#this took me under five minutes to double check cause i unlike some people usually try to check my information before i make statements

[hushedhands]

Challenge 78

For @blooming-rosesss​! Maxon’s experience of Maisy’s birth, when America’s blood pressure dropped and he had the daylights scared out of him. 

When America went into labor with Addy, it was slow, steady, and four days early. When she went into labor with Jamesy, it was long, drawn out, and a week and a half late. Neither Maxon nor America knew what to expect with their third baby, but when America went into labor right at noon on her due date, it came hard and fast.

Their birth plan had predicted anything from an even-paced ramp up like Addy’s birth had been, to an almost two-day marathon like Jamesy’s had been. But America’s contractions started abruptly, already strong enough that she had no doubt about what was happening. Though she was on maternity leave, she was in her office to be near Maxon just in case this very thing happened. She walked from her desk over to Maxon’s, told him that it was time, and before he could even finish packing away his work, America was doubled-over with the contraction that broke her water all over his office floor.

It was the kind of labor that Maxon thought only happened in movies, where one second everything was fine and the next second the mother was gritting her teeth through contractions, and the next scene she was pushing, and within a minute or two of dramatic film time, the baby was born. But he timed America’s contractions on their walk to the hospital wing and they were already less than ten minutes apart, a milestone that usually took her at least twelve hours to achieve.

Maxon wondered, as the nurse connected America to a machine to monitor her heart rate and blood pressure, and another to monitor her contractions, if maybe America hadn’t been in a kind of gentle labor all morning. What other explanation could there be? But the nurse didn’t seem alarmed at all. She said that the more naturally intense the contractions are, the faster the body dilates, and the sooner a baby is born. America’s body just usually took longer to ramp up the intensity. There was no cause for concern, this was all perfectly natural.

But unlike the nurse, Maxon was extremely concerned because he’d watched America’s contractions on the monitor for Addy’s and Jamesy’s deliveries. He’d never seen them spike this high, and they were only getting worse. Hearing his wife cry out in pain and being unable to help her was always the worst part of having a new baby, but it was one thing to hear her struggle. It was another to be able to see on a chart with his own eyes how ravaging these contractions were.

America was dilating faster than she ever had before, the only good news about the speed at which this baby was being born, in Maxon’s opinion. America would be done and resting comfortably in no time compared to her previous experiences. Even so, the hours that followed were some of the longest of Maxon’s life as they waited for her to finish dilating.

The contractions were so bad, and coming so fast, that Dr. Ashlar felt comfortable having the anesthesiologist administer pain-relieving medication relatively quickly after America’s arrival in the hospital wing. Maxon could have kissed the anesthesiologist on the mouth when he saw the sheer relief on America’s face as the drugs kicked in. Still, the contractions kept coming and kept growing stronger, and though the pain was gone, the pressure in America’s hips was unbearable.

The anesthesiologist returned twice to adjust the dose of pain medication America was receiving to keep her relatively comfortable, but Maxon could tell this labor was still wearing her down. She hadn’t even started pushing yet and she was covered in sweat despite how chilly the birthing sweet was kept. The fact was, her body was running a marathon at a sprint’s pace, and she was feeling it.

Maxon sat behind her on the bed for a while, allowing her to lay against his chest and squeeze both of his hands when the contractions came. From there, he was able to murmur into her ears, reminding her to keep breathing and that it would all be over soon. This had been America’s toughest pregnancy by far: she’d been sicker than ever in the early months, the aches and pains had been especially bad in the later months, and she’d been exhausted for nine months straight. Between that and having two children under the age of five, and a country to run, they were both very excited for this baby to be born so that America could regain a feeling of control over her own body.

They were excited, but even so, this was a bit extreme.

When Dr. Ashlar returned and checked America for dilation again, he announced that it was time to push. Maxon got into a position he knew well from Addy and Jamesy’s birth, on America’s right side holding her hand with his left, and keeping her knee up and in position with his right hand.

When her next contraction hit, Maxon could have sworn the bones in his hand cracked, but his adrenaline was too high to feel it. America gritted her teeth and pushed hard. The fact that she was already crying out and this was just the first push concerned Maxon. Was her pain medication not sufficient? Or was giving birth always this painful, even with medication? Maxon asked the doctor if they needed to give America more drugs, but the doctor was not comfortable going beyond the dose she’d already been given.

After only a few hard pushes, the doctor announced that he could see the baby’s head. Maxon, whose eyes had been locked with America’s as he coached her through that contraction, looked down and was stunned. There was the baby already! This was the fastest he’d ever been able to see the baby once America started pushing. “Ames! I can’t believe it, you’re so amazing. They baby’s right here!”

America smiled as she tried to catch her breath, and a few seconds later it was time to push again. The strength of the contractions seemed to be pushing the baby out at record speed. It’s little nose broke through as America cried out, tossing her head back and giving up pushing for a second. Maxon had learned by now that the baby’s face caused more pain than the shoulders as it was being born because of the stretch caused by its little nose. “That was the worst of it, America.” Maxon reassured her. “Keep breathing.”

The baby’s head was born. Maxon was looking down at the head of his next child, and he just couldn’t believe it. “The baby’s perfect!” he reported to her. “All we need are the shoulders and you’re done.” Once Dr. Ashlar could get those shoulders, he could gently pull the baby out and America would be finished pushing. She could rest.

The baby was born with the next monumental contraction, gorgeous and healthy. Maxon checked his watch and laughed with joy, it was only 5:30! America had given birth so fast, most of the Singers probably hadn’t even made it to the Palace yet. Wouldn’t they be stunned when, instead of having to wait all night, they’d get to hold their new little family member as soon as they arrived?

Maxon counted ten fingers and ten toes and heard the baby cry before America exhaustedly asked, “Boy or girl?” and Maxon remembered to check.

“A girl!” he exclaimed, tears flooding his eyes. They had another daughter. Their first daughter was the light of their life and now they were outrageously lucky enough to have another? It was a miracle. Their whole lives just got doubly better.

Maxon cut the umbilical cord and kissed America hard on the lips. She was trembling which he knew was normal, her body was going into post-labor shock. “You’re such a warrior. God, America, I can’t believe how incredible you are.”

She squeezed his hand and asked him to go keep an eye on the baby while they waited to dispose of the placenta.

Maxon joined his third child and Dr. Ashlar at the scale where the baby girl was being weighed. Eight pounds even, twenty inches long, with curly hair already on her head. Maxon volunteered to give her her first bath in the sink, and had just finished cleaning her up and wrapping her in her first teeny-tiny diaper, then swaddling her in a warm blanket, when he heard the nurse say loudly, “America? Can you hear me?” and then everything turned from joy to panic like a curtain falling.

A machine next to America’s bed began making loud siren sounds. Dr. Ashlar dropped the baby’s chart and rushed to America’s bedside, immediately issuing orders Maxon couldn’t understand. The nurse fled the room and Maxon hurried to America’s side, “Ames? Can you hear me?” he asked. The baby girl in his arms, only a few minutes old, started wailing at the sound the machine was making.  

“Your Majesty, I need you stay back.” Dr. Ashlar insisted.

Maxon barely heard him. His wife was unconscious and pale. “Her heart?” Maxon guessed.

“No. Her blood pressure has dipped, it’s dangerously low and she’s lost consciousness. Stay back so that we can help her, do you understand?” Dr. Ashlar asked again.

Maxon was lost. Leave America’s side? How?

Dr. Ashlar pointed to the corner of the room where the baby’s bassinet was waiting, “Go stand there.”

It was easier said than done, and in the end the only reason Maxon was able to walk away from America was that he wanted to get the baby away from that loud, horrible machine’s siren.

People began flooding into the room, all with instruments and trays full of vials. Maxon felt as if he’d left his body behind, but somehow that vacated body continued to comfort the newborn infant it held. The baby’s cries grew quieter as it took comfort in Maxon’s actions, the work of an experienced father, but Maxon noticed as if spotting a peculiar detail in a photograph that his own hands were shaking. Was he in shock too?

When the crowd of people around America thinned enough, Maxon saw that she had an oxygen tube in her nose and something was being added to her IV. Maxon looked for any sign of relief on the faces of the doctors and nurses, but everyone looked like they were at a funeral.

A funeral?

That couldn’t be right.

Maxon was holding a brand new baby girl in his arms, how could there be a funeral?

There couldn’t. America would never have a funeral. Never. Maxon needed her to wake up and hold this new baby to her chest. He needed her to bond with the baby, then teach the baby how to drink milk, and then introduce the new baby to their other babies.

Their other babies.

Addy and Jamesy needed America to wake up, they needed their mom. Didn’t these doctors and nurses understand, there were two excited kids on the other side of this Palace who needed to snuggle up to their mother? He and America had a whole plan for how to reassure both kids that they were still loved and cherished, even though they had a new sibling. The plan involved special cuddle time with America tonight. How could that happen if America stayed unconscious?

If she stayed unconscious forever?

