. Squinting his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight for the staircase was dim enough to be mistaken for a tunnel with the broken rooftops covering the ceiling, he took a step forward. His eyes widening slightly in awe as he watched a young man his age push away a stack of crates to reveal the true source of music. 

A young girl, who Renjun figures is around his age, was cranking up a barrel organ right in front of the fountain. A hand going in circular motions on the crank, twisting the lever as she pulls it clockwise. The hand on her hip was soon placed on her chest when the music went on, clearing her throat softly as she began to sing along and harmonize with the melody. 

Renjun stood still in his place, baffled at the daunting beauty presented before him. The girl standing a few meters away from him was singing along merrily to the tune of the phonograph record, cranking up the lever as the other townsfolk that was walking by began to gather around her, enjoying the harmony that goes along with her soothing voice and symphony of flutes and harmonicas being produced by the portable barrel organ. 

As he sat down on the last step of the staircase to listen from afar, he couldn't help but pay close attention to the lyrics coming out of her lips. His paintbrush spinning in between his fingers as his mind focused on the words of the intro, smiling idly as he began to understand the words she was trying to convey. 

My vision's not quite right

But glasses make me look a sight

Enough to give the world a fright, like a sprite wearing specs

Renjun couldn't help but tilt his head in confusion. 'A sprite wearing specs? What the hell was that supposed to mean?' he pondered to himself as he found himself sitting at the last step of the staircase, leaning his white canvas against the dusty brick walls before putting his palm against his cheek, his elbow supported right above his knees as he gazed in awe at the little singer. 

His pupils never moved away from the young girl who began to twirl around with her hands on her hips. And that girl was you. He watched as you danced and sang as if you were in your own little world, almost clumsily bumping into an old man carrying two heavy wooden crates in his arms. He chuckled at the sight, a soft smile stretching across his face as he watched the girl apologize for almost bumping into him, making Renjun realise that she might have some sort of blurred vision with how she was squinting at the older man. 

‘Or she might just be an idiot,’ Renjun thought with a deadpan expression, laying his chin on his hand as he let out a soft sigh. Renjun had been living in this town all his life, despite the fact that he rarely goes out of his own home. He’s sure that no one in this town would blast such a merry tune so shamelessly in public while dancing and singing around like a fool expressing themselves. And it was quite rare for someone to walk around with a barrel organ out of nowhere.

The music stopped midway when you let out a small yelp and clumsily tripped over your own feet as you turned to your barrel organ when the lever stopped turning, eliciting a soft giggle from Renjun. You let out a soft grunt, huffing as you ignored the slightly concerned looks of your audience. You stood up quickly, hands coming up to brush off the dust and debris off your skirt, tugging on your suspenders as you attempted to ignore the embarrassed red tint on your own cheeks as you tried to play it off as cool. 

Renjun couldn't help but giggle at the sight, his cold emotionless expression morphing into one filled with the slightest bit of amusement. Though, it quite took Renjun aback when he saw you turn your head from your barrel organ to his figure sitting a few meters away from where you were standing, turning your head rapidly to find the source, raising a brow when your eyes met Renjun's. He stopped laughing when your eyes met briefly, eyes widening in shock as he began to fidget in his place as you began to waddle over to him, dragging your barrel organ with you. 

Wait, were you going over to talk to him? How did you even acknowledge his existence? Did you hear him snicker at your silly antics? Even if you did, how could you even hear him with how busy your surroundings were?

You stood before him with hands on your hips, lips pursed at him. "What were you laughing at?" you asked, a slight pout adorning on your lips as you looked down at the boy who raised his brow. Renjun felt his words pile up in his throat, trying to think of something to say without offending or upsetting the girl before him, as his Seulgi and Irene (his caretaker’s weekly patients) had always told him that ‘once you anger a feisty lady, there’s no turning back!’. 

Now that you were standing only a few inches away from him, he couldn’t help but take a small moment to observe your appearance more clearly. Renjun's eyes couldn't help but wander towards your figure, examining your facial features in full detail. The way the sunlight reflected upon your pupils, how your figure stood out that he could barely decipher that other people were present around them. The way your dress framed your body, lips pursed with a slight pout, eyelids fluttering softly as you blinked at him as you were waiting for a response. Renjun wondered how someone could look this entrancing.

"Hello? Are you listening to me?!"

Renjun blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. His mouth opening as his pupils went back up to catch the intense glare that the girl in front of him was sending. He closed his mouth when he realized he didn't know what to say in response, his mind turning blank when he saw you quirked one of your eyebrows up suspiciously. "I don't- How can you even hear me laugh from such a distance?" Renjun's voice faltered nervously, trying to avoid your question, furrowing his brows.

Your expression lightened slightly at the nervous boy, a bright smile of your own stretching across her face. "Out of all of my five senses, my hearing has always been the best considering I don't rely much on my eyes," you shrugged, sitting beside him on the last step of the stairs. Stretching your legs out as you used your palms to smoothen your dress before crossing your arms on your thighs and turning your head to look at the boy. "I saw you staring at me from a distance, was I that good?" you smirked, raising a brow. 

“You saw me? I thought you said you can’t rely on your eyes that much?” he asked in a weak attempt to dodge your question once again. “I lied, some lady told me that you were staring at me even after this old thing gave up on me,” you huffed, kicking your foot lightly at the old barrel organ in front of you. “Stop dodging my question. I don’t want to assume that you were stalking me or something,” you turned your head back to the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, wiggling the finger in front of his face teasingly.

Renjun bit the inside of his cheek, a scowl forming on his lips as he rolled his eyes. "Don't get too cocky, I was just perplexed. I was baffled to see someone playing such a merry tune so shamelessly in this lousy, depressing town," he responded with a click of his tongue. "How so?" you asked, tilting your head in confusion at the boy before looking around at your surroundings. “This town doesn’t look that depressing to me. Just needed some lighting up, that’s all,” your positivity elicited another scoff from the boy.

Renjun turned to you, brows furrowed slightly, confused as to how you couldn’t see how this town was the literal epitome of the Great Depression itself. "You're not from here, are you? Come to think of it, I've never seen you around here before." Renjun asked with a curious expression, watching as a cheeky grin formed across your face. "You got me there." You let out a soft chuckle, shrugging shamelessly before gazing up at the cloudy grey sky. 

"My parents and I just moved in today. They told me to run off and go dilly dally-ing around town so as to not bother them as they set up the whole place,” you explained, nodding towards your barrel organ. “I think I made a great first impression as the new lady in town, don’t you think?” you asked, giving him a sweet smile, ignoring how Renjun gave you an affirming shake of his head to say ‘no’ bluntly. “Well I definitely knocked your socks off, didn’t I? That’s enough for me!” you exclaimed brightly, clasping your hands together. 

“You don’t even know me. I don’t even know you. And how would you know if I was moved by your oh-so-stupendous actions?” Renjun rolled his eyes sarcastically, gripping his canvas tightly as he spoke, looking down at his shoes. He had never spoken to someone his age before without being forced by his caretaker or having to meet them for the first time at Madam Wendy’s home. It was quite new for him to be talking to a lady as well, for most of them were too shy to even talk to the young lad for his cold glare struck shivers down their spine.

“The sound of your laugh was enough to convince me that my actions were indeed stupendous, good sir!” you shot back confidently, a proud smile on your face as you placed your hands on your knees. “Oh bother,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes once again at you, ignoring how the confusion he felt when the cogs and gears of his heart were speeding up in action. “I’m Y/n, by the way! It’s good to know I made a friend on my first day in Edinburgh. Perhaps my mini shameless performance wasn’t entirely fruitless!” you reached your hand out, gesturing for him to shake it.

Renjun looked at your hand for a brief moment, pupils gazing back up at your happy expression, raising a brow at you before sighing heavily. He pulled his hand from his canvas before leaning over to shake your hand gently, “Renjun. Huang Renjun,” he introduced, his tone emotionless. Your hand was warm and soft unlike his own dry ones. Your hand had small specks of dust, which he assumed were from the dusty lever of the barrel organ while his own was covered with dry acrylic paint from his previously wet canvas.

Upon the warm feeling surging through his body at the touch, he felt the tiny mechanical bird inside of his cuckoo clock heart burst out from his clock in response when his skin touched yours, the sharp wooden beak hitting the fabric of his jacket alarmingly. Thus making a small, almost inaudible ‘cuckoo’ that only Renjun (fortunately) heard.

"It’s lovely to be your acquaintance, Huang Renjun. Though, I must warn you, I might not be here for long. My family has been travelling from town to town for years, searching for something.” You told him, pulling your hand back to your side with a small shrug. “Searching? Searching for what exactly?” Renjun asked, watching your expression turned unreadable. You shrugged, leaning your cheek against your palm, your elbow supporting on your leg. “That’s the thing! I’m not quite sure, they won’t tell me.”

“A treasure chest, perhaps?” Renjun suggested, putting a hand on his chin in thought. “Perhaps so. Though, I’m searching for something myself, as well.  I haven't found it yet and I doubt I'm going to find it here." you sighed simply, leaning your head up to gaze at the cloudy sky. Eyes watching as the sun was barely visible due to the thick grey clouds layering over it, signalling that it might rain soon. 

"Well, what are you searching for exactly? Treasure? Money? Wealth is considered as a greedy sin in this town, so I don't think this is some place where you can find those." Renjun hummed, his hand going back to gripping his canvas as he felt the cogs and gears in his heart working faster than usual. Hell, he didn't know why he was so curious about this. This was none of his business, after all. This was your problem, why was he so keen on keeping the conversation going? Why was he so intrigued in a young foreign singer his age he’s just met?

You shook your head, sucking your lips into your mouth before pulling your bottom lip out in a pout. "I’m not a fool, Renjun. I'm not really interested in wealth or fortune. Though, telling you about my life goal appears to be too intimate for us, don’t you think? We just met after all. So all that I can say at the moment that what I’m searching for is for me to know and for you to find out," you send him a teasing smile, causing Renjun to frown and roll his eyes in annoyance, leaning back slightly before sending you a deadpan expression, 

"Does your extravagant search involve spectacles? You might look like you might need them, I know someone that could handle that," he mused, his lips quirking up into a teasing smirk, causing a frown to display on your face. A dead panned expression morphing on to your facial features. "I may have really terrible eyesight, but that isn't a way to talk to a lady, Renjun." you pressed your lips on to a thin line, rolling your eyes at the boy as you let out a soft laugh with a shake of your head. 

"Besides, I look terrible in them. As I said in my song, which I'm sure like all the other folks in this world that doesn't pay attention to the message I was trying to convey in my lyrics, it-"

"It makes quite a sight, enough to give the world a fright like a sprite wearing specs?"

You furrowed your brows as Renjun let out a sheepish smile with a raise of his eyebrow, teasing you as a baffled expression laid upon your features at his words. "You were saying, Y/n?" he mused, waving his hand, gesturing for you to continue with your words. Watching as your baffled expression morphed into an amused one. “Oh, that was quite charming of you, Huang,” you shot back with a flirty grin, causing the ticking of his heart to quicken against his chest, sending him small jolts of pain which he attempted to conceal with small chuckles.

"I’m surprised you were paying attention to my lyrics instead of enjoying my song like a normal human being," you huffed, pushing his face away with your palm against the side of his face, eliciting a small laugh from the boy beside you. "You really shouldn't play games with your sight though. They say a blurry vision will leave you in the dark," Renjun recited, remembering the words his caretaker had always said to him about the patients who come in their quarters using spectacles or glasses. 

You shrugged innocently. "I prefer life all a blur than to look horrendous for a living. You and your pretty face wouldn't understand. Also, I tend to forget my glasses frequently despite the fact that my parents’ constant nagging to bring them around," you , causing Renjun's jaw to drop at your bold statement. He has heard compliments about his dashing looks ever since he was a young boy from Madam Wendy’s relatives but ‘pretty’ wasn’t one of them, he should’ve brushed the compliment off and focus on the context of your words and stop acting as if he hadn’t been complimented before.

But however, something about this felt peculiarly different than the times where his family complimented him on his charming looks.

"Pretty? I haven’t heard that one before," Renjun spoke rather hesitantly, still quite bewildered that a woman his age had shamelessly complimented on his looks to his face. Yet again, said woman has a terrible eyesight so he couldn't be too sure that it was a compliment. You laughed, bumping your shoulder against his softly. "That’s the only thing you got out of my words? Are you an insecure lad, Huang?" you chuckled, giving him a slightly sheepish smile. “Are you sure you don’t need spectacles?” Renjun snapped back. 

"I’m just pushing your buttons! I assure you that even without my glasses. I can confirm that you are quite an attractive young man, and that’s saying something considering I’ve been travelling here and there for most of my life. I'm not as blind as a bat, you know." you giggled, clicking your tongue before adding on. "Besides, it won't make much of a difference, really. Even with or without glasses, I still see a very pretty boy," you joked, laughing lightly.

“Out of all the compliments you could’ve chosen, you decided upon the word ‘pretty’? Sounds quite feminine, don’t you think?” he asked, leaning his head to the side, looking at you with half lidded eyes. He realised that he didn’t mind being called pretty, he didn’t mind being complimented by you. Despite the fact that you two had just met. But he couldn’t help but wonder why you had decided to choose ‘pretty’ instead of the other synonyms of ‘attractive’. 

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing? I think pretty can be used for anything. It’s just a word after all, why do things have to be differentiated by the littlest of things? It’s just a synonym of ‘beautiful’,” you shrugged, watching as small raindrops started to pour down from the cloudy grey sky, reaching your hand out to feel the water drops hitting and wetting your skin slowly. Renjun raised his brow at you, perplexed at how you could be so nonchalant about your terrible eyesight considering his caretaker would endlessly bicker until he was forced to use spectacles until his eyes magically got better.

"What's that odd pitter patter?" you mumbled, snapping Renjun out of his thoughts once again. His eyes widened when he realised that the sound of his clock heart ticking had increased, blending well with the sound of the rain as water began to hit the surface of the concrete. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone other than close relatives about his fragile condition, so his anxiety spiked when you turned to look at him, expecting an answer. "It's the rain." Renjun replied after a moment, gulping down his nerves before turning to you. 

"Do you like the rain?" Renjun asked, gulping afterwards when he realised how your eyes softly bore into his with an unreadable expression, the eye contact making Renjun’s clock heart steam up a bit as the gears worked even faster than before. Sighing as you felt the cold breeze that comes with the rain send goosebumps across your skin, you rubbed your arms before looking back to the pouring rain. You shook your head, "getting wet? Not really."

"But the sound it makes? Yes. It always reminded me of how I used to play in the rain back when I was still in elementary school," you nodded with a soft smile. 

The sound of the church bell pierced your ears, making Renjun’s eyes go wide when he realised that the clock had struck 6 pm. Quickly, he got up to his feet, his brushes almost slipping out of his fingers as he stumbled to get onto his feet. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking up at him in confusion, furrowing your brows at the boy as he gulped nervously. “I’m fine, I shouldn’t be out this late,” Renjun shook his head, biting his lip nervously when he realized that the rain wasn’t going to halt anytime soon.

“I don’t think the rain is stopping anytime soon, I suggest you wait here momentarily if you don’t want to catch a cold,” you commented, standing up as well as you stretched your hand out once again to feel the raindrops hitting your palm, smiling softly at the nostalgic feeling that came with it. He clicked his tongue, cursing at himself for letting his curiosity get the best of him as he contemplated on running all the way back home soaking wet. He wouldn’t want to lose his new found freedom.

Muttering a small curse under his breath, he stuck his book under his canvas before hovering it over his head. “Are you going to run? It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” you exclaimed, eyes growing wide when you turned your head to see him taking a deep breath. “Pardon me, unlike you, I have curfews. My caretaker would have my head if I don’t go back home soon,” Renjun deadpanned, rolling his sleeves out as he felt shivers down his spine when the cold wind blew against his skin. 

Right before Renjun was about to take a step into the pouring rain, you grabbed on the sleeve of his shirt, holding him back. “Wait, when can we see each other again?” you asked, eyes boring holes into the back of his head. He paused, his cuckoo clock heart ticking loudly against his chest at the small action. He slowly turned back to you, furrowing his brows as he felt the small machine heat up against his skin, causing him to wince slightly. Noticing his small reaction, you quickly dropped your hand, apologizing abruptly before clasping your hands before your hand. 

“It’s just- I haven’t been in this town for very long and I really need a friend beside me. I’m not quite fond of being alone. I know we just met, but I hope that we could be acquaintances at least?” you grinned up, your bright smile sending ominous effects to his heart as he took a moment to process your words. Renjun started at your bright expression, small steam coming out continuously from his mechanical heart as the seconds went by. His eyes dart from the rain before back to your figure standing right in front of him, waiting for his answer. 

‘Acquaintances?’ 

Renjun has never had friends before. His caretaker would introduce him to her client’s children from time to time but (luckily for Madame Wendy) he had never shown an interest in making colleagues.  But for some reason, something inside him was pulling him to say yes to you. Something inside of him wanted him to try and get to know you even more. It felt wrong. It felt very wrong. But yet again, it felt so right. 

Biting his lip, he gave you a soft smile. 

“I have faith that we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”

-

“I just think it’s quite preposterous!” you exclaimed as you laid down against the smooth surface of the fountain basin. Renjun chuckled, pressing his paintbrush gently against his wooden palette to get bits of his white paint to add more details to his painting. 

It's been a couple months since the day you met, and since then, you two have been growing closer by the day. Your friendship blossomed as the weeks went by. Madam Wendy wasn’t very fond when Renjun came home soaking wet after curfew, but she excused his actions when he told her that he just lost track of time at the library once again. A rare occurrence but it still happens from time to time, and considering Renjun barely lies to his caretaker, she believed him when he told her so.

Every once a week, the two of you would meet up on the same exact spot as the day you first laid eyes on each other. Renjun assumed that your house was closer considering you were always there first, twisting the crank of your barrel organ, kicking your feet as you sat on the fountain base to wait for him to arrive in your usual dark magenta dress (which he assumed to be the uniform of the school you were attending). The two of you would always walk around town, searching for spots to relax yourselves and talk about random things as you watch Renjun paint whatever that catches his eye. Overall enjoying each other’s company as if the two of you were in your own personal little bubble. 

“What’s so preposterous about the infamous Romeo and Juliet, exactly?” Renjun asked, chuckling as he dabbed the brush on the canvas, blending the colours of the sky on his artwork. You clasped your hands together, huffing as you scoffed at him. “Ever since my school made us all read Romeo and Juliet for the next literature exam, I just realise how horrible this trope is,” you tossed your book to the floor with a click of your tongue, hopping off of the fountain to walk closer to Renjun. 

“Do explain why you think so,” Renjun giggled, watching you dip your finger against the white paint on his palette and kneeling down to smear it against the title on the front cover of your book with a frown on your face. “Why are the females always quote unquote ‘damsels in distress’? It’s very misogynistic if you ask me!” you tsked, grabbing your book and leaning forward to show Renjun the front cover of the book. “Mister Shakespeare was truly a legendary fellow to create a piece of writing this famous, but why use poor unsuspecting 14 year old Romeo and Juliet as the female protagonist?” you complained.

“Why couldn’t it be ‘Romeo romeo, let down your hair!’ instead of ‘romeo romeo, where art thou?” It seems a bit more fair to me,” you joked, causing Renjun to furrow his brows at you. “It might be quite improper for a boy to have tremendously long hair, y/n,” he had to lay the back of his hand against his chest in an attempt to calm down his mechanic heart, feeling it heat up against his skin as he noticed how close the proximity between you were. You scoffed at the boy before you, standing up straight and letting the book hand in between your fingers.

Putting your hands on your hips, you walked in front of him, covering his view of the town. “Well it doesn’t give Mister Shakespeare a reason to give the story an unhappy ending. The despair it brings when you found out they both died in the end? Absolutely preposterous, why would anyone like books with such unhappy endings?” you added on, poking your book with a scrunched up expression, bringing a smile upon Renjun’s lips as he found your figure poking the book in your hands as endearing as watching an small innocent child playing with their own food. 

He sucked in his lip, taking a moment to admire your beautiful form. The gears in his mechanical clock worked faster as his eyes wandered to your slightly pouting soft lips, wondering how soft it would feel against his own. He cleared his throat when he felt a sharp pain scorching through his chest when he realised he was starting to imagine things, patting his chest softly as he tried to bite back a smile. 

“Maybe you just haven’t read true masterpieces,” Renjun responded after a pregnant pause, opening his little bag and pulling out the novel he’s been obsessed with for the past few months, placing it in your palms. “Read this, you can thank me later,” Renjun smiled, patting the book in your hands with a light chuckle, looking up into your eyes for a brief moment before looking back at his canvas. For he feared that if he stared into them any longer, he would simply get lost in your eyes for ages, wincing silently when his chest started to ache. 

“‘The Great Expectations’? This sounds like those tedious books my parents keep on their shelf,” you raised your brow, sitting down on the fountain again as you began to observe the book in your palms, squinting your eyes at the summary written at the back cover of the book. “‘Break his heart, Estella! Break his heart!’ That sounds so cruel of her to break an innocent boy’s heart,” you frowned, looking up at your friend with the adorable frown Renjun came to endear. 

Renjun laughed, shrugging simply as he went back to painting. His fingers twitching against the brush as he coloured white clouds on his piece, feeling your eyes curiously on his content form. “You didn’t want the female protagonist to be the damsel in distress, did you? I just simply gave you what you asked for,” Renjun shrugged, feeling his heart do somersaults as you let out a loud huff of breath, scooching closer towards him so you can begin reading the book. “I suppose so,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Do you carry books like this around with you as you paint or are you a magician who can pull out rabbits out of that bag of yours as well?” you asked jokingly, pulling the cover open and flipping to the first page. “I-Wait hold on, a magician as well?” he furrowed his brows at you, turning his head towards you and leaning his head to the side in confusion. You shot your head up, giving him a bright expression as you nodded eagerly. 

“You might have half of the town convinced that you’re some cold hearted teenager living with the ‘witch’ or the makeshift doctor, as you would like to say, but you can’t fool me, mister! We may have known each other for less than a few months but I know for a fact that you are a magician!” you pointed an accusatory finger at him, wiggling your index finger around, your fingertip hovering right above his nose before poking it with a small ‘boop; coming from your mouth. 

He furrowed his brows, gently pushing your hand away from his face with a raised brow. “Do you mind explaining why you have come to that conclusion?” Renjun asked, an amused expression spreading across his features as he dropped his brush into the cup of water set right beside him before crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back slightly. You grinned, “you’re one of the few people I’ve ever known who can paint so majestically. Have you seen your own paintings, Mister Huang Renjun?” you exclaimed, giving him a wide smile as you threw your arms up in the air. 

He chuckled, adjusting the beret on top of his head. “You don’t know many people, y/n,” he commented with a small smirk on his lips. “Let me finish before I usurp you, Huang,” you frowned, furrowing your brows and squinting your eyes threateningly at him. “I doubt that you even know what usurped means,” Renjun chuckled, shaking his head profusely at you. “Don’t doubt my low vocabulary, Renjun,” you crossed your hands, letting his book lay on your lap as he let out a soft laugh. 

“Alright, what are you going to usurp me from exactly?” he asked smugly, raising a brow at you. “That’s not the point of this conversation, what I’m saying is that you and your aesthetically pleasing art skills are magical!” you shot back in a snappy tone, avoiding the fact that you used a word that you don’t entirely know the meaning of. (considering you only heard it from your mother when she was talking to someone on the phone every morning whenever your father was off at work)  

He swore he could feel the ticking of his tock stop for a few seconds at your words. “Pardon?” he spluttered, putting his hand on his chest once again as he felt the gears in his cuckoo clock turn rapidly against his chest. “The way you carefully apply to each and every detail on every crevice of your canvas is like magic, the way you know how much paint you should apply to get just the right colours and the way you focus on shading or blending the paints together to achieve the small shadows or to adjust the lighting of the painting is just-” 

You paused before letting out a loud groan, “superb! I can’t even find the words on how to explain your magical abilities, the simplest way I can put it in my own way is that you are equivalent to a magician!” you waved your hands around at the canvas in front of the two of you, your eyes going wide in awe as you stared at the half finished piece as if it was the first time you had seen a rare jewel in person. 

Renjun’s jaw dropped as he couldn’t find the words to express how flustered he felt. However, the way his cuckoo clock began to steam up was another completely different thing. He couldn’t help but look down shy at his own paint stained hands, wondering how you could find awe in something as messy as his artwork. “And it is an absolute crime knowing that you aren’t some kind of world wide painter, your paintings are absolutely beautiful!” you exclaimed, smiling up at him as Renjun stared wordlessly into your eyes. 

