#this post is brought to you by my rash covered skin

[greenskellyblob]

Love being allergic to -*checks notes*- the light from our nearest star

[kamakrazeewarboyz]

Scrotus headcanons incoming under the cut!

(A lot of these were already posted and discussed in the Mad Max server, but @kamakrazeeee inspired me to flesh them out and add some more that’d been rattling around in my brain, so now you all get to see them too)

• He’s the middle child, born not long after Corpus, and only two or so years prior to Rictus. Definitely feels like he suffers from Middle Child Syndrome™️ and tries to make up for it with his ruthlessness and desire to prove himself as just as capable as his father.

• Has a love-hate relationship with Rictus, usually bordering on hate. He sees him as an incompetent obstacle, too often bumbling things up in a way that gets under Scrotus’ skin, and that alongside his constant childish disobedience of their father, and the things Scrotus knows he gets up to in the Vault when he thinks no one is looking, but refuses to outwardly acknowledge, drive him up a wall and thin his barely there patience to NOTHING. But despite how often he messes with him, he is the *only* one allowed to. Anyone else messes with his little brother, and he’ll have them dangling from a crane by dinner.

• He gets along much better with Corpus, and they often join together to help brainstorm tactical and political solutions to problems that arise in their father’s empire. He also vents to Corpus over any perceived grief, often. Corpus is the only one that will listen. Mostly because he usually doesn’t have a choice (He’ll roll his eyes when Scrotus isn’t paying attention, though.)

• Very fidgety, always moving or pacing or cracking his knuckles. He’s too full of energy at all times and has trouble staying still.

• WILL bite.

• He is THE daddiest boy, but is not afraid to go up against his father if he feels the path he’s chosen is the wrong one, which is often, and made worse by the feeling that Joe never seems to take his suggestions seriously.

• Violence is always the solution. Do not try to negotiate. He’ll just cut your arms off and do what he wants anyway.

• He suffers from severe, chronic eczema, which is constantly covering him in itchy, splotchy rashes and scabs- he only makes it worse by refusing to heed the Organic Mechanic’s advice and scratches at it like a dog with fleas until it bleeds, marking him all over with scars.

• He’s moved out of the Citadel and tasked with leading Gastown once Dementus is killed at the end of the 40 Day War, and does so for several hundred days until he himself is killed in a battle with an unknown road warrior. The position is then taken up by The People Eater to fill the power vacuum he had left

• Much (though definitely not all. Look at him. This man is a diva) of his bravado is posturing to make up for how unworthy he feels, how the fear of being a failure seeps into his bloodstream, knowing that he was born and conceived for one purpose and one purpose only, only to have his father deem him unfit and rip his fate from his grasp. That, alongside his father’s cold shoulder and constant brushing off of him, has led to deep set wounds and trauma that he strives to convince others- and most especially himself- aren’t actually there. This has greatly affected his self image, and makes him all the more desperate to please his father despite knowing he can’t

• He hates feeling in the dark about things, or not knowing what’s going on, which makes him VERY nosy. He always tries to get as much information or be as involved in things as he can, and often uses it as leverage however he sees fit

• He’s perpetually angry. For one reason or another rage is ALWAYS simmering under his skin, has been since he was born. That, and his affinity for sudden and brutal acts of violence, make for a bad combination

• Scrotus was around 24 when Furiosa was first brought to the Citadel, which puts him at around 39 during the 40 Day War and 42 during the events of Fury Road (had he lived that long)

• He’s often found doing menial tasks around the Citadel, usually of his own dictation, save for the times when Joe himself asks for Scrotus to lead the charge on a project personally (Like the War Rig in Furiosa, something big and important enough for one of the Immorta to watch over, but not urgent enough for The Immortan himself.). Half of it is out of a desire to show himself worthy to his father even in the smaller ways, that he can lead and direct the Citadel and its citizens just as Joe does. The rest is just to give himself things to do in the downtimes, when his blood runs too hot for him to sit still and do nothing.

•Corpus, Scrotus and Rictus were all born of the same woman- the first of Joe’s eventual harem of breeders, and the originator of the ‘Three strikes, you’re out’ rule, having birthed three sons that were all deemed at one time or another unsatisfactory to carry on Joe’s legacy. None of them ever got to know her- they were all plucked out of the vault as soon after birth as would have been healthily allowed and handed to Joe himself. I imagine for the first few years of his life, Scrotus appeared outwardly as close to a full life as one could imagine. He had rashes and patches of flaky skin here and there, but his skin disease didn’t start truly showing up until he made it to his pre-teens and hit puberty, and it didn’t get bad enough to require his fish skin tunic or reach the severity that we see in furiosa until his late teens, and only gets worse from then on. Otherwise, he’d been a perfect specimen, and for the first decade or so of his life Joe had a very personal hand in raising him up in his image to be the next Immortan, molding the red hot flame that burned bright inside into something that could hopefully sustain the Citadel long after he himself was gone. But the older Scrotus got, the more his ‘deficiencies’ were brought to light- Joe sees them, both physical and mental, as a projection of all of his own impurities, on top of the disappointment of something having been so promising, years of work and teaching, now reduced to nothing. And once he deems Scrotus too unstable and imperfect for his vision, he casts him down from the pedestal of Immortan and passes him off instead to Miss Giddy for the rest of his teen years to continue his basic teachings, and to the Imperators to help him hone the supercharged emotion that swirls within him into something violent and brutal. A perfect warrior, since he’s proved himself to be less than a perfect son. Scrotus spends the rest of his life in one way or another trying to win back the assurity in him his father had once shown.

•He’s been extremely skilled in fighting from a young age, and used to make it a game as he grew to see how many Imperators he could beat and slaughter during training sessions to prove his prowess. The answer is WAAAAY too many.

•He’s a lot smarter than most people take him for, and very well learned and well read thanks to Miss Giddy. Unfortunately, his anger and impulsivity is quick to cloud his rational judgment, especially when he’s lost in an inner storm of heightened emotion, which gets him making reckless split second decisions and leading him more often than not to want to charge headfirst at an enemy than think through a solid plan. It also seeps in a lot into his actual fighting style- as skilled and gifted in the art of war as he is, he too easily loses himself to his emotions and drops his learned attacks for something much more feral and animalistic, which serves him well against those lesser trained, but causes problems for him if he loses his head going up against an opponent that’s just as skilled as he is. It’s what causes his downfall in the end.

•He collects a tooth from each of his slain enemies and uses them to decorate the interior of the Cranky Black.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Phantom Grin

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?

Chapters: 18/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

Chapter Eighteen: Dick's Day Out

Dick visited Jason and sat with him while Bruce followed a lead. Jason watched TV with his head near Dick’s side of the couch. “Master Dick, Master Jason, are you hungry?” Alfred questioned. 

“Sure. Thank you,” Dick whispered, “Jason?” 

“Okay,” Jason mumbled. Dick playfully mimed elbow dropping on Jason’s face. 

“I’m killin’ you,” Dick joked as he threw in a few mimed punches. Jason laughed and swatted his hand away. It was the first time he’d smiled since the bathtub incident four days ago. Dick jumped at him. 

“Ooh, you wish,” Jason replied. 

“There he is,” Dick smiled, “What’s going on? Everyone’s acting weird.” Jason’s smile faded. 

“They didn’t tell you I blacked out twice? Did they tell you I hallucinated being covered in blood? The nightmares? ” Jason questioned. Dick shook his head. 

“Nope, they told me they found you the other day,” Dick answered, “They didn’t tell me anything. Jason, how are you doing?” 

“I’m scared to sleep. I can’t trust myself. All my senses are lying to me,” Jason replied, “I—.” Dick smiled. “Why are you smiling?”

“What if your senses aren’t lying?” Dick questioned. Jason furrowed his brows. “Okay, walk me through everything.”

Jason explained how he met Indigo at the church and lost time the last few times he met with her. He told Dick about his nightmares and the migraine. Alfred brought their lunch and Jason’s medication. “Thanks, Alfred,” Jason whispered.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick smiled. After Alfred left the room, Dick sighed. 

“Now, do you get it? I’m losing my mind,” Jason replied. 

“No… I don’t think you are. Jason, eat up. How do you feel about rolling with me today?” Dick asked. 

Jason scarfed down half a tuna sandwich and french fries before taking his meds. “Dick, what are you saying?” Jason asked. 

“I’m saying you should trust your senses. It sounds like you’ve got your first post-resurrection case, and we should work it together,” Dick smiled. 

Jason finished his sandwich, swallowing hard before replying. “Dad’s gonna lose it if I go missing again,” Jason mumbled. 

“I’m not gonna lose you,” Dick reassured.

“I’m gonna get in trouble,” Jason replied.

“Damn… I’ve never known you to be chicken,” Dick half-smiled. 

Jason scowled and finished drinking his milk. He stood up while Dick taunted him. “Shut up, I’m gonna get dressed,” Jason replied. 

Dick waited at the foot of the stairs. Jason threw on a thick hoodie, jeans, and combat boots. “Jesus, Jason… It’s eighty-seven degrees and sunny out there,” Dick half-joked.  

“I know,” Jason replied. 

“Hm… Okay,” Dick mumbled.

Jason frowned at him, pulling his hood up before heading down the stairs. “Don’t do that,” Jason grumbled.

“So, we can’t talk about it?” Dick questioned. 

Jason chewed his lip, turning around as Dick stood at the top of the stairs. “My skin hurts. It hasn’t stopped hurting since the bathtub. I thought it was a reaction to being in a dirty tub, but I don’t have a rash,” Jason replied. 

“Then why are you covering—?” 

“Before I show you, you have to promise to stay calm… And believe me when I say I don’t know how it happened,” Jason replied. Dick nodded, and Jason pulled his jacket up to reveal slash marks on his stomach, then he rolled up his sleeves to show the scratches and bruises on his arms. 

“And this was after the bathtub?” Dick questioned. Jason nodded, covering his arms. “Did you tell—?”

“Dad’s freaking out… Barbara and Tim want to run tests on me. Cass—. Actually, Cass is the same,” Jason whispered. Dick nodded, leading Jason to the car. “Can I drive?” 

“You’re experiencing blackouts—.”

“And you drive like you’re in a videogame,” Jason interrupted.

“Hm… No, we’re gonna stick with the driver who’s sure to remain conscious,” Dick answered as he patted Jason on the back. 

“Tracking device?” Jason questioned.

“Can’t be too careful,” Dick answered. 

*

Jason fell asleep in the car, and Dick parked and waited. Jason breathed heavily as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Dick unlocked the door, and Jason got out. He let Jason sleepwalk down the street before following him. “Please be sleepwalking for cool reasons,” Dick whispered. The leisurely pace Dick walked at concealed his worries. He refused to let Jason see him waver. They got to a crosswalk, and Jason started to cross the street while cars drove through, and Dick yanked him by the back of his shirt. “Easy there bucko.” He held on until the crosswalk light turned on. Jason crossed the street and continued toward the church. Jason headed through the front entrance of the church. 

Slipping through the hallways with general ease, Jason found the staircase to the basement, and he stood at the foot of the stairs, trembling. “Father?” Jason asked, pausing to wait for an answer. Falling to his knees, he stared at the rug in the corner of the room. Beads of sweat formed on Jason’s forehead, slowly dripping down the sides of his face. Jason started praying in a whisper tone that quickly built into a loud and fervent petition for protection. 

“Jason—.” 

Jason fell on his back as if pushed and swung at nothing. “No… No. No. No no no no—. Stop!” Jason screamed. “Stop!” 

“Jason,” Dick called him. Jason swatted something away and started running up the stairs and out of the church. Dick followed him. “Jason, wait up!” 

Jason cut through the courtyard and exited through the side gate. “Jason, snap out of it!” 

Jason made desperate crying noises as he cut his clothes on the briar bushes. Beyond the bushes, was a partially forested park across the street from a graveyard. Jason grabbed his arm, before falling on his back. “Please,” Jason begged. Dick stopped in his tracks, staring as something struggled with Jason. He sobbed and kicked before clutching his throat. He gurgled and choked as something dragged him toward a grave. Jason gasped and sat up. 

“Jason?” Dick questioned. 

Jason turned to Dick before throwing up in the grass. Dick pulled Jason off the ground. “What happened?” Jason questioned. 

“I think you reenacted a murder,” Dick replied. 

“No… I experienced it,” Jason rasped as he pulled the neck of his hoodie down to reveal a scar on his throat. Dick winced. 

“Running the risk of sounding like a jerk… Are you playing some kind of—?”  Jason glared at him. “Right.”

Jason walked toward a grave and pointed to the stone. “I think—. I—.” Jason shut his eyes and sighed. “There are two bodies in this grave.” 

Dick scratched his head. “Well, we’re not digging up a grave in broad daylight… What do you wanna do?” Dick questioned. 

“I wanna work the case. Come on,” Jason replied. 

“Where are we headed? Do you have any idea?” Dick asked. Jason paused, shutting his eyes. 

“Can you call your friend, Helena?” Jason asked. “I need to know where she picked me up… Also, this was a new grave when I dreamt it.” Jason looked at the year and swallowed hard, turning away to compose himself. 

“Jason? You o—?” Dick looked at the tombstone. “Hey, are you—?” 

Jason held his finger up while he fought the rising nausea in his throat. He choked it down. “This was a week before I died, Dick,” Jason mumbled.

[harmonaesthetic]

Violet’s makeup

This post is going to be in-depth, so bare with me for its length. 

Looking through set photos and within the show, Violet seems to wear a few cosmetic products. 

Below is a closeup of Violet in Rubber Man for easier reference I’ve made.  

The makeup artist for season 1 was Eryn Krueger Mekash. I did some digging and it turns out she has spoken about her techniques/products!

In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter from February 10, 2011 in relation to lips:

“Lip stains are long-lasting and not drying or sticky — we can’t have hair sticking to lips during the dance numbers,” says Eryn Krueger Mekash, head of makeup on Glee, who uses Tarte Lip Stain in Envy on Dianna Agron and Lea Michele. 

With Makeup411 (a now defunct makeup magazine site), Eryn Krueger Mekash did a Beauty Breakdown on season 1 of Glee, here are the snippets worth noting:

[Lea Michele as Rachel Berry] Blush Stila Convertible Color in Petunia on apples of cheeks […] Mascara CoverGirl LashBlast Volume Blasting Mascara in black on top lashes only […] Lips Korres Lip Butter in Pomegranate or Smith’s Rosebud Salve

In another interview she brought up the foundation she used on Hollywood for the men to retain the “no makeup, it’s natural” look: 

I love using Tarte BB Treatment cream on men. It gives a touch of color and has a mattifying agent and SPF. […] Polished looks start with foundation that is buffed in and minimal powder. Those cameras can still see every brush stroke so that is still a big priority.

With Allure magazine, she said her personal all-time favorite products were:

"I have always loved Yves Saint Laurent Touche Éclat for lots of highlighting—undereyes, nasal labial folds. Also a great moisturizer and all around cure-all is Egyptian Magic. It's great for chapped lips, dry skin, rashes. I am ridiculous about my own makeup. I slap it on and blend it later—I have no time to do proper makeup on myself. My staples are Colorscience Sunforgettable Mineral Powder in Perfectly Clear, Benefit's Bad Gal Lash mascara, Senna Totally Transforming Concealer, Make Up For Ever HD Invisible Cover Foundation for special occasions, Laura Mercier Eyebrow Pencil in Blonde, and Make Up For Ever Aqua Eyes in Purple (6L), Taupe (24L), and Black. I don't like touching myself up and I want everything to last a really long time."

However in this interview with Style Caster:

EKM: We use Koh Gen Do Cleansing Spa Water Cloths, Moisture Foundation and Oriental Plants Skin Lotion Spray quite a bit. We also love Makeup Forever HDfoundation Matte Velvet Foundation and Acqua Cremes for staying power.

We use Colorscience Sunforgettable Powders which are waterproof […] 

Makeup Forever Mist and Fix, Stila Convertible colors (the cream blushes stay better), primers help to keep everything in place […]

Healthy looking skin is an important part of the youthful look – and not too much powder, not heavy foundation.

Now back to Violet’s makeup and what I believe she used and did.

I do not believe Eryn Krueger Mekash used much mascara on Taissa. If she did, it looks to be more on the top lashes (just like Michele’s on Glee). What’s visible to me though is the very subtle eyeliner around her eyes. There is no wing apparent. 

Violet’s lips do have a luster as you can see in the image above, but in the below image it’s more matte. I am torn between Tarte LipSurgence Natural Lip Tint and Stila Convertible Colors.

All-in-all Violet’s makeup is not heavy or flashy; it gives a natural, youthful impression. Clearly the makeup does vary with each episode but not a lot. Considering she is 15-years-old and juggling so much chaos, it makes sense for her character.

Below is another up close image, from Piggy Piggy before Violet takes the pills. 

[evachuber]

More theories because I am on a brainrot

I spent some time to think of theories and what everything means during the wait for part 2, and whilst it's quick, I do think I should lay down some I have right now and see if they make sense. Let's begin.

Spoilers for all of Chapter 2 but I think you all knew that the moment you saw my post's title.

I do think that if David IS telling the truth about his secret, then Hu can be the three suicides one. After all, she mentions not being useful after David's big reveal and seems to hold a significant amount of trauma due to that.

It WOULD also help show why the fuck she keeps babying Nico, seeing them as someone who needs guidance on how to survive a killing game with people like Ace in the room, not to mention, she already has a friendship with Nico, so it's a starting point.

Does that mean I like her?

Look I may have such low standards I like Veronika but Jesus Christ Hu is a fucking annoying character, just cuz she has a good reason DOESN'T mean she's likable

ANYWHO, enough Hu hate or else she will give me at least 20 Aneurisms in a matter of a millisecond, we got another killer suspicion

Do I believe it? No. Not because It's not right, but because if it IS right, my discord pfp changes and I am naturally very biased because of it.

People are saying the killer is Levi. Which... definitely has points.

Levi using the crazy sprite here makes him seem like he's fucking insane, but also... hiding something? most of the cast has something to hide, and by this point, Levi is definitely the most sus one who's hiding something

close second/third is David/Arturo but they've revealed big something already so they're not on the list

Dude was MEGA quick to hit the vote button on David, even to the point of it looking too quick. Since David is the most sus person this chapter, it's natural to think he's a suspicious person and the best person to vote, therefore get them out of the way and win the trial. The only reason this fails is because Teruko's thinking and Charles realizing the group fucked up (Just between us, that's the most BS cliffhanger I've seen. Makes sense, but damn it was fucking abrupt.)

I find it oddly out of character for Levi to instantly push Eden as the killer. David? You can make the argument he revealed a new side to him and confessed to the murder instantly, but EDEN makes less sense to me. They are shown to be friendly, as shown in the first episode of the chapter.

ANOTHER THING is that Charles brought up a point I would see the calculative Levi agreeing with; No one was going to accuse Eden of murdering, she was just suspicious as the note had her name on it.

All this makes Levi very suspicious, and that's just from the trial. There is also evidence that points back to him.

I will not cover every evidence. Not because this post is too long as is and you'll need to read it when you have the next few hours free, but because I do not remember how the evidence plays into the case and my IQ usually isn't higher than 5

Man I am such a good DRDT fan :D

ANYWHO- One I will cover is the Merry go round, or as Infinite from Sonic Forces Teruko describes it, "The spinny thing".

Now, tape being wrapped in some sort of way around the merry go round is already looking suspicious, but then you look at Arei's wrists.

There is a mark on her wrists. It also can't be rope because of the shape, rope would leave a few patches of untouched skin, whereas in this case, Arei has a complete rash around her wrist, showing that tape was definitely used to drag her. This is also why her glove was missing, most likely to keep people from either guessing it's tape compared to rope or her glove was resistant to tape. It's one of the two, I have 0 idea.

Now, the main idea is that Levi used the Merry go round to push Arei up on the swing set to make it SEEM like she hanged herself in order to stage a suicide. However not only is that not the case due to Suicides not causing a trial, but also look at the fact that we can confirm that Arei's death had nothing to do with drowning (meaning no relaxation room ravine was involved.)

Arturo confirmed her neck was broken.

At first, this seems irrelevant. After all, hanging usually ends in broken necks, right?

APPARENTLY NOT.

seems sus for someone to die from a neck snap without the use of a noose. and let's remember what Arei's talent is...

Yeah, she's pretty fit

Of course, a Bowler has uses with the arms...

OK that sounded wrong- but I can't explain it better-

ANYWAY, Given her strength, it would be natural she could overpower most of the cast, even if they tried to hurt her. Some people are also not physically fit enough to either fight back/kill Arei or even fight her, and I doubt most people would know how to snap her neck.

Levi looks like he has healed, so I don't see him looking like he CAN'T snap Arei's neck. He also could easily push the carousel as long as his arm doesn't get hit with the pain, but the dude is buff enough I think his remaining hand will be fine.

There is DEFINITELY more I can think off, but remember, I'm some British guy theorizing on how buff dude killed a character who nearly got character development, but DR;DT played it well. If I think of more shit I can make a part two to this post but until then imma go commit tax evasion and angering Karen's with my shitty opinions, have a nice life

[aquinnix]

Febuwhump Day 4 - Obedience

This one turned out way longer than I meant it to be so it is also on AO3 if you would prefer to read it there but I will also post the entire thing under the cut.

It had been one month and three days since Ren took power. Two and a half weeks since his skin had paled and his hair turned grey with corruption. One minute and twenty six seconds since Xisuma has decided to do something about it. It had been fun at first sure but… things were starting to get out of hand, people were getting hurt. This wasn't the Ren that X knew, and it was X’s responsibility to keep everyone safe. X took a deep breath as he stepped outside and paused, looking back at the sword he had left behind. No, this needed to be peaceful, just thinking that he might have to defend himself showed a lack of trust in Ren, and X still had faith that Ren wouldn’t do anything rash. He forced himself to take his eyes off the blade and make his way to the Crastle.

The towering building casted an ominous shadow down the mountain side. Each roof pointed like teeth towards the sky. The entrance, although grand and imposing, still managed to be claustrophobic. As X stepped inside, the sheer height of the room forced his eyes to the floor. X’s mind must have been playing tricks on him, it was this large so everyone could fit in here. It was a place of community. Still, he couldn't help but feel small, insignificant.