Maxon pressed his lips to his daughter’s hair. Now that it was clean, he could see it was blonde like his. He and America had one kid with red hair and one kid with blonde hair, and this baby was the tie-breaker. She needed to wake up so that he could tell her that the blondes were now ahead in their family.

They also had one kid who was a girl and one who was a boy. America also needed to wake up  so that she could tell him that the girls were now ahead in their family.

Before he knew what was happening, he was praying. He was not especially pious, but he begged any god who would hear him out to save his wife. He begged to be taken in her place. He offered any price to any deity or demon, anything that could save her.

And then the siren stopped. The silence in the room made his ears ring, and for a moment he wondered if he hadn’t just sold his soul to the devil. If so, he didn’t care. The doctors around America were standing back, shoulders dropped, watching the machine that monitored her blood pressure and heart rate unblinkingly.

Waiting for the bottom to drop out again.

It didn’t happen.

Dr. Ashlar ordered the others out of the room, and then he joined Maxon in the corner. Maxon allowed himself to be guided to a seat by the window, still clutching his perfect new healthy baby girl to his chest.

Dr. Ashlar sat next to him and pulled off his paper scrub hat with relief. “Her blood pressure plummeted. Her organs weren’t getting enough oxygen, including her brain. We have her stabilized for now, but we need to watch her carefully until she’s fully recovered.”

Maxon didn’t know what to say, “Her heart condition—“

He’d had reservations about having a third child, given the heart defect America had been born with. She was on medication to help her heart, and she seemed completely healthy, but could it have caused her blood pressure to fall like that?

Dr. Ashlar simply said, “We don’t know what caused it. It could have been her heart, it could have been something else. I’ll confer with my team as we monitor her and we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Is she… is she okay now?” Maxon asked. If her brain had been without oxygen for all of that time…how long had it been? How old was the baby in his arms? He checked his watch. Ten minutes? The baby’s birth and that entire crisis, the most horrifying thing to ever happen to him including the massacre that had stolen his parents from him, had only taken ten minutes combined? Time was a joke. Time was a meaningless farce and Maxon was furious at it.

America’s hand twitched.

“Go be with your wife. Let her bond with your new daughter.” Dr. Ashlar encouraged. “I’ll finish the paperwork and be back in a little while to check her over.”

“What if it happens again?” Maxon worried.

“That machine sends an alert directly to me.” Dr. Ashlar showed Maxon a little device he kept in his pocket that rang or buzzed when a patient needed help. “That’s how so many doctors responded so quickly when the siren started last time. I’ll know if she needs me before you do.”

Maxon supposed, if it was true that America had only been in trouble for a few minutes, that it really was impressive how quickly the medical staff had responded. He’d have to find some way to thank them in the future, maybe with flowers.

Maxon stood and carried the baby over to America, whose gorgeous ice blue eyes fluttered open. “Maxon?”

Maxon perched next to her on the bed and said, “Something happened, Ames.”

“What?” America asked as she realized that she had a tube in her nose. She went to remove it but Maxon placed a hand over hers to stop her.

While she pushed the button to raise her bed’s angle just a bit so that she wasn’t flat on her back, he told her all about how he’d almost lost her forever. He’d almost become a widow with three small children to raise all by himself while she’d been unaware that any time had passed at all.

She didn’t seem to think the danger had really been so great, but she’d been unconscious for the siren, so what did she know?

Maxon removed the blanket from their baby girl and placed her on America’s bare chest, then tucked them both in. America hummed the most beautiful song to the baby as best she could with a tube in her nose. Maxon asked her how she felt.

She was exhausted, sore, and still numb from the waist down thanks to her drugs. She hadn’t expected to be this tired after such a short labor, but she supposed she’d still done all the work of a regular labor, just in less time.

Maxon kissed her like there was no tomorrow, because there almost hadn’t been. America pulled away after a few moments, giggling, and loopily told him that they couldn’t make another baby for a few months. Maybe now she had too much oxygen in her brain, or maybe the drugs were still making her silly. Either way, Maxon frowned heavily because he knew that they could never have another baby and as much as that weighed on his heart, it was an easy trade to make for America’s safety. It was a conversation they’d have to have later, once she was out of the hospital wing and healed up.

America’s health stats returned to normal and she no longer needed the additional oxygen by dinner time. After dinner, Addy and Jamesy joined their parents for a very special family time. Maxon took a thousand pictures as Addy held her new baby sister for the first time ever and Kenna, who had been watching the kids that day, burst into happy tears. America squeezed her hand, tearing up a little herself, both fully understanding the bond that Addy would grow to have with her new sister in time. Maxon was thrilled that he and America had been able to give Addy such an irreplaceable companion.  

Jamesy was very gentle and loving with the new baby, but he was far more interested in getting attention from his mom and dad. Maxon held him, rocking him back and forth in his arms, while Addy continued to bond with the new baby in her mother’s lap. She’d been mad at the baby in recent months for taking up so much of America’s energy, but all of that anger seemed to be forgotten now that the baby was here for Addy to kiss.

The rest of the family came after the kids went to bed, each having gotten some alone time with their mom and dad, away from the baby, to reassure them that they were still loved. Maxon held America as she fell fast asleep, somewhere between May and Gerad’s turn holding their newest niece.

Maxon and America named the baby Carolynn, in honor of America’s home province. Because they were honoring her with the baby’s first name, America let Maxon choose the baby’s middle name all by himself. He chose his very favorite girl name still on their baby name list, knowing that he’d never have another daughter to give it to. Baby Carolynn’s middle name would be Maisy.

Maxon expected to present baby Carolynn Maisy Schreave to the people of Illéa on the steps of the Palace the following morning, but America stayed in the hospital wing for another full day while the medical staff continued to monitor her. This led to some wild, horrible rumors about America’s health in the media, all of which were squashed when America and Maxon finally stood before the people with their two-day-old baby girl, all as healthy as could be.

In those first quiet days on the third floor, they tried calling the new baby ��Carrie” and they tried calling her “Lynn”, but the first time Maxon called her “Maisy” it clicked into place, and the third Schreave baby was known as “Maisy” from then on.

[dat-town]

CODE Z3RO | CODE 03

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: none summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 5K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms​

➼ Chapter Index

At the peak of dawn, merely a sliver of burgundy illuminating the glass and metal giant, Choego indeed resembled a ghost town. There were no people around, not a single proof of living creatures without the buzzing of a city with cars and pedestrians. Even the flickering electricity disappeared from few sections of the town.

Park Jimin, older son of the Park Genetic Industries’ CEO, was so used to the nightlife of the capital city, he found the calm quietness way too eerie. It was surreal and unnatural and yet, he felt a pang of pride to be one of the first ones to explore its labyrinth. However, he found it rather embarrassing to compete with people who complained about having to wake up without enough of their beauty sleep. That said, he agreed with Jungkook on the missing girl’s case. It wasn’t the younger boy’s fault that Little Miss Perfect took too long to get ready. They were better off without her anyway. It was a competition after all and despite the importance of their team work, it wouldn’t have hurt to get rid off the weakest links. Born into a wealthy and prestigious family, Jimin had always known what he was expected to do: to reach for the stars and achieve more. So it was the perfect opportunity for him to show that he was worthy to be the heir of the company.

“Can someone explain in detail what the hell happened and why we had to leave the dorms?” Hoseok, one of his supposed-to-be roommates groaned, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The group of eleven stood in the middle of the street packed with luggages, staring ahead of the road with dim artificial lights while the other end of the road disappeared into darkness. It was a good question because even though it was quite obvious to anybody that something happened, not everybody could figure out what exactly was wrong. What was the researchers’ plan with all this? Setting the beginning of the simulation in the middle of the night when they were supposed to be sleeping? What would have happened if nobody had woken up? Where were those damned cameras watching each of their moves? And what were they supposed to do without instructions?

“The electricity got cut off in the buildings next to ours and the following ones were those near our dorm building. I guess the simulation tries to imitate an evacuation,” the eldest boy, Seokjin, said and if he was any good in what he was majoring in, they could trust him.

“So we should get out of the city? That doesn’t make sense,” the lilac haired, quite temperamental Taehyung spoke up posing the question that had been on everybody’s mind. But if not out, then what were they supposed to do?

“Do you have any better idea?”

“Okay what about we all calm down and I call dr. Han?” Jimin suggested already fishing out his phone from his back pocket. He didn’t like to stay in the dark for too long. He needed answers and normally he had his own methods to get them. Money and power weren't nice things to take advantage of, yet why wouldn't he use his privilege when he could? 

While Namjoon murmured something like that they should be figuring it out by themselves, Jimin had already pressed call on the lady's contact and waited… fruitlessly as even the annoying beep sound remained silent. He double-checked the signal on his phone and let out a frustrated sigh at the sight of the saturated bars of the icon. “What the hell.”

His disappointed reaction didn't went unnoticed and Hoseok, who stood next to him, raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “What?”