He couldn’t help but notice how close you have gotten when you began on your unceremonious ramble about his art skills, he couldn’t stop his eyes from darting up your eyes and down to your plump lips. Gulping silently, he scooched back a little bit, gripping the sleeves of his button up shirt tightly as he tried to take the ticking of his heart against his ears, a fuzzy feeling overcoming the slight jolting pain in his chest as he did so.

He watched your eyes go wide at his actions, realizing that you moved too far. “Oh crumbs!” you exclaimed, taking a large step back as you realised the close proximity between you attracted attention from the people around you, eyes watching you like a hawk. Some held disgust to see two teenagers of the opposite gender oh-so-close to each other as if they were going to share a sweet kiss. Some held awe in them, adoring the sight of the two flustered beings cozying up to each other like that. Some held shock as they had never seen the mysterious cold hearted boy who lived in the little house on the steeple that close to someone before.

“I’m so so sorry!” you rambled, feeling your chest swell up as you grew flustered by your own actions. “I didn’t mean to get over excited! It’s just that I was so happy to talk about your art knowing how you don’t think much of it but I just really adore your art and the way you paint- oh god that sounds very inappropriate of me to say. What I meant was-” your short nervous ramblings were cut off when you heard Renjun’s laughter filling your ears, the angelic sound sending warm feelings into your heart. 

“Pardon me for laughing, but that really caught me off guard,” he threw his head back laughing, his cheeks flushing red from laughing too much as he held his stomach, wiping his tears afterward. Your jaw dropped at his amused laughter, embarrassment overcoming your nerves as you huffed angrily at him. “You absolute jerk, I thought I did something wrong and invaded your personal space or made you uncomfortable!” you exclaimed, putting your hands on your hips angrily, only eliciting even more laughter from the sweet boy. 

“It’s really endearing that you find my art that interesting, you really did catch me off guard with your little outburst,” he chuckled, lifting his beret off of his head before running his free hand over his hair, putting the beret back on his head afterwards. You couldn’t deny how pretty he looked with that beret, but of course, you weren’t going to admit it (again) for the sake of your own pride. “I was just expressing my opinions like a normal person, you didn’t have to laugh at me like that, you know,” you crossed your arms against your chest. 

“I wasn’t laughing at your outburst, I can promise you that!” he exclaimed, shaking his head at you, ignoring the searing pain in his chest as he stared lovingly at you. You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t help but notice the slightly sad glint on his pupils, but you chose not to ask about it, focusing on the topic at hand. “Then what were you laughing at exactly, Huang Renjun?” you asked, furrowing your brows at the brown haired boy, who smiled sweetly at you. Leaning his chin against his palm, elbow supported on his thigh. 

“I couldn’t help but laugh at how sweet you looked while talking about the things I do in front of you as if I were moving the sun and moon with my own bare hands.”

-

“You know you have a lovely smile.”

Renjun looked up from his book in alarm, eyes wide at your sudden bluntness. “Excuse me?” he coughed, releasing one hand from the book cover to lay it against the rough surface of his clock heart hidden underneath his coat. “I really like your smile,” you gave him a tight lipped smile, putting the Great Expectations book on the desk you were sitting before laying your hands over the other, placing your chin on top of them before gazing up at him with an innocent shrug. “You’re being quite expressive today,” Renjun chuckled, looking at you with a perplexed expression, his brows furrowed as he kept his hand against his heart, suppressing the little bird inside from letting out a loud ‘cuckoo!’. 

“I don’t like to lie, you know that, Renjun,” you pouted, raising your head up to give him a knowing look. Sitting up straight, Renjun shot you a boyish smile, looking back down at his book. “Why, thank you. That’s quite flattering,” Renjun chuckled, burying his nose in his book in a futile attempt to hide how flustered he felt. Putting the back of his hand against his mouth, he coughed to clear his throat before removing his hand and putting it on his nape to scratch on it nervously. “How are you liking the book so far?”

Renjun cringed at the slight waver in his tone, biting back his tongue as he heard you let out a small hum. “So far, it’s pretty engrossing. It perfectly depicts the image of a young male protagonist losing his child-like innocence through heartbreak and hardship,” you clicked your tongue, folding the corner of the page you were reading before flipping through the other pages to see how many you have left to read. “A compelling coming of age story,” you nodded with a slight shrug. 

“Though, I still don’t understand why you recommended me this book,” you closed the book and placed it back down on the desk, furrowing your brows in curiosity. Renjun gave you a sheepish grin, shrugging as he went back to his own book before replying with a, “you’ll find out once you finish the book,” under his breath. You huffed in response, leaning your forehead against the hardcover of the book, letting out a dramatic sigh. He let out a silent smile, adjusting his glasses as he continued to read the last paragraph of his own book. 

Your eyes glared holes into his head as if he was going to tell you if you glared at him long enough, but you realised that he was back into his own little world now that he was fully immersed into the plot. Your eyes wandered back to the canvas on top of the desk right beside him, his set of acrylic paints and brushes gathered up into a small pile. He had just finished his latest painting of the statue of the founder of this boring town, his artwork never failed to awe you. 

“When I finally manage to finish the book, will you give me one of your artworks free of charge?” you piped up, outstretching your hand as you poked the canvas, trying to pull the large object towards you with a single fingertip in futility. Ever since you started spending your time watching Renjun paint while he listened to you rambling, you had often asked him to draw something for you for free. In which he would always reply with a brief ‘buy your own, acrylics are immensely expensive.’ before rolling his eyes and going back to painting. 

He wasn’t completely wrong. Madam Wendy always grumbled on how paint prices are constantly increasing as time goes on. And whenever Renjun would make a quick trip to the art store just to buy another bottle of white paint, he would always suppress the urge to sigh heavily in front of the kind store owner who would grin innocently (despite the fact that they know full well that they were being absolute gooses for increasing the price as Renjun was going to buy their products nonetheless.)

However it came as a shock to the both of you when he muttered a small ‘fine’ under his breath. Eyes blowing wide as Renjun slowly looked up from his book and eerily turned to you, right before he could open his mouth to retract his words, you shot up to your feet. Catching the boy off guard as you leaned over to cover his mouth with your hands. “No! You are not taking that statement back!” you exclaimed, shaking your head aggressively as you gave him a wide mischievous smile. 

Renjun furrowed his brows, eyes glaring daggers at you to let him go despite the fact that his gears were turning at a rapid speed at the feeling of your skin against his lips. “I’m not letting go unless you say yes,” you mused in a melodious tone, earning a shake of his head in response as he continued to send you his typical cold stare.

Renjun always had a really mean resting face, his eyes always managed to send cold shivers down everyones’ spines. However, there was something comforting in the way he looked at you. A familiar warm feeling blooming in your chest whenever he turned his head to look at you, even though his eyes barely held any emotion, even though his small chuckles and laughs held no genuine happiness in them, you couldn’t help but let a fuzzy feeling grow inside of your stomach. It was exhilarating.

“Come on, you probably have billions of canvases somewhere in town. Giving one away to your dearest friend shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” you whined, still refusing to remove your hand from his lips. He was internally enjoying the close proximity between you, but as the seconds went on, he knew his clock heart was going to burst out of his chest if he didn’t do something. With a small curse in his mind, he pulled your hand away from his mouth. “I would if you paid me. But considering you are currently penniless, I have to politely decline,” Renjun snickered, giving you a disgusted expression as he felt the heat around his mouth disappear into thin air. 

You frowned, pursing your lips as you sat back down on your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “How could you do this to your most beloved friend?” you mumbled under your breath, loud enough for him to hear as you kicked one of the legs of the table in front of you childishly. Renjun chuckled, “‘Beloved’ isn’t even a word I would use to describe your existence.” Now it was your turn to glare daggers into his skull. “You’re incredibly mean, it’s almost bonkers,” you scoffed. 

“I know,” he shrugged casually, pulling his chair back to stand up. “Now if you excuse me, I would like to wash up to remove whatever bacteria you have oh-so-unceremoniously blessed upon my skin,” he bowed, pushing the chair back in the table as he tugged on the cuffs of his coat, giving you a small grin. “My hands are squeaky clean, excuse me!” you retorted, putting a hand on your chest in faux offense. “Keep telling yourself that, Y/n,” he nodded, abruptly walking towards the washroom at the back of the library with a hand on his chest as the effects of his emotions finally took place inside his mechanical ticking heart. 

As soon as Renjun turned to a corner, out of your line of vision, his whole body started twitching in pain. With a shaky hand he pulled back his coat to reveal the state of his clock. The hands of his clock were turning at a rapid speed, the small bird popping out of the clock and letting out a small ‘cuckoo!’. It was steaming up. Smoke was coming out of the contraption as if it was caught on fire. He felt like his chest was on fire. Renjun leaned his back against the wall, shakily blowing the smoke away and fanning it away softly with his hand. 

What’s happening to him? 

This has never happened before. What was happening to him? Why was he in so much pain? Why couldn’t he call out for help? Why couldn’t he make any sound?

Renjun wanted to cry out in pain, his body twitched as the tiny mechanical bird popped out of his clock with a loud ‘cuckoo!’. He gasped, patting his hands around his pockets for the key to his mechanical heart. He could hear the alarming ticking sounds of his clock with every second that went by, warning him something’s going to happen if nothing is done to stop this pain as he twitched in pain once again, clutching the clock with one hand, he felt something inside the pocket of his shirt. With a small grunt of pain, he fished out the small golden key inside. 

He pulled his hand away from his clock, gasping for breath as the pain in his chest increased with every tick of his heart. He plunged the key into the small hole connecting the arrows of the clock, quickly turning it counter clockwise as the pain started to lessen. Once the pain subsided, he dropped his hand to his sides, panting in exhaustion as his eyes blew wide with fear, his gears were working at their usual pace once again. His chest felt numb, a small throbbing pain lingering somewhere inside of him. 

‘What the hell was that?’ 

His eyes were glossy as he felt his emotions overwhelm his mind. His heart felt like it was going through a spin, as if the big hand of his core was going to pop out of his skin. His bones felt weak, as if it was about to implode at any second. The cogs and springs in his clock felt like they were about to explode. 

The loud alarming ticking in his ears made him wonder if he didn’t pull out the key in time, would his cuckoo clock heart halt for good?

-

“I’ll be off now, Wendy,” Renjun announced as he hopped down the stairs eagerly, gripping his fresh, new, empty canvas to his sides with one hand and spinning one of his brushes in between the fingers of the other. “Oh, you seem in a bit of a hurry, Renjun,” a familiar voice cooed teasingly, her words followed by another giggle. Renjun paused in his step, mustering up the energy to form a small smile as he looked up at the two women giggling at him. “Good morning, Joy. Good morning, Yeri,” he greeted with a polite bow. 

Joy and Yeri weren’t related in any way to Madam Wendy, but they are regular patients who would drop by weekly. And as far as he knew, they were one of the very few people who knew about his fragile condition (which is probably why they visit so often). “You look brighter than usual, what’s gotten you in such a rush, young lad?” Yeri grinned, sipping on her tea as she crossed her leg over the other with raised eyebrows. 

“It’s just a small trip to town, I need to buy more acrylics as well,” Renjun lied through his teeth, feeling the gears in his heart work faster at the thought of meeting you at your usual spot. “You haven’t had breakfast yet, Renjun,” Wendy spoke up, attracting the attention of the three in the room with pancakes stacked on three individual plates. “Do sit down! It’s been quite a while since you had a chit chat with your lovely aunts!” Joy giggled, patting the extra seat beside her before looking at her friend, who nodded in agreement. 

“I really shouldn’t interrupt-” 

“Renjun, go sit down,” Madam Wendy coaxed, placing a hand on his shoulder and nodding towards the empty spot on the sofa. Renjun looked back at his caretaker before sighing heavily, placing his canvas and brushes on the table near the entrance door and walking to sit on the empty spot the women had saved for him. “I’ll be upstairs cleaning up, if you need me,” his caretaker informed before exiting the living room, leaving her adopted son with the other two women in the room. 

“Okay, she’s gone!” Yeri exclaimed in a rather quiet tone before grabbing her fork and looking back at the teenager sitting beside them. “So how are you, honey? I just realised we didn’t even get to greet you last week considering you’ve been so busy lately,” Yeri hummed, shoving a spoonful of pancakes into her mouth as she spared a glance at Renjun. “Indeed! I assume you found something interesting in your great adventure in the outside world,” Joy giggled with an enthusiastic nod, causing Renjun’s eyes to widen. 

Renjun let out a small chuckle. “You two make it sound as if I was a protagonist of some weird story,” he mused, digging into his own stack of pancakes as he felt a warm feeling in his stomach at the memory of the day you first met. “Don’t beat around the bush and tell us!” Joy rolled her eyes at the younger boy, grabbing her cup of tea and pulling it to her lips. “How was this great adventure you’ve discovered?” she asked, her eyes flickering from her tea to Renjun briefly. 

Renjun bit his lip, scanning the room to ensure that Madam Wendy was nowhere in sight. He knew he could trust these two, considering the countless times he’s gotten away with his lies and rants. He bit his lip, glancing down at his hands nervously before giving his aunts a genuine smile. “It was fabulous,” he sighed dreamily, a sheepishly wide smile stretching across his lips as he took another bashful bite of his pancakes. “Tell all! Tell all! Don’t miss any details!” Yeri squealed. 

“What made it all so fabulous?” Joy whispered, her eyes peering curiously at the boy who appeared to be in a dreamy state. “A little singer with glasses which she won’t wear,” he replied almost instantly without any hesitation, a little bit too fast for his liking. “She isn’t all that, is she?” Yeri gasped, leaning back slightly in shock to hear her little Renjun was talking about someone and not something. 

He shot up, straightening his back as he dropped his fork on his plate with a shake of his head. “She is! She really is!” Renjun nodded eagerly, his hands coming up to make grand gestures as he continued on with his words. “She reminds me of a… sparrow! Perched up on the toppest tree branch in it’s tiny little feet, it gives her this calming fragile aura like a twig falling off of a branch. Her voice- her singing is like listening to a nightingale singing a bird song but with words! Or those soothing musical numbers they would always play in the telly after a good show has ended,” Renjun described, his eyes filled with stars and his heart filled with passion. 

The two shared knowing looks, bewildered at how dazed the boy in front of them truly was at that moment. “And her smile it’s like a work of art! Far greater than all of my masterpieces combined, far greater than the artwork displayed on museums! Her laughter makes her seem so miniscule, I could hardly believe that such a light heartening sound could be elicited from a human being!” Renjun went on, his smile wide as he leaned back at the thought of your smile which made his stomach do somersaults. 

“Oh Renjun, I bet that once she catches the flu, you’ll change your mind. Whenever women like those who catch the flu, they cough up a storm and sneeze like a steam truck,” Yeri joked, earning a brief frown from Renjun who scoffed in response. “Oh nonsense! I bet if she does, it would sound like a majestic flute found in the mountains!” Renjun waved his hand off with a roll of his eyes in disbelief.

The two women laughed in response, shaking a knowing look. “So basically, to sum everything up. You went to town and instead of catching the flu, you caught a bug in town, you young lad!” Yeri raised her eyebrow suggestively at the boy, indicating that he’s very much caught the love-bug she’s always ranted about on a daily basis. “Oh deary!” Joy gasped before letting out another fit of giggles, cupping her mouth to ensure that her giggles weren’t loud enough for Madam Wendy to hear. 

“You know it’s forbidden,” Yeri lectured, her tone turning serious when she realised that Renjun was actually serious about this. “For-bid-den!” Joy emphasized with every wave of her finger with a disappointing shake of her head. “I know,” Renjun sighed, a frown forming at his lips as he sunk back against the seat he was sitting on, leaning his head back sadly. “It’s for your own good, you know,” Joy smiled sadly, sympathy lacing her tone as she patted the boy’s head comfortingly. 

“Indeed. Oh deary, I wish I could live without love,” Yeri sighed, pulling out a mirror from her purse to reapply her lipstick. “Oh no, here we go again,” Renjun chuckled, sitting up straight once again as he prepared himself for another sad tragic love story his aunt has to offer. “Every day, every time I fall in love with a patient here or a man, they would always fall for some other girl!” Yeri ranted with a heavy sigh, smacking her lips together to get an even coating on her lips. “I am not letting Renjun listen to another one of your sob stories!” Joy huffed, leaning over to cup Renjun’s ears with her palms. 

“You might taint the poor boy with your bad luck with love!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t my condition a symbol of this bad luck?” Renjun chuckled, gently tugging on the older woman's wrists to remove her palms away from his ear. “Oh hush you, I’m sure you’ll get over this little infatuation you have with this little singer,” Yeri waved her hand off nonchalantly, huffing slightly. “It’s not like you see her every day of the week, you’ll get over it in no time!” she added with an encouraging hum, watching as Joy nodded with her in agreement. 

Renjun bit his lip, biting back his tongue as he continued to shove pancakes into his mouth as quickly as possible. At that moment, Madam Wendy finally came down with a key in her hand. “Renjun, I’ve always told you to bring your key wherever you go. Why won’t you ever take my words to heart?” Wendy sighed, handing the key to his mechanic heart to the young boy, who gulped slightly and mumbled a small apology under his breath before tucking his key in his front pocket. 

He couldn’t help but shiver as the memory of him having a near death experience flashed through his mind, the image of the key plunging into his heart and winding it up to lessen the pain he endured had traumatized him. He was terrified of it happening again. He was terrified of what’s becoming of him. Was this the effects of falling in love? Was he falling in love with you? He hasn’t even known you for very long, he couldn’t possibly fall for you in such a short time.

Besides, why does falling in love feel so good but hurt so bad?

-

“So how was the book I lent you?” Renjun asked in an attempt to spark up a conversation. “Quite interesting, though, I’m not quite sure that I’ll finish it any time soon. I like to focus deep into the depths of the story, fully imagine the characters emotions and thoughts,” you exclaimed, pushing your organ barrel beside the tree Renjun was leaning against, sitting down beside him under the shade and crossing your legs, tugging the edges of your dress over your knees. You dusted the bits of dirt off of the fabric on your dress. 

“I understand, it’s the thought process, right?” Renjun nodded, flipping a page of his book as he hummed. “Indeed! Though, I can’t quite get the gist of why Ms Havisham is so devoted to making Estella break Pip’s heart. She should’ve just left the poor girl alone, besides, I really don’t want to see the poor boy heartbroken,” you frowned, clicking your tongue in thought. “I despise Pip’s sister, as well,” you added with an innocent smile. 

Renjun let out an amused chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a rather insufferable character, isn’t she?” he nodded in agreement, remembering how heartless Pip’s older sister was when it came to Pip and her own husband before she passed away in the book. “She’s exactly what my mother would consider as a bitch,” you added on, pulling your glasses out from your purse with a small giggle, earning a loud gasp from the boy beside you.  “Y/n, language!” he gasped, pulling his book back to gaze at you with wide eyes. 

You giggled, mumbling a small apology before fidgeting with the frames of your glasses mindlessly. Renjun watched you play with your glasses from the corner of his eye, internally wondering why you have never worn them despite carrying them around in your purse everywhere you go. Furrowing his brows, he turned his head back to his book, biting back his tongue before shaking his head at himself.

“You know, you really shouldn’t play games with your sight if it leaves you in the dark, y/n,” Renjun deadpan, not sparing you a glance as he licked the tip of his thumb to flip a page from his new book. You huffed at your friend, fidgeting with your new spectacles in between your fingers as you rolled your eyes at the boy beside you. “How poetic,” you scoffed, earning a soft chuckle from Renjun. “I think I prefer life all a blur, thank you very much,” you added on with a snappy tone. 

“What does that even mean?” Renjun laughed lightly, putting his book down on his lap to turn to you with a soft expression on his face. “I keep forgetting to wear my glasses and now my eyes are blurry, I can’t even see the outline of my hand,” you stated, raising your free hand up above to the sky and squinted your eyes at it in an attempt to get a clearer vision of your hand that was merely a few inches away from you. “Your glasses are literally in your palms,” Renjun pointed out, nodding his head at the hand holding the glasses in question. 

You opened your mouth to speak, slowly putting your glasses in your little handbag behind you before clearing your throat. “As I said before, I forgot to wear my glasses,” you repeated, giving him a cheshire grin in response. “Jesus Christ, why do I even bother?” Renjun muttered under his breath with a shake of his head, “won’t your vision get worse the lesser you wear them?” he asked once again, rubbing his temples in distress. 

Humming in confirmation, you shrugged innocently before leaning back against the tree the two of you were sitting against. “Though, I believe it won’t get worse as long as I close my eyes. My vision won’t get worse if I don’t see, right? Besides, it feels good to close my eyes,” just as you finished your words, you clasped your hands on your lap, leaning your head back against the tree bark and closing your eyes before letting out a sigh of content. Renjun let out an annoyed puff of breath, “I don’t think that’s how it works.” 

Your content expression was enough to send fiery sparks into his mechanical heart, he could almost feel it steaming up again. He couldn’t help but notice how close you were next to him, as if he were to make one little scooch, your shoulders would be touching. His eyes wandered to your beautiful figure laying right beside him, internally suppressing the urge to clasp you close to his body in a tight embrace. Your soft lips causing his stomach to do somersaults the longer his gaze lingers there. He imagines that he would scatter confettis on the both of you if he were to press his own lips against yours in a kiss. 

His mind couldn’t help but wander back to those times where you had to walk up close to the signs to see what street the two of you were heading, the amount of times you had to squint and lean over the table to read whatever paragraph he was trying to show you during your reading sessions at the library. He felt this sudden urge to protect you, to constantly remind you to wear your glasses in case your vision worsened. 

There was something inside of him screaming at him to not let you stray away from the happy path you were currently in. Something inside of him made him determined to be your only guide, to be your pair of eyes. In return, he knew you would ignite the flame in his heart. No, you would be the special flame that burns his heart. You’d be a conflagration in the night. A pretty arsonist. A fire blazing so bright you’ll see the light of the heavens itself. 

“Oh why bother. You know very well, out of my five senses, my hearings best. I’m pretty sure I’ll recognize you without relying on my eyes,” you waved your hand off carelessly, keeping your eyes closed, oblivious to the way Renjun was looking at you so lovingly. “Well I assure you, I don’t think you can rely on your hearing to walk down the streets without my assistance,” Renjun chuckled, recalling the time when you almost walked into the wrong side of town due to your poor eyesight. 

“You don’t know that! My eyes always lead me astray, anyways. Far away down the street, sometimes I can’t bear to steal a glance at the sun or even look the sky straight in the eye for fear that my eyes would deceive me as well,” you confessed dramatically, finally opening your eyes and turning your head to look at Renjun in the eye. Your eyes widened at the way Renjun’s eyes softened at the sight of your own pupils staring back at his in confusion. You straighten up your position, putting your hands behind you and leaning on them. 

“Then let me be your eyes,” Renjun replied in an almost hushed tone. “I won’t let you stray, I promise,” he gave you a sweet boyish smile, making your heart flutter in your chest at his words. “Aren’t you being a little flirtatious? That’s quite unexpected of you, Huang Renjun,” you said with a raise of your brows as the corner of your lips quirked up into a smile that mirrored his own. You turned your head, feeling your faces grow closer and closer with every second. 

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” he hummed, turning his body so his shoulder was leaning against the tree bark, a dreamy smile stretched across his lips as he leaned closer to you. You chuckled, shaking your head softly. “I don’t know, what do you think? Maybe it could be a good thing?” you shrugged, closing your eyes and leaning your face closer to his. Renjun followed your actions, feeling the gears in his mechanical heart work at a fast pace. He winced in pain as his body jolted and twitched in pain, the mechanical bird inside of the clock rapidly hitting the door of his clock.

He felt your breath hitting against his face, your lips merely an inch away from his as his body twitched in pain once again. Letting out a grunt of pain, he felt one of the gears of his clock pop out of his chest. Putting his hands on his chest, he grunted once again as his body twitched uncontrollably in pain. There was the sound of fabric being ripped before his vision darkened and he fell back against the concrete floor, falling unconscious within a few seconds.

“Renjun!” a voice yelled out in alarm, causing your eyes to jolt open in shock. 

“Oh god, not this. Please, anything but this,” an unfamiliar voice gasped in a panic. Your vision was blurry, you couldn’t see much happening in front of you. You quickly fished out your spectacles from your purse, putting them on immediately before your eyes widened in fear and shock, your body froze on the spot. You could almost feel your heart stop beating against your chest for a moment. 