He shook off the nerves and made his way to the throne room, eyes wide the moment he stepped in. Ren sat on a throne at the end of the room, its large back forcing him to spread out over the seat in order to not be drowned out by the opulence. The tiny golden crown on his head catched the light coming in from the windows and threatened to blind any who dared to stare for too long. Bdubs stood off to the side of the throne, placed perfectly so he was hidden in the throne’s shadow. The hood of his mossy cloak was pulled to cover as much of his face as it could. Just being under Ren’s piercing gaze made X want to shrivel up into his suit. That was the good thing about his helmet, it hid every twitch of fear in his face.

“Ren, I’ve come to talk to you about…”

Ren sat up straight as a board and placed his hands on the armrests of the throne to push himself up even taller. “That is Ren The King to thee, peasant.” He practically spit the last word.

Bdubs moved just out of the shadow. “That’s right! Squab!” Ren glared at him and that was enough to make Bdubs slink back into the shadow.

X swallowed hard. “Yes, sorry, my King.” He gave a fake bow. “That’s actually why I've come. I know how much you love getting into character like this, and trust me I wouldn't be stepping in if it wasn't important. I think this whole ‘king’ thing is getting a bit out of hand.” X held his breath.

“Out of hand! How dareth thee speaketh to thy king like that! I should throw thee in the dungeons for those words alone!” He leaned over to Bdubs and lowered his voice. “Bdubs, do we has’t dungeons?”

Bdubs cleared his throat. “Uhh no, my liege.”

Ren pounded his fist on the armrest. “Well what art thee waiting for? Get some cells built immediately! I have a feeling we will be making good use of them.” He glanced back at X and Bdubs hurried out the side door.

X took a few steps forwards. “Ren, I’m not joking. This has gone too far, people are getting hurt, it isn't fun anymore. You need to snap out of it!” X kicked himself for letting his voice raise that much. He found his hands subconsciously moving to where his sword would have been had he brought it.

Ren stood, slowly walking towards X who forced himself to remain still. “Doth thee understand who is’t thou art talking to thou insolent tyke? I am thy king, and thee shall treateth me as such. Art thou so idiotic that thee art under the impression this is some sort of make believe fairy tale?” X could feel Ren’s breath as he spoke.

It was at that moment Bdubs shakily walked back into the room and put a hand up to cover his mouth as he whispered in Ren’s ear. With each word, Ren’s eyes grew wider and more enraged.

Bdubs quickly exited the room and Ren turned to face X once again. “It seems there are other more… pressing matters to attendeth too.” He paused. “But that does not mean thy disrespect shall go unpunished.” He grabbed X by the shoulders and shoved, the shock bringing him to his knees.

Ren took a step towards the door and shouted. “Scar!”

Scar soon ran through the doorway, dressed in a black spandex suit with orange and blue accents. A bow fitting the same colour scheme was held tight in his hand. “Never fear! Hot Guy is here!” He looked over to see Ren’s stern expression. “My umm king.” He gave an over exaggerated bow.

Ren rolled his eyes. “Scar, please escort our… guest to the vault.” He turned back to X. “I think some time shall sticketh some sense back into yond treasonous mind of yours.”

X turned and started to run, whatever hope he had at a peaceful conversation was gone. This was no longer Ren. He had only managed to take a few steps before an arrow whizzed just past his ear and stuck into the carpet on the floor.

“I woulds’t not do that if I were thee.” Ren’s voice echoed behind him.

X didn’t look back. “You know if you kill me I'll just respawn right?”

Ren only laughed. “True but, receiveth a hit in the right lodging and… you shall wish thee were.”

A deep panic took root in X’s chest and he struggled not to hyperventilate. Still, he didn’t move. Slowly, his hand made its way to his communicator, if he could send out a quick call for help… a hand landed harshly on his shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Scar’s strict voice sounded more like that of a Disney villain. He spoke again, quieter. “I’m sorry, but I don’t really have a choice.”

X didn’t have a chance to respond before he was forcibly spun around and made to walk out of the room. Ren’s manic laughter fading behind.

As soon as they were out of ear shot X planted his feet and looked Scar in the eye. “What are you doing? This whole king thing has obviously gone to Ren’s head. This isn’t make believe Hot Guy time, this is we need to get out of here and get help time!” X’s growing anger seeped into his voice, taking Scar aback. “Sorry I didn’t mean to snap it’s just…”

Scar cut him off. “You need to keep walking.” The poison in his words made X’s legs feel like jelly. Since when did Scar talk like that? Where was the playful man that had walked into the throne room only moments earlier?

“Scar, you don’t have to…”

“Walk.” The grim look in Scar’s eyes zipped X’s mouth shut. On they walked, down into the belly of the castle. There was a small dent in X’s suit now from how many times Scar had hit him with the bow to urge him onwards. The bright sunlight streaming through the windows was soon gone, replaced by shadows lurking in every corner and crevice. Soon, they stood at the edge of a balcony, overlooking what X knew all too well to be the royal vault.

“I need you to hand over your bag.” Scar’s voice called out from over X’s shoulder. X turned to find Scar’s hand held out expectantly.

A lump formed in X’s throat. “Scar, you're not really going to go through with this are you?”

Scar only gestured for X to hand that bag over, eyes filled with a new found guilt. The two stood there for a moment, silent. X sighed and gave Scar the bag, not having any other choice.

“Turn around.” The simple instruction made X’s heart beat even faster. Still, he did as he was told.

He heard the sound of a bow string drawing taught behind him. “I’m sorry.” Heartbreaking humanity filled Scar’s words. The first sign that the real Scar was still there, somewhere.

Pain.

A sharp pain dug into X’s shoulder blade, the force from the impact knocking him over the ledge. Down he fell, the spot the arrow had hit filled with warmth. The glass floor got closer and closer. X sucked in a breath, preparing for the impact and then… nothing. He kept falling. The glass wasn’t there. Even further down he splashed into the water below, the impact stealing the air from his lungs, his helmet trying to force air back in only making him cough more and more violently. After getting his breathing under control, he looked over to see the tip of an arrow sticking through the meat on his shoulder. The sharp pain became more unbearable as the adrenaline from the fall wore off. He felt around until his hand met the end of the arrow, if he took it out, it would only bleed more. X stood on shaky legs, the reality of the situation starting to sink in.

Ren had ordered for him to be thrown down here, not only that but Scar of all people had gone through with it. What was happening? X was supposed to protect everyone, it was his job to keep things like this from happening. He had failed, and everyone was going to suffer for it. X could only blame himself. He shook the thoughts away, he needed to focus on getting out of here, and getting help.

He could barely see a thing in the inky darkness, still, as he looked down at his comm, it was obvious there was no use in calling for help. The fall must have broken the well… everything. X was surprised it was still attached to his wrist. He looked up, small tenderals of light filtering in from above, he was too far down for anyone to hear him scream. X wondered if that was the point, so Ren wouldn’t be annoyed by his shouts. Maybe Ren would want to hear him, some sadistic part of him taking pleasure in X’s pain. No, X couldn’t think of his friend that way. Were they still friends? Friends didn’t do what Ren was doing. X blinked hard, he needed to get out of his own head.

X felt his way around the dark room until he met something solid, a wall. He placed a foot against it and pushed himself up, only to slide right back down again. Still, he tried, over and over again. Nothing. It was no use.

That was when he heard it. A low yet piercing call, a deathly shriek from the dark. X’s heart threatened to escape his chest, hands once again moving towards where his sword would have been. He was kicking himself now for not bringing it, he was supposed to be prepared for things like this. Well, as prepared as one could be for being thrown into the abyss.

A soft teal glow appeared in the distance. Then it got closer. Closer. Soon panicked footsteps echoed through the space, both X’s and those of his pursuer. Enraged groans called out behind X. That’s when he realized what was chasing him, and how big of a mistake he had made by running. The warden was getting closer, so was the wall ahead of them. X patted himself down for anything he could use to distract the… bingo. X ripped his comm off and threw it as hard as he could in the opposite direction and came to a quick and silent stop. The creature jerked towards the noise the comm had made and started racing towards it. X was safe, for now.

As the panic started to make its way out of his system, X’s mind cleared. Why was he fighting it? The warden was his ticket out of here. All he needed to do was let it shatter his bones with its call. It would hurt like nether but he would be free. The pain in his shoulder was making itself known. If he ripped it out, let himself bleed to death, would that be better? It would be slower, but it wouldn’t hurt as much, he didn’t think. X hadn’t actually bled out before, something he had been happy not to check off the list, until now. What if the warden didn’t kill him right away? What if he was left a shattered blob drowning in his own blood? That would certainly be worse than a little hole in his shoulder. He had to make a decision quickly, otherwise it would be made for him.

X let himself slide to a seated position against the wall, hand wrapped tight around the back of the arrow. He took a sharp breath, and pulled, hard, clenching his jaw so as to not scream and re-anger the warden. Warmth started to flow over him as the wound opened, fighting off the bitter cold of the dark. X had vastly miscalculated how long it would take for him to bleed, each excruciating minute feeling like hours. He looked down at the arrow laying by his side, tentatively wrapping his fingers around it. X placed the tip against the soft fabric that covered his neck. Another broken breath and he pressed, then a little harder, harder. The fabric and skin gave way and the arrow head sunk into his flesh. X pulled it out, vision hazy from blood loss. Still not quick enough. He stabbed again, this time hitting an artery. The world swam, X barely even felt the pain anymore, every part of him growing numb.

Then everything stopped.

[predatoryminds]

What is Predatory Minds? 

Well, Predatory Minds is one of the few book series I have been working on, and it is my longest running series. I’ve been working on this series for over Eight years, and it is my most important series out of all of the books i’ve been writing. Predatory Minds is a mixed first person P.O.V series covering the adventures of a few unfortunate teenagers who have been unknowingly experimented on by the famous company which is basically this world’s Amazon,  who has been working (and buying) it’s way into the central intelligence and governments of the world, Arrowsmith.  Bridget Michaels is struggling with her parent’s inevitable divorce, no matter how hard (or not) they try to hide it from her. Secret DJ, otherwise she does moderately ok in school, keeps more to herself, and struggles with acceptance and self-esteem.  In other words, yes, she is your stereotypical main character. With both her parents working for the United State’s government, they decide to take Bridget with them to the secret office in New Hampshire (where they live) after giving some lame excuses why she can’t stay home, initiating a tense car ride.  This alone is uncharacteristic, since this office is top secret, and very few know of this location. So, Bridget expects this is probably where she will be getting the talk.  Well, turns out it’s not the talk she was expecting....  She meet’s a few other unique individuals, all of which belong to families with some form of government ties.   Her best (and only real) friend, Jai lee Yang the Third of the Yang Dynasty, (AKA: the Future empress of The People’s Republic of China and Kazakhstan.) a childish and pouty, yet loveable chatter mouth with Daddy issues, and a distaste for the marriage her father keeps trying to set up for her.  Lovino Lacino Ricci, a small-time gorgeous Italian model with a heart of gold that puts everyone ahead of himself, and feels rather objectified by his rather questionable family ties. He is also the voice of reason for the group, and the only one who really can tolerate his fiery best friend, Anders.  Anders Borja, the sharp tongued snarky, short tempered genius, and traumatized jerk of the group. A conspirest, and the only one seemingly with knowledge of a certain event that they all supposedly were a part of and the first to voice his mistrust towards Arrowsmith.  And last, but not least, the fan favorite, Dimitri Udalyat’ Ivanov. A mysterious, impossible to read psychopath with calm, and suave mannerisms. Everything he says is meticulously planned, and he is always smiling. He is the Cheshire cat waiting to strike. And, the so-called 'best-friend' of Jai lee (Who denies it at all costs).  What's even stranger, is the fact the four teens of a similar age are brought together, rather than being kept in their separate accommodation after the long flight from their home countries.  As each interaction reveals secret after secret, Anders suspicions are spoken aloud by a set of rash decisions, and a set of codes entangling these teenagers' fates.  What exactly are these black numbers branded onto their skin, what do they mean? And what actually happened all those years ago when it all started?  So, with that description, I hope you look forward to the series, and feel free to ask any questions! Some early art and well concept designs of some characters might eventually be released and teaser chapters will be posted on the official Tumblr. With Predatory Minds, there will be the main series, and after the final issue is dropped, I have been working on many mini series and spin offs of the main characters and side characters highlighting aftermath events, backstory’s pre-dating the main series, and snippet’s from other characters during different events the main few were not a part of.  The series, despite involving abilities, is focused on being as realistic as possible in many aspects, and I am trying my best, so I honestly do hope you enjoy it!!! Honestly, this series is my love, and the characters my babies. I really do hope you enjoy this. However, this series will have rather grotesque scenes, and a fair amount of gore. I do not condone the use of violence in real life, and this entire series is fictional!!! Please don't try to reenact any of this in real life if it is not legal, or something a functioning member of society would do. And, no, please do not think that the actions of my characters reflect my personal beliefs or opinions. THIS IS FICTION.

[huenjin]

the study of relationships.

summary — college team's volleyball captain and your roommate-cum-best friend, hwang hyunjin argues with you over guys being better than girls in relationships to help you out of one. or in which hyunjin is in love with you for years now and he finally decides that maybe he doesn't want that best friend tag anymore.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. minho

genre — fluff, angst | volleyball!au, f2l!au, roommates!au

rating — nc-17

word count — 15k words

note — kinda excited to post this very long plotted fic on here because first long fic for skz !!! this fic is brought to you by hq, hyunjin's long blond hair and b me mv that we never got. please please do send me constructive criticism so that i can improve on my writing for this community. happy reading!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Your best friend, Hwang Hyunjin yells at the top of his voice, pitch lower in precision as you open the door and slam it shut forcefully, the sound loud enough to bounce to him clearly. Your feet storm hard against the wooden flooring of your apartment, sound bouncing off from that again and Hyunjin pauses his video game to look at you.

It's a familiar sight. Hyunjin sighs.

"Hey," he tries catching your attention but he fails. You storm into your room, hair flailing behind you in your anger, eyes blurry with the angst you feel that wraps slowly around your heart. You walk into the room and slam the door shut, so loud that a chip of wood breaks from the top of the door and falls down.

"Jesus Christ! Y/N—" Hyunjin yells to no one in particular. However, he drops his controller to the side of the couch and jumps to his feet only after pausing his game. He takes big strides to your room and in high contrast to his rash movements, his knocking on your door is very gentle.

"Can I come in?" He asks, scratching the door absentmindedly. He presses his ear and head against the door to hear a response but all he hears are your soft cries and it makes him sad.

"Y/N—"

"Go away, Hyunjin!"

"Y/N, let me in," he stresses, his leg kicking the air slightly, dangling before that. "I—"

"You're going to make fun of me."

"Will not." Hyunjin knows where this stems from and he won't deny. However, at this minute, he just wants to be there for you. Teasing could wait for an hour or so after you've calmed down. "So please?"

You hum and Hyunjin waits for a sign of protest. When he hears none, he takes it as an approval to open the door and the sight before him hurts him ever so slightly.

You are wrapped in a cocoon of your white blanket and your head is buried in the sheets outside, not ready to look up at your best friend. He frowns as he walks towards you, letting himself to sit by your side. He stretches his arm out and stops when you declare,

"I'm a world class dumpee."

"You are," he shrugs, voice tainted with a slight tease and you look up at him, glaring with your red, puffy eyes. You try shoving him but the cocoon you are wrapped in slightly falls forward too in impact. Hyunjin laughs and stretches both his arms forward to prevent you from falling forwards.

You pout, mumbling with a voice that is strained and is your proof of the urge to cry, "You promised you wouldn't."

"I'm your best friend," he shrugs and pushes your body wrapped in the thick blankets backwards, your head hitting against the pillow. A soft whine leaves your lips, followed by an oomph. "You knew I was going to tease you at the very first opportunity."

And then Hyunjin pounces on you, tickling your sides over the covers and your tickle sensitive being rushes in sensation as you laugh your heart out, chest heavy and mind focussing only on your best friend that you forget about the boy who broke up with you an hour back.

"Stop," you laugh. "Hyunjin," you whine. "Stop, you idiot," you laugh again. "I'm going to kill you—"

Hyunjin's laughter fills the air along with yours. In your perspective through your watery eyes, you see a boy with no worries and all smiles and you want to be like that. You desperately want to be like that. You push your wrapped body upwards to shove Hyunjin to the side and it works. He laughs, slowly receding with yours and he lets out a loud relieved sigh as he looks at your face with less creases and tears that now fall due to laughter.

"Hey," Hyunjin says and you turn your head to face him. His face is rigid, the childish gleam that he had just a while back long gone.

"Yeah?"

He sits up, running a hand through his hair and folding his arms soon after. "The guy was a jerk," he tells, helping you up. His hand finds the end of the blanket and unwraps it slowly from your being. "He was a mighty jerk, okay?"

"He is your teammate, Lee Minho," you stare, dead into his eyes and he shrugs.

"I know," he sighs before shrugging, giving you a nonchalant look. "What was it this time? Let me guess, he broke up with you for no reason again."

You hit the blankets that cover your thigh hard and send imaginary daggers in Hyunjin's way, "Yeah! I just don't understand why he'd break up with me."

"Uh, possibly because—"

"Is it because I'm on like close friend terms with everyone in the college volleyball team? I mean, Lee Minho always said dating—"

"Dating you would be hard, Y/N," Hyunjin continues, mocking your ex-boyfriend's voice. "You hang out with so many guys and all your best friends are dudes that it makes me jealous," Hyunjin pauses, placing his hands flat on the bed from behind as he leans back. "Ah, Lee Minho, that bastard. He always did say that to you."

You look down, fidgeting with your fingers and you roar out in anger. Hyunjin looks at you amused until you say, "Why can't guys be more like girls?"

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin's eyebrow is raised and he laughs mockingly. He lifts his arms from behind, stretches his back before sitting up straight. He kicks his legs and raises it upwards to sit cross legged, looking straight at you and laughs again. "You are totally kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not, Hyunjin," your eyebrows furrow. "The reason behind most, if not all, break-ups is the guy."

Hyunjin agrees with you deep down. Okay, maybe not completely but at least a ninety percent and that's a good one. However, he knows how competitive you are and if there's something that can get your head out of this post break up blues, it's this.

A competition. And so just to entice you a little, he sneers, "If anything, girls should be more like guys."

"Bitch, no," you laugh, head falling back at the sheer stupidity that rolls out from your best friend's mouth. "Men are so conceited that they had to make a whole word for treating women equal."

"Not all men simp. Plus, it's an AAVE and that people should not use it. In my defense, I've treated you like a guy my whole life," he shrugs. Lies. Lies. Lies he spews out endlessly because at one point, without him even knowing, things did change and he's seen you as a woman; as a woman he now has feelings for.

Hyunjin, to prove his point, hits you on his back like you've seen him do with all his teammates and your torso bends forward from your hips on impact. "See!" He stretches his arms, tattoos on display in the loose half sleeved black top he wears and you wince, stretching your hand back to rub only for Hyunjin to stop laughing quickly and rub your back, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Hyunjin," you shrug, mumbling, trying to guide your best friend. "Don't ever use the not all men tag, please."

He slaps a hand over his mouth, realising his error, again apologising and you stretch your hand forward quickly to protest, "No, no," you tell, "You don't have to apologise. I just hope you know how it sounds."

"I do," he falls back, lying down against your mattress. "I do and I hate that I accidentally said it."

You follow suit, and fall on the bed, hair splaying around, some falling on Hyunjin's face. He groans, moving the hair away and whining, "It got into my mouth, ew." You laugh.

Hyunjin speaks out, staring at the ceiling, "Whose fault is it that a relationship goes astray?"

"Still going to say the men," you look at the same spot he stares at. "They're—"

"It's a war."

"See!" You exclaim. "This is the issue with men. They cut us off all the time."

Hyunjin laughs, hand stretching out to hold your wrist to soothe you down and mumbling another apology, he continues, "This is a battle, Y/N; a battle that's aged long and has never come to a conclusion. The battle—"

"Get to the point."

"Look who cut me off now."

"Touché."

"Anyhow," he continues. "The battle between men and women."

"You definitely sounded like a prepubescent boy there," you look at Hyunjin. His skin is so clear, you notice, making a mental note to steal his skin care products later. He turns a second later to face you and he nods, "Don't care. Definitely going to win this."

"You wish," you let out a condescending laugh. "I'm going to beat your ass, Hyunjin."

"Kinky," he smiles that stupid, toothy grin of his, "I likey."

"You gross pubescent boy," you shove at his arms only for him to quickly hold your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours in the midst of the squabble. You let him, still laughing lightly, lungs light and mind free from all the sad thoughts.

"I see that I've got an upgrade."

"You did."

You're about to thank Hyunjin for this small gesture that probably seems to be nothing when his phone rings from the other room. The scary unexpected track to Tokyo Ghoul's opening – Unravel – that you can't help but accept that you've grown to like, plays.

He lets go of your hand and jolts upwards, jumping off the bed. A small whine leaves your lips unexpectedly and Hyunjin smiles at that. He pulls up the blankets over your body that he shifted, mumbling, "You should sleep early. You had a tough day."

"No," you whine yet again, "Let's talk more—" His phone rings louder, the scream part of the ringtone jolting you up and your hand falls on your chest in shock. "Hate when your phone does."

"And yet you sing along to it," he sings, humming the tune.

"Pfft," you scoff, holding onto the blanket, scrunching it in your grip. "Go. It's probably about the practise match against Yonsei University."

He hums in agreement, folding the blanket again carefully, right below your neck, his cold hands brushing against your clavicle and the temperature difference runs a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin switches off the light as he walks out, gently closing the door shut and you watch your best friend throwing a small smile at you before leaving. Did you really deserve all this care? Perhaps not.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, dashes out to get the phone before the caller cuts the call in frustration. He's definitely not spending the money to call back whoever it is. That shit is expensive. He jumps a couple of steps and grabs his phone, accepting the call before looking at the name of the caller.

"Hyunjin…" It's Lee Minho. "Can you come over?"

"I really want to throw a punch at you, you bastard."

And Hyunjin does. Virtually, of course. Over the game they are playing. He couldn't afford to injure a fellow teammate when the preliminaries are right around the corner.