“There’s no signal and no internet either in the area like we were totally cut off the outer world,” the boy answered, his fingers twitching to check his emails and social media despite knowing that without internet he wouldn't access anything for now. Even his mobile data was somehow disabled on this land which was ridiculous. What kind of test was it? Lexical knowledge was so outdated and old fashioned. Isn't their analytic thinking and resourcefulness should have been rewarded? However, not everybody agreed with him on this matter. Seokjin for example took the news with a short nod as if it was a known fact. He wasn't the only one.

“Well it’s only fair. They don’t want certain people asking for help from the outside,” Taehyung mumbled under his nose barely audible but certainly loud enough for Jimin to hear it.

“What are you trying to say?” the chaebol guy straightened his back trying to look intimidating as he strolled to the mocking boy of his age. It wasn't the first time he was judged because of his family's influence but this was one of the times the accusation left a nasty taste in his mouth like swallowing a bitter pill. Of course, he knew these people were often just envious of his background, so usually he didn't care about them but under the careful watching eyes of the miniature cameras and the surveillance of researchers reevaluating their every move, he wasn't willing to be ridiculed by somebody who had the manners of a caveman. No wonder why the guy had the strong dialect of Gyeongsang Province.

“Oh nothing. I’m just saying that it might be better this way. Equal chances for everyone,” Taehyung shrugged with a challenging look in his eyes.

Jimin's hands itched to punch him straight on the nose, wipe off that shit-eating grin off his face but he couldn't let himself lose his cool over the stupidity of a rival. As a marketing major, being an expert in manipulating people, maybe it was Taehyung’s ultimate goal from the beginning: to rile up and provoke everybody he could. He was nothing more than a kid with a big mouth from the countryside. Only bark, no bite, Jimin was sure and he was smarter than to play this game.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he stared down at the tanned guy - which was quite bold on his part being the shorter one. Then as arrogant as he could, he took a step back with a huff and turned his back on Taehyung. The others stared at their intermezzo expecting it to blow up and most of them seemed relieved, relaxing their tensed shoulders as they saw nothing extraordinary was going to happen under the dim lights of street lamps so early in the morning.

"Let's not argue, guys, we need to work together," Seokjin said in a parental voice which earned a few eyerolls on the youngers’ part. Even if according to the conservative Korean age system, it was polite and a must-do thing to respect their elders no matter what, Jimin didn't plan on playing the role of the perfect dongsaeng.

"But if we cannot leave the city, then what should we do during an evacuation simulation?" one of the girls with baby face spoke up and Jimin recognized her as the Psychology student from the introduction they did on their way to the dorms.

For a while, her question fell on deaf ears but her patience was rewarded with an answer after a whole minute of utter silence.

“We need to keep moving,” a dark haired figure said quietly but still bringing all the attention to himself. Min Yoongi, the mysterious postgrad student, majoring in some fancy named IT stuff, had a cold demeanor and he certainly didn't get on the good side of anyone present after boosting his own ego at the meeting. But if he was so smart, how could he not have any better idea than ‘to move’?

To be honest, Jimin eyed him quite suspiciously because unlike everybody else the guy barely had anything on him. He only threw a small backpack on one shoulder but nothing else which was stupid, wasn’t it? They didn’t knew how long they were going to be gone or what they would need, so his confidence was either recklessness or arrogance.

“Why?” Hoseok whined trying and failing to suppress a long whine. “Can’t we just stay here and rest a little? Not even the Sun is up.”

“Sure. If you came for having fun, be my guest. I won’t shed a tear when you won’t be one of the chosen candidates at the end of the test,” Taehyung said in a mocking tone and to his own dislike, even if he didn’t voice out his opinion, Jimin had to agree with him. They all came here with a purpose and if the researchers woke them up in the middle of the night, they must have had a good reason behind it.

“Oh you have a big mouth on you, don’t you? Then tell me what the fuck is happening because I’m quite sure you’re just as clueless as the rest of us, Mr. Know It All,” Hoseok had enough of being the clown everybody made fun of and told the younger guy off easily. He was right, kind of. They could only guess the cause, some better than others though.

“The technology behind it is pretty simple,” Jeon Jungkook spoke up in a low voice, almost shy but confident in his knowledge. Of course, he knew. Among all of them there had been three other engineers apart from Jimin whose bioengineering knowledge couldn’t help much in this case. However, this was the time for the others to shine. The chaebol boy hated it, the feeling of being useless and depending on others but he was also keen on cooperating if Jungkook had anything useful to say.

“And will you tell us, Golden Boy?” Taehyung crooked an eyebrow at him, voice sounding harsh and impatient.

“Normally complex security systems similar to this have a timer and every certain minute, it goes off in different sections of the place, so if we assume that the city has districts or any kind of separated areas with different electricity panels, they will turn off one by one. The dorm’s was the last one to go, so maybe where we are right now is the next one. Whoever is controlling this, they can easily guide us anywhere they want to unless we find a city map with the sections and their order to know it beforehand.”

After Jungkook’s explanation, Jimin hummed, considering. The whole situation reminded him of those old escape games he used to play on his father’s computer when he was little.

“What happens to the sections that got turned off?” he prompted.

It was time for Namjoon, majoring in mechanical engineering, to have his part of the conversation:

“Those sections are cut off electricity that’s for sure and since basically everything runs with electricity here, that can be pretty dangerous if you’re in a closed area like a building.”

“But they wouldn’t do anything that could possibly hurt us, right? The researchers don’t mean harm to us,” Joohyun’s lips quivered and she looked cold even in her light blazer pulled over the pretty blouse she wore. She seemed worried about Sooyoung being left behind but even the hypothesis was ridiculous. Who would dare to hurt them? Even if the simulation was discreetly kept as a secret from the country’s common netizens, the whole committee that chose them for these roles, knew about them. And their family - including Jimin’s influential father - were aware of their whereabouts and would never let anything like that happen. “It’s just a psychological test, right?” 

“I guess,” Seokjin nodded with a lazy shrug as his gaze wandered to his little sister. “They test our reactions, skills and boundaries. They want the five best, so they need to push us a little over the edge.”

“This isn’t the kind of test I signed up for to be honest,” Hoseok admitted while scratching his nape. He looked tired already and the day hadn’t even started yet.

“Well, it’s apparently too late to turn back and give up. Or maybe you can just chill out here and wait to see for yourself what happens when this section is switched off,” Taehyung snorted which was nothing new and Jimin realized fairly quickly that the marketing student cannot be trusted. He was obviously here to win, ready to step over anybody in his way.

They kept snickering in hushed voices but the chaebol guy had rather looked around than to pay attention to them. Maybe it was the early time or just the personality of the group’s other members but they were all uncharastically quiet. Wendy almost dozed off on his boyfriend's shoulder a bit, Joohyun and Seulgi stared ahead of them into the distance at the hundreds of glass buildings reflecting the amplitude of light. And there was the journalist girl, too young to even be there in Jimin’s humble opinion, walked around as if she was on a vacation in a museum and even took photos. She was lucky that her brother was with her or otherwise she would have been in quite a trouble without a chaperon. Too young and too naive to think nobody would notice her secretly snapping photos of the youngest engineering student.

Love has no place in a competition, they said and a part of Wendy agreed, sadly. If you were as ambitious as her, you were bound to lose something even if you won. Sure, she loved Namjoon, they had been dating for more than two years now after that fateful frat party at SNU, but she treasured her dreams more. Being here was a huge step towards becoming what she had always wanted to be: somebody in charge of big chances, helping people, being more than a cog in the system. She couldn’t let herself get distracted but at times like this, nerves tense and breathing shallow, she leaned onto her boyfriend.

Namjoon was a kind soul, a big softie who liked to think of everything in black and white. He could talk about the stars for hours and sometimes he lost track of his own train of thought. He built small robots in his free time and once when Wendy’s car broke down in the middle of nowhere, he drove all the way there and spent an hour single-handedly fixing the gears. But in spite of his huge love for physics and the theory of relativity, he loved Wendy more and they both knew it.

That was the root of all their problems. Wendy thought they were too young to settle down, they had time, a whole life ahead of them and she would have been willing to sacrifice a relationship for her career. On the other hand, Namjoon was a hopeless romantic claiming that she was the one for him and he would have given up everything for her.

This competition was a challenge for both of them. They were majoring in so different fields that their application didn’t endangered the other’s and heck, who would have thought that they both make it there? There was such a slight chance and yet, here they were, fighting for one of those five contracts. One for both of them which seemed even more impossible.

“You up?” a calloused hand nudged her shoulder gently and snapped her out of the crazy theories. Namjoon’s voice had always soothed the girl, so she was able to sigh content despite the circumstances.

“Yeah, just needed a breather. I wouldn’t have thought it’d be so hectic already.”

And it wasn’t even that bad. They have done nothing but wake up and leave the building as soon as it was possible. The most difficult part was to cooperate with others. A system’s weakest point was always the human variable.

Namjoon hummed, agreeing and for a few precious moments they could enjoy this soft bubble around them. It was a fragile little thing, bursting out with the first question thrown into the pit.

“What are we going to do now?”