Right in front of you was an unconscious Huang Renjun in the arms of an older lady on the floor. He was leaning against her lap, arms wrapped around him tightly in a motherly way. His eyes closed in content, it almost appeared as if he was just sleeping peacefully. There was steam coming out of his chest, you couldn’t see where it was coming from considering the old lady had blocked your view of him almost completely as she pleaded for him to wake up worriedly. 

The lady in question snapped her head at you, glaring daggers at you as if you had committed some sort of arson. “What have you done to him?” she asked, her tone filled with malice and hatred. As if you were the cause of Renjun’s current state. Your eyes widened at her sharp tone, fear and anxiety creeping up in your veins as you couldn’t find the courage to even open your mouth, let alone utter a single word. You shakily got up to your feet, grabbing the strap of your purse before running off away from the two.

-

Slap!

The loud sound of Madam Wendy’s palm making contact with Renjun’s cheek pierced the room, causing his head to turn sideways at the harsh impact, wincing slightly as he laid against the chair, which was commonly used for Wendy’s patients, shirtless. His body jolted at the sudden contact, his heart making a loud ‘cuckoo’ sound at the shock it caused. “What were you thinking? You could’ve died!” Madam Wendy scolded, her fists balled up in her sides as she walked over to her table tray filled with tools. 

Renjun couldn’t speak as he looked down in his palms, his mind blank and face void of emotion. He felt numb at that exact moment, he didn’t know if it was the aftermath of the sheering pain he just endured in front of you or it was because of the feeling of his heart being fixed by his own caretaker. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Huang Renjun. Whatever bloody happened to rule number 3? Did you forget?” Madam Wendy exclaimed in an alarming tone, her voice strict and angry. “No,” Renjun replied before breaking into a small fit of coughs, wincing as his chest burned with every breath he took. 

“Do you have a pain in your heart when you cough?” Madam Wendy asked, her tone filled with worry, eyes filled with disappointment as she searched for a pair of pliers. Renjun nodded slowly in response, gripping the armrests of the chair as he leaned his head back against the pillow set behind his head. “Well multiply that pain and your suffering to a hundred fold and you still won’t understand the pain love causes,” she snapped, using some pliers to pull a piece of fabric from the arrows of his heart, placing the fabric on the small tray beside him before walking off to grab some more tools. 

“And the greater the love, the greater the pain,” she sighed, opening the drawers from across the room. Renjun’s eyes flickered to the woman frantically trying to fix his heart before his eyes moved down to the white fabric on the tray. He reached his arm out to grab it, quickly snucking it in his pockets before looking back at the window. During your near-kiss under the tree, the arrows of his clock must’ve pulled against the fabric of your dress. Your dress wasn’t made out of the most durable fabric, the pull must’ve ripped the top sleeve of your dress when he passed out. 

“First, your sense of ache, followed by pangs of rage and jealousy then incomprehension,” she started to explain, sipping on her coffee as Wendy’s heart ached at the thought of her own child going through that much pain if this goes on.  “Rejection, the agony of heartbreak,” she turned to point her tweezers that was holding a gear in between it with a strict motherly expression. One that Renjun couldn’t bear looking into for too long.

“Your mechanical heart won’t be able to withstand it, you know this! I told you countless times, this is why I’m always so worried whenever I let you go into town,” she barked, walking back to the tools to drop the rusted gear along with the other broken metals she pulled out and replaced from his heart. “It will overheat and explode, I transplanted it with my own two hands, therefore I know it’s limits,” she went on, her tone falling deaf onto Renjun’s ears as his mind wandered back to your figure. 

“A single kiss. A brush against your lips could be your last! Just like that, bang!”

With eyes closed in thought, he wondered what happened after he fell unconscious, how did Madam Wendy find him in such a short amount of time? What happened to you? Did he scare you when he fell unconscious? He was worried you’ll  be afraid to talk to him now. Did Wendy say anything mean to you while he was out cold on the concrete floor?

Oh god, your presence isn’t even here and your existence is entering his heart and filling it with flames as if you were a little fairy wandering around looking for a new home to live in. A home which is his heart. He couldn’t help but let out a small smile at the vivid memory of sitting so close to you under the shade, how his skin burns at the feeling of touching yours, how your smile and laughter gave colour to his emotionless dark world. Oh how the thought of you made Renjun feel as if he was floating. It was as if you were carrying him up into the sky, he felt like flying by your side. 

“Do you know why I saved your life?” a voice snapped him out of his daydreaming.

His eyes opened, head turning to his caretaker who took a seat next to him, gripping her gloves in her hands. “You were the son I never had,” she confessed, giving him a small comforting smile. “Why couldn’t you have one?” Renjun asked rather hesitantly, his voice almost hushed as if he was whispering, despite the fact that it was only the two of them in the room. Madam Wendy shrugged, sighing heavily. 

“It was no one’s fault. It’s one of those tricks love and nature plays on us, you know that more than anyone,” she chuckled, gesturing to the cuckoo clock heart on his naked chest. “Though, the day your mother gave you to me felt like it was heaven sent. Oh god, I would lose my mind and my reason for living if I lost you,” she reached over and ran her fingers through her child’s hair, making Renjun feel some sort of guilt deep down in his chest. 

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry I fell in love and I don’t know how to get out.

-

Madam Wendy finally allowed Renjun out of their home a month after the incident. For the whole thirty days he was prisoned in his home, all that wandered in his mind was you. He wanted to see you, he longed to hear your sardonic humor, he longed to hear your angelic laughter flowing through his ears like music. He longed to ask forgiveness of what had happened between the two of you under the tree.

He wondered if you harbored the same feelings for him as he does for you. He doubted you’d still feel the same after the incident, however, a part of him had hope that you would wait for him all this time. He tried to prove himself wrong as he ran around town to all of your favorite spots. The library, the fountain, the art store, the tree. Anywhere his mind took him, his feet didn’t stop moving. His feet couldn’t stop moving. 

He wanted to see you again. No, he needed to see you again. He needed to apologize to you to release the guilt in his heart. He didn’t care if his heart would explode right then and there, he needed to see you and he wanted to finally embrace you in his arms. He needed to know if you reciprocate his feelings, he needed to know if you longed for him as much as he longed for you this whole entire time. He never got your answer, either. He asked to be your eyes, he wanted to be your guide. He wanted to tell you to rely on him if you can’t rely on your eyes, he wanted to hold your hand to keep you from straying to the wrong path. He wanted to feel his lips brush against yours, he wanted to feel love. He wanted to feel loved by you.

His heart fell even more when he realised he couldn’t find you anywhere. No one knew where you went, no one has seen you since the day he fell unconscious. It was as if you had disappeared off of the surface of the earth. The only thing he had of you was the fabric he accidentally tore off of your dress. He realised you left your barrel organ ride beside the tree. It was already collecting dust as leaves fell in between the spaces of the organ. 

You were gone. 

The owner of the library informed him that you had fled abroad. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach at the thought of you running away. You didn’t even say goodbye. You didn’t even have the audacity to tell him you were leaving? Surely you would have informed him that you were leaving. Yet again, you did tell him on the first day you met that you weren’t supposed to stay here for too long. But was it too much of him to ask you to at least say goodbye?

-

Two years later, it was Renjun’s 18th birthday. Two years since he lost you, two years since he went back to the hollow shell he formerly was before he fell in love. He spent months wallowing in his own sorrow, he spent months wondering if you missed him the same way he missed you. He no longer looked forward to walking out of his home to paint, all he saw was grey. The places he spent with you made his vision dark and grey, it was as if the joy inside of him were stripped from his vision. 

He didn’t know what to do. His heart grew numb, he didn’t know how to make himself happy again. It was as if he had lost a part of himself. He had lost something precious. Which he did, he lost you. He didn’t know what to do. Yet, on a rare occasion, he would take small walks into town. 

Madam Wendy noticed how Renjun’s whole existence grew dull ever since that day, his eyes were always dark as if he hasn’t slept for centuries, a frown permanently placed on his lips, his movements weak as if he didn’t have the energy to move. At this point he admitted that he was barely living, he was just a human body existing with a cuckoo clock as a heart. His days were no longer as bright as they used to.

To Renjun, the days felt like it was repeating itself. He wasn’t allowed to go to school, for Madam Wendy feared that he would be made fun of and bullied by his peers. Everyday, he would wake up and wind up his heart, take a long shower, eat his breakfast, paint or read his books, occasionally talking to the patients who attempted to make small talk with him (however that wouldn’t last very long considering he had no interest whatsoever in interacting with strangers he barely knew), eat dinner, go to bed. Repeat. 

It was an exhausting cycle. His mind was growing dull. Whenever his mental health became worse, he would take a walk into town to clear his mind to try and lift his own spirits (despite the fact that he knew it’s futile. After all, he’s been trying this for the past two years.) Today was unfortunately one of those days. 

Renjun had decided to take a small visit to the library. He remembered how he had to apologize to the librarian for lending you the Great Expectations book when he remembered that you’ve never returned the book back to him. He still felt guilty despite the fact that the librarian didn’t mind it very much. The librarian lady took a liking to both you and Renjun, she thought the two of you would’ve ended up together if it weren’t for the fact that you had moved away without a goodbye.

But fortunately for Renjun, today was a different day. Today would be the day to end his miserable lifestyle. 

“Renjun! Renjun, my dear boy! How are you, honey?” the librarian greeted, putting a stack of books on the counter as Renjun entered the library with a bashful smile on his face. “Same as always, Mrs. Dust,” he bowed to greet the older lady politely, snucking his hands in his pockets after tugging on his coat. “Honey, I have lovely news for you! You remember your old friend, Miss Y/n, don’t you?” the lady giggled, walking over to the young adult with an eager smile on her face. 

Oh how Renjun’s heart perked up at the brief mention of your name. 

“Of course I do, Mrs. What about her?” he coughed, clearing his throat to prevent his voice from shaking. “I’ve received a letter from her! Oh hold on, dearie,” she giggled, squatting down to open the small drawer near her desk and pulling out a small postcard which had a familiar handwriting written on the back. “It must be your birthday soon. Happy birthday, my dear boy. The least I can do is give you this,” she smiled, handing Renjun the postcard with a hum. 

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Dust,” he smiled, gripping the postcard tightly in between his fingers as he looked down on it. It was indeed from you. You didn’t write much on the card, nothing more than a simple ‘happy birthday’ and a small ‘I missed you’. You had written your name at the edge of the card and a small ‘R’ beside the happy birthday, indicating that it was truly for him. Fireworks erupted in his stomach when he saw small hearts doodled all over the card with a red pen. 

You remembered him. 

You missed him. 

You thought of him.

Those words were enough to revive the spark in his heart. Those were enough to spread a bright genuine smile across his lips. His cheeks hurt from how wide his smile was, he felt like jumping for joy. He was so ecstatic he thought he could fly to the sky, he felt his fingers itching as his eyes wandered to the address you have written at the bottom of the postcard, giving him a hint of where you might be living. 

Andalusia. 

You were half across Europe. You were so far away, yet so close. He wanted to see you. He needed to see you. He couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, he needed to get a move on and he needed to find you. He thought sending you a postcard back wasn’t enough. He wanted to see the girl who managed to turn his heart without the key, he wanted to see the girl who produced a spark in his heart with only a few mere words.

He ran all the way back home, encountering Joy and Yeri on the way back and shooting them with an uncharacteristically bright smile stretched across his face. “Renjun, lad, what’s gotten you all jumpy?” Joy exclaimed, causing Renjun to stop in his tracks. “I got a letter from her!” he informed them, his voice high-pitched as if he just got told that he had personally won the sun, moon and stars all to himself. In his case, he actually did. He actually did.

“A letter?” Yeri squeaked up, a smile stretching across her face at the sight of the younger boy’s. “From who?” Joy asked, giggles bubbling up in between the two ladies as they watch Renjun suppress the urge to jump for joy. “Y/n! She remembers me! She sent me a postcard from Andalusia,” he exclaimed, waving the postcard in their faces. Joy’s eyes wandered down to Renjun’s chest, watching as the hands of his clock spun rapidly, indicating how excited the young adult was feeling. 

“Y/n? Was this the young girl you went on about a few years ago?” Yeri asked, receiving an enthusiastic nod from Renjun himself. “Renjun, that’s great news! What are you planning to do then? Write her another letter?” she asked once again, clasping her hands in front of her at the delightful news. The boy shook his head eagerly, his smile never faltering. 

“I’m going to find her, I’m going to find her and confess my love,” he breathed out, his own words taking his breath away. The thought of seeing you again was enough to send him flying into the heavens, oh for all things that’s holy, he didn’t know how he was going to proclaim his love for you in person when he could barely explain it in words himself.

“To Andalusia? Renjun, that’s halfway across Europe! Madam Wendy won’t be very happy about this,” Joy informed him, a sympathetic smile replacing her previously bright one. Renjun’s smile faltered at the mention of his caretaker, looking down at the postcard you had sent him, your messy handwriting beckoning him to come to you. He sucked his bottom lip, his heart racing at the thought of rebelling against Madam Wendy’s orders.

Yet again, if he did end up dying from this, all of Madam Wendy’s efforts throughout the past two decades would be in vain. She was practically his guardian after all, but yet again, he was a legal adult now isn’t he? He’s 18 years old, he didn’t have to live under her rules anymore if he didn’t want to. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty for wanting to flee Edinburgh just to see you again, something inside of him was screaming at him to run.

Maybe this time, he would listen to it.

“Joy, Yeri, will you help me escape Edinburgh?”

-

“Renjun? What are you doing up so late?” 

Renjun froze, halting his movements as he dropped another sweater into his suitcase. He shut his eyes tightly as his heart raced against his chest, taking a deep breath to compose himself before standing up to face his caretaker as he zipped up his suitcase tight. “Wendy,” he cleared his throat, gripping tightly on the saddle of his suitcase with a small cough, slipping the key to his heart in his front pockets. “Renjun, why do you have a suitcase packed? It’s past curfew,” she narrowed her eyes at the boy.

“Wendy, I am now a legal adult. I have turned 18 years old,” Renjun started, suppressing the urge to gulp down his nerves but he kept his ground. “Yes, I know that, Renjun. That still doesn't answer my question as to why you’re up this late with a packed suitcase,” she nodded, tone laced with confusion as Renjun took a step back towards the opened window, looking out at the moonlight. “Y/n sent me a postcard… from Andalusia,” his voice grew quieter as the seconds went by.

“I’m planning to travel half across Europe to see her again.”

“No, I forbade it.” Wendy shook her head, taking a step forward towards her adopted child, her hands balled up into fists at how Renjun’s determined expression didn’t falter at the slightest bit at her strict tone. “I expected you to say that,” Renjun sighed, walking over to the open window and looking up at the moon shining down upon the dark sky. 

“Nature was cruel to pray this silly little trick on me. I spent two decades wondering ‘what is love’? I knew I didn’t need to love in life, you showed me that throughout my whole 18 years of living here. I didn’t need love to live,” Renjun started, clasping his hands together as he held the saddle of his suitcase harder.

“But I realise, I’ve always wanted to feel love. To feel love, to give love and be loved back. Y/n made me realise that when I started falling for her two years ago, and if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have come to this realisation either,” he chuckled in disbelief, looking around at the decorations of his room, realising how much he’s going to miss living here. “I want to go out and explore the world, I know you have been dreading at the possibility of this day coming, but it has, Wendy.”

“Renjun, no. If you leave, this might as well be the last breath you’ll take! You have never travelled outside of town before, how are you going to survive travelling all across Europe for some measly girl? I won’t allow it, I can’t allow it,” Wendy shook her head, her eyes wide with panic as she watched Renjun walk backwards to the open window behind him. “I know you won’t allow it. But it’s time to let me go,” Renjun smiled sadly.

“Thank you for the 18 years you have spent trying to keep me alive. But the past two years felt meaningless to me without her presence, it felt aimless. I was honestly thinking about taking my own life at some point,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “But now, I realise I rather risk my life for love than spend the rest of my days here with an empty, cold feeling in my heart,” he shot his guardian a genuine smile, the first genuine smile she has ever witnessed from the young boy. 

“Goodbye Wendy.”

“Huang Renjun!” 

Renjun fell back from the open window, causing Madam Wendy to let out a cry of his name, quickly running over to the window to see if her child was okay. She gasped when she saw that Renjun had landed on a mattress Joy and Yeri had set before hand, a loud joyous laughter eliciting from the younger boy’s lips, a sound Wendy has never heard from the boy from his eighteen years of living. He got up from the mattress, grabbing his suitcase quickly before shooting a boyish smile to his aunts. 

“I’ll send you a postcard, Madam Wendy!” he exclaimed as he began running down the hill. 

“Renjun, no! Come back! Oh god, please no! Yeri, Joy, what are you doing?! Stop the young lad before he-”

“You can’t blame me for falling hard in love, mother!”

-

“Now my dear boy, what a lovely contraption of a heart you got there!” a man exclaimed, adjusting his monocle as he squinted his eyes at Renjun’s mechanical heart. “Oh, why, thank you,” he smiled politely, bowing at the older man as he gripped his canvas in hand. “Where are you off to? You seem quite young to be travelling all by yourself,” the man asked in an attempt to make small talk.

That night, Renjun had run off to catch the nearest train to Paris, he planned to take a trip from there to Andalusia. It was a 7 hour ride but he was willing to do anything at this point to get out of Edinburgh. When he finally arrived in Paris, he stumbled upon this man while waiting for his next train. “Oh pardon me, where are my manners! I’m Kim Doyoung,” he outstretched his hand for Renjun to shake with a toothy smile spread on his lips. 

“Huang Renjun,” he introduced with a sheepish smile. “Ah, So, Renjun, where are you going, my dear boy? You seem a little bit too young to travel,” Doyoung took off his monocle, wiping it against his tie before putting it back on. “I-I’m trying to get a replacement for my heart,” Renjun said, poking his little clock with the tip of his finger, grimacing at the small ticking sound it was making at the small touch. 

It wasn’t a complete lie. 

He had planned to get a replacement for his heart for so long, he figured that maybe if he changed into a new one, this wretched curse of forbidden love might be lifted. Maybe he didn’t have to part ways with Madam Wendy or Joy or Yeri. Maybe if he replaced his clock, he could live his life happily in love with you. Though, for now, it was just a small hope he held inside of him. All he could do now was find a clockmaker.

“I’m trying to find a clockmaker somewhere to replace my heart,” he spoke in a bold tone, looking down at his unfinished piece. He made it during his seven hour train ride while thinking of you just to pass the time, though, he was honestly considering giving it to you the moment you get to reunite with each other. “Do you happen to know one?” he asked, his eyes going wide with hopefulness.

Doyoung hummed in response, tugging on the tip of his tie. “Unfortunately, I’m not a clockmaker. But I do like tinkering in the mechanics direction! Maybe I could take a closer look at your heart to see if there’s anything I can do,” Doyoung suggested, pulling out a magnifying glass with a nod of his head. Renjun sucked his bottom lip nervously before taking out the key from his front pocket, plunging it into the mechanical heart and turning it to open the door of his heart. “Alright then.” “Oh! You say that this was grafted by the famous Madam Wendy from Edinburgh? She must be quite the genius to craft and piece this all for you with her bare hands to save your life,” he exclaimed, leaning closer to observe the small gears slowly turning with every small tick tocks his heart makes. “Though, I don’t know why you’d want to replace such a thing. Everything works just fine, clearly, she made this out of love. I could see it within every crevice of art she puts into this clock,” the older man clicked his heart, putting his magnifying glass back into his bag as Renjun closed his heart shut and pulled his key out of the clock.

“Love, huh? That’s the exact problem I have at the moment,” Renjun sighed heavily, tucking his key back into his front pocket before leaning back against his seat. “It’s very dangerous to me. At least that’s what Wendy said to me for the past eighteen years of my life,” he looked down at his shoes sadly, pressing his lips together in a tight line as he felt the guilt catching up to him at the thought of his caretaker’s efforts going in vain. 

“Tell me about it,” Doyoung grinned, putting his hand on his chin as a smug expression spread across his features. 

“You see, mister Kim-”

“Oh no! Call me Doyoung!” 

“Uhm- You see, mister Doyoung. There’s this singer I met in Edinburgh a long time ago and-” “Ah yes, I see. These things do happen quite often.” Renjun bit back his tongue when Doyoung interrupted him once again, but nonetheless he continued on with his story. “As time went on, we grew closer. And soon, I couldn’t help but feel as if my whole world was going through a life threatening earthquake. My head was spinning, I couldn’t breathe. The ticking tock of my clock sounded almost alarming as if it was going to stop at any given moment whenever I’m within her lovely presence,” he explained, making grand, dramatic gestures with his hands as he went on.

Doyoung chuckled, assuming that Renjun’s poetic explanations were purely symbolic. “And how did that feel, exactly, Renjun?” he asked, causing Renjun’s expression to soften. “Extraordinary,” he sighed, almost dreamily as he looked down at the postcard he was holding in his free hand that wasn’t holding his canvas. “There you go, my dear boy,” he chuckled in response, leaning back against the seat next to Renjun’s.

“I don’t know, Mister Doyoung. I fear Wendy might be right, though, what if love was just a trap and my ticking clock is just a bomb waiting to be triggered by it?” Renjun asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he kissed his teeth. “Renjun, if you fear of getting hurt, you will increase the chances of getting hurt,” Doyoung laid a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “You should enjoy the thrill, the danger! That pumps through your veins at the thought of falling completely in love,” he exclaimed. 

“If you live your life worrying everything, you’ll get bored before you even die! Don’t you want to experience a life changing experience with this little lady you’ve been saughting after?” he asked, her tone encouraging Renjun’s spirit to get back up again. A smile stretched across Renjun’s face at the thought, he had flashbacks to the two years he spent without you. He couldn’t afford going back to the same depressing situation he got himself out of, and he’s definitely not willing to go back now that he’s almost there.

“If I can find her again. The last time I heard from her, she was in Andalusia,” he shrugged with a small laugh.

“I’d say,” Doyoung laughed. “When you’re eighteen and you’re travelling half across the continent for a girl, I’d say the rebellious genes in your DNA are highly developed,” he joked, retracting his hand from Renjun’s shoulders. “I bet I could make a whole film based on your cuckoo clock heart,” Doyoung whipped out an empty journal from his bag, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at his newfound friend. “Why not?” Renjun chuckled with a small shrug. 

“Young love, what a beautiful thing to see. You see, I never had any fond memories when it comes to being in love. All I do is invent and invent contraptions, and my former lover never appreciated my expertise. Life is far from easy when you’re in love, my young friend,” Doyoung sighed, leaning his arm against the seat with a heavy sigh. “Why don’t you come with me to Andalusia then, Mister Doyoung? I’m sure anything’s possible there and I wouldn’t mind having a bit of a company on my way there,” Renjun offered, the thought of making a new friend giving some light into his dark path.

“You want an unprofessional mechanic with constant near mental breakdowns following you in your journey to find love?” Doyoung’s eyes went wide in shock, a smile that mirrored Renjun’s appearing on his face. “I would love to have an unprofessional mechanic with constant near mental breakdowns in my quest!” Renjun laughed, nodding eagerly as he sat up straight to shake Doyoung’s hand to make a deal.

Renjun had  made another friend.

-

When they finally arrived in Andalusia, they stumbled upon a small amusement park where you were rumored to be staying in at the moment. “Well, first impressions?” Doyoung asked, looking around the ominous park filled with performers and eccentric workers setting up their tents. “It’s.. quite different than Edinburgh, I must admit,” Renjun chuckled, pulling on his suitcase eagerly as he scanned his eyes around in hopes that he might see your figure at the corner of his eye.

The park, unlike his old town, was way more colourful than Edinburgh. There were animals in colourful cages, happily interacting with their inmates. There were jesters and mimes practicing for their acts in the middle of the streets, happily entertaining a few visitors. There were food stands everywhere, Renjun swore you could exit this park penniless under five minutes if you really wanted to. 

“Come one, come all! For tonight we have special acts starting from 5 pm to-” 

He walked past whom he assumed was the announcer of the park, who was enthusiastically using a tricycle to spread his message all over the place. And upon walking around he stumbled upon what seems to be a horror attraction in the shape of a train, the owner standing inside of a coffin as she smoked her cigarette, eyeing Renjun suspiciously. “Looking for something, you little runt? A job, perhaps? Cause, I’m looking for a new employee to hire,” she asked, taking a puff of her cigarette in between her sentences. 