"Bro," Minho sighs. "Can you go easy on me?"

His game character hits Minho's again, the energy bar of the other drastically going down on the screen. Hyunjin can't stop. The frustration that he has pent up over the last hour after seeing you cry and crumble over being dumped by his other friend drives him to the edge and he delivers another punch. Minho's character dramatically collapses as soon as the energy bar is empty and he drops the console by his side, pressing his back against the sofa, arms wrapped against his chest, pouting.

"I—"

"Go on," Hyunjin glares at him. "You better have a good explanation."

Minho runs a hand through his hair and sitting up straight, turning his torso to face Hyunjin, he tells, "I don't."

"You're lucky that we have a match soon, else you'd be six feet underground," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his hands over his head and folding it behind. "I can't believe you did that to Y/N."

"I fell out of love with her," Minho says. He doesn't dare to look at Hyunjin because he fears if the glares would actually result in him six feet underground. "Can't that be the only reason?"

Hyunjin chuckles, moreso at himself than at his friend, mumbling under his breath so low that Minho thinks it's just him humming, "Is it possible to fall out of love with her?"

He wishes Lee Minho could tell him how.

Hyunjin stands up, patting his denim jeans and looking at Minho, he warns, eyebrows furrowing, "I'll help her out with this. Just don't be a jerk and start dating in like two days."

"I—" Hyunjin glares at him. "Fine."

"Practice at seven," he adds and grabs the key of his motorcycle from the table before him. "Don't be late and act normal around Y/N."

"Fine, sir," Minho rolls his eyes. He won't admit it ever but the man warning him could be the reason for his breakup. That and his insecurity and fear of you cheating on him. But it's mostly Hwang Hyunjin. He knows how he feels even if you didn't.

Hyunjin walks out of Minho's house, closing the door on his way out and getting on his motorcycle, he rides back home to you. Just as he had promised you.

He opens the door to your room as soon as he enters his house, removing his shoes and placing it to the side, only to find his ears listening to the soft snores that let free from your lips. Carefully he walks towards you, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin lightly and tilting your head upwards to help you breathe properly.

He pauses for a minute just to watch you. Your eyebrows that you dislike so much just because according to you, it's not thick enough. He loves it however, even though you would never listen to him. Your eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on your high cheekbones and he gasps because you're so beautiful. You're so near to him and yet so far.

He bends forward, pushes your fringes to the side and places a soft kiss against your forehead, mumbling the words he wishes he could tell you straight up. Even if he did, you'd probably laugh and scoff at him.

"Beautiful girl," his lips graze the skin by your forehead, "You are a fighter. You have always been a fighter. You are stronger than you think. You are braver than you believe. Every challenge that life has thrown at you, you've conquered every obstacle that has been placed in front of you. You've overcome every single one of them. You are unstoppable and unbreakable and right now, you are filled with more faith than you have ever been."

Hyunjin pulls away, softly caressing the hair by the side of your face, "So please believe in yourself. You're worth so much love. So much of it, Y/N."

"The jerseys came!"

Bang Chan screams, a huge grin on his face as he opens the door for you. He runs to Felix and holds onto his shoulders before jumping up and down in joy. He is so delighted. "It looks so good, dude."

Hyunjin smiles, running towards you and helping you with the cardboard box. "It's alright," you mumble. "I'm the manager. It's my job."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "And I'm your best friend. It's my job." He picks the huge box that covers your entire upper half, easily and places it down before the coach and the team.

Jisung rushes to your side, nudging you with his elbow, "We've got a pretty good manager." He bends down and rips open the box, taking his jersey in his hand, "Number 13, bitches. Nothing shows what an amazing libero I am like the number most feared." You laugh.

"Number 10 isn't that bad, I guess." You hear Minho's voice break through the cluster of voices and your movements still. You turn your head to look at the brown haired boy who towers over you, wearing a smile so pretty that your heart still skips a beat.

"Hey, Y/N," he smiles. "Thanks for bringing this over."

"Uh," you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze everywhere else besides at Minho. "I guess. It's my job, yeah."

Hyunjin notices. He always does. The boy runs towards you with his jersey. Number 1 printed in big behind. The setter brings the jersey so close to your face that it's buried in the fresh opened shirt. "Number 1, of course," he laughs, scrunching the shirt in his hand as he raises both his arms above.

"Oh, shut up, Jinnie," you laugh.

"Yeah, shut up, Jinnie," Jisung echoes. The middle blocker, though not the tallest in stature, is excellent at his position and has the biggest love-hate relationship with your best friend. He folds his arms and mocks Hyunjin.

Hyunjin places his right hand down on Jisung's head, ruffling his hair after pressing down on it. He scolds the older boy, "Don't call me Jinnie. Y/N's the only one who gets to call me that."

"Stop gathering around people," The captain claps his hands together to gather all of your attention. You quickly rush to his side and he smiles at you warmly, before looking at his team and glaring at each of them as they gather around him. "Yonsei University was kind enough to arrange a practice match with us thanks to—"

"Y/N," Jisung shouts, pivoting his arms by their sockets before lifting them both high above his head, cheering for you.

"Don't cut me off, Han," the coach shoots daggers at him, frowning visibly at the disobedience. "One more time and you're running around the gymnasium twenty times."

Jisung groans, only after winking at you. You chuckle under your breath, covering your face with the notepad in your hand. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, nudging Jisung to 'keep it in his pants' in the scariest voice ever. You could feel the dark clouds around Hyunjin, the aura darkening for a split minute before he breaks out into a huge smile as he looks at you.

The coach instructs out commands; strategies to help the team win against Yonsei. Moves that he's studied after watching their matches. You know this because you watched Hyunjin do the same at home. He does it at odd timings though.

You would wake up at three in the morning to grab a glass of water and you'd find your best friend squatting in front of the television as he watches every single one of Yonsei's matches. He wouldn't listen to you telling him to go to sleep because, "Being the captain is hard, Y/N. The whole team's banking on me to set the ball perfectly at the right time. I can't..."

And you understand. You understand the worries that go around in his head, the anxiety of being the best because he's no genius. He got to the top, made a name for him all thanks to his hard work and if he needs to keep it — he won't have it any other way — he swears to god that he would practise and study till he drops dead. Hwang Hyunjin loves volleyball that much.

So, you do what any friend would do.

You would make two cups of coffee, one for him and one for yourself. You sit next to him and watch the match with him. Your head lays back against the soft material of the sofa, just watching Hyunjin's eyes fixed on the screen, studying each movement of every player, gasping occasionally at how the setter of Yonsei's team leans his head back to decoy the opposite team only to dump the ball.

You don't remember much from that night because you fall asleep way too quick in the silence and in the presence of a focussed Hyunjin, your cup of coffee half empty. You don't remember anything from that night besides the fact that you woke up in your bed the next morning, or more like, Hyunjin waking you up the next morning because you overslept. Either ways, you were back in your bed and for that, you were grateful.

And as soon as the coach is done with the instructions, the team members scramble before splitting themselves into two groups, first to do serves and then perfect shots and finally, have a practice match.

You sit next to the coach, watching each and every member. That's what the previous manager told you to do. To observe. That's what the manager must do. To observe so well that you know each member well enough to know how their mind works, how their personalities are and who they truly want to be.

This is exactly why you can't seem to ever hate Lee Minho. Because you've seen him on the court, at his very best.

He's the best darn middle blocker you've ever seen. He doesn't tower that much over people with his height but when he jumps, lifting off his feet, he is as good as a wall cemented and strong before the opponent. He has only got better with every practice match and you realise that he wants to be better. And that's how he truly is. The constant urge to do better than the person he was before and perhaps, to Minho, you are someone he wants to leave behind in the past.

There's no one to blame here and you realise that it's a lot better if you accept the truth before it hurts you more than it should.

But then, in a second, Hyunjin takes your attention away whole heartedly. The boy arches his body so beautifully as he sets the ball for Jisung who slams the ball over the net with such force that leaves you gaping, notebook slamming your thigh. The coach stands up, his heels slamming the ground first before his toes do and he is as stunned as you are, eyes wide.

Funnily, Jisung's surprised too.

"We did it!" He says slowly, his words gradually making sense to him and when it does, he rushes to him, holding his shoulders and jumping ecstatically, "Hwang Hyunjin, we fucking did it!"

"When did you guys practice that?" The coach cuts the commotion short with his question. Hyunjin turns to face him along with Jisung, scratching the back of his head. Jisung is so overjoyed that he rushes to the coach, "Today morning! It sounded delusional but we pulled it off, coach."

You look at Hyunjin, who turns his attention back to you as soon as the coach is scrambling off to tell more instructions to Jisung on how he should time it a little bit earlier to hit it with even more impact. You smile, giving him a thumbs up and Hyunjin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you guys finally dating now that Minho's out of the picture?" Chan nudges Hyunjin. The man stumbles a step forward on impact only to quickly look at the older with eyes so wide that he wonders if it were possible.

"What?" He splutters the words out, voice haphazard after the cough.

"Everyone in the team thinks you guys should," Chan shrugs and Hyunjin's face morphs into that of seriousness almost instantly and shoots the other male with, "Did Minho hear of this?"

"Perhaps," Chan catches the ball Felix throws at him. The coach claps his hands to bring the attention back to him, barking out orders to resume the game. Chan pats Hyunjin's shoulders, "You know what we always tell, Hyunjin, in this sport—"

"Take the shot when you see the opportunity."

"Exactly."

"Or someone's going to block again," Chan sniggers and looks at Minho, who was trying his very best to avoid your gaze, "This time round, it could be someone better than our middle blocker."

You're picking up the volleyballs lying around when the guys go to shower and change, dribbling them slightly and smiling to yourself. A figure towers over you as they drop a ball into the huge bucket. You turn around to look up at Minho.

"Can we speak?"

"Do we have more to say?"

"I guess," he shrugs.

"We can still be friends, Minho," you sigh, eyes closed. "I also won't be those annoying types to tell Hyunjin to stay away from you because you broke up with me. You should know better."

"I didn't mean that," Minho looks offended. "I wanted to apologise. I should have tried harder perhaps."

"You should have."

"I know," Minho sucks in his lower lip. "I really should have but you know—"

"Lee Minho," your voice is firm. "I've told you a gazillion times that Hyunjin and I are just friends, Minho. Somehow you made up this sort of weird thing in your head so don't drag me into this mess. This is yours."

Minho scoffs, "You're going to eat your words soon," and picks up another ball. You remember the task you had forgotten in the heat of the moment, rushing to pick up a ball to put it back. The rest of the team is slowly making their way outside.

"I doubt," you sigh, throwing the last ball into the bucket and dusting your hands together. Jisung's darting towards you, hands in the air. Minho moves to the side, gliding against the floor, making way for the shorter man to reach you, bubbling with such enthusiasm you wonder what the cause of it is.

"Felix is treating us!"

Ah, so that's the reason. You smile at Jisung, nodding your approval. You push the bucket to the side of the gymnasium with Minho's help and switch the lights off as the team exits the gymnasium.

"Lee Minho!" You hear a feminine voice through the air, your eyebrows quirking upwards automatically. Hyunjin walks to your side, sighing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket, mumbling so softly that you barely catch it, "I warned that asshole, God damn him."

Minho's face lights up in a way you haven't seen in a while and your heart is heavy. The woman, Irene — you hear Chan shout her name and wave at her — locks her arm with Minho's and walks with him, the man doing nothing to push her away. It shouldn't affect you. Not anymore now that the two of you have broken up and yet it hurts.

Hyunjin quickly pulls you away, preventing your eyes from lingering further even a minute more. His hand holds yours and he drags you to his motorcycle. You look down, biting the insides of your cheeks, alternating between the right and left every time you taste the copper of the blood.

"Your hand is so small," Hyunjin says. "Like look at how it fits into mine," he laughs, lifting your hand upwards as he clasps it tightly. He mumbles, "So small."

You break into a smile, watching Hyunjin tease you, momentarily drifting from the thought that upsets you and it leaves you wondering how Hyunjin does it all the time. He lets go of your hand, ruffling your hair as he bends lightly, "You've got this."

He quickly turns on the heels of his feet, pulling out the keys to his bike and igniting it. You hear Jisung scream from behind, "I thought you were taking me with you!"

Hyunjin screams back, "Carpool with the rest. I'm taking Y/N."

He lifts his leg, straddling the bike as he holds onto the handles, kicking the support free. He turns towards you and tells you to hop on and you do as he says. Your fingers hold his jacket, making sure you're not hugging him from behind. Minho's words run in your head and Hyunjin notices this small gesture of yours but he pays no heed. After all, it's been a while since he realised that what he has with you is better when it's platonic. He is too afraid to lose you.

"Jinnie," you tell him as he starts the motorbike, accelerating behind Jin who leads the way. You hear your best friend scream, "Yeah," through the loud winds that hit you.

You lean forward and speak closer into his ears, your jaw hitting his helmet, "Remember how I said the guys are to be blamed in a relationship."

"Yeah," he hints at you to proceed.

"Here's my first point. Minho back there," you point out. "It was that easy for a guy to move on. That easy," you stress your word. "While I'm here repenting if there was any way to get things back to where it was. However, there's no use in me trying because there's Minho with Irene like our relationship was a thing in the past."

"That doesn't mean he didn't care about you during the relationship. That's how guys are. They give it their everything when they're in the relationship," Hyunjin reasons and you laugh sardonically.

"You're kidding me, right? The girl definitely cares more. It almost seems so easy for the guys to break up and move on. Remember the time when you broke up with Lisa," you speak, raising your tone a little more so that Hyunjin can hear you. The motorcycle moving against the wind causes your hair to touch your mouth and you're spitting hair out facing the side. Hyunjin laughs, his grip on the accelerator tightening as he speeds up just a little bit, causing you to hold onto his jacket pockets a little tighter.

"Bro," Hyunjin mutters when you bring up Lisa. "I cried enough when she broke up with me, okay?"

"You did, for a day or two," you state. "The girl cried her heart out for a whole week. You went partying that Friday with Jisung!"

"Are we now using quantitative measurements to determine how deep our care and love is?" Hyunjin gasps, sounding very offended. "This reminds me why most relationships don't work. Because girls are shallow as fuck."

Hyunjin accelerates, missing sight of the speed breaker in front of him. It hurls you onto his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep you safe. A soft scream leaves your lips as the side of your face buries into his broad back.

"Sorry," Hyunjin apologises quickly. "Didn't see that!" Hyunjin prays that you don't move your arms away but you do and he sighs, face falling. He is glad that you can't see him. Your hand is back to gripping his jacket and head back in this battle of words you're currently having with your best friend.

"It's okay," you tell him. "What's not okay is how you think women are shallow."

"They are!" He takes a turn to the left. Your thigh muscles tighten as it straddles the seat, fingers digging into his side for support. "I mean, let's be real, sweetheart. You take an hour or more to get ready for college."

"Because I want to look presentable!" You hit his broad back and he chuckles.

"Lies! You're shallow!"

"Says the person who walks around shirtless at home and stares at the mirror, lightly touching your abs and saying perfect," you tease and Hyunjin turns to look at you for a minute with his eyes wide before he turns his attention back on the road.

"You saw that?"

"Of course. I see that every day."

"But you're watching the television, how?"

"Reflections," you state.

He's gasping. The motorcycle slows down as it reaches Pizza Alvolo. The pizzeria is adjacent to a pretty park and you can hear the birds chirp lowly right before the sun is ready to set. You jump off the motorcycle, dusting the denims covering your thighs and Hyunjin removes his helmet, hooking it to the handle securely.

The rest of the team are seated in the pizzeria already waiting for the two of you, waving at you as soon as you enter the place. You rush and sit next to Jisung who has been aggravatingly patting the seat next to him. Hyunjin sits opposite to you, next to Chan. He snatches the menu from him and the elder male whines at the behaviour.

You look around and notice that Minho hasn't reached the place yet. Not that it mattered to you. You will slowly learn to stop caring so much for a man and you will soon be able to look at him and think of only the fond memories and nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The minute you see Minho walk into the pizzeria, although not with Irene, you feel the ground slip underneath you. Jisung is nice enough — albeit not knowing of the whole pickle you are in — to hold your wrist and turn your attention towards the stack of pizza boxes that come your way as he gleams, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

You look away from Minho and toward the direction Jisung points before turning to look at Hyunjin who lets out a loud sigh. You know that he's clutching at his thick thighs, nails digging into it at the sight of your uncomfortability. Hyunjin knows it will take you days to get over this break up, maybe weeks and that as a good best friend, he should wait. He should understand.

But it frustrates him so much. The sight of you being in pain, in hurt because of another man — his other best friend at that — pisses him off way more than he thought it should at first.

Hyunjin quickly takes his phone out and you narrow your eyes at him, mouthing, "Rude. Put it back into your pocket." In a second, your phone dings and you take yours out. Minho sits by Jisung's side in that second, a seat away from you and your heartbeat accelerates. You unlock your phone to see a message from Hyunjin and you lift up your head, raising an eyebrow at him and he eyes at you to open the message.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

Your eyes widen and your lips part slightly. You don't respond immediately, locking the phone and shoving it back into your pocket. You smile at Hyunjin, trying to signal that you were alright so far. Jisung opens the cardboard boxes of the pizza and squeals. Chan looks at the situation, analysing if it'd be bad for the team on a bigger approach. Hyunjin might be the captain but had it not been for Chan's guidance, the volleyball team would not have lasted a day more with the differences.

Felix announces, "Eat to your heart's merry! I might never treat again." He takes the first bite for courtesy's sake before telling everyone to join in.

The team laughs and Minho smiles, the skin by his eyes wrinkling and your heart stops to remember all the reasons you were so madly in love with this man. It is at this minute you realise it'll take you maybe a little longer than you thought, a little longer than a casual fling and a little lesser than a long term relationship. You should have known this is bound to happen the minute you allowed yourself to let your petty emotions take over.

And maybe, just maybe, it is the fact that you have to pretend to be alright with having Minho around you that makes this heartbreak pain ten times worse.

Surprisingly, Hyunjin already seems to know because he doesn't stop glancing at you after every bite of the slice he has in his hand.

You stretch your arm out to take a slice of the pepperoni pizza on the table at the same time Minho stretches his arms out to take one. Your fingers brush against his and you jolt your hand backwards, mumbling, "Sorry."

Jisung laughs without knowing and teases, "Why would you apologise for brushing your boyfriend's hand?" He takes a bite of his pizza and as soon as he finishes chewing, he continues, "I mean, you guys do nastier stuff and suddenly, you all are prim and proper, Y/N. Love the contrast you exhibit. It's beautiful. You guys could be at it every time I catch you in the gymnasium alone. Also, you're his longest relationship. You should pride yourself—"

Jisung is speaking and you won't look up. Hyunjin has dropped the knife slightly just to try and get him to stop, though in vain and Minho's looking at you. His eyes won't leave your frame and you just want to leave. It is too early for you to be alright with this. Way too early.

"Stop, Jisung," Chan tells him, reading the situation in the room.

"Why?" Jisung's laughing. Felix understands by now, seeing your face hung down and so does the rest of the team besides the man himself. You can't even come to be angry at Jisung because he seems so innocent, unaware of it all.

You spill the beans for your own heart's safety, "Minho broke up with me."

Minho doesn't shift his eyes at anyone else and Hyunjin holds the knife again, a little too tight this time. Jisung's smile turns instantly into a frown and he turns his head to glare at your now ex-boyfriend.

He doesn't bother to filter his words. "Why the fuck did you do that, you arsehole?" Minho turns to look at Jisung for a split second before his eyes are back at yours. You lift your head to lock gaze with him and you feel your chest tighten, eyes water and it hurts.

Everything seems so much more painful.

Chan says once again, his voice firm, ready to not listen to one more word of the conversation, "Stop it, Jisung. Read the room."

You stretch your arm out to have another bite of the pizza and everyone eats in silence. The room is pregnant with the most awkward silence you had been in your whole life. You take your phone out, unlocking it and finally replying to the message.

Jisung puts another slice of pizza onto your plate and you smile at him. Felix tries breaking the uneasy tension by talking about this dude he met in his neighborhood that was kind of cute. After sitting for another two minutes, you push your chair back to Jisung's surprise and stand up. Hyunjin stands up instinctively, his calves pushing his chair back and everyone at the table looks at the two of you.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

"I just realised I have to do some grocery shopping," you laugh nervously. "There's absolutely nothing back at home. Not that Hyunjin would buy anything and keep, right?"

Hyunjin chuckles and everyone in the room knows quite obviously that you are trying to escape the scene. They are kind enough to let you. Felix asks, spilling the oregano seasonings on top of his pizza slice, "Is Hyunjin going with you?"

"Ye—"

"No," you cut your best friend before he can give his approval. "I'll go alone." You stretch your arm out, palm facing upwards, "Keys, please?"

"Don't hurt my baby," Hyunjin's sincerity is voiced and you laugh genuinely. Little did you know he meant both you and his motorbike. He drops the key to his motorbike onto your hand and you do a little cheer. Jisung mumbles, "Cute," before stuffing his face with pizzas.

"Have a good time, guys," you wish them and grab your bag, hanging on the chair. Jisung waves enthusiastically. Felix, Chan and the rest of the team waves too. You smile fondly at your team and walk towards the door only to find Hyunjin following you.

"What do you think you are doing right now, mister?"

"Can't I walk you out at the very least, woman?" Hyunjin gapes in dismay. He pulls open the glass door and you laugh.

"Sure thing," you say and walk towards his motorbike. Hyunjin leaves the door after stepping out, the glass door swinging back to shut itself. You swing your legs over his bike, straddling the automobile and dropping your chest slightly to balance the heavy vehicle.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Don't you trust your teaching? You taught me how to ride this thing. Don't worry."

You look over Hyunjin's shoulder to see Minho still looking at you, worry smeared all over his face and you feel your throat constricting again as you do your best to tear your eyes away from him.

Hyunjin takes a step closer, making sure everything's alright with the vehicle so that it doesn't endanger you. He places his hand over your wrist and you look at him in confusion, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will," you laugh. "What are you? My daddy?"

Hyunjin stiffens for a minute before he lets go of all the inappropriate thoughts that fill him for a minute there before teasing you, "Do you want me to be your daddy?"