It felt like the million dollar question in a game show and nobody knew the right answer, the one that they should have figured out, earning points by the researchers.

“I’d pay a visit to the main lab. They have lots of stuff there and maybe we will meet somebody there who can help,” Jimin suggested, fingers adjusting the hem of his Gucci shirt. Wendy had to stop herself from snorting. As if the researchers wanted them to seek help. She firmly believed that they were on their own because that would have made it the perfect trial. Trial of what? That was the good question actually.

“Good idea,” another guy supported the cause but the med student also had a reasonable suggestion:

“We need to find food and water, too. We never know when we need those,” she claimed and as the only medical assistance in the team, Wendy felt like she had to think of everybody’s wellbeing.

Maybe if she weren’t so stubborn and earnest, they would have all gone to the center in that instant, but she couldn’t bypass Joohyun’s nervous behaviour. The eldest girl had been pacing up and down like a lot of others not knowing what to do with themselves. However, unlike the others, she was looking around quite panicked, glancing backwards at the dark dorms on the other end of the street. It was enough for Wendy to take actions and pry herself out of Namjoon’s loving arms to rush to the other girl.

“Hey... what’s wrong?” she asked gently, a soft hand on the shoulder, massaging it with reassuring circles. Joohyun’s breathing became irregular and hasty as the panic settled deep in her bones.

“Insulin. I forgot to bring my insulin,” she replied and incoherently mumbled something about putting it into the common kitchen’s fridge the previous day. They still had hours until breakfast time when Joohyun would have to take the insulin shot before eating, but the thought of not having the medicine on her seemed enough to freak her out which made it worse.

“Oh no, why haven’t you told us before?” Wendy sucked in a breath with a little shake of her head. Of course, nobody would go around announcing to have diabetes since none of them had any idea something like this would happen. With one of her hands still rubbing on the shoulder blades of the other, Wendy raised the volume of her voice to call out to the whole team.“Guys, we need to go to the hospital. Joohyun needs medicine.”

“Fuck it, she can just go alone,” Taehyung growled unimpressed without even sparing a glance at the pale girl resembling an eerie ghost under the moonlight.

“Actually we should go. The hospital must have food in the canteen and if I remember correctly it’s not far from the researchers’ headquarters,” Seokjin stepped in to soothe the uptight nerves.

“It’s right next to it,” a soft, quiet voice supplied and a few heads snapped towards the girl with heart-shaped face and almond eyes. Kang Seulgi, as far as Wendy knew, had majored in architecture and was currently continuing her studies in environmentally-friendly architectural engineering. So at least nobody doubt her word.

“Okay, so you wanna split up? Or do we need to vote?” Seokjin who seemed to be good at managing the team work and handling conflicts looked around. Wendy admired him for his collected, calm words and the way he dealt with even the roughest reactions. He was great in damage control and without him they would have been struggling still to get out of a shutdown area. “Great so who doesn’t agree on going to the hospital for food and then checking out the lab?”

Not a single soul protested, not a single hand flew into the air.

In the end, without much commotion, all eleven of them started walking towards the general direction of downtown. Yet, without a map or GPS signal, it took them almost an hour  from the dorms in the residential area to collectively get to the canal dividing the island into two. From the shore at least they could already see the U-shaped building of the hospital and directly on its left, the prestigious building of the researchers.

“We’re here,” Namjoon breathed and pointed at the stocky, glass-walled building with the universal red positive sign of hospitals. Wendy who walked beside Joohyun to keep a careful eye on her looked up relieved.

“Thank god, I really need to pee,” Hoseok let out a sigh and despite the weight of his backpack and suitcase, he jogged ahead to search for a toilette in the building. The two-winged glass door opened as soon as he touched the control panel with his bracelet.

“Nobody wanted to know,” the med student murmured with an eye roll.

Each of them followed Hoseok without precaution into the hospital which was the first open building they found at the break of dawn. Even illuminated by the orange hues of the rising Sun, the city was still so lonely like an empty shell. They all wondered: where were the researchers? Have they gone home into their commonplace houses on the mainland? Or were they in a very different dorm, safe from the turned off electrical circuits? There was nothing like this in their schedule that was placed on their bunk beds. According to that, they had nothing to do until the meeting at nine o’clock.

Inside of the building, they split into smaller groups in search for the canteen, toilettes or just so they can drop off their heavy bags.

“Come on, let’s find insulin for you. Then we can eat,” Wendy nudged the older girl in the side and a slight discomfort settled in her throat as her boyfriend followed them.

“You don’t have to come with us,” she said sulkily like a child angry at their parents for sending a guardian even though they were old enough to be by themselves. That was exactly what she feared when both her and Namjoon’s application was accepted. She needed her own space, the alone time while the boy like physical closeness. He wasn’t touchy but he liked to be there with her even if it didn’t meant for her.

“I know, still I’d like to. But I won’t if you would prefer me not to,” Namjoon’s steps halted and Wendy immediately felt guilty as she looked at the sincerity on his handsome face and heard his genuine voice. She knew Namjoon would always agree to her terms if she voiced them out, but that became a burden after some time. Shouldn’t he have learnt that by now?

“Whatever,” she shrugged and didn’t turn around to watch her boyfriend’s smile fade as she walked towards the pharmacy of the hospital with Joohyun by her side.

Of course, it was closed, like everything normally at 5am, but they didn’t have time to wait for the opening time. Wendy’s empathy was greater than her sense of justice anyway, so she didn’t waste time to climb over the counter.

“What are you doing?” Joohyun questioned furrowing her neat eyebrows.

“Getting you insulin. I won’t wait and sit around. They want us to prove our resourcefulness. Here it is,” the girl flicked her red hair behind her shoulder.

On the shelves there were regular vitamins and medicines, nothing that needed prescription which was understandable. It wouldn’t have been wise to let those be out in the open for everyone to take. The med student’s eyes scanned through the names of the boxes but quickly realized she won’t find the insulin here. Gosh, how could she be so stupid?

“Don’t you see a fridge or freezer?” she asked Joohyun who eventually followed her suite. They were both looking at every corner they could until the psychology major squealed.

“Here.” She squatted down to the small refrigerator hidden under the counter. “It won’t open.”

And she was right. No matter how much they tried to move the metal door it didn’t nudge for god’s sake until…

“Wait!” Joohyun stopped suddenly, looking down at her wrist and the glimmering silver bracelet on it. Lightly she touched it to the small screen next to the fridge and waited. A few moments later the panel displayed Authorification accepted and the door opened with a beep.

Luckily, inside there was the desired insulin to both of their relief and they found syringe right on the next shelf. Injecting the serum was a piece of cake after all this.

“Thank you. Really,” Joohyun whispered, words a bit broken as she looked up at the dishevelled haired girl. Wendy, taken aback by the gesture amidst the supposed to be fierce competition, blinked dumbfounded at first.

“You’re welcome,” she nodded and hoped she wouldn’t have to regret helping her later.

Jimin grimaced at the pre-wrapped food in the hospital canteen. They had found a storage behind the empty stools that opened under the touch of their identifying bracelets but its content couldn’t satisfy the chaebol’s taste. Sure, he knew he wouldn’t get caviar or any other fancy food but sandwiches? Dry waffles and bottled banana milk? What was he, a freaking child?

He forced down a few bites of a ham sandwich just to fill his grumbling stomach with something but deep down he hoped that the evacuation test either ends soon or people start to fill the city with daylight and they can have a normal meal like they did yesterday evening. He had already finished when he saw the cyber tech guy stand up from one of the tables where he had eaten alone and wander down the hallways. It was suspicious enough for him to get up and follow him.

It took a few turns until he managed to catch up and since he wasn’t even trying to be subtle, he was certain Yoongi knew that he was being followed. Yet, the older guy didn’t question him nor he seemed surprised when Jimin spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

Yoongi looked at him from under his dark lashes. 

“The main nurse desk or the offices. Somewhere in here there must be something about the evacuation plan. They also have to have extra generators and torches,” he said and it seemed so logical. Why hadn’t anyone else thought of that before? And why he didn’t tell anyone about his little plan? Did he intend on getting all the good points for himself?

“I can help,” Jimin offered not wanting to be left out and Yoongi gave him a stern glance. He looked a bit wary but sighed, giving in.

“Okay.”

The two guys followed the maps on the corners of the walls to find the main reception of nurses but looking through the closets, they couldn’t find anything useful. Only when they arrived to the camera control room on the sixth floor, did their pursuit turn out to be fruitful.

“Ah huh,” Jimin remarked as he pulled out a set of torches, batteries from one of the drawers. They also found a huge but not too detailed city map on the wall of which Yoongi took a photo of before he sat down in front of the computer. As soon as it booted up, a nice robotic female voice greeted them.

“Good morning, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin. How may I help you today?”

“How the-” the chaebol wanted to curse as he jumped back in surprise.

“Artificial intelligence, dumbass, we used the bracelets to get in, remember?” Yoongi groaned under his breath and then cleared his throat raising his eyes to the six black computer screens on the wall. “Uh... hello. Can you tell us the purpose of this simulation?”