Renjun took his words back about Madam Wendy resembling Ms Havisham. Because at that given moment, he felt like Pip when he was first introduced to Ms Havisham in the book, clueless as to what he wanted with her. Renjun shook his head, no, mustering up the courage to give the older woman a polite smile. “I’m looking for a little singer?” he answered with an innocent smile. 

“A little singer? Here? The chances of that is equivalent to finding a snowflake in hell,” she rolled her eyes, taking another puff from her cigarette and blowing smoke into Renjun’s face. He coughed, taking a step back in alarm but he bit his tongue to snap back at the woman’s rude actions. “Listen, I’m just trying to find a little singer who sings like a lovely bird in the break of daw-” 

“Enough jabbering about her! Do you want the job or not?” she sighed exasperatedly. 

As Renjun was about to give the woman a piece of his mind for being so rude, the announcer cycling around him caught his attention with his words. “Ladies and Gentlemen, up next in our line of performers will be the young singing sensation, Miss Y/n! A lady who has travelled far and wide with her infamous street singing career,” the announcer said with a booming voice as he cycled to another part of the park.

“Miss Y/n?” he whispered with a soft gasp. “Well? Do you want the job or not?” the woman asked with a raised brow. He frowned involuntarily at the woman’s abrupt tone, clicking his tongue before running back to wherever Doyoung was. “I’ll think about it!” he exclaimed loudly before sprinting off, calling out his colleague’s name with a bright smile on his face. 

“I found her!”

-

“It is her!” he gasped, watching as you slowly come out of your little private trailer, music piercing his ears and your voice making its way into his heart like a knife throwing attraction. It hit right at the target perfectly. “It’s her, I can’t believe it,” Renjun could feel his breath being taken away. You had grown to be a beautiful woman, your features changed slightly due to the years but nonetheless, it didn’t do anything to stop Renjun’s heart from swelling up with adoration like a balloon being filled with helium. 

“Go into her trailer, no one’s going to notice you. Talk to her after her performance,” Doyoung encouraged with a slightly hushed tone. “Excuse me?” Renjun’s eyes shot wide at the unexpected encouragement, his eyes wandering to the trailer you came out of. “I can’t do that! That’s a lady’s privacy!” he exclaimed, shaking his head aggressively. “Trust me, it’ll go smoothly! Just believe in yourself and try not to let the conversation die,” Doyoung hissed, nudging on the younger boy’s shoulder.

Renjun got up slowly, gulping down his fear as he quickly got into your trailer, eyes wide at his own stupidity. ‘God, why did I decide to do this? This is very uncouth of me to do so,’ he thought to himself, wincing slightly when he realised that the music had died down. A bouquet of daisies were in his hand, he didn’t know what to do at that moment as he observed your trailer. It wasn’t very far from you. It was decorated according to your liking.

Your favorite colour was splashed all over the walls, a mannequin standing idly beside the entrance, your dressing table with a gigantic mirror showing his nervous presence. He froze for a brief moment at the sound of your enchanting humming and your little footsteps coming closer to the trailer, making him stand behind the mannequin on pure instinct as you walked into the trailer with a skip in your step.

You were humming the same song you sang on the day you first met. Muttering the lyrics under your breath as you removed bits of dust from your clothing from the performance. Looking up at the mirror, you gasped at Renjun’s awkward figure standing behind your mannequin. You stood up abruptly, grabbing a perfume on your desk and raised it up threateningly at him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” you exclaimed in alarm. You couldn’t see his face very clearly considering you weren’t wearing your glasses.

“I’m sorry! I was tying my shoelaces when I fell into your floor,” Renjun shook his head, waving his hands around nervously to give off the message that he wasn’t some weird creep or stalker snooping around your belongings. “Do you always fall into a girl’s quarters when she’s changing?” you snapped, lowering your perfume hesitantly as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at the boy. “NO! No! I would never, I swear! I don’t even know why I’m-”

“You look suspiciously familiar as if I recognise you from somewhere,” you mumbled under your breath, squinting your eyes at him. “You recognise me?” Renjun perked up, a smile stretching across his face as he took a step away from the mannequin towards you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes before turning to the mirror to adjust your appearance. “What do you want anyway?” you sighed, as if you were used to this sort of encounter.

“I’d like to give you a bouquet of daisies,” Renjun bit his lip, pulling the bouquet behind him and leaning it towards your direction. “Daisies? I can’t say they’re my favorite flowers,” you chuckled, looking up at him with a more relaxed expression. “I have no idea why, but peculiarly, daisies always reminds me of my glasses,” you confessed, putting the bouquet on your desk and standing up towards the exit. “I stopped wearing them a long, long time ago. They make me look like some weird bug,” you joked, looking back at Renjun, who chuckled at your words.

‘You really haven’t changed, huh?’

“It’s fine by me,” Renjun chuckled, walking closer towards you in comforting silence. The way your eyes made contact with his softly made his stomach do somersaults, the gears of his heart felt like it was powered by a burst of energy. “Could we see each other again?” he asked hesitantly, “I’d like to get to know you even more,” he added, snucking his hands in his pockets. “Perhaps,” you shrugged, giving him a smile that mirrored his own. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”

“Oh, no! I’m not, I’m the-I work at the ghost train,” Renjun lied through his teeth, letting out a nervous laugh. “Oh, you’re the new scarer? That’s wonderful news to hear,” you exclaimed, clapping your hands to congratulate him on his new job. “Yes, of course! Exactly, I’m the new scarer,” he nodded, a little bit too eagerly if you asked him. “Can I come see you in action?” you laughed lightly, observing how fidgety the boy in front of you is as he stepped out of your trailer.

“Of course!”

“Tomorrow? Around four?” 

“I’ll see you then.”

-

As the weeks went by, the love between you and Renjun blossomed like a rose. You bonded over your love for art and music in general, rekindling the friendship you used to have. But unfortunately for Renjun, you didn’t recognise him, not a single bit. It was against his beliefs to hit a woman, for that was very impolite of a man, but whenever you mumble how you couldn’t put your finger on how you recognize him from somewhere then proceeds to drop the conversation, he couldn’t lie. He wanted to smack you upside the head for your oblivious self. 

‘Oblivious, rather ludicrous and as blind as a bat. Why did I fancy her, again?’ he would always ponder to himself on a daily basis before watching you run around to try the newest food from each of the food stalls with a bright smile on your face. ‘Oh, right, that’s why,’ he sighed heavily before going over to you with his hands clasped behind his back, mentally preparing himself to fall head over heels for you over and over again.

Today, he was giving you a tour of the ghost train. (yes, he took up the offer with a roll of his eyes just so he can stay here and spent more time with you) “You’re doing a wonderful job here, by the way. It looked like people are having a lot of fun riding the ghost train with your assistance,” you complimented, giving Renjun a soft smile as you walk along the dark train tracks.

“Why thank you, my boss can’t say the same, however,” he grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the thought of his boss being ashamed of him for ruining her quote unquote reputation. “Don’t mind her, she’s always been like that,” you waved it off with a small giggle, patting his shoulder. “Hmm,” he nodded, a pregnant pause settling between you two as you basked in each other’s company. “How did you like the glasses I gave you?” 

Everyday, Renjun would find the most ominous and peculiar looking glasses that were all twisted and broken to give to you, which always brought a smile upon your face knowing full well that you couldn’t wear them no matter how much you tried. “Awful, as usual,” you joked, clasping your hands behind your back as you skipped along the tracks, your shoes hitting the dark coal with a soft ‘tip tap’. “Wonderful,” he laughed lightly, shaking his head profusely at you.

“I still can’t shake over the feeling that I’ve been in this situation before, or maybe I dreamed of this moment before,” you blurted out, looking around the damp cave-like tunnel you were walking through. Renjun bit his lip sadly, suppressing the urge to tell you that he was the boy you met back in Edinburgh. Yet again, what if you left for a reason? What if you left because you didn’t want to see him again? He feared the worse as time went on. 

“I’m sure we’ve met before but I don’t know where,” you turned to him with a smile tugging at your lips. “Really,” Renjun looked down at his feet, kicking the coal as you both paused in your step and turned your bodies to look at each other in the eyes. You somehow found comfort in looking into Renjun’s eyes, but you couldn’t pinpoint why they constantly gave you a sense of deja vu whenever you stare into them for too long. “What’s that odd pitter patter?” you mumbled, hearing a familiar tapping sound in the tunnel.

He bit back a smile, “it’s the rain.” 

He knew those words all too well. “Do you like the rain?” he asked, putting his hand behind his back as he adjusted the top hat on his head. “Getting wet? No,” you shook your head, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “But the sound it makes? Yes,” you nodded enthusiastically, making Renjun laugh at your slight eagerness. “And I’ve heard that noise before somewhere,” you whispered, loud enough for Renjun to hear. 

“That’s because it’s my heart,” he couldn’t help but blurted out, putting a hand on his little coat. “Pardon?” you furrowed your brows in confusion, watching him tug on his coat to reveal a miniscule cuckoo clock on his chest. “My heart, they made it for me on the day I was born. It’s a bit cold and a little fragile, but it works,” he sighed, watching as you observe the small contraption on his heart with a curious expression, pulling out the key from his pockets.

“You can open me up with this little key,” he grabbed your hand and placed the key in between your fingers, letting you push the key into his heart and turning it to the left before opening the door of his clock. “Fascinating, do you always let other girls walk into the train tracks with you and let them open your heart?” you chuckled, raising your brow at the boy in front of you, whose eyes widened in surprise as you pulled your hand away from his heart. 

“No, not really. In fact, you’re the first one,” Renjun shook his head with a sweet smile, closing the door shut and pulling out the key before placing it back into his pocket. “Oh, thanks,” your eyes widened slightly at his blunt expression, putting a hand on your arm shyly. “You’re welcome,” he chuckled, patting the key in his pocket. Renjun’s eyes wandered from your eyes to your soft lips, his heart racing against his chest at the thought of finally picking up where you had left off all those years. He didn’t even realise that he was leaning his head towards yours. 

“Wait- no,” you pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him away as you turned your head to the side with guilt glossing over your eyes. “Don’t,” you shook your head as you took a step back. “I really like you. There’s a warm fuzzy feeling growing in my tummy that’s making me pull towards you like a magnet, but,” you paused, looking down at your hands nervously as they lay limp on your sides. “My heart belongs to someone else,” you gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Someone I met a long, long time ago. You always reminded me of him. “I’m still waiting until the day we reunite once again, embarking on a romantic adventure with you would just be unfair,” you sighed heavily, rubbing your arms nervously as you slowly let Renjun down. A great pang of pain pierced through Renjun’s whole body at your words, he could almost feel his heart tear itself apart as he watched you walk away and out of the ghost tunnel. 

Away from him.

-

“Renjun! You’re back! So? How did it go?” Doyoung exclaimed, fixing his latest invention with a cough, dropping his tweezers in his bag as he wiped his hands on a nearby cloth. Doyoung had rented an empty building so that he could introduce his new inventions to the public and entertain them with them. “She loves someone else,” Renjun mumbled under his breath, tossing his top hat onto one of the seats they set up as he sat down on the steps of the small indoor stage Doyoung had built over the past few weeks.

“I travelled halfway across Europe for her for absolutely nothing,” Renjun laid his head on his palms, sighing heavily as he tried to keep himself from screaming in pain. His heart was hurting. It was way different than the pain he felt two years ago, it was a whole new level of emotional pain he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. “Did you at least confess your love for her?” Doyoung asked, taking a seat next to the boy as Renjun gripped his hair tightly in distress. 

“Why bother? Her heart’s filled to the brim, there’s no way I could empty it out like a sink,” Renjun pulled his head out of his hands, his elbows laying on his legs as he threw the golden key to his heart against the carpet floor out of frustration. “You can’t just let your efforts go to waste, Renjun. Did she at least recognise you?” Doyoung asked, leaning over to grab the key and place it back into his younger friend’s palm with a heavy sigh.

He shook his head, turning it to look at the older man who adjusted his monocle. “No, I’d prefer her not to remember who I am than to remember me and not love me in return,” Renjun leaned his cheek against his palm, eyes looking down sadly at his feet. “You can’t just give up like that, Renjun. Love is like a shooting star you’re supposed to seek after, a wish you must grant yourself with the fifty percent chance of getting the outcome you desire,” Doyoung encouraged, leaning back against his palms behind him. 

Renjun chuckled softly, a sad smile appearing on his lips. “I never felt so sad yet so happy at the same time,” he shook his head, pressing his knuckles to his temples hard. “Ah yes, two of the most powerful and impactful emotions of the human soul combined into one,” Doyoung mused, raising a brow at his lovesick friend. “If only she believed me about my heart, her expression tells me that she thinks it’s some kind of sick joke,” he scoffed, kicking the air with one foot as he let out a huff of exhaustion.

“Well, did she say who has captured her heart?” Doyoung asked, raising his brow, causing Renjun’s eyes to shoot up wide. 

The impact of Kim Doyoung’s words have never failed to get Renjun’s adrenaline rushing again through his veins as he walked into your trailer with a small push against your door. “Do I know him?” Renjun asked abruptly, wanting to get straight to the point as he was very eager to know who has captured your heart. “Could you stop barging into my trailer all the time?” you retorted, turning towards him as you put down your makeup brush on your desk. “The boy you’re in love with, do I know him?” Renjun repeated, the gears of his heart racing against his chest.

He doesn’t even know if he wants the answer to that question. “No,” you replied bluntly, adjusting the laces on your dress. “So you’re not in love with him anymore?” Renjun asked, raising his brow as he crossed his arms against his chest and leaned against the door. “No, that’s not what I meant!” you huffed, feeling yourself getting frustrated the more he edged you on. “Look, it was a very, very long time ago when I first met him,” you rolled your eyes.

“It was back when my parents still made me move from city to city. Oh god, that city was practically made for him. The aura of the city radiated the same aura he had back when I first met him, cold and depressing. Nonetheless the more I got to know him, the more I realised that inside he was just a warm human being that needed someone to light up his perspective,” you sighed, clasping your hands together right in front of you. There was a loud ‘cuckoo!’ that pierced both of your ears, and suddenly, a small gear shot from Renjun’s heart and hit the wooden closet right beside you. 

“Would you stop playing with your clock? You could injure someone, it won’t hurt to take it off occasionally, will it?” you exclaimed with a gasp, looking up at him with bold eyes as you put your hands on your hips. “I can’t help it, it’s not some bloody toy! It’s my heart,” he snapped back, his hands balled up into fists as he felt his blood boiling in his veins at the sound of you talking so highly of someone else that wasn’t him. The way you talked about whoever this boy is was the same way he talked about you to everyone else. 

He took a deep breath to calm himself down when he saw your taken aback reaction, “I’m sorry.” You let out a deep sigh as you stood up from your desk, putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort the poor fellow. “Look, I would really appreciate it if we could become friends. How about we go down to the theater tomorrow? I heard Mister Doyoung made a new contraption to add to the cinematic universe,” you suggested, giving him a kind smile as you took his hand in yours to try and cheer him up a bit. 

“I’d really like to go together.” No matter how much his heart was telling him to rest for the rest of his life, no matter how much in pain he’s currently in, but the moment he looked into your eyes, he knew he couldn’t say no. 

-

“Would you care to share more information about your romeo?” Renjun asked, holding his wrist behind him as you two walked outside of the amusement park together after the show. “Oh, don’t call him that. I absolutely despise that specific work of Shakespeare’s,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you hopped over a pebble, grunting as you caught your balance. Renjun chuckled, “why so?” he asked, raising his brow at you. 

“The typical damsel in distress trope never failed to make my blood boil like a pot of water on high heat,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “I prefer to call him my Pip,” you giggled, climbing up a small hill before sitting on top of the grass and laying your head down with a content sigh. “Pip? Why Pip to be exact?” Renjun asked, raising his brow as he took a seat next to your lying figure, leaning back against his palms. “A couple years ago, right before I left. We had this small debate on happy endings and shakespearean works,” you started, gazing up at the starry night sky. 

“I would constantly babble on and on about how women shouldn’t be the damsel in distress, then one day he whipped out this book out of nowhere like some sort of magician! It was called the Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, I finally finished when I left the city so I never got around to returning the book he let me borrowed,” you sighed, placing your hands on your tummy as you giggled at the thought of your first love possibly getting mad at you for leaving without a goodbye with the addition of not returning his book back. 

Renjun’s heart raced at your small story, his body froze as his ears grew a slight tint of pink (which wasn’t very visible, thanks to the dim lighting of the moon shining down upon the two of you) when he realised that you were talking about him. You were talking about him all along. “I realised why he let me borrow the book though, I asked for an unhappy ending without the female protagonist being the damsel in distress. It was a beautiful story, really,” you sighed, closing your eyes as you thought back to the times you shared back in Edinburgh.

“He would always listen to my rambles as he painted some random landscape in town, showing me his talents as well as listening to my words as I ranted about the foolish decisions of the characters. He reminds me of Pip a little bit. A bit childish, a bit foolish, a little bit misunderstood,” you went on, before pausing briefly, eyes opening to look up at your new friend. “Should I stop? I don’t want to bore you with my story, I tend to ramble a lot unintentionally,” you asked, receiving an aggressive shake of Renjun’s head. 

“No! No! Keep going, I’m getting very interested in your story, do continue,” he laughed lightly, looking down at his clock, biting back his lip to keep himself from jumping for joy. “The last day I saw him- oh god, I remember it every night before I go to bed. I never had my glasses on around him, so my memory of his physical appearance is rather blurry. But I remembered it like it was yesterday. Sure, I might not recognize him today with my own eyes but I remembered we almost shared a kiss,” a wide smile stretched across your face as a warm feeling bubbled up inside of you at the vivid memory. 

“Yeah?” Renjun couldn’t help but let a wide smile spread across his own lips at the thought, turning his head to the side to suppress the urge to tackle you in a strong embrace. You remembered. “He offered to be my eyes, he offered to keep me from straying down the wrong path. I never got a chance to say yes,” you giggled, rubbing your palms against your eyes as you felt a giddy feeling inside both of your chests. “Guess he was too eager to kiss you before you could say yes?” Renjun joked, grimacing at his own childishness. 

You chuckled, shrugging simply. “I guess so, I didn’t mind though. It felt exhilarating. I didn’t know how it happened but he also tore a little bit of my dress as well,” you shook your head, looking back up at the stars scattered across the sky. Oh how Renjun was using all the strength vested inside of him to keep his heart from going ‘cuckoo!’ right in front of you right now. “He might not remember me, I sent him a postcard a couple weeks ago. I never received one back. But someday, when we reunite, I’d like to thank him for the lovely book and for teaching me what love feels like.”

“Everytime I’m near his company I would always feel so safe. So happy, so loved. Genuinely happy and genuinely loved,” you sighed, closing your eyes once again as you took in the fresh air. “I’m sure he felt the same,” Renjun felt his cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling. “Hey, can we see each other again?” he spoke after a moment of comforting silence. “Alright, when?” you opened your eyes, squinting your eyes suspiciously at him. “Noon? At the theater, I have something to tell you,” he grinned. 

“Alright then, is something wrong? Why the funny face?” you chuckled, sitting up from your laying position, cocking your head to the side as you raised your eyebrow at him. “Nothing, I’m just really excited to show you this,” he shook his head, he couldn’t hide his big smile from you any longer. 

Just like how he couldn’t hide his longing and love for you that he has been harboring for the past two years. 

“She’s in love with me,” he said to Doyoung, who gave him a proud grin in return. “Congratulations, my dear boy! You tamed the spark in your heart,” he gave Renjun a pat on the back, who smiled sadly in response. “But there’s a problem. She’s in love with the other me, the one back in Edinburgh,” he sighed, sitting down on one of the seats in the theater. “I don’t see why this is a problem. The ‘you’ back in Edinburgh is still the same ‘you’ now!” Doyoung furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“I assume so, but what am I supposed to say to her?” Renjun ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Tell her how you feel! ‘It’s me! Renjun! The boy you loved oh-so-dearly for all these years! Your first love from Edinburgh, I have travelled far and wide all over Europe to find you, my love. So now let me take your hand and let’s venture and sail for the skies! In each other’s loving embrace!’” Doyoung boomed, throwing his hand in the air to make grand gestures as he spoke, standing up in the midst of his words. 

“Quite poetic, but I tried. The words are jammed at the back of my throat and I can’t let them out,” Renjun huffed, internally cursing at himself for holding himself back because of a small guilt lingering in his chest. “You’re still afraid of what might become of your heart once you fall completely, aren’t you?” Doyoung sympathized, putting a hand on his hip as he frowned upon his young friend’s unfortunate condition. “A part of me is still guilty for putting all of Madam Wendy’s efforts in vain,” Renjun laughed bitterly. 

“I thought you wanted to love and to be loved back, you mustn’t be afraid!” Doyoung encouraged, using the same tone he used previously to influence all of Renjun’s previous actions with a wide toothy smile. “You’re eighteen, you deserve the love you’ve been longing for, Renjun.” 

Renjun bit back a smile, shaking his head out of his insecurities as he stood up to his feet. “You’re right, I should’ve just told her who I was at the start. You have to help me come up with something.”

-

“Renjun? Are you here?” You called out, entering the theater bashfully. “Right here, Ms!” Naeun, Doyoung’s new friend, coaxed, waving her hand to tell you to sit on the front row, right in front of the stage. A familiar merry tune played in the background as the curtains were pulled back to reveal two puppets of what appeared to be you and a familiar little boy from Edinburgh. Doyoung came into view, clearing his throat as Naeun strummed the chords of the song you sang on the day you met your first love with a ukulele in her hand. 

“It was a lovely day in Edinburgh,” Doyoung began, looking towards the puppets. “Little miss y/n who was sixteen years old was dancing around in her dainty shoes, getting her feet all in a tangle before tumbling down to the floor due to her own clumsiness,” Renjun added with a small nervous laugh, moving his own little puppet around and towards the mini puppet version of yourself. “On the day they first met, she would ask ‘what’s that odd pitter patter?’ ‘What’s making that noise?’” Naeun hummed melodiously, causing your eyes to widen with every single word that comes out of their mouths. 

“It’s just the rain, do you like the rain?” Renjun asked, shooting you a short glance as if to say ‘sounds familiar?’

You furrowed your brows, lips pressed into a thin line as you silently watched the performance in front of you, taking every single last bit of information they were sharing into your head as took in the meaning of their words. “Miss Y/n adored the sound of the rain, but however, all this time she didn’t realise that the sound she came to adore came from the tick tock of Renjun’s mechanical heart,” Doyoung recited, looking down on his little card before sharing a knowing look with Renjun and Naeun upon seeing the flabbergasted expression etched on your face.

“Oh, how if he had told her where that pitter patter had come from, would she recognize him the instant they reunite? Would Renjun have to suffer the pain of travelling half across Europe to see her only to not be recognized for the little lady could not rely on her own eyes?” he added on, adding a bit of suspense as the settings on the puppet show changed slightly to the two of you sitting on top of a crescent moon side by side, sending you flashbacks to the last day you saw your first love. 

“Perhaps, if he had told her, would she have believed him and sampled the magical intimacy of blending dream and reality?” 

Soon, your eyes got glossy with tears. Your heart racing rapidly against your chest as you sat there in complete silence, the new information overwhelming your sentences as you watched the two puppets kissed on the crescent moon, the exact same way you were supposed to kiss two years ago. You sniffled, putting a hand up against one of your eyes to keep your tears from falling as Renjun walked up towards you and off of the stage with his hands behind his back. 

The curtains closed as he gave you a boyish smile, outstretching his hand to show you the piece of fabric he accidentally tore from your dress and the postcard you had sent out almost a month ago. You gasped, delicate fingers gently grabbing the postcard to inspect it. It was indeed the postcard you had sent, it was indeed your handwriting, it was indeed the same filthy postcard you sent a month ago. 

Within a few seconds, you fell unconscious as all this information was too much for you to handle. 

“Oh bloody hell, we killed her!” Renjun cried out in panic, taking a step back in alarm at your sudden concussion. Doyoung and Naeun’s head shot from in between the curtains, hissing at him to not panic and carry you back to your trailer. He sucked his bottom lip as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around your knees and your back, making you lean against his chest, your head so close to his. He gulped as he walked out of the theater, nervously praying to whatever God up there is watching him to not make him drop you in the middle of the streets. 

But fortunately for him, he managed to carry you back to your bed safe and sound. Laying your head on the pillow, he stood idly on the side of your bed, watching your sleeping features. You looked so content, his fingers itched to run themselves around your hair and to caress your cheeks. Oh how he longed to nuzzle his nose against yours lovingly and how he longed to press his lips against yours-

‘A single kiss. A brush against your lips could be your last! Just like that, bang!’