"Nah," you throw your head back. "You aren't that rich enough." You place the helmet over your head and look at him. Hyunjin taps your helmet and hugs you slightly.

"I'll see you at home."

You start the bike on ignition and look over Hyunjin's shoulder one last time to look at Minho, locking gazes with him before you pull yours away from him towards Hyunjin.

You look ahead, the clear road in front of you and turn the accelerator only after telling Hyunjin, giggling slightly,

"Sure thing, Daddy."

Hyunjin, on the other hand, is too caught up in his worry, eyes lingering behind the trailing presence of yours that finally disappears from his sight into a speck that fades away. In any other circumstances, he would have found your petite figure driving the huge motorcycle and you even calling him daddy, although in a teasing tone, insanely hot.

Right now, however, he just hopes you are safe. He wishes he could be by your side at every second.

Gaho's Stay Here blasts on the bluetooth speaker. Hyunjin pulls open the door only to find you lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with the most emotionless face he has ever seen you with. His eyes dart towards the empty bottles of soju on the small table in the hall.

"Y/N?"

You sit up, looking at your best friend and your lip pucker out quickly pouting at the sight of him and you stretch your arms out wide, squealing, "Hyunjinnie. You are home."

Hyunjin walks towards you, plopping on the couch and sitting next to you. He quickly lifts his arm up, hand darting back and forth at the air to steer the smell away as he frowns at you, "You reek of liquor, dude."

You quickly hug him, wrapping your arms around his frame from the side and snuggling your face into his shoulder. Hyunjin stiffens under your grip and he looks down at your being with eyes closed and he realises that you might after all just be a small being in need of some loving. He wishes to be the person to do that. Hwang Hyunjin utterly and truly wants to be your person.

Hyunjin takes your phone to stop playing the music — Stay Here that's been currently playing on repeat for the twentieth time straight — and you whine against his skin, tickles running down Hyunjin's spine.

"Don't stop the music," you mumble and Hyunjin looks at you and your figure that hugs him securely, head snuggled by his neck, chin digging into the skin by his collarbone and all Hyunjin can focus on is his heart that is beating furiously against his chest.

"Y/N," Hyunjin's voice seems like an anchor to your woozy mind and you hug him tighter, gripping stronger on to his white shirt. You hum in response and Hyunjin continues, "Gaho's music doesn't seem very fitting for the minute."

You pull apart, your face morphing and changing into that of offense as you glare at him, mumbling, "Gaho is the only one that understands me." You play the music again, the bluetooth speakers blasting with the sad slow tune in the air and you feel the want to cry all over again.

You stretch your arm out to take a soju bottle from the table to down it all out when Hyunjin stretches out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. He locks his eyes with yours and in the softest, most caring voice you've ever heard from him, he says, "Don't, Y/N. It hurts me too."

"Can I hold you?"

In a split moment, the room is filled with just the soft beats of Gaho's Start Over playing, your raspy breaths and Hyunjin's lost stare. His grip on your wrist tightens and your mind is far too intoxicated to think if this friendship could be ruined. Your heart is heavy, chest tight and you want someone to free you. Anyone. You are clawing at the imaginary wall all by yourself and anyone could be a help. Anyone that is not Lee Minho.

"Yes," and you fall on Hyunjin at the exact same moment he pulls your hand closer towards him. The timing seems to have lapsed on to each other. Your chest on Hyunjin's, eyes looking up at him as your arms snake slowly over his torso. You snuggle forward, rubbing against his body slightly and Hyunjin sighs.

To Hyunjin, the scene is a lot dramatic just because of the soft music playing and because you are drunk off your head according to him, barely able to make decisions. He just doesn't want to do anything that will make either of your friendships but right now, in this minute with you almost on top of him, locking your eyes in his, your arms around his torso, close enough to feel every part of your being, he wants to be drunk too.

Hyunjin wants to be drunk so that he can make a mistake. Hyunjin wants to be so drunk that he can't think just because he is a coward.

"Do you feel better?" He asks and you snuggle into his chest, burying your face into it as you hold him. Your lonely heart being comforted by just his presence and in the back of your drunk head, you know you feel a little bit more that causes your heart to flutter when Hyunjin cares.

You and Hyunjin are both cowards — two small people in this big world with big emotions unwilling to risk one status for another, over the fear of losing each other.

But Hyunjin wants to risk it tonight. After years of pining, he wants to risk this golden friendship he has shared with you for years now. You are the trigger, however. You lift your face away from his chest and crawl slightly towards him, pushing yourself against him. You look at him, lips pressed together and you stretch your right arm upwards to hold his face in your hand.

"Jinnie," your voice lets out his name in such an airy tone that it seems to disappear away even before it reaches his ear. His eyes are glassy and his heart is in his throat, eager in nothing but anticipation that is risen from all his hoping.

It happens as he has imagined. You lean forward so slowly that he pictures every second vividly and in an instant, your lips are on his. Hyunjin knows it should have felt wrong but God, save him — nothing felt more right than this.

You kiss him and his whole world falls away. It lingers, like a memory that stays behind. Your lips are slow and soft against him, comforting yourself and him in ways that words would never be. Hyunjin's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss. Something so small and insignificant to seemingly anyone else yet it means the whole world to Hyunjin. It is the whole world to Hyunjin because this is all that is needed to let him astray, hinge released of the stupid restrictions he has made up in his head over you.

Your small kiss is all Hyunjin needs to hold on to because in the next minute, he is pulling you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your coral ones. You let out a small gasp and run your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute.

Hyunjin's lips are slammed against yours, nearly knocking all wind from your lungs and you don't know if it is your feelings or Hyunjin himself. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth. Hyunjin kisses you like he thinks it is the last time he will ever be able to have his lips against yours.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. In an instant, you pull away and arch up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against your own, before you draw back into his lips. Hyunjin can feel the burn of hard soju in his mouth, thanks to you, and it rolls off your tongue into his, seeping down  his throat and he can't hate it. There is a thrill in its own that Hyunjin knows stems from you.

If it was possible, Hyunjin would slow down time.

You pull back eventually only to hug him, humming against his neck, lips pressed against the soft expanse of his skin. Hyunjin's hand is pressed against your back as he pats you in a steady rhythm, instinctively humming to a tune that could calm you.

"Jinnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," and he feels your weight fall on to his shoulder as you snuggle closer into his neck, your warm breath fanning against him, sending shivers down his spine. "For everything."

Hyunjin holds you for a while, silence and nothing but your breathing that is soft music to his ears, till he hears your soft snores buzzing against his eardrums and he knows you have fallen asleep in his arms, against his chest.

The next morning, you find yourself magically in your bed, comforter on top of you covering every inch of you, head aching thanks to your reckless drinking last night with no memory of whatsoever that happened. Lightheaded you should have known better.

Hyunjin chooses to be a coward, the morning after.

The greens that cover the campus is the only other thing that keeps you sane in this university. The first being, the volleyball team. However, you don't know anymore if it is still, in the present.

You sit on the same bench before a beautiful fountain with a tiger head right in the centre, watching the vast basketball court. A place that holds way more memories to you now than it did a year before.

You shake your legs, feet pointing forward as you listen to music with about half an hour in your hand to waste before you head down towards the gymnasium to meet with the volleyball team. Besides few people that walk down towards their classes, the campus looks pretty stranded as you watch every single person stay happy in their sphere.

"Y/N," you hear your name being called out through yet another one of Gaho's songs and you lift your head up, to look at the person by your side, standing and providing you the shade they probably didn't intend to.

It's the man himself, the one who broke your heart for an explanation that made no sense to you. Lee Minho.

He stands tall, towering over you and your neck aches from looking up at him that you decide to stand up, removing the earbuds and placing it on the wooden bench, next to your phone.

"You're here." You gulp. "Aren't you supposed to be headed to the gym for practice?"

The fountain is everything you associate Minho with — moreover, it is perhaps the relationship with him that you associated the beautiful water fountain with. To see the very same man before you right now is needless to say surprising.

"I could ask you the same thing," Minho chuckles. He takes out a small cone of butterscotch ice cream and extends his arm, offering it to you. You smile softly, thanking him, sitting down back on the bench. "Can I sit here?" He asks and you nod, unwrapping the wrapping paper around the ice cream.

"Yeah," you tap on the seat by your side. You take a bite of your ice cream and Minho visibly flinches, mumbling, "Still the same."

"You broke up with me like two days back. What did you expect? A nirvana attained me?" You scoff. You take another bite of the ice cream, the sensitivity hitting your teeth and you hiss.

"Brutal," Minho chuckles darkly. You scoff, turning your head away and taking another bite of your ice cream. Minho opens his ice cream and you raise an eyebrow at him, mumbling, "You don't eat ice cream though."

"Thought you might want another one," he smiles and the thought of a second ice cream lights you up. "There you go smiling like a dork as always at the thought of it." Minho laughs and you bend forward to take it, your left arm stretching forward. Minho tugs it backwards and your body moves a little more to grab at it until it's too far for you, bringing you to your present position.

Your hand is on Minho's chest, his eyes locked in yours and you are surprised. This is not in your to do list and yet with Minho's grip on your wrist, you drop your ice cream as soon as he edges closer. His face is so close that you can see the perfect plump lips pout slightly, his face glistening in the bright sun and you gasp softly. It has been a while since he has been this close and he still makes your heart go livid within you, beating crazy.

He drops his ice cream in a second, his hands pressing forward to cup your face and pull you into him to kiss the living hell out of you. Your eyes widen, arms falling limp on either side as you stiffen.

"Can I try something?" He hesitates, iron grip on you.

"Try?" You look worried and the next minute, Minho is kissing you, his plump lips on yours for a while before he moves them against yours, taking hold of your lower lip.

It is an instinct. You choose to blame it rather on instincts. Your hand moves to grab the linen draping his arm as you hold it and kiss Minho back. It is as bitter as coffee thanks to all the memories that go along with it and yet — you find yourself drowning. You find yourself wanting more. You find yourself hoping if Minho could stay, if Minho could just pretend to love you, if not.

And it breaks your heart.

All over again.

A lone tear leaves your eyes and then another, till you are crying as you kiss him. A wet messy affair at its finest. Minho pulls back in surprise feeling the wetness against his skin. He cups your face and holds you, looking at you to check for damage — little does he know of the emotional one. Or maybe he does and he chooses to ignore. Typical Lee Minho.

"Did I hurt you?"

Your emotions take over, sanity pushed to the back. You are pulling yourself from Minho as he tries to hold you to calm you down. Your fist plummets down onto his hard chest once and then, for the second time till you are hitting him over and over again till you completely break down in front of him. Minho quickly pulls you into a hug, holding you close till you completely soak his white shirt with your tears.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—" It's a repeated chant. Over and over again till you don't remember how many times you told Minho the same thing. Your mind goes insane with the overdrive of emotions. Did you like Minho still? You don't know. You don't know whether it's the familiarity of his hugs or his kisses or his whole presence that you crave or if it's his love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and you accept because it's the first time an apology from Lee Minho sounded this sincere. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart." He snuggles into the crook of your neck, swallowed by guilt. Perhaps this is why one should never date their friends; because you lose something much greater.

"I hate you more now for kissing me here," you manage to say, throat rasp from the crying. "How could you stain this memory too? How dare you stain the memory of the location of our first kiss? It was supposed to be a bittersweet memory when I sit here and think." Minho is still hugging you.

"I'm sorry."

It is still bittersweet in a new way, you realise — the fact that Lee Minho kisses you for the last time, you swear to God, in the very same place he kissed you for the first time. The weather changed, the people around changed and the emotions changed. Even after all that, the fountain stays proud and mighty and bears witness to more new relationships and new heartbreaks. Nothing changes besides you. Nothing changes besides what we want.

You pull away from him. Sitting straight, facing the vast basketball court and the juniors playing the game, you make a decision, firm and determined. The soft pink petals fall down from the cherry blossom trees over the two of you and Minho looks at you, and then at the spilled ice cream. To see the boughs that were so bereft in the snow become so beautifully adorned should lift your spirits infinitely and it does slightly. Their scents diffuse in the warming breeze and you hold your head high to savour it.

"Let's stay away from each other for a while."

Minho's eyes shoot up, head lifting up to face you. He does not refute. After all, he knows he has to take a step behind after breaking your heart. What he does not understand is how the two of you could stay away from each other when your friend circles overlap to a large extent.

"How?" He finally asks. "How do I help you with that?"

"By doing just that. Give me space and time to get over you. I'll come back asking for your hand in friendship again," you smile. Your tear stained visage and the difficult smile you put forth is a funny combination but you manage to pull it off well, you'd say. "You don't have to take the first step this time. Let me do this on my own, Minho."

You stand up on your own, grabbing your earphones and your phone. Minho stands up, following suit and asks, "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," you turn only to look at him as you walk backwards. "And you have to head for practice. So get going. I won't have you mess up your performance by all means." You turn back and move ahead. From everything.

"You know I wouldn't," Minho screams back and the last syllable ends with a laugh. You lift your hand to wave and you leave, far, far away from him.

You now have an open wound to stitch back and you know you have to do it on your own.

Hyunjin's phone rings right when he decides to serve the ball. He drops the ball in surprise, the sphere rolling all the way to where his phone is placed. Chan groans, stopping his pace at the sound of the phone ringing, and yells, "Yah! Hyunjin, how many times should I tell you to switch off your phone?"

Felix walks in exactly at that minute, laughing, "Anyone from outside would totally think Chan's the captain!"

Hyunjin runs to his phone, his blond hair strands falling forward, ponytail swinging left and right. Felix laughs at the sight, walking towards the ball and picking it up before throwing it at Chan who catches it swiftly. Hyunjin sees your name on the phone, eyes lighting up instantly and a smile prominent only for Chan to announce, "It's Y/N."

"Of course, it is," Felix scoffs. "Where's the rest of the guys? I thought you said we were to come early—" Felix pauses, eyes widening and gasping, "Hold up! Y/N is late. Whoa!"

"They are probably running towards the gym right now," Hyunjin says before picking up the call. He mouths to the rest, "It'll be short, I promise," and pouts. Chan sighs, only to smile and wave his hand at him to take the call.

"Y/N," Hyunjin cheers up instantly. "Where are—" He hears a choked sob from the other hand and Hyunjin stiffens, face losing the smiling in a second. "Are you alright?"

"I am," you strain it out. You barely manage through with the chokes and that pain that ripples through in waves but you eventually find the words to tell him, "I won't make it to practice today. Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

Hyunjin is angry and he doesn't even know who it is aimed at. He is just beyond mad at the fact that you are crying and someone made you cry. The thought of the skin by your eyes aching and eyes red and burning over anyone made him so angry that he could punch a wall through.

"I'm not telling you," he hears you say and he clenches his fist.

"Stop being a brat, Y/N," he stresses and Chan gestures at him, asking if there was something wrong. Hyunjin nods. "Where are you?"

"Leave me alone, Jinnie," you tell him through the phone, "Please,"  and his eyes widen before he calms himself down, realising that you are trying to cope all alone, a pathetic self-destructive quirk of yours that he had learned to live with after all these years. He gulps and realises you truly needed time alone and he hums in approval.

"Please reach out to me when you need me," he begs. "Please, Y/N."

Felix and Chan are staring at Hyunjin in worry when the door to the gymnasium opens and Jisung rushes into the room. He is panting and he looks around, searching for someone. Hyunjin turns away, his attention back on the call in his hands and he ends the call quickly, making a note in his mind to check up on you after practise. Not that you would let him miss practise. (Not that Hyunjin would do it to himself in the first place. He'd kill for volleyball.)

He walks towards the rest when Minho walks in, black duffel bag on his shoulder. Jisung is quick on his feet as he runs towards the other man, hands on his shoulders and he shakes the living hell out of him.

"He's gone crazy, dude," Felix mumbles and Chan laughs.

Hyunjin stays at a comfortable distance still, looking at his phone in worry every now and then. The man lifts his head and brings his attention back to the present only when he hears your name leave Jisung's mouth.

"Whoa, dude. You got back together with Y/N?"

"What?" Chan is the first to respond. "You did what?"

"I didn't get back together with her," Minho says, his voice is monotone and lacks anything more than nonchalance and it pisses the hell out of Hyunjin who has his fists still clenched tightly.

"I saw you kissing her but. . ." Jisung drops the bomb all at once in such a lost way that he doesn't realise the impact it was to have in this large gymnasium.

Hyunjin is charging forwards all at once, yelling, "You bastard," as he throws a punch at Minho. The blond dyed man is quick to put two and two together and realise that you are after all, crying because of the black haired man before him.

He pushes him back, Minho hitting the floor and Hyunjin's on top of him, punching him with his clenched fist, mind void and painted in hot red anger. Minho has his arms, blocking his punches and chooses to play on the defensive side.

In fear, we are all monsters. Hyunjin believes that he would be afraid of himself had he astral projected and looked at himself in this minute, all unhinged because of one girl — one girl he would set the world on fire for.

All that rage comes out faster than magma for Hyunjin and is just as destructive. More so because he's the captain. It consumes all that he is, so delicate under that carefully ordered world and carefully put up feign that he is alright with Minho breaking the heart of the girl he loves. Minho shrivels before him but Hyunjin does not stop. He relentlessly keeps going, stopping short of physical violence but doing far more damage with the words that he throws.

Chan tries to pull Hyunjin away as Jisung drags Minho from underneath him. The black haired man is left with bruises and a busted lip. On the other hand, Hyunjin is still fuming, along with Chan, sporting a few cuts from Minho who decided to throw a few punches in the last moment.

"Can you all stop?" Felix sighs.

"Why would you bastard make her cry again?" Hyunjin raises his voice. He's yelling at this point, loud enough for everyone passing by the gymnasium to hear. "Why the fuck would you make Y/N cry again? I told you to leave her alone!"

"This wouldn't have happened if things went different—" Hyunjin tries to rush forward to hit him again upon hearing his words, but Chan and Changbin, another teammate, have a strong grip on him. His blond ponytail lashes in anger and he fights against the two, trying to let go of himself. Minho yells back, "I would have never broken up with her if you never liked her, Hyunjin."

"What?" He stops still in his tracks, limbs falling and Chan lets go.

"How am I supposed to think it's alright for you to randomly stare at my girlfriend with heart eyes? For fuck's sake, you guys hug way more than I hug her," Minho glares, chest rising up as he vents everything he has bottled up so far. "If you had always liked her, you should have told me! I shouldn't have overheard it from Chan telling you to ask her out." Chan's face pales visibly. "I would have tried making her stay. I would have made her stay. I would have," Minho's voice lowers. "I still did, but I was too late."

Hyunjin has no words to refute. His eyes widen and his heart is in his throat, barely being able to say, "You could have taken it out on me. Why would you drag her into this? She loved you. She still wavers because of you. Your faithless love was the only hoax she was forced to believe."

Jisung pouts in awe at the words Hyunjin spills and Minho mumbles, "I don't know. I couldn't think straight."

Felix drops the ball with force, suddenly. The ball squelches before raising high and hitting the wall with impact. He folds his arms and speaks up, "Stop acting like kids." He points at Minho. "You, stop putting the blame of your failed relationship on Hyunjin. Him liking Y/N did not ruin your relationship. You killed it yourself."

"But he—"

"I liked her even before you made a move on her. Nothing has changed, Minho," Hyunjin inhales sharply.

"It's because you're a coward, you arsehole."

Hyunjin closes his eyes, looking away, mumbling, "Not going to even bother denying that. I'd be dating her if I wasn't this scared of losing her."

Felix proceeds to point at Hyunjin, glaring sharply at him, "You call yourself a captain? We have a match in a few days and you decide to lose control and beat up your teammate? One of the best middle blockers out there! What in the world are you thinking, Hyunjin? Jesus Christ, when Y/N hears of this, she's going to beat you up so bad for doing this to him in the name of the team."

Hyunjin doesn't dare to look up at Felix, shuffling the balance of his body from one feet to another. He is embarrassed. He should have never let his emotions take control of his body and yet he did.

Chan walks towards Felix before announcing, "We'll start practice in five. I want the two of you to sort this out by the end of this day. If you haven't, I don't want either of you coming to practice tomorrow."

"I'm the setter!" Hyunjin protests.

"Jeongin can do a darn good job too, so shut up and listen to me well."

"Now," Felix claps his hand, smiling once again brightly before running to pick up the ball. "Let's practice like the perfect team we are!"

"And like I couldn't stop myself. It's like something dragged me to move forward and the next thing I knew, I was on top of Minho—"

"Fuck, that'd be hot."

"Y/N, focus. And like I was beating the crap out of him."

You dab an alcoholic swab over the small wounds on his face as he seethes in pain and you sneer, "Deserved it."

"Ouch," Hyunjin fakes offense. "Side with me at least now. You aren't dating him anymore." You stop, your hand midair and you dab constantly over his wounds till Hyunjins screaming, "Ow, ow, ow. I'm sorry," and holds your wrist and pulls it away.

"But you messed up your team dynamics just because of your anger," you frown. "You and Minho better sort it out quickly, Jinnie. Else, I swear to God." You glare at him.

"What will you do?" Hyunjin laughs, scrunching his nose and teasing you. You place the bandaids over the wounds and raise an eyebrow. Hyunjin prompts, "Bite me?"

"I will," you warn and Hyunjin scoffs, "As if."

You bite him. His shoulder, to be exact. Your teeth hold onto his socket for a good one minute tightly till he is yelping, hitting your back to let go of him as he hisses in pain. You let go of him and narrow your eyes at him. Hyunjin is shocked. So shocked that he blankly stares at you with his mouth wide open.

"Are you a dog?"

"I could be one if you taunt me too much."

"Wow," he blinks and you poke the insides of your cheek with your tongue. "Wow, you're truly one of a kind." And Hyunjin breaks down laughing, holding his shoulder with his hand and bending forward overcome by intense laughter.

"Buy me mint choco," he prompts. "Because now you injured me and I want compensation."

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin pushes himself forward, edging closer to you, looking you in your eyes before saying, "You know you have to," in a low guttural tone that your heart does a whole somersault, triple axle and then lands with an ovation. "You hurt me."