“Keyword: simulation, purpose. Searching… One search result found within 0.563 seconds.” The computer decoded his question and a few moments later a video footage appeared on each monitor. It played a recording of them from yesterday when they talked to Miss Raina.

“Don’t forget, even though we evaluate you individually, you have to work together in teams to succeed the simulation. Any questions?”

“What is the simulation about exactly?”

“I can’t tell you, sorry. It would change your natural reactions and the results of our research would be false.”

Yoongi sighed.

“We already know that but...”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. There’s nothing more in the database that you can have access to,” the computer interrupted his protest in a calm, soothing voice but it couldn’t ease neither of them. Jimin’s jaw clenched as he watched the whole situation unfold, the still picture of the video of them on the screens.

“Great.”

“Can I help you with anything else?” the strangely real voice asked nicely and the IT guy didn’t even have to think about the next question.

“What’s happening in the city?”

“The main computer is shutting down the sectors one by one. But you have already known this, didn’t you, Min Yoongi? You graduated Computer Science on the top of your class a year ahead-”

“Enough,” said boy hissed and Jimin had to admit: it was scary, that this computer knew so much about them. It must have been in their files for the application but still… What else did it know? Did it have access to their social media, too? Because fuck, then he was screwed.

“Shutting down… Have a lovely day in Choego, Min Yoongi and Park Jimin!” the computer said goodbye because it interpreted Yoongi’s earlier harsh word as an order and just as he wanted to make it more clear (Hey, wait…!), the monitors’ screens changed to live video footage of different parts of the hospital. Currently it showed the others heading towards the eastern wing of the experimental labs in the basement.

“Shit.”

“What? What’s happening?” Jimin leaned closer confused because he didn’t see anything wrong. Yoongi typed on the computer so fast he could barely follow with his eyes.

“The lab room, they are going towards for god knows why, is specially guarded. It has some messed up defence system if they don’t have the right authorization,” Yoongi whispered and the chaebol couldn’t decide what was the scarier: the flashing red exclamation mark on a certain part of the screen or the tremble in the usually collected older guy’s voice. “We need to warn them.”

[igottoomuchwriting]

The Sixth Hargreeves

Series: Part One/Previous Part/Next Part

Klaus quit his job. His homophobic boss found out about he and Dave’s relationship and then started Klaus like shit. Klaus could put up with it at first, but then he started cutting Klaus’s paychecks. When Klaus confronted him about it, he was rudely reminded that he was being paid under the table so if he did go to the police there would be no proof. In a fit of rage, Klaus walked out and didn’t look back.

Now he was walking home four hours earlier than usual, thinking of how to tell his roommates about this. He knows Peter had to beg to convince his boss to get Klaus this job and now it has all gone to waste. Dave would probably understand, but Klaus had been doing so well and he had even bought his first phone. He may understand, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be disappointed.

Klaus stepped into his apartment with his head down, ignoring the concerning look that Ben was no doubt giving him. He loved his brother, but now was not the time he wanted to talk.

“Hey,” he heard a voice. Klaus snapped his head up to see Dave sitting on the couch. Shit.

“Hey…” Klaus trailed off.

“You’re home early,” he said with a confused look.

“So are you,” Klaus quickly deflected. Dave seemed to miss what Klaus did.

“It was slow, I had no clients, so they sent me home early.” Klaus nodded his head. That made sense. He was let out early, unlike Klaus who was left forever. “Are you okay?”

Klaus didn’t respond and he kept his eyes cast down. Dave stood up from the couch and walked over to Klaus.

“Sugar? What’s wrong?” Klaus’s throat tightened at the pet name. It hurt to hear that when he knows Dave is just going to be upset.

“I quit my job,” he mumbled.

“What’d you say?”

“I said I quit my job!” Dave took a step back as Klaus raised his voice. Klaus scrunched his eyes closed and his hands immediately shot up to his hair.

“Why’d you do that?”

“He was cutting my checks and I couldn’t report him, so I just left.”

“Do you have a plan?” Klaus flinched. He didn’t think it through and he was more focused on telling Dave that he didn’t think about it.

He slowly shook his head and tightened his grip in his hair, hoping for some sort of distraction. Dave grabbed his hands and pulled them away.

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry,” Klaus mumbled. He’s not one hundred percent sure what he is apologizing for, but there’s a lot going on.

“We’ll figure something out,” Dave mumbled. He gave Klaus’s hand a squeeze. “I’m just worried. Our bills have been raising and I’m just wondering how we’ll pay it.”

Klaus nodded his head. His head was swimming with ideas on how to help now that he didn’t have a job. He could bake something to sell to druggies, he could sell his phone, he could—

“I could move out?” he asked. Klaus watched Dave’s eyes widen.

“What?”

“Well, stuff is more expensive with more people,” Klaus quickly tried explaining. “And I know I tend to leave bathroom lights on. And even though I’m off drugs—for now—I eat a lot more than you and Peter—”

“Stop,” Dave snapped. Klaus flinched back. “Klaus, no, that’s not—” Dave let out a deep breath. Klaus watched him try to stay calm, to not snap. Klaus doesn’t know if it was good or bad that he just wished Dave would yell.

Dave grabbed Klaus and gently pulled him into his chest to give him a tight squeeze.

“I’m not kicking you out just because we need a little more money.”

“It was just an idea,” Klaus mumbled.

“Why was that you’re first idea?”

“It was just an idea, Dave!” Klaus finally snapped, having reached his breaking point. He pulled away from Dave and took a few steps back, no longer feeling comfortable with touch. “I had other ideas too!”

“Then why didn’t you say those?”

“It’s not a big deal, Dave.”

“No, Klaus, it is,” Dave snapped. Klaus rolled his eyes and turned away from Dave like a child being scolded. He knew he was getting defensive and lashing out, but eh couldn’t help it.

“It was one fucking idea. You didn’t like it, we can move on.”

“Klaus, this isn’t just ‘one fucking idea’.” Klaus didn’t want to hear it. He just said an idea and Dave was hanging onto it way too much.

Overwhelmed by the conversation, Klaus started his walk to the kitchen. Dave followed Klaus and continued talking.

“You keep bringing up you leaving in some way! I mean—did you want to move in?”

“Of course I did!” Klaus yelled back.

“Then why do you keep bringing up you leaving?!”

Klaus couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t often that he and Dave fought, especially like this, and he couldn’t handle having his boyfriend, the only person that seems to care for him, yelling at him. He was on the brink of an anxiety attack and he wasn’t going to start crying in front of Dave.

He shoved past Dave and walked right into their shared bedroom, slamming the door closed. Thankfully, Dave didn’t follow.

---

Even though it caused a fight between him and Dave, Klaus couldn’t get the thought out of his head.

He laid in bed awake all night thinking about it. A quick glance at the click told KLaus it was three am and that he had been awake for way too long. At some point during the night Klaus heard Peter come home, but he didn’t leave the room and Dave never came to talk to Klaus.

He couldn’t stop thinking. He just thought that if he left, Peter and Dave would be able to afford their expenses. He had lived on the streets long enough to know how to survive, and it’s not like he and Dave would break up. Everything would be fine.

Klaus made up his mind. He quickly changed into some clothes that would help him back out on the street, leaving his keys, wallet, and new bracelet that Dave had bought him. He didn’t want it to be stolen. He quickly and quietly snuck out of the room, afraid that Peter or Dave would hear him.

He saw Dave laying on the couch, TV on and thin blanket that Peter’s mom had made him that was hardly long enough to reach his ankles.

Klaus gave him a sad look. He would be hurt, but once he had time to think about it, he would see it would be fine.

As quietly as he could, Klaus walked out the front door.

---

Dave had a rough night. He had followed Klaus to their bedroom when he ran off and stood outside for ten minutes before deciding he should give Klaus his space. He would rather he stay in the house than leave and go do God knows what.

Peter had come home a few hours later to find Dve curled up on the couch with some Hallmark movie on the TV.

“Hey, what’s wrong boo?” Peter cooed.

“Klaus,” was all he could say before tears filled his eyes. Peter had quickly rushed over and pulled his roommate into a hug, both worried and sad. Dave wasn’t afraid to cry, but he never did it often. He had grown up with his Dad as a role model and he never cried, so Dave had always done his best to mimic that.

It was hours of Peter holding Dave close, letting him cry on his shoulder while whispering soothing words into his hair before Dave had eventually passed out. He woke up laying on the couch, TV still on and lights out.

He slowly sat up, taking in his surroundings. Dave guessed it had to be very early in the morning, based on the lock of noise from Klaus.

Klaus.

Dave shoved his face in his hands and took a deep breath. He missed the man even though they were in the same house. He never liked fighting with Klaus, and it was the fights like this that killed him the most.

Dave made his way towards their bedroom, deciding that he wanted to lay with Klaus a bit before they talked in the morning—well, later that morning.