He grunted as his body twitched as his guardian’s words flashed through his mind like lightning and thunder, Madam Wendy’s sorrowful expression couldn’t help but make its way through his mind, causing his body to twitch once again. He took deep, staggering breaths as he palmed his heart in pain, eyes moving over to your sleeping figure before Madam Wendy appeared once again in his vision. 

‘Do you know why I saved your life?’

“If you really are the boy from my time in Edinburgh, why did you wait all this time?” 

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, his eyes wandered to your figure as you stared down at the piece of fabric. “What can I say? You’re an idiot, I feared you won’t recognize me considering you’ve never actually used your glasses during our small encounters,” Renjun chuckled sadly, sitting on your bed as you sat up and leaned on the headboard. “You didn’t even say goodbye, I thought you left because you were in shock of my sudden concussion on that day,” he said half-jokingly, putting a hand behind his neck.

You gave him a sad smile, caressing the postcard with your thumb. “My parents were tricked that day. They trusted the wrong person and the police got a hold of them, my mother left me outside all alone so the police wouldn’t find me and take me away too,” you explained, pulling your knees to your chest as you leaned your chin on your arms. “I remembered being so alone, so cold. That’s why I decided to flee Edinburgh, we weren’t allowed to stay for too long. Our neighbour told us they were going to get us permits but the next day… unfortunately that happened.”

Renjun’s heart ached for you, he never wanted to see you sad. Even though you weren’t supposed to be in Edinburgh in the first place, he felt slightly selfish for it. If it weren’t for the fact that your parents had moved her, maybe your parents would still be by your side to this day. However you can’t change what’s been done, the past is the past. He couldn’t do anything to make the pain of losing a parent go away that easily. 

He placed a hand on yours, rubbing his thumb soothingly against your knuckles in a silent attempt to comfort you. You smiled at him, scooting closer to Renjun without hesitation. “I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t know,” Renjun spoke briefly, letting your fingers intertwine with his own tightly. He reached over to his pocket, pulling out the key to his heart and tugged your intertwined fingers together. “I can’t make the pain of losing your loved ones go away like a magician could, but the only thing I can assure you is that I’m not going anywhere and this key is the living proof of it.” 

He laid the small golden key in your palm, tucking your fingers against it. “This is the key that winds me up, without it, I would be knocked out for good,” he chuckled, gazing his eyes deeply into yours. “You can wind me up, open up my heart, do whatever you want,” he shrugged, watching you scoot closer to him and mirrored the same actions as the ones he showed you on the Ghost Train. “If it hurts, don’t hesitate to tell me,” you informed him, turning the key to the right slowly. 

“It doesn’t usually hurt,” he laughed lightly, eyes filled with love and adoration. He felt his heart spark up with the same comforting flame you manage to set. He found comfort in the love of his life gently caressing his fragile heart as if it was made out of the rarest jewels in existence. 

He found comfort in you. You really are the key to his heart. 

“There you are, you little brat!” the owner of the ghost train spat, entering the trailer quite rudely. “You there, what are you doing holding back my employee? As if he doesn’t slack off enough on the job,” she sighed exasperatedly, taking out another cig from her pocket before lighting it up. “You have ten minutes to get there, it’s almost starting,” she hissed, her tone filled with anger and malice as she made her way out of the trailer with a huff of breath.

You and Renjun shared knowing looks, giggling softly as you pulled the key out of his heart. “I think we should get going,” you said in an almost hushed tone as if you were to make a louder sound, you would break the comforting silence between the two of you. You outstretched your hand to give him back his key but Renjun shook his head at you, chuckling softly as he gently curled your fingers against the key in your palms and gently pushed your hand back towards you. 

“Keep it, I insist,” he shook his head. “What? No, don’t be silly! It’s the key to your heart, Renjun. It’s yours, I can’t keep it,” you shook your head receiving the same chuckle from the boy in front of you. “No, from now on, it’s yours,” he grabbed your free hand in his, intertwining your fingers once again. “Let’s run away together,” he suggested, squeezing your hand in his as he crossed his legs together. 

“Excuse me?” your eyes widened at his words. “After your show, run away with me and let’s make the world our oyster,” he gave you the widest grin he could muster, his cheeks was starting to hurt from smiling too much and for too long. He didn’t know where the sudden suggestion came from his mind but he wanted to do what he’s always dreamt of doing with you, to sail for the skies hand in hand with you by his side. (And maybe live a content life in a cottage with three cats and a whole art studio, but that can wait. After all, he’s waited this long to finally reunite with you)

“This is going to sound very cliche but where would we even go?” you giggled, finding his eagerness quite adorable considering it was a rare sight to see, even back when you were still in Edinburgh. “I don’t know, anywhere! The seas, the trees, as long as I’m with you I’m willing to make do with anywhere. As long as you say yes,” he squeezed your hand encouragingly against his, loving eyes pleading for you to say yes. And the smile you gave him was enough to give him his answer.

-

Renjun ran all over the amusement park with his suitcase in hand, the sound of your voice booming through the speakers as he felt the adrenaline rush through his veins, happiness surging through every part of his body. He was finally living, he was no longer going to live in the same, miserable hollow shell he had been living his whole entire life. A bright smile spread across his face as he entered the theater, panting heavily.

“Well then?” Doyoung pipped up, putting his hands at his hips as Renjun gained his composure as though Renjun’s wide smile hadn’t given him the answer he was hoping for. “She loves me, the real me,” he sighed exasperatedly, putting his hands on his chest as he could hardly believe it himself. “Congratulations, my dear boy! I’m delighted for you, absolutely delighted,” he gave Renjun a hug and patted his back as if he was his own younger brother. 

“We’re going to run away for the hills together after her show, I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’m sure I wouldn’t have done this without your help,” Renjun beamed, pulling away to shake his old friend’s hand enthusiastically, his mechanical heart racing rapidly against his chest at the thought of eloping with you all over Europe. “I’m going to miss you, Renjun. Do write to me from time to time,” he gave him a nod, a proud smile etched on his face, causing Renjun to chuckle and nod. “Of course.”

As Renjun was in the middle of packing, your show had finally ended. You snuck back in your trailer to pack your own clothes, but then you saw none other than one of your fellow performers, Choi San, sitting on your desk with a small piece of paper in hand. “San? What on earth are you doing here?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you took out your suitcases from your closet. “I heard you’re going to run off with that new boy,” he grinned, chuckling slightly as he smacked the paper against your desk. “Renjun? Oh! Turns out, he was the boy I fell in love with back in Edinburgh,” you giggled, shoving random clothes into your suitcase, your makeup bags, your shoes, anything you could possibly fit into one single bag. 

“I need to tell you something before you get into serious trouble,” San informed, giving you a hard expression before hopping off your desk to hand you the piece of paper. “I was doing my daily letter checking at the post office and I found this in the mail, it was from Renjun’s guardian from Edinburgh,” he sighed, crossing his arms as you opened the piece of paper to reveal a fancy handwriting underneath. “It tells you everything you need to know about Renjun.” 

You squinted, pulling your glasses from your purse and putting them on. “What are you going on about here, San?” you furrowed your brows as you read through the letter. It was indeed from the ‘Madam Wendy’ Renjun would always rant to you about during your days together back in Edinburgh. “That thing he calls a heart, it’s not what you think it is. It’s a grenade, a ticking time bomb waiting to be triggered, he’s dangerous, y/n,” San informed, his hard expression turning into worry.

“I'm just glad I came here before it was too late,” he sighed in relief, looking down at his feet. “No, San, you must be mistaken. Renjun wouldn’t hurt a fly, he’s absolutely harmless!” You shook your head, refusing to believe his words as you looked down at the letter. “For now, but until he loses control of his heart and therefore fails to abide by the three rules Wendy had given him on the day he was born,” San informed, his eyes narrowing at the letter. 

“The three rules?” you furrowed your brows at him, watching as San’s expression grew dim with sympathy. “Everything you need to know is in that letter, I’ll give you some time to yourself,” San patted your back with a comforting smile before exiting the trailer, leaving you with the letter and your own thoughts. 

-

“Are you trying to make me a murderer?!” you exclaimed, exiting your trailer with your fists clenched up tightly by your side. “Excuse me?” Renjun furrowed his brows in confusion, being taken aback as he took a step towards you with his suitcase in hand. “What are you even talking about?” he asked, letting the air sink back into his lungs from all the running he had to do all over the amusement park. “Madam Wendy told me everything in this letter,” you shoved the letter against his chest, watching as shock took over his features.

“Wendy sent a letter?” he gaped, his jaw dropping to the floor as he inspected what seems to be his caretaker’s handwritten letter. “She told me about the three rules, how you ran away against her wishes, everything! Were you not going to tell me these important details?” you hopped off of the first few steps of your trailer to come closer to the boy you love deeply in front of you. “Or did you forget to tell me something as serious as that?” you snapped, sadness and betrayal flossing over your eyes.

Renjun felt his heart sink into his stomach at your hurtful expression, he was so caught up in the fantasy of running away with you, he completely forgot about his fragile condition for a brief moment. “Who even are you, Renjun? I want to know who’s the man I’m falling in love with,” you gripped the hem of your dress to keep yourself from screaming at him out of pure frustration and anger, feeling your heart ready to explode at the fact that you had the potential to kill him if your relationship proceeded from this far on. 

“I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if you died,” you tried hard to swallow the lump in your throat, looking down to hide your glossy eyes as you tried your best not to think of what would happen to him if you hadn’t received that letter. 

Renjun froze in place, his eyes turning glossy with his own tears as he watched you speak, the words jammed at the back of his throat as he knew, deep down, there was nothing he could do to change your mind. It was far too late, he can’t do anything to change your mind anymore. “I refuse to love you, I refuse to be a murderer. That’s not my idea of love,” you shook your head at him, putting the back of your hand against your eyelids to wipe away the tears. Every word that came out of your mouth felt like a dagger into his mechanical heart. It hurt. Renjun was hurting. His heart was breaking right in front of you, and you both knew it. 

“It’s selfish,” you couldn’t help but splutter out. “No, wait. You got it all wrong, y/n,” he finally spoke up, frustration filling his veins as he found the courage to speak up. “Oh, so you didn’t escape your guardian’s home without permission, thus causing her to worry about you for the past few weeks with no information whatsoever?” you snapped, putting your hands on your hips after you wiped your tears away. “Yes, but that isn’t the problem here!” he shook his head, taking a step towards you as he groaned in frustration. 

“There you go! Oh, so now you’re going to disobey another rule and lose your temper?” 

“It’s not like that! Just listen to me-” Renjun reached his hand out to your face before his body started twitching in pain, causing him to drop on his knees as gears and screws popped out of his heart. You gasped, watching as your lover writhe in pain on his knees, letting out pained grunts for the next fifteen seconds right in front of you. Thus, giving you a brief image of what was going to happen if you continued on. 

“You’re scaring me, Renjun.” 

“I’m sorry.” he breathed out, putting his hand on his knees as he ignored the steaming state of his cuckoo clock heart. Your eyes softened at his guilty figure, your hands laying limp by your sides as you let out a sad sigh. “Goodbye, Renjun.” Were your last words before you walked away from him, leaving him to deal with his own pain. 

“I did the craziest things for you. My life isn’t always topsy turvy when it comes to love, but I put my life in your hands because I truly love you,” Renjun confessed, causing you to pause in your step. You inhaled deeply, not giving him a spare glance. “Yes, I agree, your actions are inhumane at this point, but count me out, Renjun,” you hissed back, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep yourself from shaking and breaking down right in front of him. “I’d prefer you to be hurt like this than dead, I can’t live with myself if I was the reason for your passing,” you sighed, looking down at your shoes briefly.

“Please just leave me alone. I’m not running away with you.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, ignoring the sound of a distraught Renjun getting to his knees, holding his heart in pain. His eyes scrunched up in pain as he let out small grunts, trying to get to his feet back to make his way back to the theater. He collapsed back to the concrete ground as soon as he got to his feet, the ear piercing sound of his clock falling apart before him lingered in his mind as cogs and screws popped out of his makeshift heart. He wanted to scream out your name and plead for you to come back into his embrace, but he knew you wouldn’t turn back. 

So he did the only thing that came into his mind in order to stop this unbearable pain. He got up to his feet, putting two hands on his clock and pulled hard, ignoring the physical pain it brought him as he tried to rip out his own heart from his chest. Letting out a scream of pain as he collapsed to the floor, pieces of wood and metal scattering across the floor and drops of blood dripping from the doors of his heart. 

“Renjun!”

Doyoung and Naeun came up to Renjun as quickly as they could, holding him up as he coughed heavily. “I want to change into a new clock, I’m so tired of this one constantly falling into bits every time I feel the slightest bit of joy,” he mumbled almost monotonously, letting out another fit of coughs afterward. “Madam Wendy was right,” he added with a light painful laugh. “I suppose I have some spare parts to help you fix your clock from my camera, I’ll go get them-” Doyoung insisted but Renjun gripped on the older man’s wrist urgently. 

“No, I want a new heart. I’m tired of this one. One that works. I’ll never fall in love again,” he leaned over, cupping his mouth as he coughed once again, feeling more gears pop out of his clock like a confetti from a canon. “You’re running out of time, Renjun, you must seek help immediately. Is there anything you can do to salvage what’s left of your heart until you get back to Edinburgh?” Doyoung asked, furrowing his brows. “I can’t, I gave the key to Y/n. She left me, I can’t get it back anymore,” Renjun shook his head sadly, looking down at his own blood staining his fingertips.

“That key is your life, Renjun! You took a huge risk,” Doyoung shook his head at how deeply in love the boy in front of him was. “I know,” he mumbled, his words becoming more breathy by the moment. “You must return to Edinburgh and have Wendy patch you up again, it’s the only way to save your life,” Doyoung slung an arm around his shoulder, lifting him up as Naeun helped with carrying his suitcase. 

Doyoung led a heartbroken Renjun onto a carriage to the nearest train station. He insisted on coming with the young lad but Renjun wanted to face the consequences of his actions alone, he couldn’t bear to rip his friend away from the path of success he was walking into. So, with a heavy heart, Renjun rode the train back to Edinburgh with his eyes closed and his heart hurting like hell against his chest. 

‘This must be the same feeling Pip went through when Estella finally broke his heart to elope with some other man she didn’t love.’ he thought bitterly to himself.

-

“Madam Wendy what?” your jaw dropped as San shared a new bit of information. 

He leaned over, showing you the newspaper he was reading which informed you that Madam Wendy had passed in her prison cell. Apparently, she was caught for tampering with mechanics on a dangerous level with her other patients and was thrown in jail once again, but the disappearance of her adopted child had a great impact on her health, therefore she left her body in the cell she was staying in. 

“Oh, no. Oh dear god, no,” you hopped out of San’s performance tent, patting your pockets and pulling out the key that belongs to Renjun’s heart. “What’s wrong?” San asked, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth as he stood up as well, worried as his brows furrowed in confusion. “Renjun gave me the key to his heart, I forgot to give it back,” you yelled back, running as quick as you could to the theater, the only place where Renjun could be at the moment. 

You knocked as hard as you could, calling out the boy’s name in a panic. “Miss Y/n? What are you doing here?” Doyoung asked, opening the door as he rubbed his eyes from the lack of sleep. “Can you tell me where I can find Renjun? I still have the key to his heart,” you asked in an abrupt tone, showing the older man the key in your palms. “Nothing to worry about, Miss! He’s on his way back to Edinburgh as we speak, Doctor Wendy can patch him up in a jiffy!” Doyoung smiled. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of, oh god, no. But Madam Wendy’s passed away,” you informed, clenching your fists with the key in your hand. Doyoung’s eyes widened in surprise, his face turning pale at your words. “Oh boy, that isn’t good news. Go after him, hurry! Save Renjun before it’s too late, that’s what he wants more than anything. I put him on a carriage to the nearest train station. If you’re lucky, you might catch him on the train before it departs,” Doyoung rummaged through his bag, pulling out a random journal. 

“Here, take this. In case you don’t catch up to him, here’s something to read on the way. It’s a journal I kept ever since the very day I met Renjun,” he handed you the journal as Naeun called another carriage for you to ride to the train station. You sighed, your head filled with worry as you looked up at the two adults willing to help you save Renjun despite the fact that you were the main reason why he was in this mess in the first place. 

“Thank you.”

-

Renjun laid in the snow, near the house where he used to call home. Sniffling as he leaned against the tree at the bottom of the hill. Joy and Yeri had contacted him and brought him the news of his caretaker’s passing. Sulking as guilt took over his body, regretting every single decision he had made the past few months. And now he’s going to suffer the consequences of dying all alone. He couldn’t walk into his own home after the news, choosing to lay down under the snow to let himself slowly freeze to death and possibly hypothermia. 

So now, he was taking his last few breaths, enjoying the bright sky as he watched his skin froze, tears slowly turning into eyes as he laid there all heartbroken and damaged. His hair was white from the snowfall, with bits of brown peaking out in between as he sniffled and sobbed over the loss of his mother. Taking deep breaths to regain his composure, as his skin grew numb against the cold. 

“Renjun! I’m here!” 

It was as if the God above had decided to send an angel back to help him, he slowly looked up with half lidded eyes, a small shaky smile spreading across his lips as you fell to your knees to help him. “Renjun, oh dear god, no,” you whimpered, leaning close as you laid a hand on his jaw, making him lean his head up to look at you weakly. You grimaced at his cold skin, it felt like ice to you. It was as if he was turning into a giant ice cube right in front of you.

His appearance made your heart break. He looked so pale and broken since the last time you saw him. His eyes were red and swollen from the tears, snow gathering on his eyelashes, eyebrows, hair and clothing. Hell, he was wearing nothing but the thin coat he wore the last time you saw him. Dried blood was stuck to his cuckoo clock heart which was in a worse condition than it was back in Andalusia. You ran your thumb over his soft cheek, making him lean his face against your warm touch as you wiped the snow away from his skin. His breathing was slow, as if he was taking every breath he could before his last. 

With a shaky hand, you placed what's left of his heart back into their original place, your breathing becoming shaky as you held back your tears. It truly hurt you to see Renjun in this state, you knew he was on the brink of death. You didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if you had arrived much much later.

You pulled out the key to his heart from the inner pocket of your coat, leaning forward to press the key into his heart. But alas, his hand stopped you as he gently gripped your wrist and pulled it away from him. “No, I’m not too late. I’m not letting you die here, just let me turn the key,” you shook your head, blinking back the tears as you pushed your glasses up from the bridge of your nose. “I came back to save you, please just let me do this,” you pleaded, caressing his cheek with your thumb in a futile attempt to convince the love of your life to let you save him. 

“You came all the way back for me,” a tear streaked down Renjun’s cheek which froze under the cold atmosphere, sticking to his cheek. “That’s the most extraordinary turn you could ever give my heart,” he laughed slightly, half lidded eyes trying their best to stay open as his vision began to grow blurry and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was losing consciousness or if it was because of the tears he was holding back.

He tugged the key out of your hand before tossing it over the hill. “No, Renjun, what did you do?!” you panicked, your eyes growing wide at the key disappearing from your line of vision. “No, why did you do that?” you shook your head at him, pressing your body close to him as he leaned his back against the tree. “From now on, whatever happens to me,” Renjun spoke, giving you the same boyish smile he sent your way on your last day in Edinburgh two years ago. “I’ll only have myself to blame,” he sighed, intertwining your free hand with his icy cold one. 

“So now you can kiss me.” 

Your heart broke as you finally let your tears go, squeezing his hand tightly in yours as you sniffled. “As I said before, the things you do are absolutely inhumane,” you pushed your forehead against his, feeling your tears hit his wet clothes as you felt his other hand go to your jaw. “I’m just upset I never got to give you the painting I’d been working so hard on for all these years,” he chuckled, his eyes growing even more red as his tears streamed down his face like a leaking tap.

He caressed your jaw in his hand, eyes scanning your face one last time as he came with the fact that this was your last goodbye before he leaves for good. “If we were ever to be reborn again, I would still wish and pray for the gods to make you my first and last love,” he couldn’t help but laugh to stifle a sob that erupted from his throat. “And if we were ever to be reborn again, I hope you can always continue to smile like that until the day you close your eyes for good,” you nuzzled your forehead against his, sniffling hard. 

Thus with eyes clenched shut, you and Renjun pressed your lips together in unison for a passionate yet innocent kiss. You could hear the last strike of Renjun’s ticking clock, a loud ‘cuckoo’ piercing the quiet atmosphere as Renjun pulled you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your back and leaning his head to the side for a better angle. Your warm soft lips pressed onto his cold chapped ones, wet from the snow.  Your intertwined hands squeezing each other as you felt his mechanical heart put a ring on your own.

The next time Renjun opened his eyes, he was at the gates of heaven, standing in front of an actual angel with a bright expression on his face. “Huang Renjun, I assume?” the angel greeted, a soft smile spreading across their face as Renjun nodded. “You seem a bit too young to be up in heaven. Aren’t you just 18 years old?” the angel asked, pulling out a clipboard to look through Renjun’s life data. “I was almost nineteen, though,” Renjun shrugged, his wide smile never disappearing from his facial features.

“I’m so sorry you had to leave life so soon, young man,” the angel cooed, taking out a pen from their desk as they began to fill out Renjun’s form for his plans now that he’s in the afterlife. “Care to tell me what happened while I do the paperwork for you?” the angel asked, sticking their tongue out as they wrote Renjun’s life information on the glowing paper with a messy handwriting, reminding him of the postcard you had sent him less than a couple months ago. 

Renjun looked around the bright place he was in, sighing heavily as he stared up the gates of heaven with a content expression. He swiped his tongue over his pink lips as he finally felt his heart no longer empty, 

“I fell in love.” 

a/n: i didn’t like how this turned out lmfao but oh well HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, HUANG RENJUN MWUAH

¤ taglist: @leetaeyonglover @lebrookestore @oifelixcmerebrou @vera-liscious @kunrengui @thats-a-jen-no-no

[destieldingus]

Destieldingus' SPN Rewatch: 1x01 "Pilot"

Hey, this exists to capture my thoughts after rewatching all the episodes after more than 6 years (Season 1-7)/3.5(?) years (8-10) and the ones I just recently watched for the first time (so far 11-14). It’s not super serious (except for the serious overthinking) and just meant in good fun. Here goes nothing (this is like 1.3 K words)

- First thing I notice: the clock doing weird stuff, the lights flickering and the babyphone (Azazel you’re a demon!! Just turn the damn thing off), and I have a question that I guess has been brewing in my mind for forever : Like yeah those are all those signs of supernatural beings that are close by, but when we later have Crowley and Meg and Ruby and the guys just hanging out stuff like that NEVER happens except if needed for effect. Why did Azazel have to flex his powers? If he hadn't the thing with Mary never would have happened and Sam would have just been some dumb college kid instead of an adapt hunter and would have (probably) fallen prey to Lucifer so easily. (Given that Mary wouldn't have introduced them to her livestyle, which I don’t think she would have wanted)

- What's up with all of those old-timey pictures in the hallway/staircase. Who are those people? The Campbells? The Winchesters?

- How does the gravity of being demon-glued to the ceiling work? Why isn't her blood affected?

- Sexual halloween constumes my behated

- Sam has the pic of his mom and dad shown in the bedroom at the beginning of the episode in his dorm room. Why specifically his dad? Why not also a picture of Dean? Did he steal it from John? Did he ask for it? Later in the episode he makes it clear that Mary isn’t really that important to him. This feels like a picture that would be very important to his dad, but would it be important enough for him to take with him, instead of one with his dad and Dean?

-Yeah Sam, Jess is right, where is your sexy Halloween costume?! If she has to dress up for the male gaze, you should dress up for the female gaze. How long has it been that you puked at your crush’s Halloween party [hah! watching the newer episodes already paid off]? Ten years? Get a grip and show some skin.

- Jfc that dialogue "What would I do without you?" "Crash and burn" first of all who signed that off, second of all: that was not the height of acting

- Who directed that epsiode? I'm coming for you, don't think I didn't saw the blanket "conveniently" slip off Jess' legs while Sam is fully convered

- Get the camera off her tits!!! In this house we love and respect Jess!

- Sam.. baby.. "Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her." What? Boy do you suffer from alcoholic memory loss from too many frat parties and forgot what kind of lifestyle your family leads? What if it had been something like "Yeah, dad got his kidney ate by a Wendigo and needs a donor one"

- What is even their timeframe for "he's been missing for too long"?? I mean I guess "hasn't been home in a few days" is more of a code phrase... Also jeez John, if you are gone for weeks, how did your sons ever learn anything from YOU when they are usually done with a case in usually a couple of days? Why are you so inefficient?