You push him away and you leap onto your feet, your eyes wide and your hand over your chest. Hyunjin looks at you with a raised eyebrow. To change the mood of the situation, you quickly announce, "Fine. You'll get mint chocolate only if you get ready and come out in five minutes. Else you pay for it on your own."

Hyunjin stands up and holding your wrist, he pulls you with him to the door. You look at him in utter confusion and ask, "What are you doing?"

Hyunjin stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, blond strands leaving his ponytail to cover his eyes slightly and pink lips so plump that you wonder how they feel. The realisation that you have started viewing your best friend as someone more than just that hits you and you look down instantly. When did this happen?

"I'll just wear a coat and so should you," Hyunjin laughs. "Ice cream can't wait."

People think of laughing as a noise that comes from the mouth more often than not, but when Hyunjin laughed it was nothing like that. The laugh is in his eyes, in the way his face changes into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. And yet, in all honesty, it is not in his face either. His laugh comes from within, it is just the way he is wired with the instant ability to comfort someone. Just the sound of his gales, his snickers, his giggles, was enough to transport you far away from all your worries and the tension your life has in the minute.

Enough to make you forget that you have to tell him today about the decision you have taken.

Hyunjin and you walk down the stairs and off onto the road in five minutes as planned. The cool air of the night hits you and you hold yourself closer, the long coat held tightly to your body surface. Hyunjin laughs before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close by just a little bit and yet enough to share his body warmth.

"Mint choco, here we come!" And he runs with you.

The thing with your stupid heart is that you don't understand why it is beating so rapidly in this moment, your heart beat easily jumping to more than 95bpm and all because Hyunjin holds you. You look at the man by your side, his blond hair moving with the air, exposing his face and you wonder — had Hwang Hyunjin always been this beautiful?

You have known Hyunjin for a long time now. Too long for you to realise that your heart had a change in its plans for emotions recently. You have known Hyunjin way too long to know that you want him for a lifetime by your side, as a best friend at the very least and the thought that if you did act upon your new emotions that you have just discovered in this cold, breezy night, you are screwed.

Hyunjin turns to look back at you after hearing absolutely no sound from you. His face pales when he realises you are looking far ahead and he wonders if you do remember now. If you remember the drunk night.

So he asks to put himself at ease, "Y/N?"

"Huh?" You jolt up to consciousness, looking properly at Hyunjin. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember the night a few days back?"

"Night? Few days back?" You ponder. "When I was drunk?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin mumbles and you raise your body in anticipation, finally wanting to ask about the magical teleportation.

"Now that we are on this topic," you fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at your best friend. Hyunjin shuffles his balance from his left to his right. "Did you carry me to bed that night?"

Hyunjin chokes on air, sputtering out incoherent words before finally forming one proper sentence, "You knew?"

"You're the only other person I live with and I don't have any recollection of going to bed so like I presumed," you look down, heat rising to your cheek and you fidget with your fingers. "That you carried me to bed."

"That's all that you remember?"

You lift your head up, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, "Is there more?"

"Uh," Hyunjin turns back to face forward, his broad back in your vision again as he walks forward to the ice cream parlour by the junction.

"Hyunjin?" He walks quicker. "Yah! Hwang Hyunjin!" You follow him with quick, short strides, almost jogging up to him. "What did I do, Jinnie?" He opens the glass door to the ice cream parlour. "Yah, Hwang Hyunjin, tell me no matter how embarrassing it is." You follow him into the white aesthetically pretty place.

You finally catch hold of his coat and tug at it. Hyunjin turns, his cheeks flushed and you wonder what in the world happened that night. Yes, you have vague memories of hugging Hyunjin and passing out, but for him to act like this — wait, you didn't empty your stomach out on him, did you?

"Did I—" Hyunjin's eyes widens. He turns back, his attention on the man behind the counter and he points towards you.

"She's paying."

"Okay," the man nods and turns to look at you, waiting for your order. You sigh, glaring at your best friend before ordering one quantity of mint chocolate ice cream. Your eyes waver to the green ice cream and you frown in displeasure, something Hyunjin catches sight of your expression.

"How dare you?" He folds his arms, dramatically. "The only people that matter in this world are the one that like mint chocolate." The man at the counter smiles at the two of you.

You open your mouth, clicking your tongue, "I'm not paying money to eat toothpaste."

The man behind the counter laughs out loud and Hyunjin glares at him, scoffing. He takes the ice cream from his hand and waits for you to pay. The tall man looks at the two of you, again, before finally telling, "Good luck on your relationship. It's always fun to see couples have an argument over mint chocolate and still be so in love with each other." He turns to look at Hyunjin only, "For your information, I like mint chocolate."

Both Hyunjin and you look at each other, either of you waiting for the other person to disagree with the man but there is just silence. You can feel Hyunjin looking at you through the corners, waiting for you to refute like you always do. You don't and you do not even know why. The heat builds up beneath the apples of your cheek and the thought of being in a relationship with your best friend strangely brings about a wave of calmness within you, doing its best to shove the uncertainty of so many things away.

"Thank you for the ice cream," you say and walk to an empty table. Hyunjin thanks the man too, and follows you, sitting on the seat opposite to you and places the mint chocolate in between.

He watches you, unsure of the situation and you bite your lower lip nervously before shoving the cup closer to him and mumbling, "Eat. We came all the way here for you."

"You should have gotten another ice cream," Hyunjin frowns.

"It's past nine," you laugh, your hair falling over the chair as you lean back. "I can't let fat into my body after nine. You know that."

"Why do I know you?" Hyunjin puts his hand on his forehead looking at you and then he pushes the cup of ice cream towards your side. "Disappointment." You look at your best friend, disgusted and he won't take the disrespect though.

"It's a refreshing taste," he digs in and takes a big bite. "Plus, it's the right balance." He lifts the spoon with a small amount of the mint ice cream and shoves it right in front of your face. "The perfect amount of mint, chocolate and milk to make the world's most perfect ice cream."

You push his hand away and glare, "Why would you ruin two beautiful sweets," you raise an eyebrow, "Chocolate and ice cream by including," you fake a gag, "Mint?"

"Because mint balances the sweetness of the chocolate," he scoffs. "All you mediocre people won't understand. Mint chocolate was created for the elite class."

"Did you just call me mediocre?" your jaw drops and Hyunjin laughs. It's soft, airy and so carefree that you don't mind the fact that he is laughing at you and not with you. You don't mind one bit when you break down and laugh with him, unable to keep your face straight as you lean forward on the table, your head resting on your hands and you watch Hyunjin.

You decide to tell him of your decision in this minute.

"I'm going to make Seungmin manage the team," you tell Hyunjin and he stares at you, the spoon dropping from his hand and clattering against the glass rim of the ice cream cup. You continue, "He's always wanted to manage the volleyball team and I thought I should let him—"

"Why?" He sounds hurt. Disappointed, in fact and your heart plummets down.

"I thought it's time to move on."

"From the team or Minho?"

"Minho," you say, nibbling on your lower teeth. "I want to go back to him—"

"What?" Hyunjin feels his heart sink.

"Don't cut me off, hoe," you click your tongue. "I want to go back to him and be his friend. I'm not ready to ruin a friendship over this. I just won't."

Hyunjin looks down at his cup of ice cream. His spoon digs into the cold dessert over and over again till he realises that he'll do what he has always done for you — be right by your side as your pillar.

"Feed me," Hyunjin prompts and you stare at him with a void expression, mouth still open, wondering if he suggested this only and only to change the topic. Hyunjin stretches his arm out to shut your mouth. "People are going to think I'm starving you here."

"Whoa." You lift your head up. "And if I do that, people are going to think we're possibly the cutest couple out there still in our glorious honeymoon phase of it."

"Okay," Hyunjin shrugs and leans back against the chair, folding his arms against each other.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

You sit up straight and look down before finally saying, "Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Those words that make my heart flutter. I don't know what to feel, Hyunjin." Hyunjin is too stunned to react and whine over the fact that you called him properly by his name in your conversation. The fact that he too can cause your heart to race a little bit just like you have with his all these years. "Don't say them to me if you won't ever be ready to take responsibility over them."

You place your thumb and forefinger on your forehead, squeezing the skin slightly to calm the slight ache you can feel, the vein throbbing slightly and you know it is your anxiety that kicks in because you almost spilled everything out. You quickly stand up and holding your coat tightly, you look at Hyunjin who is still seated and looking at you intently.

"I need to go to the pharmacy next door. I'll wait for you there. Finish your ice cream and come."

You don't turn to look at Hyunjin as you walk out, slightly embarrassed by your own behaviour. Between you and Hyunjin, you are the one who had to keep your cool, making sure you didn't slip up or make a mess so that you could at least have time to clean his spilt milk.

You push the door of the ice cream parlour and walk out, the doorbell ringing at your push and you hold yourself in the cold breeze. If Hyunjin did not respond to it, it is only safe to presume that he feels nothing more towards you. You could at least put two and two together. Or so you thought till Hyunjin is chasing after you, big strides and dark blond hair in the wind as his rubber band comes loose and slides off a bit.

"Y/N!" He shouts and quickly holds your wrist, pulling you so quickly that you stumble forward into him. Hyunjin grips your arms to steady you and he looks at you, his brown eyes trying to peep into your soul. He smiles, hand running through his hair only to bring more strands forward, covering his vision.

Falling in love with Hwang Hyunjin, you realise, is the easy part. He makes it so easy to fall for him — when he smiles at the sun, covering his eyes or when he is covered by the dogs in dog parks all eager to hug him because that's how he just is. You don't even realise when you fall for Hyunjin but when you do, you know you are already sinking and you are far too gone for saving.

It is, however, admitting to yourself that you fell for your best friend that is hard. The Hwang Hyunjin that you have seen since the five year old boy moved next door to you. The Hwang Hyunjin that would cross dress in your clothes. The Hwang Hyunjin that would steal your dumplings. It is the same Hwang Hyunjin that you fall for. You had all these doors with specifications that opened to only men like Lee Minho and yet like the rude asshole that you oh so adorably love he seemed to tear them down. Or perhaps those doors were meant for others and Hyunjin always had a door of his own for your heart.

You should have asked yourself why but would it have really mattered? You're here with Hyunjin by your side, whether he knows your feelings or not and you couldn't be any less glad, even if you are sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing Hyunjin right there.

"I'll come back, Jinnie," you tell him, looking up at him and coughing slightly, trying to move back slightly to put some space between the two of you. "I'm not running away. I just need to buy some strips of paraceta—"

"I want to be responsible for them," His gaze doesn't leave yours. "I want to be responsible for you, your emotions and everything you are, if you let me."

You wouldn't dare to shift your eyes away, or focus on anything else. Just Hyunjin. Just your Hyunjin. Your heart beats so fast against your chest that you wonder if it ever had this much for any man or woman. And when Hyunjin pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your frame, hand flat against your head that buries your face into his chest, you learn that Hwang Hyunjin's heartbeat is always your metronome — the beat your entire life seemed to have moved smoothly to.

You giggle against his chest, breaking into a smile, "Are you asking me out, Jinnie?"

"I guess," he chuckles into your hair, snuggling himself into you. He pulls you back to explain. "My original plan was to ask you out after the practice match that I'll make sure we win, but you could possibly not be there as our manager and what if I miss the chance?"

"You lovesick boy," you laugh, smiling stupidly at him. Hyunjin cups your face and presses his forehead against yours.

"I've liked you for so long, Y/N," and you blush, lips pursed and you smile back, heart fluttering.

"Thank you," you press a kiss against his cheek.

"For what?"

"For being you and for always loving me."

Hwang Hyunjin holds your face and kisses like he is capable of getting rid of all your worries, slowly bleeding into your marrows and cells and soaking you of the very essence he is. He holds you like you are a precious being — and to him, you are because he finally has you after all these years; he finally gets to call you his.

His lips are warm and tasted of mint; obviously from the mint chocolate ice cream earlier. His hands are wrapped around your waist and yours are locked around his neck pulling him down slightly. His strands of blond locks brush against your face, ticking you slightly and you giggle into the kiss. He laughs against your lips before kissing you slowly, drawing the kiss for as long as he could. When you break apart for air, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his, gathering some much needed oxygen. His smile tells you everything you need confirmation over and you smile back, sinking into his hold.

Hyunjin hugs with gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe; yet it is the hug of a strong pair of arms that tells everything that you are - every fibre of your being - that he is with you, and you wonder how he is capable of that. How he is capable of holding like you are his whole world — like he rather hold you than anything else.

Hyunjin does exactly that. He holds you tight and close to him in this cold night, ignorant of everything else around the two of you, like you and him only mattered in the place, like you and him are fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night.

[ontheblock]

i know that i‘m a little behind with my inbox requests but i will come around to finish them soon !! i just to be a little selfish with this self indulgent fic of sal<3 enjoy, fuckers. the next post will hopefully be henry bowers once i get to finish it-

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•warning: gore, angst

Sal never imagined that he would be scared to see her. The steady dripping and the weight in his hand made him uneasy as he stared at the door for a moment - probably not more than ten seconds or maybe it was twenty minutes, he didn’t know. He barely remembered stumbling out of Room whichever-the-fuck. Sawwy Face. I’m proud of you, Sal. Fuck.

Sal‘s hand hovered over the door knob. She probably left it unlocked again. Sal always told her to lock up at night but he knew her too well. She would stay up way too late just to pass out on top of her covers or tangled up in it from her determination to find the best position to lay in. He knew because of course he did. Sal would be the one to come over more often than not when his bed was just too cold and his night terrors just too real at night. He would slip under her covers, holding her against his chest and whisper sweet nothings into the dark room if it made her stir. No matter how bad it was, he didn’t like to wake her up - no matter how much he wanted to be the one to be held and caressed, soothed and lulled into sleep. Eventually he settled with her presence alone, lying on the rough carpet next to her bed, tracing her hand hanging off the bed with his eye. The carpet usually hurt his tender side if he rolled over in his sleep and he woke up with a rash too many times. It made his prosthetic sit on his face uncomfortably for days. She would scold him for sleeping on the cold floor but he was giddy for her kisses and they always followed immediately after - the softest butterfly kisses on his scars and they were better than any cream she bought him for the rash but he let her apply it on his face anyway. Sal never told her how gross a moist face felt under the prosthetic. It made her happy so it was ok.

He stared at the bad paint job on the door. The shadow he casted on the room number plate taunted him as he turned the knob. A wave of her scent faintly hit him under the ever lingering smell of copper as soon as the door creaked open. The shitty hallway lights barely lit up the room. He shuffled the knife handle in his clammy hands as he entered the apartment. He knew that her bedroom was the first brown door. He could find his way to her blind and he knew that if he didn’t go now he would never go. It was so quiet as he approached the closed door. So quiet as he pushed the door open. The janky blinds were only half closed, letting the moon cast its light into the room. It was so dull now. Everything in Nockfell was dull now or maybe it always was this way. Maybe the bright moments were only so bright because they were moments he shared with her. Sal’s foot nudged against a soft pile of her clothing as he stepped foot into the familiar room, a room they would jokingly call their detached house when they were in their late teens, sharing a cigarette on her unmade bed surrounded by each other’s clothes until he promised her that one day he will give her exactly that but real. Not some run down apartment with wet walls. She told him that anything was fine but he chased that pipe dream anyway.

His blood caked shoe kicked a stray sock back into the pile, smearing blood on it along the way. Whose blood? But it was fine because she only piled her clothes by her door if the next day was laundry day. Tomorrow was laundry day, it was going to be ok. He slowly lifted his head back up to look at her, tangled up in her favorite blanket. He didn’t understand what made the blanket so special. He never liked the way the fabric felt on his skin until Ash told him that the blanket matched his hair color perfectly and she just missed Sal after he moved in with Todd, missed the way he would drape his arm over her, missed the way he would stay up until she was sound asleep even though he was the one who saw nothing but death when he finally closed his eyes. It made his chest ache a little and he made sure to send her a SMS almost every night. But now she looked so peaceful - as if he could just lay down next to her and wake up to a normal day. A day before he killed 12 people that watched him grow from the 5’2 kid with pigtails in the 5’6 man with hair hanging loosely over his shoulders because he liked how she would sit behind him to brush his hair while he drowned himself in his college classes.

He didn’t lay down, didn‘t have the chance to dwell on that thought as her phone gave a shrill pinging sound into the dusty air. His head snapped to the small nightstand. It was cluttered with a lamp and some stray pieces of paper and sticker packs ranging with designs for kids like hello kitty and sanrio characters - no, he didn’t care that hello kitty already was a sanrio character, no matter how often she would tell him - to band logos like korn and sanity falls. She would randomly ask Sal to stick them on his mask. He would say no because it was hell to get the residue off afterwards. She would pout like she always did, and he would cave like he always did. In the middle of a paper pile sat her phone, blinking with a notification.

Anniversary <3

Fuck. Sal swallowed hard. His prosthetic clung to the sweat layer on his face. Or was it just the tears? Both? Was it blood? Maybe it was all but the rusteling of fabric made him painfully aware that it was the least important worry right now. She was stirring and as soon as he got a good look of her face he saw the tell tale sign of her waking up - the scrunch of the nose and the fluttering lashes. Ah fuck.

“Sal?“ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Sal? What is it?“

He opened his mouth just to close it again. Not that she saw it anyway. Slowly, she pushed her upper body up onto her elbows, finally blinking up at him. It was dark but her breath caught in her throat when she finally took in the man looming over her bed. “Is- Is that blood?“ He didn’t know when but he stopped breathing, just holding everything inside to ground himself but was it worth it when the oxygen felt like acid slowly corroding everything it touched - every square inch from what lining was left inside his nose to his throat all the way inside his lungs? The corruption would split him open again again again again and eat her whole the second his fingertips grazed her familiar skin. Skin he painted with his own, skin he kissed, skin he was about to split before it split him. If he just didn’t touch her would it be ok? If his skin wouldn’t touch her this time would she still be there tomorrow? Sal finally released the air trapped inside him against his mask as she sat up, sucking more air in as she clutched the blue blanket.

There was a moment of silence, of nothing, of her exhaling shakily with a fear in her features that rendered him completely still, of him just staring at her wide eyed and breathing erratically now. A silent moment for her to consider any possibility to get the fuck out this room and for him to find it in himself to finish the job. He couldn’t but funnily enough she gave him the final shove by kicking her legs out of the blanket and throwing herself off the creaking mattress past Sal - or trying to. He saw it coming the moment her hands twitched and shoved the frayed hem away. Sal just had to extend his right arm for her to fall into it with a yelp. He slung it around her waist tightly, afraid it would bruise her, and slammed her back into the mattress. It knocked the wind out of her for just long enough to straddle her body, arms pressed up against her sides by his thighs and it left her kicking wildly. It was just like the times they would wrestle on the bed because it made her laugh. She wasn’t laughing this time. She was yelling. He knew because he saw her mouth hung open, tense and afraid. But he only heard noise and he felt bad that he couldn’t make out her words, if they even were words. Sal swallowed. Would he make it worse if he told her that he loved her now? Would she just thrash out his grip if he held her with blood coating his hair, blood dripping from his fake chin and nose, blood making the knife handle a little too slick to hold properly? He didn’t want to find out so he settled with wiping the back of his hand on his jeans and putting his other hand on her stomach to catch himself from the way the room spun around him. She flinched. She never flinched from his touch before.

His hand yanked up the tank top covering her stomach, all the way up to her ribs. She was breathing so hard that her skin kept stretching and shrinking to make room for her expanding ribcage. Was she still screaming? She was. His hand flew up to her face by instinct, pressing against her mouth to muffle her screams to throaty groans and whimpers as she struggled to focuse her eyes on him. He knew she was trying to slip out his name. He didn’t know how, he just knew.

Sal didn’t look at her as he brought the knife closer but he felt the way she tensed and pressed backwards into the mattress, away from the knife, away from her murder boyfriend on their anniversary. He wanted to guide her through but there really wasn’t a way around it. It would definitely be worse if he confessed his undying love to her like he wasn’t about to scratch out the undying part, like she wasn’t already dead meat. He would have to be quick like with Soda. He wanted to throw up. It was so easy to just plunge the knife through the ribs but where was that sweet spot on an adult woman? Fuck. He let her shirt fall back down, clutching her left shoulder instead to push her deeper into the mattress. He didn’t mean to but he automatically looked into her eyes. She was crying, pleading with him the way he didn‘t let her plead with her words. Nothing but fear, confusion and adrenaline pooled in her eyes, overflowing as tears down her temples. Her eyes never held so much resentment against him. His were bloodshot, hollow, wet with old tears, staring back at her without any expression like a void opened behind the only good eye he had left to shield his pain.

Sal thought about the time Ash told him how to pierce an ear. “Breathe in, hold it and push it through while exhaling. Won‘t feel a thing.“ Maybe he was stupid, delusional. Maybe he was clutching the last straws. But he filled his lungs and held his breath for just a few seconds before exhaling and shakily pressing the tip of the blade down. God, she was screaming so loud, it pierced through every static in his head, heaving and twitching as blood soaked her shirt, soaked her blanket and sheet. His hand slipped off the wet handle, leaving the blade buried in her chest about six inches deep with two sticking out. Why was she still thrashing? Why wasn‘t she fucking dead yet? Sal panicked as he yanked the blade back out, making her blood coat his mask as it sprayed out from the force. His heart was beating in his throat in an attempt to finally stop hers. Her blood felt like it was scorching his skin off his flesh, his flesh off his bones and he thrusted his knife back inside all the way, dragging it down, tearing her chest in two as he finally reduced her screaming to gargling chokes, sobs and broken calls that he sometimes identified as variations of his name.

“You killed her, bud.“ I know. “Her mother told her to leave your sorry ass, yknow? But she offered you her pinky and you cut it clean off, fucker.“ Yeah. She should have done that. “You’re going to die, rotting in a cell to live with the guilt.“ I deserve it.

Sal watched the light drain from her eyes while the blood drained from her gaping chest. His home he was longing for since 1984, it crumbled like her mother predicted, maybe not under for the reasons she expected. The static in his ears left, offering a moment of silence until there were too many voices screaming behind him.