Dave opened the door to their shared bedroom, slowly walked in so that the door wouldn’t creak from walking in too fast. He looked around the room before his eyes landed on the bed.

The empty bed.

In a fit of panic, Dave turned the light on so he could look better. Klaus wasn’t on the floor, wasn’t near the window, Dave had even checked the closet. Nothing.

He quickly moved his search to the rest of the house. He check the bathroom, the kitchen, hell he even went back to the bedroom to check under the bed.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed Klaus’s number, praying to God that he would pick up.

No answer.

He called three more times, all having the same result. He scrolled down to Diego’s number and hit call. He knew Diego would probably be asleep and he felt bad for bothering the man, but he was the only one who would have any idea where Klaus would have gone.

“Hello?” A groggy voice answered.

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s early—”

“Dave?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I um, I need your help.”

“What’s up?” He heard sheets ruffling on the other side of the phone as well as a groan. Of course Diego was with Patch, that’s why he was asleep. She’s the only one who can actually get him to rest at night.

“Klaus left in the middle of the night after a fight and I don’t know how long he has been gone.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll help. He shouldn’t have too many places to go.”

“Okay.” Dave was shaking. He knows that he may be overreacting at Klaus leaving like this. Klaus was a grown man, he could leave if he wanted. He just gets so scared that something bad is going to happen, that Klaus is going to get hurt.

“You start searching by your house and I’ll start searching by the academy. He may have gone to talk to Five.”

“Not you?”

“If he doesn’t want to be questioned then I am the last person he would go to.”

Dave nodded in understanding. Klaus knew how to hide, he knew who to go to when he wants to hide or when he wants someone to find him. He is smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

“Right. Okay, I’ll call you if I find him.”

“We will Dave.” As soon as Diego hung up, Dave rushed to his closest to grab his shoes and some extra cash just in case he needs to bail Klaus out of somewhere.

A glimpse of light caught Dave’s eyes as he ran out of the bedroom. When he did a double take, his heart stopped.

There on the dresser was the barcelette that Dave had bought Klaus on impulse. Klaus mentioned they passed a jewelry store that he liked when bracelet in the window, so Dave had bought s miliar bracelet for a cheaper price. The sight of it made Dave want to call Diego back, say he found Klaus, let the man stay hidden because why else would he leave it?

He quickly shook that thought out of his head. If Klaus wanted to break up with him, he would do it properly.

---

Patch ended up helping DIego and Dave look for Klaus and she was the one who found him. She didn’t want to approach him, afraid that he would run, so she shot a text to Dave.

Dave rushed over to the donut shop she had last seen him where he know stands looking at Klays through the window.

Klaus had nothing in front of him, neither person nor food, but he was staring straight ahead like there was something there that killed someone close to him. Dave walked into the shop and kept his eye on Klays as he walked over.

He stood next to the table for a few seconds to see if Klaus would react. When he made no move to look at Dave, dave sat down in the spot right across from him. That caused Klaus to look up.

“I didn’t think you were a donut person,” Dave smiled. A look of guilt and shame morphed over Klaus’s face as he looked away from Dave.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled.

“What, did we not have a date planned?” Humor was always how Klaus tried lightening a situation and even if Dave never like doing it, he wanted to make Klaus comfortable.

When Klaus didn’t react, Dave let his smile drop.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’m here because I was worried. You left in the middle of the night with no warning or note.”

“Maybe I was just going on a walk,” Klaus snapped, still of the defense.

“Would you have come back?” Klaus didn’t respond.

Dave stared at his boyfriend,studying him to find his motives. He knew Klaus was the person who wouldn’t be found if he didn’t want to, but he also may not be thinking alrearly. Dave studied his face and body to see if there are any signs of him relapsing. Any new marks, slow motions, blown up pupils, anything. The only thing that he could see was a bruise blooming on his cheek.

“Where did you get that bruise?” Klaus reached up to his cheek and flinched as his fingers brushed it.

“I uh, I got it from Ben,” he mumbled. Dave’s eyes widened.

He knew Klaus had talked to Five who believed his powers might be stronger because he is sober, but neither of them knew how.

“It was Ben?”

“Look, I know you don’t believe me,” Klaus started rambling. “But I swear it happened! It was my Ben that hit me. We don’t know how because he can’t touch me again but it happened!”

“Klaus,” Dave softly interrupted. “I believe you. I’m just wondering what happened.” Klaus looked up at Dave with fear but curiosity in his eyes.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” Dave held eye contact as he reached over and grabbed Klaus’s hand trying to poor as much love into his touch as he could. He never wanted Klaus to be scared of him.

“I promise.” Klaus stared at him for a moment as he searched Dave’s face for any sign of a lie.

Once he decided Dave wasn’t going to be mad, he took a deep breath.

“After I left, I was just going to find an old alley to sleep in.”

Dave’s heart was crushed at the sentence. He always hated Klaus’s past, that he had to sleep on the street or with random people just to stay alive.

“The alley I found had one of my old drug dealers there. It was completely by accident that I ran into him. He didn’t know that I wasn’t there for him.” Klaus’s voice started choking up and Dave squeezed his hand to comfort him. “We started talking and he offered to give me a deal.”

“I was so upset that I hurt you and I had been struggling with cravings that I gave in and bought some. Ben had been yelling at me the whole time but I ignored him. The guy left and Ben started trying to convince me to not do it. He brought up my hard work, my road to sobriety, he even brought up you.” Klaus turned his head to look out the window. Dave saw a tear roll down his face.

“He had said you would be disappointed and it almost worked. I had told him I would throw it away and leave. As soon as he turned away though, I couldn’t help it. I was in so much pain and I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to be numb.”

Klaus was full on sobbing now and Dave couldn’t handle it. He quickly moved over to the other side of the table and pulled Klaus into his shoulder. Klaus turned his head to muffle his cries into Dave’s shoulder while Dave reached up to play with his hair and mumbled encouraging words to him.

“What happened after?” Dave asked as Klaus calmed down.

“I yelled ‘sike’ at him and put the pills in his mouth. Ben turned around and before I could swallow them the started a swinging a motion. I didn’t think it would do anything but then his hand made contact with my cheek and sent the pulls flying.” Klaus let out a laugh as he recalled the time. “We looked like idiots as we stared at each other. We tried figuring out if it was me or him.”

“And then you guys came here?” Dave filled in. Klaus nodded his head.

“And then we came here.”

“Well, I’m proud of you.” Klaus’s head snapped up and he turned towards Dave.

“What?”

“You didn’t relapse,” Dave explained. “You had the option to take drugs because you were in pain, but you didn’t. And you found new powers.”

Klaus stared at him in shock. Dave was about to continue until he saw tears in Klaus’s eyes.

“Oh, babe, why are you crying?”

“Because you’re so fucking nice,” Klaus sobbed. “I actually run away, try to relapse, and send you on a hunt at three in the morning and you come to tell me that you’re proud?!”

“Because I am.”

“I know!” Klaus took a deep breath to calm himself down. He was most likely embarrassed that he kept crying.

“I have one question,” Dave mumbled. “Why did you leave your bracelet at the house?”

“I didn’t want it to get stolen,” Klaus answered immediately. “I thought I would be on the street for a while and you could easily get a lot of money pawning that off.” Dave let out a breathe he didn’t know he was holding. “Why?”

“I thought this was your way of breaking up with me.” Klaus’s eyes widened in horror. He reached forward and grabbed Dave’s hands.

“Davey, no! I would never do that!”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Dave tried explaining.

“I love you, okay?” Dave looked at Klaus with a small smile on his face.

“I love you too.”

“Oh, I uh, should also tell you I pawned off my phone.” Klaus said uneasily.

“Why?”

“I wanted some money to help with rent or any bills this month.” Dave shook his head with a sigh.

He pulled Klaus into another side hug. Klaus tucked his head into Dave’s neck and Dave placed a small kiss on his forehead.

They would be okay.

---

It’s been two weeks since Klaus quit his job. It’s also been two weeks since Ben punched him in the face while trying to relapse.

The two of them of been trying constantly to touch each other again, to make Ben corporal again, but to no avail.

“You can do it, babe,” Dave mumbled one night after another failed round of ‘training’ with Ben. “You just need to focus on what you were feeling.”

The thing is, Klaus doesn’t want to focus on what he was feeling. When Ben punched him, he was in so much emotional pain. He has spent the last few weeks trying to ignore those feelings, trying to forget those events. He also doesn't want to relive the thoughts that convinced him running away from his boyfriend was a good idea.

While trying to ignore these feelings and figure out why he was able to make Ben coerpal, and idea popped in his head. It was a stupid idea, an idea that may cause problems, but it was an idea nonetheless.

“Klaus, what are you doing?” he hear Ben ask.

Klaus was standing in the kitchen with pills in his hands—at least they looked like pills. What he had in his hands were the pills that inflate into tiny dinosaurs when they are placed in water. Dave bought them for Klaus when he went ona dollar store run because he knew it would entertain his boyfriend. Thankfully they work for another purpose.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Klaus laughed.