- Exposition dialogue ... I see you.

- "I can't do this alone" "Yes you can" "Well I don't want to" Dean you sappy clingy old idiot. Also typical older sibling guilt trip move, I can attest to that.

- One thing I'm genuinely wondering about is why John gave Dean the Impala. Like.. genuinely. Why?

- "All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road." Love me some girlboss ghost getting her revenge let's be real <3

- "ran it through a Goldwave" A what now? Sure you're not just saying words, babe? Also since when did you become an audio-tech? I mean good for you... but why is this never brought up again?

- Hehe, and yet Sam had a blade and equip in his room.

- What did Sam tell Jess about his family? What kind of economic background does she think Sam has, when he says "He's at the cabin"? Jess why are you such a badly developed character I want to study you.

- "Car trouble or something?" Dude, you literally just saw her glitch, you should be calling IT support.

- This is literally reverse real life serial killer dynamics (perp female, victims male, punished for sexual desire) with this ghost and I am here for it. Get his ass.

- Dude she clearly has problems with loading her texture. Call the support hotline!!!

- Everything I know about US rest stops I know from supernatural and I'm actually okay with that <3

- Dean.. do you even have an up-to-date pic of Sam for your fake badges?

- Dean... you are literally in your street clothes. WHY do you think noone would clock you for some punk kid running around playing Marshal?

- Ohh god more cringe exposition dialogue "I lIkE yOuR NeCkLace", also Sam why are you talking to her about this? For what reason? Do you actually think you're gonna bond with her over your nerd knowledge? You literally never speak to her again in the entire show.

- Love the whole "You're too old to know how to use the computer search" vibe

- Huh, maybe the whole "gotta be back by Monday" finally gave them the motivational kick to stop slacking when they go hunting and now it's not three weeks anymore but three days. Streamlining the case solving.

- "The things you've done" Idk, killing supernatural monsters that pose a threat to the general population does not really raise any specific red flags with me?

- "Mom's gone, and she isn't coming back." Oh, sweet summer child, you just wait 12 seasons. Can't wait for the family therapy episode. Also Dean you are so a Mama's son, I love this so much.

-Dean you really are lucky you didn't just straight up break your legs jumping off that bridge or some shit. Imagine the rest of the episode.

- Nice mudmask. This the secret to your eternal good looks?

- Is that a... Geiger-counter on John's bed? SPN really missed an opportunity to have some radioactivity related angst now that I think about it.

- Oh Dean you dumbass. Good thing I love you. Why are you so happy to be arrested. When you learned that you can't let out your teenage-rebellious streak against your father, did you start picking other authority figures?

- Dudes how much trash do you have lying on the dashboard. Why are you treating Baby like this, this is shameful!

- Well Sammyboy, if you're not gonna take her home, a woman has to take the wheel into her own hands, eh, tu comprends?

- Dang, boys, you really have to work on your quick thinking.

- Can we also talk about how horribly fake-ripped her nightgown is?

- "So this is where she drowned her kids." Dean you're looking at the CARPET. I mean you definitely took a few blows to your head in your life, but that's a new low even for you. [Would it have been so hard for him to look up at the ceiling for a second to indicate that it was upstairs? Direction, I'm speaking to you.]

- "What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" Actually, good question Sam. Also more important question why DID it work? It IS a ghost after all, isn't it?

- Screw up your car? Dean, US houses are nothing but breaky wood, try a stone wall, that's gonna bang up your car alright.

- Dean don't think I didn't notice your pouty sad face that Sam didn't want to go with you.

- Sam.. how long does your shower take to get warm? That's not very environmentally friendly, isn’t Stanford in like California or something? Dude, save water.

- How did Dean notice so fast that something was wrong...

My resumée: dang these really were the old days... I’m not gonna blame them for being inconsistent with this episode later on re: lore tho. Besides I’m greatly elated that later episodes actually did pick up on the recurring mentions of Sam disliking Halloween. I did enjoy however that there were a few thoughtprovoking [nitpickable] details.

[magazinmix-blog]

Woodbury Lions Club hosting American Red Cross blood drives

Blood Drives in Cannon County for over 60 years.

It has been said that the Lions Club drives are the best in the Tennessee Valley Region Blood Services area, which includes all of Tennessee, parts of Kentucky, and Alabama.

The extra effort put forth by the Lions Club has little to do with it. The Woodbury Lions Club has a committee of members that work together to help insure that everything runs smoothly, along with community volunteers who like to help out.

Some of the volunteers have more experience working with blood drives that the actual Red Cross staff who go out daily working with blood drives within the area.

Committee chairmen’s Patsy and Carl Hirlston and Bobby Bogard with committee members Ken and Artie Jean McIntyre, Lois Larimer, Clyde Thomas, Nolan Northcutt, Robert Jennings, Charlie Brown, Clyde and Kitty Bush, Chris Brushaber, Danny Miller, Cliff Swoape, Andy Jacobs, Doug Combs, and Gina Mitchell, all work together along with community volunteers of Bessie Miller, Orval and Esther Gray, Juanita Burks, Cathey Parker, Betty Harder, Shirley Borren, Jane Jennings, Grace Young, Nile Young, Della Young, Robert Young, Kay Campbell, Carol Davenport, Bobbie Henline, Jim Henline, Betty Paschal, Ann Todd, Mary Sue Vinson, and Mary Nelle Hillis too create a professional staff that assist members of the American Red Cross staff.

The Lions Club assigns a task of greeting donors and signing them in, handing out water and assigning donors with a number.

Copies of the Cannon Courier are provided for donors to read before or after their donation.

Red Cross provides snacks and the Woodbury Lions Club has additional snacks such as: a one-of-a-kind trail mix, peanut butter and crackers, baloney and crackers, and cheese and crackers.

A staff works in the canteen area who assist the donors after they have donated by getting them a drink of juice, water, soda, or coffee and then sitting with them and talking. They also watch the donor to see if the donors face color changes or if their arm starts bleeding from where the donor had given blood.

Woodbury Club also keeps records of each donation and awards donors with pins and Certificates when completing gallon donations. Along with taking pictures of donors receiving awards and being pinned with a gallon donation pin, plus having members of the Lions Club calling and reminding donors of upcoming blood drives also adds a little bit more to why Cannon County Blood Drives are better and produces more regular donors than other areas which has a larger population.

Woodbury Lions Club host six blood drives a year, always the third Thursday in January, March, May, July, September, and November. Each blood drive is noon until six pm except May’s drive, which runs from 9 am until 6 pm. May’s blood drive is a donor appreciation drive, and most of the businesses in Cannon County donate door prizes.

In the last five to six years, each donor was able to win three of four items because of the generosity of the businesses and their support of the Lions Club and wanting to reward the true everyday heroes of Cannon County, those who give of themselves to help save the lives of others. In most cases, they are saving the lives of people who they do not know.

On May 20th, 2010 the following businesses provided door prizes for the heroes of Cannon County: A Touch of Home Flower’s & Gifts, Arts Center of Cannon County, Auto Zone, Birdsong Adhesives, Boyd’s Garage, Briar Rose Flowers and Gifts, Bromley/Jennings Automotive, Cannon County Chiropractic, Cannon Market, Captain D’s, CareAll, Cell Plus, Coco Tan & Spa, Chilangoes Mexican Restaurant, Curves, Cutting Edge Hair Salon, D J’s Pizza and Steakhouse, Family Dentistry Deason & Bucher, Farm Bureau Insurance, First National Bank, Flower Occasions, Gina’s Boutique, Hardee’s, Hayes Bros Auto Care, Hibdon’s Body Shop, Higgins Car Wash, J P’s Fine Swine Bar-B-Que, Jennings Jewelers, Joe’s Place, Legendary Cuts, Lightwriters Photography, Lions Pizza Den, The Millennium Hair Salon, Moonlite Drive-In, NAPA, The Old Feed Store, One Stop Market, Parsley’s Market & Deli, Paul Reed’s Furniture, Paul’s Auto Service, Piggly Wiggly, Potter’s Ace Hardware, Quick Shop Market, Reed’s Building Supply, Regions Bank, Roger Hindman Body Shop, Scavenger Hunt Flea Market, Scavenger Hunt Trading Post, The Scoreboard, Shirt Shack, Shotgun County Pawn & Gun, Smitty Tire Shop, Stewart’s Printing, Stone Gait Tack and Feed, Subway, West End Tobacco Store, Woodbury Auto Express, Woodbury Insurance Agency, and Woodbury Lawn & Garden. Every donor and volunteer received a promotional ink pen from DTC, a pillbox from Middle Tennessee Electric Membership Cooperation, Chap Stick from FirstBank, a value meal card from Sonic, and a 3 pound bag of stone ground corn meal from The Readyville Mill.

The Red Cross also provided promotional items and the Woodbury Lions Club provided $10 gift certificates and a grand prize of $100 gift card.

It is very hard to find another community that has so many businesses that support a civic club as much as the ones in Cannon County.

Most all the businesses give support to the Woodbury Lions Club for sponsorship of the Lions Club Horse Show, White Cane donations, and door prizes for the donor appreciation Blood Drive. Without support from the local businesses, the Woodbury Lions Club would not be able to do as much as it does within the community, state, country, and world. Local businesses are one of the leading reasons why Cannon County Blood Drives are so much better that anywhere else in the state.

Another reason and probably the number one reason the blood drives are the best anywhere is the volume of regular donors in Cannon County. In any community only a certain per cent are eligible to donate and of that per cent only about 3 to 5 percent actually donates, but the donors in Cannon County has a much higher percent.

This is not due to the Lions Club and its part, nor the businesses and its part, but it is the individual donor and the way of life in Cannon County, the way most have been raised to want to help others in need in any way they can.

The mentality of the average person in Cannon County is to serve in any way they can. This mentality is one of the reasons Woodbury Lions Club is one of the largest clubs in the state.

It is why the businesses give as much as they do, and why so many volunteers do jobs within the county for little or no pay. The parents, schools and churches within the community teach the children from an early age of the importance of giving back to the community in which they live and the lesson that it is more blessed to give than to receive.

This is why Cannon County has had over 360 donors in the past 2-½ years. Woodbury Lions Club and the American Red Cross both use fiscal years that begin on 1 July and end 30 June.

The following is a list of local heroes who gave during the 2009-2010 fiscal year. Those donating Double Red Blood Cells count as two donations, the max number of times any one can give in a fiscal year in whole blood or double red cells is 6. The number that follows a persons name is the amount of pints given as of 30 June 2010.

One-time donors: Stephanie D. Alford 5, Annie L. Barton 60, Peggy S. Baxter 30, Timothy L. Bell 11, Stephen E. Blonder 10, Brenda Bogard 23, Candace Jones Bond 1, Charles H. Bowman 20, Tami M. Bragg 12, Billy D. Brinkley 3, Charles E. Brown 33, Joe R. Bryson 23, William H. Bryson 33, Stephen A. Burnett 3, Clyde W. Bush 14, Charmaine D. Cawthorn 1, Patrick A. Cecil 1, Manuel Chapa Jr. 15, Karen J. Chumbley 11, Barbara Daingerfield 44, Mary Carole Davenport 42, Paul W. Denninger 7, Bonita O. Doxey 30, Frances Edwards 1, Clint A. Fann 5, Angela M. Ford 11, Mary Frances Foster 9, Autumn M. Fly Franks 1, Tonya Gannon 4, Leslie Joe Giley 28, Nora Lee Gilliam 10, Eric M. Good 4, Donna B. Gunter 4, Marilyn E. Hale 7, Sharon L. Hay 14, Carolyn E. Barton Hemby 7, Barry D. Hibdon 33, Erin T. Higdon 5, Sharon Duggin Hindman 25, Melisa L. Hobbs 17, Shannon D. Jett 9, Fairy L. Johnson 2, Lori J. Malay 7, Perry M. Markum 5, Vicky L. Melton 34, Brittany L. Mingle 7, Angela P. Moore 18, Danielle Nicole Mosley 12, Talma S. Mosley 8, Lauren M. Nicolay 2, Rita G. Nokes 7, Misty G. Orr 1, Brittne H. Parker 4, Joseph A. Patterson 11, Brenda Faye Phillips 15, Jo Ann Pirtle 1, Joy Pope 3, Janice O. Purvis 28, Walter E. Reifschneider 19, Shantika M. Reiter 2, Phyllis S. Robinson 47, Marianne Teresa Sadler 15, Amber M. Scott 1, Kelly Edward Sissom 30, Valerie D. Smith 4, Wayne P. Smithson 26, Olivia D. Snyder 1, Teresa S. Stoetzel 6, Crystal B. Street 4, Eddie N. Taylor 41, Jamie A. Trail 2, J. D. Underhill II 2, Falischa Urban 1, Jennifer Vallieres 2, Sean N. Vance 3, Amanda J. Winfrey 1, Dorothy D. Winnett 13, Tracey L. Winters 9, and Alan D. Wollard 8.

Two time donors: Misty D. Bain 14, Teresa D. Bain 19, Ronald F. Born 6, Christopher B. Brandon 2, David L. Brown 3, Lacey N. Buchanan 9, Charles Ronny Burks 34, Jennifer M. Coppinger 16, James Morgan Cummings 90, Franklin Daniel 12, Edgar E. Davenport 6, Rebecca M. Davenport 68, Andrew L. Duggin 5, Joyce Frazier 2, Kenneth P. Garrett 11, Andrea K. George 4, Rodney Lee Gilliam 17, Kay F. Goff 69, Cory S. Hollandsworth 14, Christopher J. Hollenbeck 5, Pamela F. Hoskins 43, Christopher Johnson 5, Robert D. Jones 27, Thomas D. Mason 56, Tammy W. Mathis 14, Shelby J. Merriman 60, Brandon S. Mims 8, Dean More 6, Jennifer R. Mosley 5, Travis C. Prater 9, Michael T. Reed 3, Xavier P. Romero 18, Melody R. Rutledge 9, John W. Sanborn 56, Roger J. Smith 14, Darrell G. Snyder 26, McKenzie Solomon 5, Candice B. Stoetzel 13, Nancy L. Studd 9, Jessica L. Sullivan 3, Brandee S. Summers 5, Garry L. Underhill 12, James E. Weller 3, and Nile Young 45.

Three time donors: Richard D. Burks Sr. 83, Joshua W. Demembreum 4, Jeffery D. Denny 11, Russell D. Fann 33, Jo Ann Francis 54, Randy A. Gerdes 47, James W. Henline 44, Patsy Miller Hirlston 43, Debbie Renee Israel 12, Jennifer M. Johnson 8, Melanie G. Lyon 4, Ann D. McBride 53, Calvin F. Orwig 39, Alan W. Paschal 17, Jan Powell 34, Kenny Denard Sanders 5, Brittany A. Stluka 6, David L. Stone 7, Nellie F. Stone 5, Melissa L. Talley 3, Annette A. Tidwell 3, Billy R. Tidwell Jr. 5, Charie Ann Urban 4, Micki M. Vinson 74, Jack B. West 16, Michael L. Witty 41, and David W. Zabriskie 3. Four time donors: Jimmy Alexander 39, Cynthia D. Betts 39, Carmella K. Burton 13, Mary E. Duncan 42, Jana M. Gannon 62, Joan Hayes 14, Kayla E. Hindman 14, Joseph E. Hurst 16, James L. Logan 48, Gina A. Mitchell 38, Valerie L. Morton 4, Tracy A. Parker 39, Rebekah L. Parton 19, Karin P. Petty 40, James F. Sabia 44, Billy K. Tenpenny 33, Juan S. Urban 4, Travis M. Urban 5, April D. Vance 12, and Millisa A. White 17.

Five time donors: Guy Alexander Jr. 41, Jeff R. Campbell 8, Gabriel S. Cantrell 9, Rita F. Cook 12, Randal L. Curtis 52, James P. Davenport 12, Andrew B. Dimartino Sr. 84, Cheryl K. Franklin 44, Timothy H. Grandey 50, Esther E. Gray 39, Orval L. Gray 55, Herbert C. Haley 64, John Arthur Haugh 9, Roger G. Hindman 28, Sandy K. Hollandsworth 77, Timothy A. Minerd 15, Charlie Luther Mooneyham 48, Steve R. Perkerson 67, James Powers 38, and Leland J. Schwamberger 19.

Six time donors: Christopher E. Brushaber 6, Allen Wade Duggin 29, Rainey Hunt 48, Charles W. Jennings 18, Stephen R. Moss 20, Teddy L. Powers 77, Steve A. Smith 140, and Howard W. Witty 163.

The Woodbury Lions Club has received several awards of appreciation from the American Red Cross for their support of the Community Blood Program, and there is a lot of speculation as to why a small community does so well on the blood drives.

A lot of the credit is given to the Lions Club for putting out an extra effort.

Some credit is given for having good media coverage with the Cannon Courier, the Cannon Wire, and WBRY radio. Some credit is given for the support given by the businesses in Cannon County.

Any community can have a civic organization that puts forth the extra effort, and have good media and local businesses supporting them, but they don’t have the attitude and dedication of serving others that is instilled into Cannon Countians from birth until death.

The Woodbury Lions Club expresses heartfelt gratitude to all the media, businesses, and donors for exceeding the yearly goals set forth by the Red Cross based on past history.

It is so great to live among so many heroes. Likes: 7 Viewed:

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[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: This chapter was inspired by BTVS 7.09 “Never Leave Me.”

Warnings: threats of rape, implied torture

Chapter 25: House Full of Hostages

The sun was barely up, but the Scoobies were already nervously waiting in the living room while Buffy and Dean were busy with the vampire upstairs. "I'm not sure I've heard a worse idea," said Willow, "and that includes the time Xander covered a pepperoni pizza with M&Ms."

"I knew The Supremer would have its moment in the sun,” Xander replied.

“Spike killed a bunch of people, so Buffy and Dean brought him back to the house?” Dawn asked in disbelief.

“Willow’s back in the house,” said Anya.

“That’s different,” snapped Dawn. “Not like you can judge.”

“I’m just saying we’ve seen this from Buffy before,” Anya continued. “She’s not always with the group think of who to kill and who to not-kill. Frankly, I’m surprised Dean is going along with this lunacy. I thought he’d be more black and white and stabby about this. Plus, bonus he-man points for killing Buffy’s ex.”

“If Dean thought the best option was staking Spike, he would have done it,” said Sam, “but he thinks Spike’s more valuable alive at the moment.”

“It’s not just Spike.” Willow paced as she calculated the possible outcomes. “They think he’s being controlled by something. Okay, what if it pushes his big red murder buttons while he’s here? Or worse! What if it comes for him? I mean, it’s followed him from the school basement, to town, and to that old woman’s house. Who’s to say it won’t come here?”

“It already did,” Dawn said grimly.

“For being the head of the Kill The Bleached Bastard Club, you’ve been very quiet, Xander.”

Xander stood up and headed for the kitchen. “Anyone want some cereal? I hear it’s in peak season.”

Spike’s head pounded, a feat since he didn’t have any blood to pound. Several parts of his body ached and tingled the way it did when it was trying to heal, the way it did when he’d been in a fight.

He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred, no doubt from the blow to his head. From the smell, he could tell he was in Buffy’s house. It was a concentrated scent. The vanilla extra sweet, the lilac fresh, the sex overpowering. Last time he’d smelled this was in his lower, more perverse moments when he’d sneaked into Buffy’s bedroom to rifle through her underwear drawer and steal souvenirs.

Something was holding down his arms, his legs, his body. He was tied to a chair, but why? “Buffy?”

“Sorry, buddy boy, it’s just me,” said an unfriendly, rumbling voice.

“‘Buddy boy?’ Are we besties now, Dean?”

The prior night came back to him in flashes. A room full of vampires. Drusilla. He’d begged to be staked, but instead, he was in Buffy’s home. She didn’t know the danger her mercy put everyone in.

“Why ‘aven’t you killed me?” Spike asked again, his vision coming into focus. “Know you’re aching to.”

Sitting on the end of the bed, Dean set his elbows on his knees and leaned in as if about to share a secret. “Because of Buffy.”

Momentarily delighted, Spike ran his tongue over his lip, licking the stale blood. “Got you on a short leash, does she?”

Dean looked at his hands and rubbed them together like he was trying to brush off dirt. “I hated you the moment I laid eyes on you. Hated the way you talk, the way you move. Hated the hungry way you look at her. And then I found out you were a goddamn vampire.”

“Stop. You’ll make a monster blush.”

Dean rose from the bed, scratching his neck, and wandered over to a collection of photos on Buffy’s bulletin board. He had probably seen the pictures a hundred times as he passed in an out of her bedroom, but he inspected them silently as if they were brand new.

“You know what I like about Buffy?” Dean asked.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Do tell the inner workings of your torrid love affair.”

“She has so much life in her.”

Spike snorted. Buffy was a nightmare. A killing machine. A creature of the night deadlier than any he’d ever known. Life wasn’t her gift.

Undeterred, Dean continued, wistfulness in his voice. “She wants to grab all the life she can. Most hunters I know are dead men walking, withdrawn alcoholics just waiting for the inevitable. But Buffy, she has hopes and dreams and friends, the sort of friends who would put themselves in danger for her. Good friends.

“And for some crazy ass reason, she considers you one of those friends.”

This was not what Spike expected to hear when tied to a chair. “She, she said that? Those words?”

“She keeps saying, ‘Spike has a soul now,’ as if that can erase your past. But I was reading the other week about how vampires are empty husks led around by their demons. And reading your history, William the Bloody. Maybe that was you. Somehow I can’t imagine a blood-thirsty demon wanting to shack up with a soul.”

His piercing gaze on Spike, Dean said, “I know the look on a man’s face when he’s been forced to do something terrible.”

“You ever ‘ave a demon in you?” Spike asked.

Dean shook his head but said nothing.

“It’s like those cartoons with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, only the devil is alone and steering,” Spike said with a sneer. “I learned ‘ow to wrestle control back from this piss poor roommate. Thought getting my soul back would put me firmly in the driver seat, but I still ‘ear it growling up a storm, telling me what to do.”

“What’s it telling you now?” Dean asked.

Spike flexed his arms, but the rope held tight. They weren’t taking chances. “It wants me to rip your ‘andsome face off, cut you to bits. It doesn’t like you at all.”

Dean snorted as if Spike had told a pathetic joke.

But it wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t the time for posturing, for cock fights. He needed to understand the threat that sat before him. “It doesn’t want to kill ‘er. It wants to rape 'er, destroy ‘er. I will suck Buffy dry while I fuck ‘er, when she comes back, she’ll be all mine. Maybe I won’t kill you, just snap your neck and leave you paralyzed, keep you around as a blood donor, ‘ang you up in the bedroom so you can watch us ‘aving a good shag. Real question is, do I kill the little bit, take ‘er as she is, or let ‘er ripen a few more years?”

“You ain’t gonna do any of that.” Darkness took over Dean’s face.

“You know what I’m capable of.” Spike wasn’t sure himself anymore; the demon’s voice was worse than he remembered.

“I know what I’m capable of. If you’ve turned evil sock puppet, I’ll do what she can’t.”

Buffy wouldn’t be able to kill Spike and he knew it. She’d lost all perspective dropping him, a live grenade, in with her friends. He needed to make sure Dean would do the right thing despite what she wanted. ”Raping Buffy’s just unfinished business. She tell you about that? Tried to fuck her a few months ago, but didn’t finish the job. And she still likes ‘aving me around.”

Dean smirked before twisting back and socking Spike in the jaw, knocking his chair over and loosening a few teeth.

Buffy was searching for another phone number, hoping to find Giles, when she heard banging up in her bedroom. “What happened?” she asked Dean as he came down the stairs.

“Spike’s chair fell over.”

“Really?” She grabbed Dean’s right hand and rubbed her thumb over his red knuckles. “Put some ice on that. How’s the rest of you?”

He pointed to the bandage on his neck. “Just a new scar for the collection.”

“And the other thing?”

Wincing, Dean adjusted himself. “Not gonna feel like screwing tonight, if that’s what you want to know.”

“That was sort of off the table anyway seeing as there’s a vampire in our bedroom.”

Poking at the mix of business cards and paper scraps on the counter, Buffy tried to remember which numbers she’d called. Giles wasn’t answering his cell or his landline. The coven that helped Willow heal said they hadn’t heard from him in months. She picked up a heavy card on linen stock and tapped it on the counter. It was a simple design, just a phone number and the name Quentin Travers embossed in gold letters.

“I’m going to call the Watcher’s Council,” she said to Dean, who was watching her as he iced his hand.