“You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us.“

“I loved you. You killed me, Sal.“

He clenched his eyes shut. The voices whispered, cried, screamed. Her voice was the loudest by just calling his name with a smile on her face and their hands intertwined - calling his name with fear in her eyes and his fingers curled around the knife sticking out of her chest. He finally shuffled off of her, dropping onto the blood soaked mattress next to her, staring. She was screaming. Not his name, just screaming so loud it made his ears ring until he couldn’t bare it anymore. Sal pulled her close like her used to do on the nights approaching August 16th. He laid her head against his chest, draped an arm over her back and rested the other on her hair. It felt wet. The knife handle uncomfortably dug into his stomach but he rested his chin on her soft hair. Sal always thought it was his prosthetic that made him whole. He felt lost without it, bare and incomplete. The nightmares manifested into real life fears. Nightmares like his scars just opening back up, ripping him apart all over again. But now she was gone and the mask did nothing to stop the feeling of falling apart under her weight on his chest. He felt like splitting apart inside the shell that was him, Sally Face, filling his prosthetic with gore until it started to seep out the eyeholes like it was seeping out her open chest. But right now he wasn’t Sally Face. He was Sal Fisher, assailant and guilty for the mass murder of 13 tenants in Addison Apartments.

Sal studied the top of her head in silence, watching her own blood drip from the tip of the mask‘s nose to be soaked up by her hair. She always took relatively good care of it and scolded him for not doing the same until they fell into the routine of her brushing his days old knots out of his hair as he let his fingertips ghost over his guitar. He was always so relaxed as she searched his hair for split ends to cut off every few months. He loved it but now he wasn’t sure if he would ever get a hair cut again. He mindlessly leaned against the headboard. His prosthetic started to itch from the sweat that stuck it to his skin. His prosthetic that scared her at first. They were 15 and she just moved in five months after Sal arrived with his dad. He wasn’t offended when she would quickly walk past him in the hallways. It was fine to just be strangers until Ash brought her along at school and she laughed at everything he said. It was a week of this until Larry decided to be the best wingman ever. He made it his mission to get them together before gradation. And like a true Johnson he stuck to his plan because Lisa didn’t raise her son to be a quitter. True to his promise, he convinced Sal after eight months of pining to finally make his move on her. They were 16, bordering onto 17, when Sal very awkwardly asked her on a little trip to Lake Wendigo.

“Would you go to the lake with me? Not- Not as a date, yknow. I mean, unless you wanted that. It’s not a date though.“ - “Yeah, I’d like to go, Sal.“

It was absolutely a date. Larry tried to tickle a high five out of Sal after hearing the news but god, he was so embarrassed, pressing his clammy palm against his prosthetic to will away the heat in the mask.

“So“, Sal started as they sat on the edge of the water, tossing pebbles into the large lake. “So“, she mirrored, digging her shoe into the mud. “I asked you to come here because Larry told me to.“ He quickly shook his head probably because Larry told him that he should leave that detail out. “I mean- I mean, it was my idea. Yeah, it was. I wanted to tell you something. You know how Ash told you about how I‘m weird about touching and hugging as a heads up to not freak me out? Yeah, I don‘t really like that usually. But- But I don‘t care about the way you touch me.“ She saw the way his throat bobbed once he realised how mean that sounded. “Not that I don‘t care, uh, I just don‘t mind. I dont mind when we ride in the back of that shitty cramped car that Ash lends from her aunt.“ Sal started to fiddle with his sleeve. “And it was kinda sweet how Larry taught you how to inhale smoke. You were, like, really excited about getting cancer but it was- cute. How you were proud when you got it. Sometimes you do these small things and they just make it really hard to breathe. And it‘s not your fault or anything. I- Larry said I would know what to say when the time is right. But I guess there is no right time.“ He rubbed his neck nervously. “Say it, Fisher“, she said, much too quiet but his head snapped towards her. Her face was blank of any expression but her eyes glimmered and gleamed like those gemstones she told him about before. He didn‘t know the name. “I can‘t- I don‘t know how.“ He couldn‘t look away as she put her weight on one arm, leaning towards him. She was scooting closer and Sal felt his heart beat behind his face. “Go out with me“, he suddenly blurted out, stopping her dead in her tracks. “Please“, he added breathlessly before she took his hand, intertwining their fingers. She loved how his long fingers rode up her hand, how cool his touch was.

“Sal, please. I know Larry has seen it before.“ She trailed behind her boyfriend of roughly one month on their way to the buildings elevator. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped off.“ His voice was so distant as he pressed the button, watching the number close in to the 1st floor. “Do you not want to?“ There was a brief silence as she stood behind him, sounding so small and it made his heart ache. “That’s not it, love“, he tried to offer but she didn’t answer as the elevator doors slid open. She pushed past him into the empty space, he followed. She waited for him to press their respective floor numbers but didn’t say anything else. The doors closed again when Sal faced his girlfriend. “Listen. It’s not- easy.“ She didn’t reply, only shuffled in place a little as her sole scratched across the elevator floor. “I do want to. I want to kiss you but-“ He cut himself off. They both knew how he felt about his face. They both knew she was being unreasonable but could he blame her? He held her hand in public after two weeks of dating because he was anxious. He held her in private a week later while watching a movie with her. But he refused to kiss her. She resorted to kissing the lips of his prosthetic and it made his stomach flutter but she just wanted more. She wanted real. On the rare occasion that he slept over he slept in his mask, taking the pain of the hard shell pressing into his tender side all night instead of sharing the most private moment with her by showing her his everything. He felt like an asshole, sure. But the thought made him want to vomit into the small space.

“I said that I would let you go at your own pace but at this point, you’re in parking on the side of the road, Sal. You can‘t hide from me forever.“ Her words stung like daggers. “I’m not hiding. This is my face. I will show you my past, I promise.“ He stepped closer, offering her his pinky. He found it silly when she first brought up pinky swears but it became their way of showing they were serious. “Really?“ She searched for something in his one functioning eye, a lie. But there was only warmth for her so she curled her pinky around his. “Really. You aren’t my past but you’re my present and will be my future.“

She flushed at that. He knew how this sappy shit fucked with her head and they held onto each other’s pinky when they reached her floor. Sal walked her to her door in silence but his heart was lighter than when he stepped into the elevator. “So“, she started. “See you tomorrow, Sally.“ She turned around only to feel his lips on hers and his hands gripping her shoulders to keep her in place.

The punch was horrible sugar water, the snacks went stale an hour ago, the jocks snuck in booze so a good amount of soon to be graduating kids were drunk off their ass, Larry was high and sharing his spliff with Ash and holy fuck, the music was ass. But it was the best night of Sal’s life - their prom. Him and Larry always said how stupid prom was, how they wouldn’t dress up and how they wouldn’t go in the first place. And now here he was in dark blue dress pants and a button up, holding two cups of the most disgusting juice he ever got to taste. And he loved every second because she kissed the gap between his mask and his ear, whispering a little “thank you“ for holding onto her drink while she used the bathroom. And god, his heart jumped in shapes that weren’t even known to man yet at how utterly, completely, deeply and horrifyingly pretty his girl looked. His throat ran dry everytime he had the chance to look at her in that dress. He knew that she went shopping for it with Ash, he needed to thank her for that some other time.

“You‘re pretty.“ She could barely hear him over the music and it was the eleventh time he said it that night. She still giggled, taking his hand to lead him to the crowd of students. “Will you dance with me?“ His knees felt weak at her question, how she held his hands, how she looked at him with the love he never thought he would be able to receive. “Anytime“, he croaked as they both found the rhythm of some badly mixed song they already played last year but he would never get the song out of his head again as he lost himself in her movements.

The night went beautifully until it didn‘t. The moment the beats got heavier and the crowd got louder Sal found himself get bolder until his mask had no more grip and the buckle just gave up. Suddenly everything was silent around him with his mask on the floor and seconds felt like minutes before his hands flew up to cover himself. He heard how she called out to him, felt how she lead him out of the gym to escape into the much less crowded hallway.

“Sal? Honey, look at me.“ Sal wasn’t sure if she was whispering or yelling. Everything was muffled by the intense nausea building in his stomach. He was too scared to reply because the bile was threatening to boil over and just spill onto her shoes and the skirt of her dress. His already impaired vision swam with tears as he felt fingertips gently trace the back of his hands. Sal swallowed a sob as he allowed her to pull his hands away but he didn’t pick his head up. His wild hair dropped over his face like a curtain and it was the only thing blocking the tears from just pouring until he reached the privacy of his room. “Please, love. Please. Let’s leave, please“, he choked out with a thick voice. A voice that deep had no business sounding that small. Sal felt a familiar comfort on his face as she gently pressed his prosthetic to his skin. He let her buckle it onto his head before finally looking at her. “It’s ok. Let’s go home.“ Sal nodded, taking her hand and letting her guide them outside into the pouring rain.

“Ah shit“, they said almost at the same time. He stayed under the roof for a moment, unsure if she wanted to ruin her look in the rain but she already stepped into the rain and pulled him along. She was still so beautiful, it made him ache. “I’m sorry“, he breathed into the droplets hitting his mask. “You can’t control the weather. It’s ok, I don’t-“ He tightened his grip on her hand. “I ruined your prom night“, he blurted out, making anything she wanted to say die on her tongue before she could discover what it was. Sal felt a little resistance as she stood still but held his hand tight enough to make him stop too. “What is-?“

“Sal, will you finally dance with me?“ His breath caught in his throat. She looked like she was sculpted from the image of a goddess, dripping in rain with mascara running down her face and her dress clinging to her skin. His first response was to close the gap between them, pulling her close. They didn‘t mind the cars driving by because tonight the world belonged to them even if it was only for a few hours.

“Anytime.“ She was warm despite the steady rain prickling her like needles. It was like she was his source of light and warmth that refused to let him go cold again. She was so warm.

She was so cold. Sal pressed her harder into his chest, digging the knife’s blade in her squelching flesh and the handle just above his ribs. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t the one facing the sharp end after all.

Flashes of red and blue dully lit the room’s walls from the outside, siren’s pierced the aching silence. The room never felt this cold before. He never told her about the building being haunted. He never told her about the cult. He never told her that he wasn’t mauled by a real dog. He wanted something normal for once. And it was the best thing he ever had because she was his only pilar that no man, no ghost, no freaky demon could bend or chip until Sal crushed his Eden.

When the cops busted the door off its hinges he realised he never got the chance to show her his notebook full of songs he wrote for her.

[bastard-of-the-barrel]

Hey, odd request but could you post the scene about where Kaz faints in the prison truck? I lost my copy of the book and I really wanted to read that scene today

The hinges held.

Another shout in Fjerdan, more footsteps. Then the crack of the reins and the cart surged forward, rumbling over the road. Inej let herself exhale. Her throat had gone completely dry.

Kaz took his place beside her. He shoved a hood over her head, and the musty smell filled her nostrils. He would put his own hood on next, then lock himself in. Easy enough, a cheap magician’s trick, and Kaz knew them all. His arm pressed along hers from shoulder to elbow as he locked the collar around his neck. Bodies shifted against Inej’s back and side, crowding up against her.

For now they were safe. But despite the rattle of the wagon’s wheels, Inej could tell Kaz’s breathing had got worse – shallow, rapid pants like an animal caught in a trap. It was a sound she’d never thought to hear from him.

It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

---

The money Mister Hertzoon had left with Kaz and Jordie ran out the following week. Jordie tried to return his new coat, but the shop wouldn’t take it, and Kaz’s boots had clearly been worn.

When they brought the loan agreement Mister Hertzoon had signed to the bank, they found that – for all its official-looking seals – it was worthless paper. No one knew of Mister Hertzoon or his business partner.

They were evicted from the boarding house two days later, and had to find a bridge to sleep under, but were soon rousted by the stadwatch. After that, they wandered aimlessly until morning. Jordie insisted that they go back to the coffeehouse. They sat for a long time in the park across the street. When night came, and the watch began its rounds, Kaz and Jordie headed south, into the streets of the lower Barrel, where the police did not bother to patrol.

They slept beneath a set of stairs in an alley behind a tavern, tucked between a discarded stove and bags of kitchen refuse. No one bothered them that night, but the next they were discovered by a gang of boys who told them they were in Razorgull territory. They gave Jordie a thrashing and knocked Kaz into the canal, but not before they took his boots.

Jordie fished Kaz out of the water and gave him his dry coat.

“I’m hungry,” Kaz said.

“I’m not,” Jordie replied. And for some reason that had struck Kaz as funny, and they’d both started laughing. Jordie wrapped his arms around Kaz and said, “The city is winning so far. But you’ll see who wins in the end.”

The next morning, Jordie woke with a fever.

In years to come people would call the outbreak of firepox that struck Ketterdam the Queen’s Lady Plague, after the ship believed to have brought the contagion to the city. It hit the crowded slums of the Barrel hardest. Bodies piled up in the streets, and sickboats moved through the canals, using long shovels and hooks to tumble corpses onto their platforms and haul them out to the Reaper’s Barge for burning.

Kaz’s fever came on two days after Jordie’s. They had no money for medicine or a medik, so they huddled together in a pile of broken-up wooden boxes that they dubbed the Nest.

No one came to roust them. The gangs had all been laid low by disease.

When the fever reached full fire, Kaz dreamed he had returned to the farm, and when he knocked on the door, he saw Dream Jordie and Dream Kaz already there, sitting at the kitchen table. They peered at him through the window, but they wouldn’t let him in, so he wandered through the meadow, afraid to lie down in the tall grass.

When he woke, he couldn’t smell hay or clover or apples, only coalsmoke, and the spongy rotting vegetable stink of garbage. Jordie was lying next to him, staring at the sky. “Don’t leave me,” Kaz wanted to say, but he was too tired. So he laid his head on Jordie’s chest. It felt wrong already, cold and hard.

He thought he was dreaming when the bodymen rolled him onto the sickboat. He felt himself falling, and then he was caught in a tangle of bodies. He tried to scream, but he was too weak. They were everywhere, legs and arms and stiff bellies, rotting limbs and blue-lipped faces covered in firepox sores. He floated in and out of consciousness, unsure of what was real or fever dream as the flatboat moved out to sea. When they tumbled him into the shallows of the Reaper’s Barge, he somehow found the strength to cry out.

“I’m alive,” he shouted, as loud as he could. But he was so small, and the boat was already drifting back to harbour.

Kaz tried to pull Jordie from the water. His body was covered in the little blooming sores that gave the firepox its name, his skin white and bruised. Kaz thought of the little wind-up dog, of drinking hot chocolate on the bridge. He thought that heaven would look like the kitchen of the house on Zelverstraat and smell like hutspot cooking in the Hertzoons’ oven. He still had Saskia’s red ribbon. He could give it back to her. They would make candies out of quince paste. Margit would play the piano, and he could fall asleep by the fire. He closed his eyes and waited to die.

Kaz expected to wake in the next world, warm and safe, his belly full, Jordie beside him. Instead, he woke surrounded by corpses. He was lying in the shallows of the Reaper’s Barge, his clothes soaked through, skin wrinkled from the damp. Jordie’s body was beside him, barely recognisable, white and swollen with rot, floating on the surface like some kind of gruesome deep sea fish.

Kaz’s vision had cleared, and the rash had receded. His fever had broken. He’d forgotten his hunger, but he was thirsty enough that he thought he would go mad.

All that day and night, he waited in the pile of bodies, looking out at the harbour, hoping the flatboat would return. They had to come to set the fires that would burn the corpses, but when? Did the bodymen collect every day? Every other day? He was weak and dehydrated. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The coast seemed so far away, and he knew he was too weak to swim the distance. He had survived the fever, but he might well die out here on the Reaper’s Barge. Did he care? There was nothing waiting for him in the city except more hunger and dark alleys and the damp of the canals. Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. Vengeance was waiting, vengeance for Jordie and maybe for himself, too. But he would have to go to meet it.

When night came, and the tide changed direction, Kaz forced himself to lay hands on Jordie’s body. He was too frail to swim on his own, but with Jordie’s help, he could float. He held tight to his brother and kicked towards the lights of Ketterdam. Together, they drifted, Jordie’s distended body acting as a raft. Kaz kept kicking, trying not to think of his brother, of the taut, bloated feel of Jordie’s flesh beneath his hands; he tried not to think of anything but the rhythm of his legs moving through the sea. He’d heard there were sharks in these waters, but he knew they wouldn’t touch him. He was a monster now, too.

He kept kicking, and when dawn came, he looked up to find himself at the east end of the Lid. The harbour was nearly deserted; the plague had caused shipping in and out of Kerch to grind to a halt.

The last hundred yards were hard. The tide had turned once more, and it was working against him. But Kaz had hope now, hope and fury, twin flames burning inside him. They guided him to the dock and up the ladder. When he reached the top, he flopped down on his back on the wooden slats, then forced himself to roll over. Jordie’s body was caught in the current, bumping against the pylon below. His eyes were still open, and for a moment, Kaz thought his brother was staring back at him. But Jordie didn’t speak, he didn’t blink, his gaze didn’t shift as the tide dragged him free of the pylon and began to carry him out to sea.

I should close his eyes, thought Kaz. But he knew if he climbed down the ladder and waded back into the sea, he would never find his way out again. He’d simply let himself drown, and that wasn’t possible any more. He had to live. Someone had to pay.

---

In the prison wagon, Kaz woke to a sharp jab against his thigh. He was ice cold and in darkness. There were bodies all around him, pressing against his back, his sides. He was drowning in corpses.

“Kaz.” A whisper.

He shuddered.

Another jab to his thigh.

“Kaz.” Inej’s voice. He managed a deep breath through his nose. He felt her pull away from him. Somehow, in the cramped confines of the wagon, she managed to give him space. His heart was pounding.

“Keep talking,” he rasped.

“What?”

“Just keep talking.”

“We’re passing through the prison gate. We made it past the first two checkpoints.”

That brought him fully to his senses. They’d gone through two checkpoints. That meant they’d been counted. Someone had opened that door – not once but twice – maybe even laid hands on him, and he hadn’t woken. He could have been robbed, killed. He’d imagined his death a thousand ways, but never sleeping through it.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, despite the smell of bodies. He’d kept his gloves on, something the guards might have easily taken note of, and a frustrating concession to his weakness, but if he hadn’t, he felt fairly sure he’d have gone completely mad.

Behind him, he could hear the other prisoners murmuring to one another in different languages. Despite the fears the darkness woke in him, he gave thanks for it. He could only hope that the rest of his crew, hooded and burdened by their own anxiety, hadn’t noticed anything strange about his behaviour. He’d been sluggish, slow to react when they’d ambushed the wagon, but that was all, and he could make up some excuse to account for it.

He hated that Inej had seen him this way, that anyone had, but on the heels of that thought came another: Better it should be her. In his bones, he knew that she would never speak of it to anyone, that she would never use this knowledge against him. She relied on his reputation. She wouldn’t want him to look weak. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? Inej would never betray him. He knew it. Kaz felt ill. Though he’d trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with this shame.

The wagon came to a halt. The bolt slid back, and the doors flew open.

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

Valentine’s Day Challenge [3/14]

Warnings: None

Incarnation: Bayverse

Extra Info: Day 3 out of 14. None of the prompts/scenarios are related

Posting: 3:30 PM Each Day

Prompt: The First Time They Meet Their S/O.

Leo:

You had just gotten platonically dumped by your “best friend”

You had pointed out how something she did hurt you

And she kicked you out of her apartment

Even though you two had shared it, it was technically under her name

And now, you were alone

You were at your mother’s apartment, but went right to the rooftop

Something about it brought comfort, being on the roof

You were on top of the world, watching the city go by below you

He saw you from several buildings away

He had been on patrol with his brothers, but they had since gone back to the Lair

He wanted to keep an eye on you, especially when you sat on the edge of your building

He then saw you bow your head and saw your shoulders droop

He heard you start to cry

His heart ached

He wanted to help you, but he was faced with so much inner turmoil

But then he saw you lean forward- enough to fall with a simple breeze

He jumped to the building next to yours, remaining in the shadows

And you fell

He jumped after you

He caught you a while before you hit the ground, then landed in the alleyway

He put you down and immediately hid in the shadow

He felt the manhole cover beneath his feet

“Are you alright?” he asked you, preparing to leave

You look at him, your face still red from crying

He is hooked

He doesn’t want to leave

“I… I’m fine… How did you know I was… I was there?”

“I… I was on the roof next door. The other side,” he stuttered

You nodded, rather uneasy- but glad to be alive, now that you think of it

“You’re green, I saw that much,” you said. “And your skin is calloused.”

His eyes widened.

He didn’t know what to do

“Your left wrist has wrappings on it, and you have something covering your eyes. I caught a few glimpses in the street light.”

His heart was pounding.

“I’m Y/n. Who are you?”

He paused

“I’m Leonardo. Leo.”

You smiled, and every part of him shivered

“Can I see you? You did save me, after all.”

In a rather rash decision- especially for him- he stepped into the light

Your eyes never left him

But he could no longer look at you

He looked everywhere but you

You approached him

Looking where the wrapping was, you gently touched his wrist

His gaze snapped toward your hand on his, gasping for breath

“I, um…”

“You should come by more often,” you tell him

He looked at you, shocked

“I, you… Really? You want me… to come back?”

You nod, looking back up at him

“It sucks being lonely.”

He pauses, then nods

And he smiles

And your heart bursts with joy

Raph:

You’ve always been a pariah

He’s always been one, too, despite the NYPD knowing his existence

It just felt weird, having his only friends be people from ‘work.’

You felt the same way

You worked at a simple construction company that pays you much more than the work you actually do

And the only people you really talked to were those you worked with

And even then, your conversations were few and far between

So, when he saw you eating alone in the scaffolding of the recent project, he immediately felt connected to you

And you could immediately tell he was there

You looked around, and he tried to hide- but you saw him

But only his eyes, covered by a crimson mas

You smiled weakly and waved

You saw his eyes smile and yours grew a bit more confident

But then you thought

“Do you have a permit to be here? This is a live construction site.”

The smile left his eyes, and he looked around

You saw the dark green, rough skin that stretched around the strong muscles in his neck

And you swore you saw the top of a turtle shell

He looked back at you through the scaffolding

“No, but I work for the NYPD if that means anything?”

You make a face

“What’s the name of Chief Vincent’s assistant’s assistant?”

“Vincent’s assistant is Jade Martin. Jade’s assistant is Trevor Goldstein.”