“Klaus,” Ben begged. “Please for the love of God, don’t do this.”

“Why not Ben?” Klaus asked. He was able to hold the facade very well after years of having the same conversation over and over. “It’s just two pills. It isn’t a big deal.”j

“It is a big deal!” Ben yelled. “First it’s two pills, then three, then four, and now you’re overdosing every night on heroine and booze!”

“You’re overreacting, Benny.”

“No Klaus, I’m not overreacting.” He’s not, he’s really not. Ben has been there through every relapse, every overdose, every part of Klaus’s drug addition. If Klaus wanted to relapse now—which he doesn’t—he wouldn’t be overreacting.

For now, Klaus had to keep up the act. “It’s fine Ben,” Klaus snapped one last time before moving to throw the pulls in his mouth.

They never made it in.

Klaus felt a hand grip his wrist with an iron grip, stopping his hand from reaching his mouth. Klaus snapped his head to Ben’s angry eyes with a beaming smile.

“It worked!” he cheered. Ben gave him a confused look.

“What worked?”

“I was thinking that if I pretend to take drugs, you would be able to stop me!”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because,” Klaus drew out. He reached his hand that Ben wasn’t holding and grabbed his bicep. He almost screamed in glee when when he didn’t pass through. “I don’t want to relapse. I didn’t want to relapse when you decided me, so that means I’m subconsciously letting you stop me!”

Ben looked down at where he was still holding Klaus’s hand. He shook his head and let out a laugh.

“You—You did it, Klaus.”

“I did it!” he cheered. THe two brothers pulled each other into a tight hug while tears filled Klaus’s eyes. He can finally touch his brother!

“What’d you do?” they heard a third voice ask. They both turned their heads towards the entrance of the kitchen to see Peter standing there, work clothes on with a confused look on his face.

“Peter! You’re home!” Klaus laughed.

“Yes, I am.” He looked between the two men who were still in the hug, both afraid to let go. “Who is this?”

“Wait—” Ben started, but Klaus interrupted him.

“You can see him?” Peter flinched back at Klaus’s screech.

“Of course I can see him,” Peter mumbled.

“I thought I could just make you corporeal,” Klaus gasped excitedly. “But you’re actually visible too!”

“Dave is gonna be so happy for you!” Ben cheered back with the same enthusiasm.

“I should text him!” Klaus let go of Ben in a hurry to grab his phone from where ever he put it.

“You pawned off your phone, Klaus,” Ben reminded him.

“Wait, where the fuck did he go?” Peter gasped before Klaus could respond.

Klaus whipped around to look where Ben was standing when he moved. Klaus could still see him, but guessing on Peter’s horrified look, he was no longer corporal.

“Shit. He disappeared, didn’t he?”

“Klaus,” Peter drew out, “did you drug me? Am I high?”

“No, you’re not high.” Klaus stared at Ben with a sad, defeated look.

“Maybe it’s because you stopped focusing on me,” Ben supplied.  

“You need to tell me what’s going on,” Peter demanded. Klaus turned to him with the same sad look.

“You know my family, right?”

“Yeah? The Hargreeves, raised as the Umbrella Academy kids.”

“Do you know my power?”

“You can...see ghosts?” Klaus nodded his head.

“Yeah, well uh, I never searched the extent of my powers because I was afraid of the ghosts. I would take drugs to block them out.”

“But now you’ve been sober for—”

“Forty-six days. And that has brought attention to the fact that I might have more powers than I originally thought.”

Peter stared at Klaus in disbelief. He was always a good sport when Klaus had trouble or would talk to Ben, but this was something entirely different.

“So who was just here?”

“Ben.”

“Ben? Like, Ben that is always have and I have to watch out because he’ll be sitting in chairs?”

“Yeah,” Klaus laughed. “That Ben.”

“That’s awesome that you can do that, bitch!” Peter cheered in his own kind of way. “And if Ben doesn’t mind, I would totally be down to flirt with a ghost.”

“He’s straight,” Klaus said as Ben started laughing. Klaus knew he wouldn’t be upset. He had gotten a lot of compliments and relationship offers from both boys and girls growing up. “And I think aro?”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed.

“Damnit,” Peter cursed. He gave a shrug and turned to walk away. “Well, I tried. Back to being my lonely, gay self.”

“You’ll find someone,” Klaus called as Peter walked back to his room.

“When Putin legalizes gay marriage!”

Ben shook his head as Klaus laughed. His poor, gay idiots.

Ben loves them nonetheless.

[sweater-vest-reid]

All You Need is Love: Chapter Sixteen “Happiness is a Warm Gun”

A Love Story Told by The Fab Four / Inspired by “Across the Universe”

Spencer Reid: a genius, hardworking, dedicated FBI profiler. Persephone “Percy” Jacobson: a passionate, brilliant, ambitious FBI specialist, and the newest member of the BAU. Spencer doesn’t believe in soulmates. Persephone doesn’t believe in happy endings. Told nonlinearly, watch as time, each other, and The Beatles, proves them wrong.

Chapter List

~~~~~

A/N: The first part is inspired by Reid’s conversation about mold and addiction during “Full-Tilt Boogie”. Also, I have no idea how to write about addiction or withdrawal so bear with me pls. I also wanted to talk about Percy’s PTSD because I think that it’s important to note that, unlike on CM, PTSD (and mental illness as a whole) is a lifelong struggle, and that PTSD especially doesn’t just go away after the one year mark. Bonus points to me for the heathers reference lol. WARNING: This chapter talks about drug addiction and metal illness.

Listen here

~~~~~

She's not a girl who misses much She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand Like a lizard on a window pane.

{2007, 02x18, "Jones"} "Hey Reid, what's going on up there?" Morgan asked.

The team was on their way to New Orleans. Spencer, usually the first to start a conversation on the jet, was silent. He faced forward, lost within his own thoughts. That was Percy's first clue that he wasn't alright.

"I was just thinking about this own friend of mine from Las Vegas. Ethan," Spencer replied, "Pretty sure he lives in New Orleans now."

"Really? You gonna give him a call?" 

"We grew up competing against each other in absolutely everything," he explained, "Spelling bees, science fairs. We also both had our hearts set on joining the bureau, but the first day at Quantico he backed out."

"He probably just couldn't take the heat" Emily joked.

Spencer glared at her, "That's not really for us to judge is it?"

Spencer snapping at his teammates? That was Percy's second clue. 

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on with Spencer. Percy knew the reason he was so distracted, and the reason why he held on to his briefcase so tightly. Did he really think it was a good idea to bring the drugs on a case with him?

Morgan turned to Percy, desperate to relieve the tension between Prentiss and Reid.

"So, Jacobs, you planning on seeing your family while you're back in NOLA?" he asked her.

"First of all, please don't say NOLA out loud. It sounds dumb. Called it New Orleans, I'm begging you." Percy laughed, "I already called my brother. He said he's not working on this case, but I'm sure we'll see him around the station."

"What about your mom?" Hotch asked, "Have you told her you're in town?"

"No, not yet."

"Is something wrong? You two not getting along or something?" asked JJ.

Percy shook her head, "No, it's not that. When I took this job, my mom made me promise that if I was in town on a case, I wouldn't visit her until the case was over."

"And why is that?" asked Emily.

The whole team was focused on her. Percy didn't talk about her private life, so the team was hanging on to every last word. 

"She's deeply disturbed by the work that I do, and she knows that if I visit her before I finish a case, she'll end up hearing about it in some way. Even if I don't talk about it, she'll still know. When I was younger, she used to say that she could always tell what I was thinking, even if I was trying to hide it from her. All she had to do was look at my face and she'd know what was going on."

The last few words she spoke directly to Spencer, and he knew his secret was out. He thought he was hiding his addiction well enough, but Percy saw right through his ruse. 

Out of habit, he reached over to his right arm. Through his sweater, he felt for the bruises that dotted his arm. He pressed down on them, hoping the pain would distract him, but it did nothing to suppress his intense craving. 

After all, the only thing stronger than his desire to quit was his desire to keep going.

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down Down to the bits that I left uptown I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

{2007} Spencer placed another stack of books on his table. It was his day off, and he planned on spending it at the library. He read book after book, trying to suppress the craving that was taking over his life.

He was trying to quit, he just didn't know how. His research told him that the drugs would be out of his system within a few weeks, that the withdrawal for his particular vice of choice was quick.

He didn't believe a single word.

It was all he could think about. No matter what he did, no matter how many books he read or how many documentaries he watched, all he could think about were those two little vials that sat in his bedroom.

He knew he should get rid of the bottles, but he was scared. The dilaudid was the only thing that let him sleep through the night. At this point, he hadn't slept in three days. 

But he'd rather never sleep again than continue to hurt himself like this. He wanted to be in control of his body again. He was just worried about what it would take to get that control back.

The book he was currently reading wasn't distracting enough, so he slid it to the side, turning his attention to the piles of books that sat in front of him. While searching for a new book, his ultimate distraction appeared in front of him. 