“You need a gun that big for Spike?”

“I’m sure they’re chomping at the bit to help a vampire. No, Dean, this is bigger than Spike. It’s bigger than us. Whatever is controlling him, I’m sure it’s not planning to gift the world with pocket pandas and chocolate. Then there’s my blood-soaked visions.”

She crossed the kitchen and buried her face in his plaid shirt. Still smelling of basement dirt, he felt warm and solid in her arms. Present. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Dean, but I feel alone in this. Yes, you’re here. We have Sam and Willow, but we can only hit so much if we don’t know where to strike. Without Giles, I -- I feel lost.”

Tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear, Dean said, “I know the feeling. So what do I need to know ‘bout these Watcher guys?”

“I’m hoping they’ll help me find Giles. I’m afraid they’re going to send someone with a disapproving scowly face and stuck up accent. Someone I’m going to have to argue with. Someone who’s going to get all nosy about you and where you’re from.”

“What happens if they find out?”

“Don’t know.” Buffy stood up and smoothed his shirt. “If they try anything, I’ll put on my protective girlfriend pants and rescue you.”

“My hero,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

“There’s a crazed vampire upstairs, and you’re making out?” said Sam, who’d stolen into the kitchen.

Buffy estimated she’d had three seconds not thinking about the crisis they were in, three seconds away from the brink of tears, but before she could respond, Dean was embracing her. “Sammy, you’re interrupting a very important strategy meeting.”

“I can see that,” he replied, eyebrows up and dimples of disapproval on display. “You’ve got a room full of nervous people who want in on the plan.”

“Spike’s been in contact with the mysterious It more than any of us. We need to find out what It’s told him, how It’s communicating with him, and how It’s making him kill,” said Buffy.

“Do you actually see him sharing any of that info?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. We’ll start with kid gloves. He was pretty messed up at that house.”

“Let me know when you want me to step in for the messy stuff,” said Dean. “Maybe we should take him somewhere else so Dawn doesn’t hear?”

How long had he been alone with Spike? It couldn’t have taken her more than half an hour to shower and change, but he was already beating on the vampire. Once, she’d seen Dean cry, near hysterics triggered by memories of Sam’s death, of consequential decades spent in Hell torturing and being tortured. Knowing what he’d been through, how could she ask him to step into that role again? “I don’t want you to step in for the messy stuff.”

“You think it won’t go that far?”

“I’m not saying I don’t need you. There’s plenty to do. I’m saying the torture tools can stay in the trunk.”

“How can I help?”

Fucking grocery getter for a monster, Dean grumbled to himself. He appreciated that Buffy didn’t want him involved in interrogating Spike; he didn’t want her to see him like that, to know what he was capable of. Still, he’d rather be back at the house keeping an eye on things than out buying pig’s blood for his girlfriend to feed the vampire. Willow, nervously wringing her hands in the passenger seat, knew all the places in town they could hit for this unpalatable snack run.

“Can you turn that off?” she asked.

Dean bit his tongue and ejected the cassette. “Not a Metallica fan?”

“I like rock and alternative stuff, but that was making me so nervous, my skin was all prickly.”

“Relaxes me,” Dean said.

“You’re joking, right?”

“It’s easy to get lost in. Their early stuff has these beautiful, complicated melodies and long ass guitar solos you just don't hear anymore, which is one of modern rock’s biggest tragedies. Tell ya what, I got a copy of this on Sam’s computer from a concert they did with the San Francisco orchestra, and I bet you’ll like it backed by violins and stuff.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then Buffy won’t be the only person in the house with shit taste in music.”

Willow snapped to look at something out the window and yelled, “Stop the car! Stop the car!”

Dean slammed on the brakes, and she bolted down the sidewalk after a short blond boy in a large black coat. Quickly finding a place to park, Dean chased after her and found her scuffling in an alley.

She had the boy pinned against the wall and was practically spitting in his face. “You don't know the first thing about pain, but I'm willing to give a lesson.”

“Help me! Please, save me! She’s trying to kill me!” shouted the kid when he spotted Dean.

“Hey, I was speechifying!” whined Willow.

“Ginger, you wanna fill me in?” Dean asked. He’d never seen her violent and pushy, but it was hard to believe this trembling kid with a puddle of piss forming at his feet could possibly be any threat.

“Remember Warren?” Her voice was dark, dangerous.

“Killed Tara. Suffered the consequences. Got a pretty strong mental picture.”

“Andrew here was one of his lackeys.”

“I didn’t kill Tara!” Andrew protested, trembling. “I had nothing to do with that. Buffy beat us so bad, I was packing up to leave town.”

“Shut up, you worm. Dean, check his bag.”

Near the mouth of the alley was a brown paper sack with a blossoming bloodstain. “Please, don’t be a cat. Please, don’t be a cat,” Dean muttered. “Looks like someone else went to the butcher. We got some fresh meat and a whole lotta blood. One of ‘em popped open, but he had eight quarts.”

“Pull the car around. Do you think he’ll fit in the trunk?”

Dean huffed. “I can fit three of him in the trunk.”

Xander and Anya searched Andrew’s coat while the Winchesters tied him to a chair in Dawn’s room, a pile of stuffed animals transfixed on the scene.

“I won’t tell you anything,” their new captive squeaked, “no matter how roughly you manhandle my body. Seriously, you should maybe touch my body some more.”

Sam rolled his eyes and left.

“You don’t want me handling you, kid. I’d take your fingernails first, then start asking questions,” Dean said before following his brother out the door.

Standing in the hallway, they could hear Xander and Anya start their good cop, bad cop routine. “We’re gonna make you squeal, little piggie!”

“Today has only increased in crazy,” Sam sighed.

“Double the hostages, double the fun?”

Sam shook his head. “Where are all the pieces?”

“Whatever the big boss is has visited Dawn, Willow and Fangs McGee, who’s been killing people on request, but cuz a that chip, he ain’t supposed to be able to do that. The little one --” there was a smack and thump behind Dawn’s bedroom door, “fancies himself some sorta criminal mastermind. Willow said he can conjure up some pretty sick spells, so she’s thinkin’ he’s connected to whatever hell else is going on.”

“And he was one of the people who killed Tara?”

“No, he was in on the world conquering part of it, but was seriously afraid of Buffy beating the shit outta him. You shoulda seen him in the alley with Willow. Pissed himself.”

“Like all criminal masterminds,” Sam said dryly.

“She did skin his buddy.”

Xander and Anya came out of Dawn’s room looking stern before closing the door and dissolving into a giggle fit. “Did you see that?! I made him cry!”

“You’re a good bad cop,” Xander beamed.

“He was annoying me, and I wanted to slap him, so I went ahead and slapped him!”

“Oh, nice line there about the fingernails, Dean. You really helped get him ready to spill. ‘Course he jumps every time Willow’s mentioned too. Where is Will?”

“She’s downstairs folding laundry with Dawn,” Sam replied.

“Sinister, thy name is Willow. Okay, An, you go relax for a bit, and I’ll go pretend to be the weasel’s friend.”

“Feel free to turn up my demon reputation but gloss over how I can’t bring any of that pain anymore.”

“Never underestimate your ability to cause people pain,” said Xander before ducking back into the bedroom.

Anya smiled a love-swoony smile. “Xander’s so sweet. He still believes in me.” Pleased with her accomplishments, she practically skipped down the stairs.

Over an hour later, Buffy, looking exhausted and downcast, found Dean in the kitchen making a late grilled cheese lunch with Dawn. She fell into Dean’s arms, groaning as he rubbed her back. “Not going so hot, baby?”

“The whole blood-eating thing is super gross,” she said into his chest. “It has to digest or absorb or whatever happens inside a vampire. I skipped the biology lesson. He’s too exhausted to explain anything.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Dawn grumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“He always wants to spend time with you, right? Now he’s got you alone in your bedroom feeding him. Spike’s gotta be thinking that’s pretty hot.”

“Ew. This just got worse.”

Dean held her face in his hands and smiled at her. He hated seeing her stressed like this, hated her feeling backed against a wall, hated her feeling so lost. “We got a pile of sandwiches with your name on them.”

“Not true,” said Dawn, grabbing two. “The ones with pickles are mine.”

“You need to eat and sleep,” Dean said gently. “Go curl up on the couch an’ take a nap. You’ve been up all night, barely slept the night before. No use grinding yourself down. I’ll make sure he stays tied up.”

Grabbing a non-pickled sandwich, Buffy said through bites, “Sam’s sort of taking up the entire couch, and last time you were alone with Spike, you punched him.”

“He deserved it.”

“No doubt, but I don’t want to lose you. I’ll sleep eventually.”

Sleepy eyed, Sam stumbled in. “I’m gonna head out for a few hours. Shower. Change.”

“Give me a minute,” Dean said before his brother disappeared. “What do you need me to do, Girly?”

Willow and Buffy sat on Willow’s bed, arms around their knees, listening to Andrew’s whimpering and Spike’s muttering.

“I could organize the basement,” Willow said, her voice hollow, her eyes far away. “Or I could build some sort of padded panic room for the panicking.”

Buffy grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed. “Dean said you were a badass when you spotted Andrew.”

Pale, eyes wide, Willow nodded. “I-I figured he couldn’t be good news, but…” She leaned over and curled into a ball, her head on Buffy’s lap.

“Where does having him in the house fall on the weirdness scale?” Buffy asked, combing Willow’s hair with her fingers.

“You know that nightmare where you walk into class and there’s a test you forgot to study for?”

“Nightmare. Yeah. Sure, Will,” said Buffy dryly.

“It’s pass/fail, and I don’t remember any of the material.”

But it went beyond Andrew. Her mind buzzed with the past and a thousand what ifs. But something else was crowding out the flashbacks of Tara’s death.

Dread grew in Willow’s heart. Something was very wrong with Spike, she could feel it wafting off him, a similar disharmonious buzz as when she tried to get a read on the Winchesters. She’d noticed it a bit when she saw the demon in him, but brushed it off as a side effect of the spell. Now it was a war drum charge pounding on the other side of the wall.

Anya, working out some post-demon stress, had climbed deep into her bad cop role. So deep, Xander was having a hard time pulling her off Andrew, crying in the fetal position on the floor. “Anya, honey, that’s enough!”

“Isn’t this why you untied him, so the cowering would be more satisfying?”

“I’ll tell you anything, just keep the psycho chick away from me!”

“Let’s start with why you came back to Sunnydale.”

The bedroom was starting to reek of blood. Spike preferred the Buffy smell, but three quarts in, he was perking up, remembering.

“I didn’t know the bleedin’ chip ‘ad stopped working.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Don’t know. I don’t remember killing anyone. I mean, I know I did it, not denying that, but I don’t remember it. You know like ‘ow when you find a ticket stub in your pocket, and that proof in your ‘and is the only memory you have of a shoddy movie? It’s like that. I don’t know what I was thinking, feeling, doing, just that I turned and buried them.”

“Has that been happening a lot? The memory loss?”

Arms crossed and scowling, Dean stepped forward. “We have a bigger problem. Andrew is here. You know how he ties in.”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Do you remember what happened in the basement last night?” Buffy asked. “You said Drusilla was there. You said she visited you in the school basement every day. What did she tell you, Spike?”

“That’s right. Dru was always there for me. Supporting me. Singing to me. She may ‘ave been mad, but that woman knows for love and loyalty, unlike some. Got myself resouled and was left to talk to hallucinations. ‘Ow’s that for a hello?”

Buffy rose from the edge of the bed and paced the room. “Spike, this isn’t about us.”

“It really isn’t,” Dean said. “This is about the sorry pickle you’ve got yourself in. Tied up. Confused. Still hungry. And right through that wall, answers. It’s you or him.”

“I know what you’re tryin, Dean, but I’m not falling for it.”

Buffy stiffened and looked around the room. “Spike, do you see Dean? Dean’s not here.”

Dean plunged his hand into Spike’s chest; sizzling, sharp, it felt like a lightning bolt to the heart.

Spike’s fangs descended. With a swift jerk, he broke the arms off the chair and swung at Buffy, scratching her face with the broken wood. He kicked her down and charged at the wall. Breaking through to Dawn’s room, Spike grabbed Andrew by the throat and bit him. Hands tugged at him, swatted him, but he clamped down harder. Andrew had to be stopped. A strong pair of small hands grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him into the door frame.

Spike shook his head, confused as to why he was suddenly on the floor, untied, and with a crowd gathered around a small blonde boy. Buffy stomped toward Spike, and kicked him in the face.

The tiredness made Buffy’s fingers stiff as she checked the lock on Spike’s manacles once again.

“Sure this will ‘old me? I don’t want to ‘urt anyone.”

Without answering, Buffy headed upstairs to her friends. She was tired of talking, of trying to figure out what was happening, of what she was even fighting. She wanted a giant plate of sweet and sour chicken and the freedom to sleep for three days.

Dawn was curled under Willow’s arm on the couch. Sitting on the coffee table in front of them, Buffy said, “I’ll call Dean. You can stay at his place until we get this sorted.”

“You shouldn’t have told him to leave, or, you know, invited a killer into the house,” Dawn grumbled.

“Thank you for the hindsight alert, but who else was going to patrol?”

Xander and Anya came downstairs. “Good news, Buff, is that Spike didn’t rip any electrical when he Hulked the wall. Bad news is there’s zero privacy for you and Dawn. The hardware store is closed, but if the Winchesters lend a hand, we can get it like new tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Anya?”

Anya, twisting one foot like a little girl, was staring wistfully at Xander.

“Earth to Anya?”

“Yes?”

“How’s Andrew?” Buffy asked.

“Sorry, with the interrogation, the fighting, and the manly construction talk, I started to feel a little aroused, which obviously pushed Andrew from my mind. Oh, well, the little twerp will live. I patched up his neck and tied him up again.”

“Other than Anya’s attraction to drywall, did we learn anything for all of this mess?” asked Willow.

“We did get our stoolie to sing,” said Anya, with a proud smile. “Andrew came back because he was having visions of a seal that he needed to give blood to for vague evil purposes. He was about to clarify, when KA-BAM! That’s the sound Spike made with the wall.”

“Did Spike tell you anything, Buffy?”

“What happened to Willow and Dawn has pretty much been an everyday occurrence with Spike, but he thought the ghosts were part of the soul guilt. He said he sees me and Drusilla the most. I yell at him, and Drusilla encourages him.”

“Good cop, bad cop!” Anya interjected.

“Maybe. He was talking to invisible Drusilla at the vamp house. Screaming at her. Upstairs, he was talking to Dean--”

“Oh God!” Dawn gasped. “So this baddie can look like anyone? Not just the dead? How do we know who’s real?”

Buffy sighed and unloaded the Winchesters’ secret. “Dean has died before. So’s Sam.”

Mouths agape, the Scoobies stared at Buffy. “Well, that explains your relationship a bit,” said Willow.

“Were you just not going to tell us this?” Xander asked. “Seems kind of important with a costume-loving evil on the loose.”

“A lot has happened in the last couple days, okay? It slipped my mind. Anyway, Spike thought he was talking to Dean, then he just...changed. He wasn’t even like the Spike who came to kill me in high school. He was different.”

“Perhaps we have a Manchurian Candidate situation,” said Xander, who was met with silent stares. “C’mon! It’s a classic! Okay, so Angela Lansbury has brainwashed her son for the Communist party. Every time she wants him to kill someone, she tells him to play solitaire, and gives him the mission when a certain card triggers his sleeper agent side. Only in our case, Spike is the son, the trigger is some unknown message from the undead person, and mystery baddie is evil Jessica Fletcher.”

“So what’s the mission?” asked Willow.

“When Spike broke free, he knocked me down, then went straight for Andrew, like he had a purpose. Anya, you said he was about to tell you what the seal is for. That has to be connected.”

“What now, Buff? Should we interrogate Andrew some more?”

“Stake Spike?”

“No.” Buffy stood up and stretched. “It’s past eight. Dinner, then plan. I’ll call Dean, and if someone could pick up a giant order of Chinese food, you will officially be my favorite.”

Leaving the phone to the important task of food fetching, she trudged up the stairs to the cellphone in her wrecked bedroom. She wanted a little privacy anyway. Her friends all expected her have answers, plans, foresight. With Dean, she could cry, maybe even gripe a little, and he respected her, still followed her lead even if it was something as distasteful as getting blood for Spike.

She’d just reached the top of the stairs when the lights went out and robed figures crashed through the windows and doors. Two bolted toward her, staves held high. She snatched one staff and butted the owner down the stairs, but the other sneaked past her. She chased him to Dawn’s room. With two daggers drawn, he stood over a whimpering Andrew. Grabbing one wrist, she spun the intruder around and headbutted him before yanking the blades from his hands. As she stabbed him in the chest, she swung back and gutted the second assassin who’d appeared behind her.

Checking that the upstairs was secure, she bolted downstairs calling for her sister. “She’s okay,” said Xander, standing over a bleeding body, Dawn shaking on the floor behind him.

Anya was by the broken back door, shaking awake Willow who was bleeding from a head wound.

“Looks like the house got the worst of it.”

Crouching over the assassin Xander had killed, Buffy felt a nauseating recognition. The robe. The runes branded over the eyes. “I know these guys. I’ve been dreaming about them for months. They’re the assassins in my visions. They -- they went straight for Andrew.”

“That makes sense,” said Anya. “If they’re connected to what was talking to Spike earlier, it knew who was here and where. Your house was a sieve even without the windows broken.”

“Spike,” Buffy whispered. “Has anyone checked on Spike?” She ran to the basement, practically tripping on the stairs. Against the wall hung an empty pair of manacles.

Spike’s head was throbbing again, and he could feel someone yanking on his arms as they tied him up. “You know, I’m getting right sick of being battered about.”

He opened his eyes to see the smirking face of Buffy lit by torchlight as robed figures with mutilated faces dug up a seal. “I told you there would be consequences. Andrew is possibly the most pathetic human I’ve ever met, yet you failed to kill him.” Two of her minions approached Spike with knives and began carving into his chest and stomach. He bit his tongue to deny her satisfaction. “Since he failed to bring me a blood sacrifice, you’ll have to do.”

Whatever he was tied to was hoisted up so he was parallel to the goat-faced seal below, his blood filling the grooves. “Buffy will stop you,” he hissed.

“Yes, Buffy. You didn’t kill her like I asked. You didn’t kill Dean either. Now they’re on to me. I was tired of hiding anyway, and I have some friends who want to play. Spike, do you want to meet a real vampire?”

The goat face disappeared under the pool of blood. The arms of the pentagram around it turned up and twisted to create a staircase. A gnarled grey hand struck the dirt, and a bony creature with a full set of spiny teeth rose from the ground and roared.

next chapter

[abdallahalhakim]

Our Food System: An Invisible Form of Oppression

On April 4,, 2018, the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s death, I was honored to be asked to speak at Riverside Church in Harlem, the church where 51 years ago to the day MLK Jr. spoke out about the injustice of the Vietnam War. From that same pulpit, I gave a talk about the role of our food system and the food industry in deliberately subverting public health and targeting the poor and minorities. The day was focused on MLK, Jr’s fight for civil rights and social justice for the minorities and poor. The harm of the food system, however affects all of us. This is the transcript of the speech I gave on that auspicious night.

As a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm. Today, I stand here because there is harm being done to millions and I must speak out. We know all too well the visible forms of racism in our society. We know the inequities in income and opportunity. We know the brutal violence and discrimination of the police. We know the shooting of black children. We know the name of Tamir Rice. We know the name of unarmed black men shot in the back. We know the name of Stephon Clark.

But we don’t know the names of millions of African Americans killed every year by an invisible form of racism, a silent and insidious injustice.

This is an often-internalized force of racism and oppression that disproportionately affects the poor and African American communities.

We do know that 1.3% of all deaths are caused by gun violence.  And it is real and tragic and needs to end.

But we may not know that 70% of deaths are caused by chronic disease—mostly the result of our toxic food system.

More African Americans are killed by bad food than anything else.

The science is clear—our processed, sugary, starchy diet is the single biggest cause of disease and death—type 2 diabetes, obesity, heart disease, stroke, high blood pressure, cancer, and even dementia.

Our food system is the deadliest weapon used against the poor and minorities— keeping them poor, sick and fat, hijacking their brains and biology.

We are told that it is our personal choice, that being fat results from eating too much and not exercising enough. That blames the victim—the subliminal message is that it’s your fault you are fat and sick.

We may think that what we eat is a personal choice, that is rooted in our cultural heritage and family customs.

But we know that the food industry designs our food to be addictive, that they hire craving experts who work in taste institutes to design what they call the bliss point of food—all with the purpose of creating heavy users. These are their internal corporate terms.  

What if I told you that the food industry specifically targets the poor and minorities?

It is easy to get someone who is already drinking a 20-ounce soda to buy a 2 liter bottle of soda.

Research shows that African American kids drink twice as much soda as white kids.

What if I told you that sugar and processed foods were more addictive than cocaine, that the food industry has hijacked our brain chemistry, our taste buds, our metabolism, our bodies and our minds?

When our foods are biologically addictive the notion of personal choice is a fiction. It blames the victims for their choices.  

How can we take care of our communities, when 23 million Americans live in food deserts? Where the only food available is processed junk from convenience stores, fast food outlets, and the closest grocery store is more than a mile away. And where it’s hard to find fresh fruits and vegetables or healthy food.

But the problem isn’t only food deserts.

It is food swamps—communities filled with fast food chains and bodegas plying highly processed addictive foods. They sell gallon cups of soda, and other sugar-loaded beverages, and there are fast-food chains peddling burgers, fries, and fried chicken on almost every street corner.

We know that your zip code is more important than your genetic code in determining your risk of disease and death.

We also know that our food system is the #1 cause of climate change.

And what about our kids?

Forty percent of them are overweight. We now see 3 year olds with type 2 diabetes—which we used to call adult onset diabetes.

We are told that kids’ behavior problems results from bad parenting.  

The research shows that African Americans are far less likely to graduate from high school or go to college.

But if our children go to school with a breakfast of Coke or colored sugar water and Doritos or Flaming Hot chips how can we expect them to focus or pay attention?

These are not foods. They are food-like substances with no nutritional benefit.

This diet creates an “achievement gap” because kids are too sick to learn—and affects far more kids of color than any other group. These kids are less likely to go to college, earn good incomes, and more likely to get sick and die young.

One in 10 of our kids are on ADD medication. And the science shows the junk our kids eat is a big part of the cause.

The food industry spends $10 billion on marketing junk food to our kids every year. The average kid sees over 6,000 ads for junk food and soda on TV and even more through social media.  And minorities and African American kids are targeted more aggressively.These companies are junk food pushers.

Do you really think it was a coincidence that Paula Abdul and all the judges on American Idol had a 24 -ounce container of Coke in front of them at every show?

Top sports stars receive tens of millions of dollars from soda and fast food giants to promote their products to our children who idolize them.  

Yet it doesn’t have to be that way.

Charter schools in the poorest most disadvantaged communities of color who feed the kids two to three healthy meals a day find that the kids are more likely to go to college than go to jail.

And we incarcerate African Americans at five times the rate of white Americans. Much of that is the result of racial targeting by the police and judicial system.

But it could be that much violent crime is also the result of our diet that robs us of our minds, affects our thinking, judgement, and ability to make good choices.  

You may think that’s too far-fetched. But studies have shown by feeding violent prisoners healthy diets in prisons, that violent crime goes down by 56% and adding a multivitamin—because they are all so nutritionally deficient—violent crime goes down by 80%.

We know that the task of ending mass incarceration and the New Jim Crow is complex and urgent.  

We know that the task of building a just food system is also complex and urgent. We have to build a new food system together. Part of this task is listening to the voices of those directly affected by our toxic food system.

I once received a letter from a prison, from a murderer who changed his diet in prison and realized that his whole life of eating junk had made him violent and eating real food transformed him into a different person.

The food industry employs nefarious tactics to prevent change. They buy friends, silence critics, and sweeten their profits.

I was part of a documentary called Fed Up—a movie about how our food system makes us sick and fat with addictive sugary, starchy products.

I met with Bernice King, Martin Luther King Jr’s daughter, and she explained to me to that non-violence also includes non-violence to ourselves. She was excited about showing Fed Up at the King Center in Atlanta.  

But a few days later I got a call that the we couldn’t show the film.

Why I asked?  The answer: Coca-Cola funds the King Center.

The Dean of Spelman College in Atlanta told me that 50% of the entering class of African American freshman women had a chronic disease—type 2 diabetes, hypertension, or obesity.

I asked her why there were Coke machines and fountains all over campus. Coca-Cola is one of the biggest donors to the college.