You nod.

You pretended you knew that.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah. You know them, but I don’t know you.”

He stammered for a minute.

“I, um… I’m Raphael. Raph,” he finally says

“I’m Y/n. You can come over here if you want, Raph,” you offer, patting the spot next to you

He remained frozen for a long moment, but then made a decision

He moved through the scaffolding, then showed you his appearance

You stared at him, slowly looking him up and down

His thick green skin was covered in scars and marks, drawn tightly over impressive muscles

And you were right- you did see a turtle shell

You meet his eyes once again

And you smile

“Sit. Standing is uncomfortable when you do it too long.”

Donnie

You met him on an accident

He was stargazing in an abandoned building

Well, he thought it was abandoned

Turns out you were taking a spontaneous visit

As a photographer, you always found abandoned places intriguing

This building was no different

So, you went around one night- as you usually do

Your friend, Vern- who used to be a videographer- was in the car outside, a call away in case something went down

But, he knew you liked to work as alone as you could be

So, neither of you heard each other

You didn’t hear him moving his telescope to a new corner of the roof

He didn’t hear your camera snapping pictures

He glanced over the side of the rooftop and was confused on why he saw Vern’s car there

He shrugged it off, thinking it was just a coincidence

But then, you see him

You’re on the top floor and see a hole, revealing the city sky

And you see him moving around his telescope

Shaking, you take out your phone and call Vern

Vern races out of his car, getting Donnie’s attention

“I thought that was your car,” Donnie calls down

Vern looked up, still on the phone with you

Vern smiled

“Y/n, that’s my friend Donnie. You’re safe with him.”

You stutter

“Do you still want me to come up?”

“No,” you whisper.

You hang up

“Who are you talking to?” Donnie asks Vern

“My friend- they see you through a hole on the roof.”

Donnie looks around, then finds the hole

He looks at you, and you both gasp

You slowly start climbing up onto the roof

“I’m Y/n. You’re… You’re Donnie?”

He nods

He sees your camera

“You’re a photographer?”

“Um, yeah. An astronomer?” you ask, acknowledging his telescope

He stutters and smiles

“I try to be.”

“Well, you do, so, you are.”

Mikey:

You weren’t sure how it started

But all you knew was that you have a new friend, he has a killer costume, and his name is Mikey

You spend the night together, dancing and belting songs as they played from the party

But then, the party ended

So, he offered to walk you home

You accept

But, as you two walk, you can tell he’s starting to get nervous

“Are you okay, Mikey?” you ask him

He nods

“Yeah, I- my brothers are always nervous with me being out.”

He shrugged

You nodded

After that, the two of you joked around for a while

“How far is your apartment?” he asked you

“In Harlem,” you say

“Harlem! That’s a thousand lightyears away!” he exclaims

You shrug

“It means more time with you.”

The knot in his stomach clenches

Several blocks later, he stops at the door to your apartment building

He doesn’t come in, and you notice this

“Mikey, are you okay?” you ask, a bit more stern than last time

He looks around, then offers you his hand

You take it

The next thing you know, he’s bringing you to the rooftop by your wrists, but making sure you’re not going to fall

When your feet are safely planted, you back away from him

“What was that for?”

“Y/n, I need to tell you something.”

You look at him, confused

“This is not a costume.”

“What do you mean?”

He licks one of his thumbs, then rubs it on the back of his opposite hand

Your shock is evident

You lick your own thumb then rub the same area of his hand

You start doing this to different parts of his skin, then even feel his shell

It feels too real to be fake

“My brothers and I are the results of an experiment that happened when were first born,” he said.

You can see the guilt on his face

“And Halloween is the one night you can come out without being judged,” you say, starting to understand

He nods

You can tell how badly he wanted a normal life

And you felt an odd sense of pride and honor, knowing he trusted to spend this one night with you

You gently cupped his face and made him look at you

“Thank you for trusting me, Mikey.”

[jjyusmile]

stepping out of your apartment lobby, juyeon leaned against the fluffy coated wall with his hands tucked into his jacket pocket with an enormous smile on his face. something about the snowflakes that sat cozy in his hair squeezed your chest; he looked delicate, with a mixture of his boyish charm seeping through with the not-so-subtle wink he sent your way for staring too long.

with a huff in preparation to step into the snow storm, you rubbed your hands together in hopes that it would fathom some kind of warmth. of course you would leave your gloves behind. you exhaled in a chuckle as you noticed juyeon grasp remnants of snow from the wall and headed toward you. his fingers delicately decorated your hair with small flakes as he sprinkled what he had collected over your head. something he did every time it snowed since you first met.

“come on then,” he started as he headed in the direction of his apartment. it was only a 15 minute walk, but that was on a day with no interruption. 

his tip of his nose was turning more crimson by the minute. the fluffiness of his jacket appeared inviting, granted it was big enough to fit the two of you. meanwhile, you still pulled your sleeves over your hands to act as mittens, which wasn’t exactly working in your favour.

sensing your quietness, he stopped in his tracks, causing the people behind you to huff and try to scooch past on the narrow footpath. your eyes widened as he simply stood and stared at you.

“what are you doing? come on, we’ll be late!” turning on your heel, you started walking without him, in the hopes that he’d follow along. but a hand wrapped around your covered one, warmth radiating through the material began to spread throughout your body. that jacket really was inviting right now.

it was when he genuinely began to remove it you rushed forward to stop him, icy fingers reaching for his own in an attempt to keep his zip up. your fingers melting into the maroon sherpa on either side of the zip.

his face warped in confusion, eyebrows in a frowning permanence. “but... you’re cold.”

“yes, but so will you be.” you pulled the top of the jacket together and zipped it all the way up, the fluff wrapping around his chin and tickling his nose. “I’m fine, I promise.”

his eyes quizzical, searching for a hidden meaning behind your words. but your small smile that reflected how touched you were was enough for him to back off, grabbing your fingers in the process.

“Fine, we’ll walk like this then.” he intertwined your fingers delicately, careful not to make any rash movements that might make your fingers sting. with his unoccupied fingers, he opened the clasped pocket on your jacket and guided your untouched hand to tuck in nicely away from the snowstorm.

your intertwined fingers were soon covered in an extra layer of warmth as he tucked them into his own jacket, walls of fluff feeling like a plush teddy on a cozy evening. when you tried to question him with your stare, his gaze remained on the path below you, feet falling in step as they crunched along the settled layer. 

it wasn’t unlike him to be like that. but since that night in your apartment, something had shifted. his once platonic gestures appeared to be wavering; whether it was your own mind that began romanticising the idea, well you weren’t sure. but something had definitely changed. he often came to pick you up from your apartment but never would you walk with your fingers intertwined like this, snow or not.

the small smile that lingered on his lips went unnoticed by you, his chest flooding with warmth as he felt your palm melting into his. he had contemplated asking you about him on this walk. knowing that you couldn’t go into much detail in 15 minutes, hoping that with the delicate snowflakes falling from the sky, you’d feel more at peace. he rarely got you alone anymore, there was no other chance he got. so he tried it.

“hey,” your attention turning from the way his feet made your own appear childlike, the imprints of the snow doubling with your stride against his own.

you hummed in response, eyelashes fluttering against the rush of wind. the way your cheeks gushed in rosy perfection almost made him second guess his next words. but you were best friends, and he was worried about you. or he was jealous. either way, he had to ask.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it...” he trailed off, thumb subconsciously rubbing the back of your hand in slow, controlled circles.

“... but you want to know how it happened?” you finished his question for him. sooner or later, you were going to be asked about it. you hadn’t expected it to be then, but the reassuring gesture that applied delicate pressure to your skin was soothing... it was time.

“well... I couldn’t blame him. he definitely could’ve handled it better but that was just to his taste.”

“I could’ve told you that. I always told you he was never good enough for you,” he muttered, a small pout meeting his lips.

“yeah. I guess he wasn’t. he completely shut me out. you always rattled on about soulmates, how we would always find the perfect person for us in our lifetime. how it would always be the same person in each life time, you’d always find each other one way or another... I guess him saying he loved me wasn’t enough for him to sleep around with others.” 

your eyes pooled with tears, the first time you had spoken about this out loud. a small squeeze drew your eyes back to juyeon, his own whirling with emotion as he took in your appearance. 

“he cheated on you.” his words weren’t questioning. they were more of a statement of disbelief, more to himself than to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

a light smile found your lips at his sincerity: “I was going to tell you eventually -- it’s okay. I’m surrounded by people I love.” you squeezed back this time.

“I guess I’ll just never find my true soulmate.” the low whisper was meant to be for your ears only, but his senses considerably heightened whenever you were around. he could hear a pin drop. the thought of you worrying about what he once said to you left a dull ache in his chest.

he had told you that because he had already found his. his was you. and he was determined to prove that he was yours, too.

to feel free [social media au] - eight

pairing: best friend!juyeon x reader

genre: fluff, angst, some suggestive!

summary: what happens when your idea of soulmates is corrupted and the fear of losing your soul places walls around your heart?

warning: mentions of infedelity!

updates: every thursday and sunday at 6pm GMT (or sooner if I feel like it)

taglist: @yeolsbubbles @localjisung @cgv-kayy @elcie-chxn @jaehyvnsvalentine @s33saw✨

ch 8 | next

main post

[writtenbynightlock]

synopsis: college kept your life busy. the miya twins also have a life of their own. with your secretive nature, things became complicated.

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

wc: 1.9k

warnings: college au, series, post time-skip spoilers

Part 3 | Part 5

The sun shines brightly through the windows of your apartment, disturbing you from your slumber. You covered your head with a pillow, blocking out the light. As you were getting comfy and falling back to sleep, your doorbell rang, making you groan. You didn’t want to get out of bed as your body felt like it has been trampled. Your muscles were sore and your head was pounding.

Standing up still in your dress from last night, you suddenly felt dizzy, making you sit back down on your bed. You hated being drunk. The things you did from last night were all such a blur memory. It sometimes gets you scared. You could only recall a few events. Scanning your room, it seems normal - just like how you left it yesterday afternoon. You can’t help but feel paranoid. Whenever you were drunk, you often do crazy things that was so not you. The last time you got drunk, you puked on Osamu’s t-shirt as he was trying to get you home. The last time you got drunk, you found your phone in the microwave with melted cheese on top. You can’t even remember putting it in there. You ended up buying a new one and got a lecture from Osamu for you to stop drinking and how you wasted quality cheese and for breaking your phone, while Atsumu just laughed his ass off at the story.

All in all, the twins were always there whenever you go out drinking because if you weren’t accompanied, you probably would have already died in a ditch somewhere. 

You squeal as you heard another ring of the doorbell. With a sigh, you stood up carefully and made your way towards the door. Opening it, you saw Kaori with a bright expression on her face, which was the opposite of you really because you looked like you just came out from hell. 

“Kaori-chan, what brings you here?”

“Good morning love! I brought food to help you with your hangover. May I come in?”

“S-sure”

Stepping aside, you let Kaori enter your apartment. You do remember attending Kaori’s birthday party. You do remember having dinner and talked to her friends but it ends there. You pretty much don’t remember what happened after that. 

“H-how did you know I have a hangover?”

“Sweetie, I think you’re the only person I know who could empty a whole bottle of wine alone.” Your eyes widened at this. 

“What?! A w-whole bottle?!”

Kaori’s eyes widened, shocked at your reaction before letting out a chuckle. “You heard me. Do you not remember last night?” You can’t help but feel baffled. Sitting down, you intensely stared at the table thinking long and hard. This sends another pang in your head, making you hiss.

“Hangovers are real fckers. My head hurts so bad.”

You say as you hold your head, massaging it. Kaori then hands you in some medicine and water. You thanked her and drank it, hoping it would cure the pain as soon as possible. You desperately want to remember what happened last night but you’re afraid to ask.

“Did something happen when you got home last night? You’ve got some pretty interesting marks on your neck, (Y/n)-chan.”

Kaori says with a smirk as she points her chopsticks to your neck. You automatically held your neck, confused to what she meant.

“What are you talking about?”

“Take a look at the mirror love.”

Anxious, you quickly went to the sink of your bathroom and there it was. Multiple hickeys were scattered on your smooth neck. A look of horror morphed on your face. You rubbed your eyes again, in attempts and hoping that you were just seeing things but it was still there. Red marks were scattered on your neck and collarbone. Your heart started to raise in your chest. You tightened your grip on the bathroom sink, thinking intensely.

What the fuck happened to me last night?

Who could even leave those on your neck? You didn’t have a boyfriend and Atsumu- Your heart stopped for a moment. Were you totally wasted last night? The images of you and Atsumu suddenly fills your head. The way he was being gently as he kisses you. The way he hugged your body as you sat on his lap. This made you feel the heat creeping up to your neck and cheek. It doesn’t make sense. Was it just a dream? 

“No. It couldn’t be.” You say with an exasperated laugh before you took another glance in the mirror. You noticed how your make up was neatly removed. Was it Atsumu that brought you home last night? If he did, how did those love bites ended up on your neck? He wouldn’t. You two are just friends. He wouldn’t take advantage of you.

Walking back into the kitchen, you sit down on the seat awkwardly, not looking at Kaori. She giggles at your troubled expression, “I’m glad to hear that your night ended on a good note.”

“Oh god!” You exclaimed, pulling your hair, hoping that this was just a freaking dream. You just want to die right there. The suspense was torturing you. You don’t want to think about it right now. It can’t be your ex boyfriend. You didn’t even remember seeing him last night.

“Kaori-chan. What happened last night?” Kaori glances at you, a sudden worry appeared across her face.

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those drunkards who doesn’t remember anything.”

“Unfortunately, I am!”

Kaori let out frustrated sigh, rubbing her temple before looking at you. She hesitated but continued. Kaori told you everything, on when you arrived at the venue with Atsumu. On when you and Kaori took pictures and had dinner together with the boys and her girl friends. On how you and the rest of the girls gossiped and how it led to Shioko ended up being with Nakamura, on how your ex cheated on you while you two were still dating. On how you confronted Nakamura but somehow you got slapped in the face by Shioko. On how Atsumu took the initiative in taking you home and that was it. That’s her side of the story. It was so much to take in but somehow you felt a bit relieved knowing that you were no longer have any relation with Nakamura. It did hurt though, on how he was seeing another girl while you two were still dating but it doesn’t matter anymore. You two broke up. You didn’t love him. You were just drawn to his good looks. You made a fool out of yourself. You didn’t take care of yourself. 

“You really don’t remember when you got home last night?”

Silence.

Kaori’s eyes then landed on the couch before a sigh left her mouth.

“I think I have an idea on what happened” says Kaori as she stands up and walked towards the couch, grabbing the grey blazer and giving it to you. You looked at it with a confused expression before it hits you. It was Atsumu’s blazer. You could smell his scent from it, so fresh and zesty, like lemons. You then looked at Kaori again, “So...”

Kaori slapped a palm on her face before she looks at you with a weird expression, taking the blazer away from you and sways it in front of your face.

“Atsumu’s blazer. The hickeys on your neck. Both of you were intoxicated with wine last night. A man and a woman alone. That leads to the possibility of?” Kaori sings, waiting for you to answer but you just stayed at her blankly, making her roll her eyes. 

“You and Atsumu were making out yesterday missy! It’s the only plausible explanation!”

You felt your cheeks heat up and the redness creeping up your neck. You don’t want to believe it. If it was true, then you really messed up big time. You just put you and Atsumu’s friendship at risk. You can’t afford to lose it. You always had fun when you’re with Atsumu but knowing you possibly gobbled up his face last night makes you just want to bang your head against the wall a thousand times.

“B-but why?!”

“I don’t know. That’s for you two to figure out. You need to talk” says Kaori with a knowing smile.

“What? No! I’m not just gonna straight up ask him like ‘hi Atsumu, were you the one who sucked my neck last night?’ Atsumu wouldn’t do that! We’re friends for goodness sake. We don’t have that kind of feelings for each other.”

“I don’t know about that sweetie. Your neck tells a different story” says Kaori, chuckling in amusement. 

“Maybe this is just a rash from the wine-”

“No sweetie. I know a hickey when I see one, or in your case, hickeys.”

With that, you just remained silenced and ate your breakfast or lunch rather since you woke up pretty late. As Kaori keeping a conversation alive as she discusses her new designs for their upcoming fashion show exam, you suddenly recalled something. You remembered how you went to the bathroom to vomit in the middle of your make out session. The mortified look on your face made Kaori stop talking and raise her eyebrows a you. 

“Oh my god! I messed up big time.” 

“Why?”

“I puked in the middle of our kissing.” Kaori gasped and covered her mouth. 

“Oh that’s not good.”

Puking in the middle of a make out session is definitely not a confidence booster. That situation could mean two things - either the thought of kissing that person was making you sick to your stomach or it was just bad. 

You panicked at this. Knowing Atsumu, this would definitely offend him. Atsumu is a confident man. He may not mind other people’s opinions but the people closer to the golden-haired setter affects him. It brought butterflies to your stomach just by the thought of Atsumu’s red and soft lips moving against yours. 

Who knew his lips felt so good on your skin?

Deep down, you were always thankful for the twins but somehow Atsumu has a special place in your heart. With his charms and fun personality, any girl could fall for him. You weren’t too confident with yourself and you had to endure the twins’ popularity in high school. You were always the target of being bullied by other girls. They would often bump your shoulder while passing the hallway and tweet about you, though no name dropping but you know it was you. 

When you entered college, you were still vulnerable about it. All the emotional damage that you’ve been through, Nakamura was more of a comfort person to you at first, the fact that he’s the person who has shown romantic feelings for you, but it all went downhill as months passed by. He worsened you. He brought you more emotional and physical damage. 

You hated yourself for it. You went into a relationship when you were still vulnerable. You didn’t take the time to heal but you wanted help but it was the help that you mistook. Why were you so in a rush? 

Am I really that desperate?

How were you supposed to face Atsumu now? What were you gonna tell him once you two meet? If it’s true, how does this change your relationship with him now?

One thing’s for sure, you are in a mess. 

Taglist: @softiebadbitch​

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Without A Scratch: Avengers x gn!Reader

S.S.: Hello, heres another fic. I know Im very inconsistent with writing but Im working on it! Thanks to everyone who likes my posts I really appreciate it!! Hope you like this one!

Warnings: Car crash!!, police officers, medical staff, panic attacks... idk what else, let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1,834

* I know it says Avengers x Reader, but it only features Tony, Nat and Bucky.... :)

** Mx: gender neutral for Mrs., Miss, or Mr. jsut an fyi for anybody who doesnt know! 

MASTERLIST

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

There was a distant ringing in my ears. The sound of honking horns and brakes screeching to a stop and sirens seemed muffled. The sun seemed brighter than it had been. My body was buzzing with adrenaline and the feeling in my fingers was gone.There was debris amongst the road, pedestrians standing along the road or with one foot out of their car looking over their opened doors.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” a grey-haired woman stopped my wandering, her hands placed on my shoulders. Others stood next to her, barely within my vision through my helmet.

“I think so.” I mumbled, turning around to the wreck that I had just barely escaped with my life. My motorcycle laid in pieces off to the side of the intersection. The car that had run through the red light was wrecked, the front slightly crumpled from impact.

Police cars surround the area, immediately blocking off the road and encouraging pedestrians and drivers to detour. Emergency medical staff jumped from the ambulances, two coming towards where I stood with the older woman, and two to the man who looked unconscious in the front seat.

“Mx, my name is Alex Khan and this is my partner Trey Alpin. Do you know your name?” His voice was urgent and demanding, but not aggressive.

“My name is Y/f/n Y/l/n.” My voice wavered and shock began to overwhelm my senses. My hands grasped at my helmet, struggling to pull it off.

“Hold on, let me help you. We don't want to add insult to injury.” his partner insisted his hands hooking under my helmet and carefully pulling it off of my head. 

“Alright Ms. Moon. Can you walk?” and despite it sounding like the dumbest question considering I was standing right in front of them, my knees gave out before giving them an answer. “We’ve got you.”

I turned to the older woman who still stood there with her hand covering her mouth and tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you.”  she replied with a simple nod and a reassuring smile before the two paramedics helped me to the back of one of the ambulances at the scene.

“Is the driver alright?” I asked after they sat me on the end of the truck, a shock blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

“Lets focus on you first then we’ll get an update on him for you.” Alex smiled. 

Trey stood to the next to him jotting down notes, before setting it to the side as Alex moved to the other ambulance.

“Stare at my finger for me.” he said, holding his index finger in front of my face before shining a light into my eyes, checking for the pupil's reaction. “Good, no concussion.” He said with a reassuring smile.

He wrote it down amongst the other notes on the clipboard before turning back. “Do you mind taking off your gear so I can check for breaks or sprains?” I nodded quietly, shrugging off the shock blanket and tugging at the zipper of the leather jacket covering my top.

“Also do you have someone that you can call?” He asked, filling the silence as I winced pulling my arms from the sleeves.

“I do but my phone was in my bike’s hideaway compartment. So I highly doubt it's functional anymore.” I said, giving a small smile.

“No worries, you can borrow a phone from any of us after I check you over for injuries.”

 His hands were cold compared to my burning skin as he ran them down my arms, moving my wrists careful of the road rash across my knuckles that wore through my gloves. “Does that hurt?” I shook my head no as he repeated the same motions on my other arm receiving the same response.

His hands moved to the back of my neck squeezing along the sides of my spine, eliciting a slight wince from me. “Did that hurt?”

“Just a little.” 

“Sorry” he pressed his lips together and his eyebrows furrowed. He stepped to the side continuing down my back with one hand without any other trouble. “Just some slight whiplash, nothing major, just be cautious with activities.”

He moved back in front of me, his hands settling on my highest rib, slowly trailing down my sides before I grimaced at the gentle touch he was using. “Sorry” he muttered before continuing.

“So that might be a break or just a crack but you'll have to take a ride with us to get that x-rayed.”

“Uhm, can I actually make my call while you continue to check me over?” I asked quietly, my mind still a little muddled with the fact that I was sitting in the back of an ambulance with a fractured rib being my worst injury.

“Of course.” He pulled his phone from his uniform pocket, unlocking the screen and opening the keypad. “Here you go. I'm just going to run over your legs and then wrap your hands.” I only nod in confirmation as I begin typing in the number.