The NAACP has received $2.1 million dollars from Coca-Cola alone since 1986. Coca-Cola also funded the Hispanic Federation.

Is it any surprise the NAACP and Hispanic groups oppose a soda tax?

We cannot stand for this.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”  

We can no longer be silent about this.

If you are African American you are 80% more likely to be diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, over 4 times as likely to have kidney failure, and 3.5 times as likely to suffer amputations as whites.

Yet we remain silent about the role of the food system killing millions of Americans. They tell us it is all personal choice.

Nonsense.

Big food corrupts public health and advocacy groups.  They fund hunger groups like the Food Research and Action Center and Feeding America. 

These hunger groups strongly oppose limiting the use of food stamps or SNAP to buy soda, despite the fact the single biggest item of our food stamp bill (over $7 billion a year) is soda, or 20 billion servings a year to the poor.

Soda and sugar-sweetened beverages are the single biggest cause of obesity and type 2 diabetes.

Our bodies, our health, our children, our communities have been taken from us.

It is time we take them back.

It is time we say no to big food and institutionalized food injustice that is causing this slow-motion genocide.

It is time to free ourselves from corporate interests that privatize the profits and socialize the costs of their products.

Taking back our food and our food system is a revolutionary act.  

There are things we can’t change as individuals.

But we all eat. We vote three times a day with our fork.

The single biggest political act and the single biggest act of self-love, of rebuilding our communities is to choose real food.

So, what is real food? It’s pretty simple.   

Next time you pick up something to eat, ask yourself this question: Did God make this or did man make this?  

Did God make Doritos or a Coke? No. Did God make an egg or broccoli? Yes.

We can teach our kids and teach ourselves how to choose and eat food that brings life not death.

Big Food would have you believe that it is expensive, that it is difficult, that it takes too much time.  

Don’t believe them. It is not true.  

We need to educate our kids, ourselves, and our communities. We have to do this together. In fact, we can only do this together.

Black lives matter. Yes. And black health matters, too!

The harm done by the global food industry affects nearly all humans on the planet in some way.  

This must stop. We can stop it with our fork, the most powerful weapon we have to change our health, our communities, our economy and the health the of the planet.

Wishing you health and happiness,

Mark Hyman, MD

  [Read More ...] http://drhyman.com/blog/2018/04/09/our-food-system-an-invisible-form-of-oppression/

[melissawsr]

Our Food System: An Invisible Form of Oppression

On April 4,, 2018, the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s death, I was honored to be asked to speak at Riverside Church in Harlem, the church where 51 years ago to the day MLK Jr. spoke out about the injustice of the Vietnam War. From that same pulpit, I gave a talk about the role of our food system and the food industry in deliberately subverting public health and targeting the poor and minorities. The day was focused on MLK, Jr’s fight for civil rights and social justice for the minorities and poor. The harm of the food system, however affects all of us. This is the transcript of the speech I gave on that auspicious night.

As a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm. Today, I stand here because there is harm being done to millions and I must speak out. We know all too well the visible forms of racism in our society. We know the inequities in income and opportunity. We know the brutal violence and discrimination of the police. We know the shooting of black children. We know the name of Tamir Rice. We know the name of unarmed black men shot in the back. We know the name of Stephon Clark.

But we don’t know the names of millions of African Americans killed every year by an invisible form of racism, a silent and insidious injustice.

This is an often-internalized force of racism and oppression that disproportionately affects the poor and African American communities.

We do know that 1.3% of all deaths are caused by gun violence.  And it is real and tragic and needs to end.

But we may not know that 70% of deaths are caused by chronic disease—mostly the result of our toxic food system.

More African Americans are killed by bad food than anything else.

The science is clear—our processed, sugary, starchy diet is the single biggest cause of disease and death—type 2 diabetes, obesity, heart disease, stroke, high blood pressure, cancer, and even dementia.

Our food system is the deadliest weapon used against the poor and minorities— keeping them poor, sick and fat, hijacking their brains and biology.

We are told that it is our personal choice, that being fat results from eating too much and not exercising enough. That blames the victim—the subliminal message is that it’s your fault you are fat and sick.

We may think that what we eat is a personal choice, that is rooted in our cultural heritage and family customs.

But we know that the food industry designs our food to be addictive, that they hire craving experts who work in taste institutes to design what they call the bliss point of food—all with the purpose of creating heavy users. These are their internal corporate terms.  

What if I told you that the food industry specifically targets the poor and minorities?

It is easy to get someone who is already drinking a 20-ounce soda to buy a 2 liter bottle of soda.

Research shows that African American kids drink twice as much soda as white kids.

What if I told you that sugar and processed foods were more addictive than cocaine, that the food industry has hijacked our brain chemistry, our taste buds, our metabolism, our bodies and our minds?

When our foods are biologically addictive the notion of personal choice is a fiction. It blames the victims for their choices.  

How can we take care of our communities, when 23 million Americans live in food deserts? Where the only food available is processed junk from convenience stores, fast food outlets, and the closest grocery store is more than a mile away. And where it’s hard to find fresh fruits and vegetables or healthy food.

But the problem isn’t only food deserts.

It is food swamps—communities filled with fast food chains and bodegas plying highly processed addictive foods. They sell gallon cups of soda, and other sugar-loaded beverages, and there are fast-food chains peddling burgers, fries, and fried chicken on almost every street corner.

We know that your zip code is more important than your genetic code in determining your risk of disease and death.

We also know that our food system is the #1 cause of climate change.

And what about our kids?

Forty percent of them are overweight. We now see 3 year olds with type 2 diabetes—which we used to call adult onset diabetes.

We are told that kids’ behavior problems results from bad parenting.  

The research shows that African Americans are far less likely to graduate from high school or go to college.

But if our children go to school with a breakfast of Coke or colored sugar water and Doritos or Flaming Hot chips how can we expect them to focus or pay attention?

These are not foods. They are food-like substances with no nutritional benefit.

This diet creates an “achievement gap” because kids are too sick to learn—and affects far more kids of color than any other group. These kids are less likely to go to college, earn good incomes, and more likely to get sick and die young.

One in 10 of our kids are on ADD medication. And the science shows the junk our kids eat is a big part of the cause.

The food industry spends $10 billion on marketing junk food to our kids every year. The average kid sees over 6,000 ads for junk food and soda on TV and even more through social media.  And minorities and African American kids are targeted more aggressively.These companies are junk food pushers.

Do you really think it was a coincidence that Paula Abdul and all the judges on American Idol had a 24 -ounce container of Coke in front of them at every show?

Top sports stars receive tens of millions of dollars from soda and fast food giants to promote their products to our children who idolize them.  

Yet it doesn’t have to be that way.

Charter schools in the poorest most disadvantaged communities of color who feed the kids two to three healthy meals a day find that the kids are more likely to go to college than go to jail.

And we incarcerate African Americans at five times the rate of white Americans. Much of that is the result of racial targeting by the police and judicial system.

But it could be that much violent crime is also the result of our diet that robs us of our minds, affects our thinking, judgement, and ability to make good choices.  

You may think that’s too far-fetched. But studies have shown by feeding violent prisoners healthy diets in prisons, that violent crime goes down by 56% and adding a multivitamin—because they are all so nutritionally deficient—violent crime goes down by 80%.

We know that the task of ending mass incarceration and the New Jim Crow is complex and urgent.  

We know that the task of building a just food system is also complex and urgent. We have to build a new food system together. Part of this task is listening to the voices of those directly affected by our toxic food system.

I once received a letter from a prison, from a murderer who changed his diet in prison and realized that his whole life of eating junk had made him violent and eating real food transformed him into a different person.

The food industry employs nefarious tactics to prevent change. They buy friends, silence critics, and sweeten their profits.

I was part of a documentary called Fed Up—a movie about how our food system makes us sick and fat with addictive sugary, starchy products.

I met with Bernice King, Martin Luther King Jr’s daughter, and she explained to me to that non-violence also includes non-violence to ourselves. She was excited about showing Fed Up at the King Center in Atlanta.  

But a few days later I got a call that the we couldn’t show the film.

Why I asked?  The answer: Coca-Cola funds the King Center.

The Dean of Spelman College in Atlanta told me that 50% of the entering class of African American freshman women had a chronic disease—type 2 diabetes, hypertension, or obesity.

I asked her why there were Coke machines and fountains all over campus. Coca-Cola is one of the biggest donors to the college.

The NAACP has received $2.1 million dollars from Coca-Cola alone since 1986. Coca-Cola also funded the Hispanic Federation.

Is it any surprise the NAACP and Hispanic groups oppose a soda tax?

We cannot stand for this.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”  

We can no longer be silent about this.

If you are African American you are 80% more likely to be diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, over 4 times as likely to have kidney failure, and 3.5 times as likely to suffer amputations as whites.

Yet we remain silent about the role of the food system killing millions of Americans. They tell us it is all personal choice.

Nonsense.

Big food corrupts public health and advocacy groups.  They fund hunger groups like the Food Research and Action Center and Feeding America. 

These hunger groups strongly oppose limiting the use of food stamps or SNAP to buy soda, despite the fact the single biggest item of our food stamp bill (over $7 billion a year) is soda, or 20 billion servings a year to the poor.

Soda and sugar-sweetened beverages are the single biggest cause of obesity and type 2 diabetes.

Our bodies, our health, our children, our communities have been taken from us.

It is time we take them back.

It is time we say no to big food and institutionalized food injustice that is causing this slow-motion genocide.

It is time to free ourselves from corporate interests that privatize the profits and socialize the costs of their products.

Taking back our food and our food system is a revolutionary act.  

There are things we can’t change as individuals.

But we all eat. We vote three times a day with our fork.

The single biggest political act and the single biggest act of self-love, of rebuilding our communities is to choose real food.

So, what is real food? It’s pretty simple.   

Next time you pick up something to eat, ask yourself this question: Did God make this or did man make this?  

Did God make Doritos or a Coke? No. Did God make an egg or broccoli? Yes.

We can teach our kids and teach ourselves how to choose and eat food that brings life not death.

Big Food would have you believe that it is expensive, that it is difficult, that it takes too much time.  

Don’t believe them. It is not true.  

We need to educate our kids, ourselves, and our communities. We have to do this together. In fact, we can only do this together.

Black lives matter. Yes. And black health matters, too!

The harm done by the global food industry affects nearly all humans on the planet in some way.  

This must stop. We can stop it with our fork, the most powerful weapon we have to change our health, our communities, our economy and the health the of the planet.

Wishing you health and happiness,

Mark Hyman, MD

  [Read More ...] http://drhyman.com/blog/2018/04/09/our-food-system-an-invisible-form-of-oppression/

[sublimotion]

Our Food System: An Invisible Form of Oppression

http://drhyman.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/Newsletterimage-4.9.jpg?v=1.1

On April 4,, 2018, the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s death, I was honored to be asked to speak at Riverside Church in Harlem, the church where 51 years ago to the day MLK Jr. spoke out about the injustice of the Vietnam War. From that same pulpit, I gave a talk about the role of our food system and the food industry in deliberately subverting public health and targeting the poor and minorities. The day was focused on MLK, Jr’s fight for civil rights and social justice for the minorities and poor. The harm of the food system, however affects all of us. This is the transcript of the speech I gave on that auspicious night.

As a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm. Today, I stand here because there is harm being done to millions and I must speak out. We know all too well the visible forms of racism in our society. We know the inequities in income and opportunity. We know the brutal violence and discrimination of the police. We know the shooting of black children. We know the name of Tamir Rice. We know the name of unarmed black men shot in the back. We know the name of Stephon Clark.

But we don’t know the names of millions of African Americans killed every year by an invisible form of racism, a silent and insidious injustice.

This is an often-internalized force of racism and oppression that disproportionately affects the poor and African American communities.

We do know that 1.3% of all deaths are caused by gun violence.  And it is real and tragic and needs to end.

But we may not know that 70% of deaths are caused by chronic disease—mostly the result of our toxic food system.

More African Americans are killed by bad food than anything else.

The science is clear—our processed, sugary, starchy diet is the single biggest cause of disease and death—type 2 diabetes, obesity, heart disease, stroke, high blood pressure, cancer, and even dementia.

Our food system is the deadliest weapon used against the poor and minorities— keeping them poor, sick and fat, hijacking their brains and biology.

We are told that it is our personal choice, that being fat results from eating too much and not exercising enough. That blames the victim—the subliminal message is that it’s your fault you are fat and sick.

We may think that what we eat is a personal choice, that is rooted in our cultural heritage and family customs.

But we know that the food industry designs our food to be addictive, that they hire craving experts who work in taste institutes to design what they call the bliss point of food—all with the purpose of creating heavy users. These are their internal corporate terms.  

What if I told you that the food industry specifically targets the poor and minorities?

It is easy to get someone who is already drinking a 20-ounce soda to buy a 2 liter bottle of soda.

Research shows that African American kids drink twice as much soda as white kids.

What if I told you that sugar and processed foods were more addictive than cocaine, that the food industry has hijacked our brain chemistry, our taste buds, our metabolism, our bodies and our minds?

When our foods are biologically addictive the notion of personal choice is a fiction. It blames the victims for their choices.  

How can we take care of our communities, when 23 million Americans live in food deserts? Where the only food available is processed junk from convenience stores, fast food outlets, and the closest grocery store is more than a mile away. And where it’s hard to find fresh fruits and vegetables or healthy food.

But the problem isn’t only food deserts.

It is food swamps—communities filled with fast food chains and bodegas plying highly processed addictive foods. They sell gallon cups of soda, and other sugar-loaded beverages, and there are fast-food chains peddling burgers, fries, and fried chicken on almost every street corner.

We know that your zip code is more important than your genetic code in determining your risk of disease and death.

We also know that our food system is the #1 cause of climate change.

And what about our kids?

Forty percent of them are overweight. We now see 3 year olds with type 2 diabetes—which we used to call adult onset diabetes.

We are told that kids’ behavior problems results from bad parenting.  

The research shows that African Americans are far less likely to graduate from high school or go to college.

But if our children go to school with a breakfast of Coke or colored sugar water and Doritos or Flaming Hot chips how can we expect them to focus or pay attention?

These are not foods. They are food-like substances with no nutritional benefit.

This diet creates an “achievement gap” because kids are too sick to learn—and affects far more kids of color than any other group. These kids are less likely to go to college, earn good incomes, and more likely to get sick and die young.

One in 10 of our kids are on ADD medication. And the science shows the junk our kids eat is a big part of the cause.

The food industry spends $10 billion on marketing junk food to our kids every year. The average kid sees over 6,000 ads for junk food and soda on TV and even more through social media.  And minorities and African American kids are targeted more aggressively.These companies are junk food pushers.

Do you really think it was a coincidence that Paula Abdul and all the judges on American Idol had a 24 -ounce container of Coke in front of them at every show?

Top sports stars receive tens of millions of dollars from soda and fast food giants to promote their products to our children who idolize them.  

Yet it doesn’t have to be that way.

Charter schools in the poorest most disadvantaged communities of color who feed the kids two to three healthy meals a day find that the kids are more likely to go to college than go to jail.

And we incarcerate African Americans at five times the rate of white Americans. Much of that is the result of racial targeting by the police and judicial system.

But it could be that much violent crime is also the result of our diet that robs us of our minds, affects our thinking, judgement, and ability to make good choices.  

You may think that’s too far-fetched. But studies have shown by feeding violent prisoners healthy diets in prisons, that violent crime goes down by 56% and adding a multivitamin—because they are all so nutritionally deficient—violent crime goes down by 80%.

We know that the task of ending mass incarceration and the New Jim Crow is complex and urgent.  

We know that the task of building a just food system is also complex and urgent. We have to build a new food system together. Part of this task is listening to the voices of those directly affected by our toxic food system.

I once received a letter from a prison, from a murderer who changed his diet in prison and realized that his whole life of eating junk had made him violent and eating real food transformed him into a different person.

The food industry employs nefarious tactics to prevent change. They buy friends, silence critics, and sweeten their profits.

I was part of a documentary called Fed Up—a movie about how our food system makes us sick and fat with addictive sugary, starchy products.

I met with Bernice King, Martin Luther King Jr’s daughter, and she explained to me to that non-violence also includes non-violence to ourselves. She was excited about showing Fed Up at the King Center in Atlanta.  

But a few days later I got a call that the we couldn’t show the film.

Why I asked?  The answer: Coca-Cola funds the King Center.

The Dean of Spelman College in Atlanta told me that 50% of the entering class of African American freshman women had a chronic disease—type 2 diabetes, hypertension, or obesity.

I asked her why there were Coke machines and fountains all over campus. Coca-Cola is one of the biggest donors to the college.

The NAACP has received $2.1 million dollars from Coca-Cola alone since 1986. Coca-Cola also funded the Hispanic Federation.

Is it any surprise the NAACP and Hispanic groups oppose a soda tax?

We cannot stand for this.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”  

We can no longer be silent about this.

If you are African American you are 80% more likely to be diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, over 4 times as likely to have kidney failure, and 3.5 times as likely to suffer amputations as whites.

Yet we remain silent about the role of the food system killing millions of Americans. They tell us it is all personal choice.

Nonsense.

Big food corrupts public health and advocacy groups.  They fund hunger groups like the Food Research and Action Center and Feeding America. 

These hunger groups strongly oppose limiting the use of food stamps or SNAP to buy soda, despite the fact the single biggest item of our food stamp bill (over $7 billion a year) is soda, or 20 billion servings a year to the poor.

Soda and sugar-sweetened beverages are the single biggest cause of obesity and type 2 diabetes.

Our bodies, our health, our children, our communities have been taken from us.

It is time we take them back.

It is time we say no to big food and institutionalized food injustice that is causing this slow-motion genocide.

It is time to free ourselves from corporate interests that privatize the profits and socialize the costs of their products.

Taking back our food and our food system is a revolutionary act.  

There are things we can’t change as individuals.

But we all eat. We vote three times a day with our fork.

The single biggest political act and the single biggest act of self-love, of rebuilding our communities is to choose real food.

So, what is real food? It’s pretty simple.   

Next time you pick up something to eat, ask yourself this question: Did God make this or did man make this?  

Did God make Doritos or a Coke? No. Did God make an egg or broccoli? Yes.

We can teach our kids and teach ourselves how to choose and eat food that brings life not death.

Big Food would have you believe that it is expensive, that it is difficult, that it takes too much time.  

Don’t believe them. It is not true.  

We need to educate our kids, ourselves, and our communities. We have to do this together. In fact, we can only do this together.

Black lives matter. Yes. And black health matters, too!

The harm done by the global food industry affects nearly all humans on the planet in some way.  

This must stop. We can stop it with our fork, the most powerful weapon we have to change our health, our communities, our economy and the health the of the planet.

Wishing you health and happiness,

Mark Hyman, MD

  [Read More ...] http://drhyman.com/blog/2018/04/09/our-food-system-an-invisible-form-of-oppression/

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New Post has been published on Blogging kits

New Post has been published on https://bloggingkits.org/internet-terrorist-samata-ullah-jailed-for-8-years/

‘Internet terrorist’ Samata Ullah jailed for 8 years

Former insurance and IT worker Samata Ullah, who regarded in courtroom carrying a gray sweatshirt, admitted five terrorism offenses, including professing to be a member of a proscribed agency, Islamic Kingdom, additionally called Isis and Daesh.

At a listening to on the Old Bailey on 2 May additionally, Decide Gerald Gordon stated he changed into happy that Ullah, who has been recognized with Asperger’s, became risky and that he ought to serve at least 5 years earlier than being considered for launch.

Ullah turned into arrested in September 2016, in a joint investigation, codenamed Gabbroid, that involved extra than a hundred officers from the Metropolitan Police and Welsh counter-terrorism units, with a guide from MI5.

Police seized more than one hundred fifty digital devices from Ullah’s bed room, inclusive of telephones, USB sticks, and computer systems. Those contained over 8TB of records – equal to 2.2 million copies of War and Peace.

Commander Dean Haydon, head of the Metropolitan Police’s SO15 counter-terrorism unit, stated Ullah had created an internet site to act as a one-stop supply of statistics for would-be terrorists.

“For my part, he changed into a web terrorist. He had set up a self-assist library for terrorists around the arena, and they were using his library,” said Haydon.

Numerous human beings have been arrested in some of the international locations following the investigation into Ullah and the internet site, Haydon disclosed.

“They in no way without a doubt were given to the assault planning stage, but any terrorist assault everywhere inside the global might inevitably result in the lack of existence,” he said.

How are you going to Legally prevent Practical Internet Flaming on your Personal Name? For all of us in the enterprise, it’s miles important to defend your recognition, alas there are lots of oldsters obtainable who go round attacking individuals who disagree with them politically, are competition or people they have an argument. The problems which might be caused are literally out of control.

When dishonest folks can slander your Call on line and cover within the shadows beneath false and fake identities, we’ve got social control through no longer just the society, government, reputation quo, but additionally the lone Internet terrorist. Essentially it is a shape of intimidation, social threats, and private terrorism.

however, you could combat returned with the aid of locating out who owns the websites, that are allowing posts, remarks, blogs or forums that are permitting this. Subsequent, you could write a prison letter to them to have them put off such records. you may additionally request them to disclose the person or person’s actual identity which might be causing Those issues.

Once, you’ve got located out who is doing this slander you may sue them in a court docket of law. Can you win the sort of lawsuit? From time to time you may, in reality you may be able to expose intent to slander and show that the person knew they were posting lies to damage you. In this example you could save you them from doing this and accumulate cash.

Each time someone fights back it puts up a word to others on-line, that there will be outcomes for beginning fake rumors or the use of the Net as a tool of social terrorism or Personal man or woman assaults and slander. Please do not forget this, but if you are going to pick on someone, pick out me, so I can sue you and continue to make money suing malcontents at the Internet.

Why Do Terrorist Companies Have An internet site? Propaganda and extra Terrorism is the media’s favorite topic for a “Breaking Information” story. Earlier, mainstream media turned into the best supply of such data for a common guy. With the onset of the Net, terrorist Businesses can without delay communicate with most of the people internationally. A website is a strong tool for both terrorists to attain their dreams and investigating corporations to enforce the law. This text deals with the reasons why terrorist Organizations have a internet site.

Media data

One of the maximum essential motives why terrorist agencies have a internet site is to spread facts and promote their agency. The internet site serves as an instantaneous manner of informing the media in their achievements and also placed out facts regarding their thoughts and function on a positive subject matter. From issuing loss of life threats to reporting beheadings, terrorists have used web sites and their on line presence to constantly unfold worry.

sell their ideology

websites provide the terrorists an unfiltered manner of achieving out to their fans and sympathizers with out the intervention or interference of any government authorities or Agencies. Censorship of facts is greater tough with the Internet over the mainstream media. This is why maximum terrorist outfits will favor to release information approximately their ideology and ambitions, thru a platform which they can at once manipulate.

Recruit cadre

in the current beyond, a couple of terrorist Groups have had super achievement in recruiting cadre and combatants for his or her institution, thru internet site and social media commercials. Similar to professional Corporations, terrorists also run recruitment campaigns on-line to acquire human beings to paintings or fight for them. With the deep penetration of technology, sympathizers from everywhere in the world, specially unemployed adolescents are the perfect target and are often brief to take in the sort of “prestigious” recruitment provide. On account that bulk of modern day adolescents are related to the Net and spend most of their free time surfing, they’re most probably to stumble upon such propaganda and may fall prey to it.

promote comparable Agencies

Terrorists frequently have a huge network of more than one smaller Businesses which they may be depending on for their some distance reach and difficult intelligence. not most effective do they publish updates from their own assets, however additionally they sell the ideology of different comparable terrorist Agencies and their paintings. In view that they all work in closed corporations or similar areas, they depend closely at the assist of every other. There’s no better manner to sell different similar fanatical Companies than to push their achievements and material at the internet site.

Get remarks and intelligence from supporters

cash isn’t the best factor a internet site can assist accumulate. information intelligence or even normal updates and feedback from nearby human beings is something that a terrorist enterprise is heavily dependent on. the usage of on line boards, comfortable chat structures and electronic mail, they can gather greater data and responses from their website. Their internet site acts as a key point of contact for all their supporters and informants.

Receive Donations

Financial resource is the lifestyles blood of terror organisations and their contributors. Even they want to offer basic facilities and services to their individuals and that is why they want to raise price range. The best way of doing this is through the Net. Their website can easily and discreetly offer facts to donors and supporters to deposit the finances. with out a internet site to resource them in fund raising, it is able to end up difficult if no longer not possible for a current terrorist outfit to fill up their coffers.