After a few rings, the line clicked. “Tony Stark who is this and why are you calling me?”

“Tony…” My voice cracked trying to hold back the tears that had begun to form in my eyes.

“Y/n/n? What happened? Friday get a read on the call.” he called to the A.I. frantically.

“I got into a wreck.” I said my voice wavering as tears threatened to spill over “Im at 42nd and 11th.”

“On it.” And with that the call ended, and the panic set in.

“Thanks. Can I get oxygen or something? I- I cant breath.” I say handing Trey his phone back, my hands shaking and my breathing become erratic.

“Yea, of course one second.” He agreed hopping into the truck grabbing a tank and mask, setting up and bringing it back to me. I held the mask over my nose doing my best to take calming breaths as he brought the blanket back over my shoulders.

Commotion amongst the street caused me to open my eyes back up to see Tony in his Ironman suit landing next to the street blocked signs. A black lamborghini pulled up behind him, Bucky and Nat stepping out. It was amusing to watch the police hold their hands out, trying to block the trio from entering into the restricted area, but with a flip of a badge from Nat and a scolding from Tony, they stepped aside. 

The trio took a minute analyzing the damage, noting the obliterated bike that belonged to their second youngest Avenger. The plastic and metal spread across the street casting shadows from the flashing red and blue lights. The car that was stopped in the middle of the intersection with the hood crumpled. 

“Oh my god, Y/n/n.” Nat was the first to wrap me carefully into a hug. “Are you ok? What happened?” Bucky and Tony stood behind her both with rage in their eyes.

“Some guy ran a red light. I’m ok.” I said casting my gaze to the other ambulance where it seemed that the driver was still unresponsive.

“The only points of concern are thier minor whiplash, the road burns and fractured ribs 5-7 on the left side. I suggest getting an xray to make sure they are only fractures and nothing more and a CT scan for any other internal injuries that I can't diagnose here. I would offer a ride to the hospital but I realize that you will have better medical technology at the Avengers Tower.” Trey listed, smiling at the three Avengers standing there.

“Thank you very much for taking care of her. Apply at Stark Industries, I’ll find a place for you on the medical staff.” Tony smiled.

“Let's get you home.” Bucky spoke quietly, and I agreed adamantly.

“They’ll have to report to one of the police officers before leaving the scene.” Trey reminded us as I grabbed my jacket and helmet.

“Thank you.” Nat said, helping me from my spot. “Can you walk?” I nodded. Setting down the oxygen and dropping the blanket from my shoulders. I gripped onto her hand and pushed against the ambulance bed with the other to get onto my feet.

I took a minute to find my balance, hanging onto Nat for support. Her arm was wrapped around my waist as she helped me walk over to one of the police officers.

“Are you the motorbike rider?”

“Yes sir.” I replied, releasing my grip on Nat, noting that Bucky and Stark were standing closely behind on guard.

“I just have some routine questions for you quickly.” I nodded my head and he began asking the questions.

After the officer finished his follow up he thanked me before Nat began to pull me away from the scene.

“Wait. I asked about the driver of the car. I haven't heard anything.” I stopped turning around to see paramedics surrounding the bed of the other ambulance.

“Honey, don't worry about him. Come on let's get you home.” Nat insisted. I pulled away from her grip stumbling slightly.

“Just because he ran a red light and hit me doesn't make him any less important. I just want to check to make sure he’ll recover.” I argued before making my way over to the commotion.

The paramedics and a few police officers were congregated near the end of the ambulance as I approached. I could hear the orders for medical equipment being called out as I grew closer.

“Excuse me.” I tapped on someone's shoulder. 

“Y/n? Why are you still here?” Trey asked once he had turned to see me.

“I asked earlier about the driver. Will he make a recovery?” I asked peaking over his shoulder to watch paramedics lifting the stretcher into the back.

“He’ll make a full recovery. He'll be spending a few years in prison for this though. If you're worried about insurance coverage dont worry. Officers will get that sorted when he's responsive.” Trey explained.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I just wanted to make sure he’ll make a recovery. Thank you.” I smiled before turning back to the three Avengers waiting at the police barricade.

“Ready to go?” Bucky asked as I joined them. I simply nodded my head as Nat wrapped her arm around me again leading me to the car.

“Let’s go get you healed up. I heard Cho is working on something with broken bones. Maybe you can be a guinea pig!” Tony exclaimed with a smile.

“As intriguing as that sounds I doubt that I’m stable enough to endure whatever it may be.” I replied as I settled into the front seat of the car.

“Fair enough.” Tony smiled. “Im proud of you ya know. For that little thing you just did. For understanding that his life is still important.”

“I learned from the best.” I looked at the three of them, each having a proud smile across their face.

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

S.S: Hope you all liked it!! Again dont be afraid to request. I also realize that alot of my fics seem to have a little (or lot) of angst. Ill try and make some more fluffy fics soon! Thanks for reading!

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

WIP Wednesday

it may not be wednesday anymore but i’m not that far off.

tagged by @ghostofjellyfishforgotten and @deardmvz <33

i don’t even know who to tag so if you want to join me in being late for this please do go ahead. tag me, i’d love to see.

also this is just over 1000 words so excuse that. it’s a pretty lengthy series i was working on a long while back. never posted. :)

…

Steve had an arrangement of emotions that hovered over his mind as he rushed around the kitchen making breakfast for himself. The little television was on in the corner counter as he spread butter over his toast, occasionally tuning into the news channel. He was debating on whether or not calling out of work would be a bad move. His head did feel a little sluggish and he knew he’d end up with a horrible headache by the end of the day nonetheless. He straightened his posture and looked up at the grey window. The day didn’t seem to favor anything good either.

There was a dark haired, middle aged man speaking when Steve looked up as he plucked up the other piece of toast, “In breaking news, there was a private jet crash near the Canandian border reported just fifteen minutes ago. The group aboard the plane were prestigious lawyers, Katherine Dacy and Oliver Brookson and their co-partners, John and Elizabeth Harrington,” the man sat up straighter in his chair as Steve barely registered his own posture sinking. “There was a pilot aboard, Jayson Dickson, they are all assumed to be deceas—” Steve blankly heard his toast plop on the floor. His ears started ringing and his vision blurred, his knees following in his body’s failure to deal. His parents were dead. The plane crashed. Katherine and Oliver? He remembered them. They came to dinner a few times. They were nice, they talked to him about civil justice while his parents bickered over white or red wine. His parents—

Steve struck into action and stumbled upright clumsily to the phone on the wall ten feet away, “Hopper,” he whispered to himself, “Hopper. Hopper can help.” He ripped the phone off and dialed the memorized house number.

It rang and rang until there was finally an open click, “Jim here,” was the greeting, it sounded like a rushed thing though. Like he had somewhere to be and whoever was calling better have a good reason. Well, Steve thought dead parents were a pretty good reason.

Steve took in a shaky breath before clearing his throat painfully, “Hop?”

Hopper’s voice changed significantly, “Steve? That you?” he didn’t pause long enough for a response, “‘Course it’s you, I just saw the news, kid. I was just on my way over.”

“Over?” he asked curiously, he grunted as the air was forced out when his knees finally buckled and he dropped heavily to the floor.

“Steve? Harrington?” Hopper’s voice carried through the line worriedly, “You— What are you doing right now?”

“Work,” Steve mumbled and looked at the shiny red telephone in his right hand before slowly raising it, “I was going to work, making breakfast,” he spoke slowly; shock taking it’s powerful place. Although, toast and work seemed very far away; eons.

“You aren’t going to work, kid,” Hopper reasoned and Steve nodded back to the air emptily, “You got that?”

Steve whispered back, “Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, don’t do anything rash, Steve, I know you may be thinking things but you just wait there until we’re there.” Steve racked his brain to see what Hopper may have been talking about but he couldn’t find anything. There was nothing. He felt numb and even the deep sorrow he knew was there couldn’t penetrate the lack of everything he felt and thought. He swayed where he sat, subconsciously, back and forth as he searched desperately for some sort of movement around him.

“Okay,” Steve said at last when he realized they both had been stuck in the silence, “I’ll be here waiting.”

“See you soon, Steve,” he heard back and then clicked to the end of the line.

He sat back against the wall and spread his legs out in front of himself, light blue pajama pants that his mother had gifted to him last Christmas. Made him feel nice about something. Made him feel content and warmed even in the large and open emptiness of the house. And then Steve began thinking about how the house will begin to feel even more empty with his parents officially gone. No more mom and dad bickering over wine, or his mediocre grades, or how he should strive for a better job. No more stupidly funny jokes by his tipsy mother, no more pleasantly enjoyable law lessons from his father on quiet nights they were home, no more holidays shared sparingly. They were gone. And Steve had learned quickly, especially in the past few years, how to accept loss. But this seemed to be different. A part of his already feeble life was gone. A big part. The beginning of his own. His parents were dead. Was that what Hopper had been talking about. There was an awful amount of death-speak panging around his mind.

Steve erupted with a powerful sob then, tears suddenly springing forward and flooding over his eyelids even when he closed then uncomfortably tight. His shoulders hunched forward and his stomach contracted as he felt bile rise. He forced it down at the last moment and then took in a delicate rumble of a breath from his aching and burning lungs. His heart was pounding so loud and fierce that he felt it in his ears and brain. He brought his hands up and covered his face, where his fingers grazed his forehead and the heels of his hands rested at the bottom of his cheeks.

He trembled on the floor with hot and sticky tears blotching his skin, and then stood up in sudden strength and slammed his own phone down on the holder attached to the wall. The grey wall his mother had made his father agree to when Steve was ten. It had been a three day fight over the wall color. Steve’s father had wanted it green. Steve found that suddenly amusing as he recalled the conversations his mother had with his father where she scolded him on his poor color pallet choice. He laughed into the vacant house hysterically and listened to the echoes it created. The front door slammed open and multiple voices took it over.

There were arms around Steve before he could even fully turn around when he got to his feet to greet the loud guests. And when he did manage to glance at the tops of two women’s heads he clasped his own two arms around them too. Robin and Joyce stepped back with their wide and empathetic eyes. Steve knew he looked a mess by the way sympathy and concern overran their expressions. And he felt it too, his hot temperature and stiff limbs.

“We’re here for you, honey,” Joyce grabbed his forearm gently, but it was firm too. Hopper stood in the doorway, so Steve waved him over before he answered Joyce.

Hopper stepped inside and closed the door as Steve began to speak thickly, “I just— I don’t know what to do,” he released.

Joyce cupped his cheek like he’d seen her do with her own sons before, “Oh, honey,” she eased, “You don’t need to know anything right now. We just need to sit down, stick together, and take the day to slowly come to terms.”

“They’re gone,” he choked out loud finally. He looked up at Joyce’s suddenly tear filled eyes, “They’re actually gone. They’re not coming back to me anymore,” he felt his knees give way but Robin held him up.

She grunted and then put his arm over her shoulder, “Alright, let’s move this to the living room, Bud,” she spoke like she was trying to keep normality to the situation but also still show she cared. And Steve could understand the meaning even in the moment of weakness in his structure. There were cracks everywhere in himself. But he knew Robin and he knew Joyce and he knew Hopper. They were strong, they were present, and they came to stay with him. That was what he needed. Robin seated him on the plush sofa as the two adults entered the room. Steve leaned back and stared off a moment before refocusing on Robin’s clear blue gape.

“Do you guys have to leave?” he asked. The rest looked taken aback and Robin maybe a little offended.

“Son,” Hopper spoke up, “We’re gonna be here all damn day whether you like it or not.”

Steve smiled wetly back, “Thank you.”

Hopper smiled and Joyce did the same beside him, “No prob—” he was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Steve sat up with perseverance he hadn’t had a moment ago, “I got it, don’t worry.” He shuffled over to the wall from before and picked it up, after a moment he gripped it with his other hand too, “I know, Aunt Clara, I know.”

[powerwordsleep]

Sasuke Retsuden (Unofficial English Translation)

I’ve decided to do my own take on translating Sasuke Retsuden. It’s a long novel and difficult, so this will be a slow work in progress. As such I will be posting chapter by chapter updates here until the whole novel is finished and I can compile it in one document. 

DISCLAIMER: This is not an official translation and was not made for profit or distribution. This translation was fan-made and done for purely enjoyment and translation practice purposes. I do not own the rights to NARUTO or any of the related materials. 

Authors: Kishimoto Masashi and Esaka Jun Binding: Takahashi Kenji (Tera Engine) Editing Cooperation: Soeda Yohei (Tsubame Productions) Publishing Office: Shueisha Co. 101-8050 Tokyo, Chiyoda, Hitotsubashi 2-5-10 Printing Office: Kyodo Printing Co. Ltd. ©2019 M. Kishimoto/J. Esaka

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST THIS ANYWHERE ELSE. THIS IS MY WORK, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Character Introduction

Uchiha Sasuke: The master of the kekkei-genkai, the Sharingan. Member of Team 7 and husband of Sakura. 

Uchiha Sakura: Master of medical ninjutsu. Member of Team 7 and wife of Sasuke. 

Zansur: Director of the Astronomy Research Institute. Has apparently accepted an important mission from the minister of the country Redaku. 

Menō: A giant lizard prison guard who monitors the Astronomy Research Institute.

Jiji: A prisoner who shares a room with Sasuke and is doing manual labor for the Astronomy Research Institute.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Prologue

He can’t sleep. The man pressed his thin body to the chilly sheets. Inside the room his breath is white, and no matter how much he wraps the comforter that doesn’t fully cover him around his body, the shaking and shivering of his chest can’t be stopped.

He’s sleeping in sweat and dirt stained thin bedding. Soon it will be a half-moon. Every time he sleeps the bruises all over his body increase, so he never can feel rested. If he could sleep a little in an area with no draft, it would be enough. 

With feelings of bitterness the man opened his heavy eyelids and strained his eyes, surveying the dark room. Six adults sleep huddled in a small corner of the six-mat tatami room. In this place it’s natural for a newcomer such as himself to be allotted the coldest part of the room, with no room for objections or arguments. He shifted on the hard floor and let out a pained moan. 

“Damn it. Why is this happening to me…” 

Before the half-moon, the man had been in a prison in the capital of Redaku. Even though there had been no freedom, minimum standards of living had been guaranteed, and it was safer and more comfortable than here. He had even thought about going back to commit another suitable crime when his sentence finished. However, one day it was suddenly decided that he was to be transferred. He was only told that he would be engaged in public works in the cold regions. Because it was physically demanding labor, only young and healthy prisoners would be allowed to do it. He was brought to an astronomy observation facility made of stone, built on the peak of a desolate mountain range. 

The Tartar Astronomy Research Institute. 

It is said to be a research institute with an ancient and honorable origin derived from Janmarū Tartar—an astronomist of folklore legend who lived at the same time as the Rokudō Sennin. But he didn’t care about that. The issue was that this place was below freezing even in early springtime. And no matter how he thought about it, with the provided food, clothes, room and having to dig up cold dirt from morning to night without rest, it was an environment where livestock were treated better. 

“Why… is this happening to me?” 

He clenched his trembling teeth and squeezed the edge of the futon. Day after day of work, the skin of his palm peeled off and his nails became soiled with dirt. 

His crime was robbery and murder. Three years ago, on a winter’s day he had been having trouble finding something to eat. He broke into a house that caught his eye and stole everything of value. He left the young husband, wife, and two children bound in ropes and ran. Two days passed without anyone noticing them and they all froze to death. Since that’s how the four of them were killed he doesn’t count it as murder. He had no intention to kill; it was an accident. Generally, when he had no food to eat he stole from other houses. Was that not a case of legitimate self-defense? 

Why did I have to encounter those eyes?

Frustration swam like water in his chest. He was at his limit. The man decided while staring at the grooves in the ceiling—when dawn breaks, he’ll break out of prison. 

*************

The prisoners’ lives are managed by the sound of a gong. 

When the muffled clang signaling waking time reverberates throughout, the prisoners rise from bed like zombies and begin their day. They are always on time, because if they oversleep the patrolling guards offer no mercy when they catch them and force them to eat their batons. He wiped away the sleep from his eyes, and exited the room while yawning and scratching his rash covered arms.

Meals are served twice a day. The menu consisted only of messily stir-fried vegetables and wheat, and pork that looked suspicious to eat. The man lined up in the queue stretching out of the cafeteria and took a deep breath to quell his tumultuous feelings. Contrary to the heaviness and drowsiness lingering on his body, his nerves were clear and excited. Even as a man who walks in steps on his foot and another behind him spits phlegm out close to his ear, he doesn’t care. 

Today he'll leave here. He’s going to break out of prison. 

After securing his breakfast, the man looked around the room full of prisoners. If he’s going to escape, there’s someone he wants to invite. The shabby room was only a cafeteria in name, with rattling tables and chairs made from cut logs lined up. The man with the eyes was sitting in his usual seat by the window. 

Inmate number 487. Sasuke.

What is rare is his appearance rather than his name. Pure black hair and eyes. His face is finely chiseled and thin. The beauty of his nose stands out nicely on his profile, his features lined up perfectly on his face. No matter the angle, he looks like a painting come to life. If you looked at him up close you’d start to question whether you’re even of the same species. 

The fact that while he was born with such an appearance he was silent, unfriendly, and always cold and blunt like a cat, attracted attention from his surroundings. Despite that, because he was so strong that no one could raise a hand against him, he was a nuisance. On the day Sasuke arrived, a group of longtime prisoners immediately went to mess with the curious newcomer, and in a second their joints were severed and they were groveling on the ground. Looking down on the men crying in pain, the warning that came from Sasuke’s mouth was simple. 

“Don’t get in my way.”

For most of the prisoners Sasuke was someone hard to get close to. It was the same for this man too, of course, but it was strange to think that when he escaped today he would be able to speak his mind like normal. 

The man seated himself in front of Sasuke and opened his mouth.

“U-um,” Although his voice had been strong and burning with a fighting spirit when he imagined this, in reality it came out trembling and weak as he spoke.

“U-uh, you’re also… a-a shinobi, yeah?”

Sasuke moved his gaze from outside the window to the man facing him. 

“What do you want?”

“I-I’m also a shinobi. I’m from the Land of Wind. I never graduated from the academy and was abandoned by my parents… and I eventually ended up in this country. I can still control my chakra. Watch!” 

Using chakra, he attached the tip of a chopstick to his finger and shook it around for him to see. When he looked determinedly back at Sasuke, he had already lost interest and his black eyes had returned to gazing out the window. 

He’s ignoring me?

Sticking out his tongue, the man glared at Sasuke. 

If he got imprisoned in such a backwater country then he’s probably not that great of a shinobi either.

Sasuke was staring intently out the window while using his chopsticks in beautiful form, dexterously eating bamboo shoots and strawberries that had been arranged together in triangles on a crushed iron plate. He was an unfriendly man, but unknowingly to him his behavior was revealing his growing kindness, little by little. Among the human trash that made up the prisoners, Sasuke was clearly different. 

He waited for Sasuke to finish his meal and then broached the subject. “W-will you join me?” He was nervous and stammered out his words. 

“What do you mean?”

“Escape. I-I’m going to run away from here. Y-you can also use chakra, right? Um, w-we can climb the wall and run away.” 

The Astronomy Research Institute was surrounded on all four sides by a wall made of stone about ten meters high. Looking at it from below it seemed tall, but with chakra it was climbable. 

“I’ve a-already had enough. Y-you have too, right?”

Sasuke stared at the man, expressionless. 

“What do you know about me?”

“I know that you are not a normal person, at least.” Finally, he was able to speak until the end without stuttering. 

How on earth a man like Sasuke ended up in a place like this he could not figure out. Still, he didn’t think he was satisfied with the dull day-to-day manual labor of this place. 

“Let’s run away together. After this everyone will be going to their morning work shift, yeah? We can use that as cover and cross over the wall.” 

“Forget it. Outside the wall it’s nothing but wasteland. The closest village is two days on foot from here. You’ll end up dying.”

“But you can gather tons of wild plants and nuts, which is way better than what we can eat here. Also, look, there’s this mist out today. Now is the only time we could sneak past Menō’s eyes—”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sasuke said shortly and with a glance out the window, he gathered his empty plate and stood up. Prisoners who were standing around talking in the narrow passage panicked as they saw Sasuke approaching and rushed to the sides to give him room. 

“Don’t you want to get out of here?!” 

The man ran up and latched onto his arm, but Sasuke easily freed it from his grip.

“Sorry, but I came here because I wanted to.” 

“... What?” 

Here? He wanted to come here?

The man was left taken aback as Sasuke exited the cafeteria. He waited until he could no longer see Sasuke’s form and then kicked the leg of a table in anger. 

Idiot. Whatever. He can rot in this shithole place forever. I’m going to be free. 

The man gathered his plate full of a messy breakfast and stomped out into the hallway. He cast a backwards glance at the prisoners scattered about sitting and chatting, then continued on outside to look upon the wall on the prison grounds. There was still time before the morning shift started. The chances of patrols coming out here should be low. No one guards the fence. Unlike actual prisons, the patrols here basically only work security. They’re not concerned about people who can’t even climb a ten-meter wall. 

That’s too bad. I can climb it. 

The man placed his hand upon the smooth stone wall. Recalling the lessons from his past, he gathered chakra and concentrated it in his palm. There was a sensation of it sticking precisely to the stone surface. The man started crawling up the wall like a frog.

In the distance he could hear a commotion from the other prisoners. It had only been a few minutes since he started climbing. There should be few people outside at this time. The head guard and the other patrols should be having breakfast in the main building. 

It’s fine. You can do it. Climb up before you’re found. Menō will appear at some point. 

His body was lighter than he imagined. He’d already climbed about halfway but wasn’t tired. He could keep climbing for another hour. 

There was the sound of gravel and sand being stepped on. The man looked over his shoulder and met yellow eyes. A chill went down his spine.

He’d been found. It was Menō. 

This is bad, this is bad, this is bad—I have to escape quickly!

In his panic the man lost control of his chakra. The hand touching the wall slipped off and his body floated in midair. 

I’m falling, he thought. Then a burning pain erupted in his torso, his blood pressure dropping suddenly. As he lost consciousness, he met the unmistakable eyes of Menō, sinking his teeth deep into his chest.