Percy stood across the room, scanning the shelves. She already had a few books piled in her hands. Spencer was surprised to see her there. He came to this library often, and he never saw her here. 

Spencer slouched in his chair, trying to hide from her sight. Normally, he would have hoped she'd come over to him. He loved talking with her. Her presence alone was enough to brighten his day. But at that moment, Spencer just needed to be alone. 

He knew that Percy knew about his addiction. At this point, he suspected that the whole team knew. They would constantly ask if he was alright and if he wanted to talk. It frustrated Spencer. However, Percy never asked. She didn't treat him differently. But, sometimes, he caught her staring at him, her face full of sadness and pity.

Spencer watched as Percy stopped scanning the shelves and started scanning the room. He quickly pulled the book in front of his face, but it was too late: she'd spotted him.

He listened as her footsteps grew closer. She pulled up a chair, and sat down, setting her books on the table. 

"I know you'd rather not see any of us today, but I needed to talk to you." She began. Her voice clear and steady, as if she'd rehearsed for the conversation. "I know what's going on Spencer. And we don't talk about it, but I'm sure the rest of the team does too." 

Spencer shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes glued to his book. 

Percy took a deep breath, "When I was younger, I got into some bad stuff. My mom tried to help me. She was incredibly supportive. But that wasn't enough for me. I continued down my bad path. So, my mom switched gears. She forced me to fix myself. She forced me to turn my life around. I wouldn't be where I am today if she hadn't given me that tough love."

The book he was holding slowly dropped to the table, exposing his face to Percy. His eyes, however, refused to make contact.

"So, I'm going to give you that same tough love. You have to get better, Spencer. Not for the team, not for your job, but for you. And you're going to need help. People always think they can do this alone, but they never can. I get it if you don't want to ask us for help, and I not going to push you to do that."

Percy grabbed her books and stood up, "Have a good day off, Spencer. I'll see you at work."

Percy walked away, leaving one of her books behind. 

"Hey!," Spencer called quietly, "You left one of your books!"

But Percy was already gone.

A small piece of paper slid out from the book, and Spencer leaned down to pick it up. On the front, it read: Beltway Clean Cops.

He knew her coming here wasn't a coincidence. She wanted to help him, and out of respect, she did it when they were alone so the curious eyes of the team wouldn't interrupt.

Maybe she was right. What he really needed was some tough love.

He looked down at the paper, reading the information when he noticed a small handwritten note at the bottom. 

Please, Spencer. Get well soon.

Mother Superior jump the gun Mother Superior jump the gun

{2009} Percy shuffled papers around on the desk. She was frustrated. A file she'd pulled five minutes prior had mysteriously disappeared. She wanted to double check the information before the team delivered the profile, and she only had a few minutes left. She dug through the last pile, accidentally knocking the papers under the desk.

"Fuck me gently with a chainsaw" Percy mumbled as she climbed under the desk to clean up the mess.

"You alright down there?" 

The voice startled Percy, causing her to bang her head on the desk. With the papers in hand, she climbed out. Spencer stood before her, a cup of coffee in one hand and a file in the other.

Percy rubbed the sore spot on her head and stared at the file he was holding. It was the one she had been looking for. 

"Percy?" Spencer asked, "You okay? You hit your head pretty hard."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Is that the file on the unsolved double homicide in 2007?" Percy asked, frustration leaking into her voice.

"Yeah, I wanted to skim it over again. Make sure I didn't miss anything." 

Percy inhaled sharply, placing her hands on her hips. She was trying her hardest not to get upset, but on that day her patience ran thin. Every voice she heard annoyed her, and every crime scene photo pushed her a little closer to the edge.

"I was looking for that," Percy stated coldly.

"Oh…my bad," Spencer said, handing her the file, "I should have told you I took it. Sorry about that"

"Jacobs. Reid. We're ready to deliver the profile." Hotch said as he walked past. Spencer turned to say something to Percy, but she had already walked away.

Spencer kept glancing over at her during the presentation. He was worried about her. Yesterday she'd been her normal self: bubbly, patient, motivated. But today, Spencer believed that knocking over a cup of coffee would be enough to set her off. 

"How are we supposed to learn about the attack if the victims' kids won't cooperate? Are there ways we can get them to talk?" asked a police officer. 

"Yeah. Kindness." Percy spat.

The officer was startled, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, the information the kids have is vital to the investigation, but these kids just lost both of their parents. They're not being uncooperative, they're in shock. They're grieving and we need to treat this situation with respect. Got it?" Percy finished her response with an ice-cold glare.

Percy quickly glanced over at the rest of the team, making eye contact with Spencer. She was far away, but he could have sworn her eyes were watering as if she was about to cry.

Percy was silent for the remainder of the presentation. Once the crowd of policeman dispersed, Percy stomped back over to the file covered desk. Spencer followed.

"Percy, did something happen?" Spencer asked.

"What are you talking about?" she responded, purposefully avoiding eye contact. 

Spencer leaned on the desk, "You're not acting like your normal self. You almost bit that policeman's head off. And before that, you were about to flip this desk over looking for that file."

"People have bad days, Spence. Get over it."

They were quiet for a moment. Spencer didn't want to give up just yet.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she spat.

"Percy please, I'm just trying to help"

Percy scoffed, "Well do me a favor and stop trying."

Percy stomped to the conference room, and Spencer followed again. Rossi was the only one in there and immediately noticed the tense atmosphere.

"Is there a problem?" he asked Percy. 

"Yeah: Prodigy over here doesn't know when to back off." She growled as she grabbed her purse. Percy made her way to the station doors, forcefully bumping Spencer's shoulder as she passed. 

"I don't know what I did," Spencer said as he watched her walk out of the building.

Rossi sighed, "This happens every year, kid. It's not your fault. Although, you should give her some more space."

"What happens every year? What do you mean Percy acts like this every year?" Spencer's asked, confused. 

Rossi looked at the young agent, his face going from understanding to shock, "She hasn't told you, has she."

Spencer shook his head. 

"It's July 28th, Spencer. That's why she's so on edge." Rossi explained. 

"I'm sorry Rossi. I'm still not following."

Rossi took a deep breath, "Today is the anniversary of her father's death"

Happiness is a warm gun When I hold you in my arms And I feel my finger on your trigger I know nobody can do me no harm

Percy leaned on the cold brick wall of the police station. Furiously, she dug through her bag, looking for the one thing she knew would calm her down. She'd hid it at the bottom of her purse, so there was no chance of the team finding it. Eventually, she retrieved the small box, pulling a lighter out with it.

It was a pack of cigarettes. The same brand her dad smoke when she was growing up. She opened the package, pulling out a single cigarette. She threw the rest of the pack away. The last thing she needed was to smoke the whole pack. She had no intentions of returning to her teenage smoking habits. 

She held it between her teeth and lit the end, a familiar and nostalgic smell surrounding her. Memories flooded her brain as she took a long drag. 

When she was little, she would remember hugging her father and smelling the cigarette smoke that settled into his sweaters. Her mother hated her father's bad habit, but Percy didn't mind. Secretly, she'd always enjoyed the smell.

Closing her eyes, she could almost imagine her father standing next to her. Percy savored the idea, knowing she would do anything if it could mean having one more moment alone with him. 

It had been over a decade since Percy came home from a friend's house to find her father's body. The anniversary always affected her, and mixed with their current case, her day was becoming a bit too much to handle.

Her doctors told her she had what they called uncomplicated PTSD. Percy would often re-experience her trauma and was the victim of frequent panic attacks. But Percy's case was a bit different: usually, people in her situation avoid stimuli that remind them of the trauma. Instead, Percy surrounded herself with reminders. Going to crime scenes, talking with families of victims. Her medication helped, but her therapist believed that the reason her flashbacks kept returning was because of her work. They'd recommended that Percy should distance herself from that world, even just for a short break, to let her mind begin to mend. But Percy's job meant the world to her, and she knew that walking away from it would do her more harm than good. 

She felt the tears begin. Percy didn't wipe them away, instead, she let them slide down her cheeks. She had a rough day ahead of her, she could allow herself a few tears. She took another drag, the bitterness of the smoke mixing with the saltiness of her tears. 

That's how Spencer found her: up against the outside wall, her cheeks wet and shiny, and a half-burnt cigarette balanced between her fingers. 

"I didn't know you smoked." He said, already uncomfortable with the situation.  

He'd startled her. He could see a touch of panic in her eyes as she faced away from him, quickly wiping the tears away before responding, "I don't. Not anymore."

Spencer inched closer to her, "That's a pretty conflicting statement coming from someone with a lit cigarette in their hand."

Percy looked down at the ground, and Spencer swore he saw a small smile. The Percy he knew (and loved) was still there, just hidden under layers of grief. 

"My dad used to smoke. The smell reminds me of him. Makes me feel close to him again." She replied sadly. 

There was a beat of silence before she spoke up again, "It's the anniversary- " 

"I know." Spencer interrupted, "Rossi told me."

She nodded, grateful for his interruption. She hated saying it out loud. "Every year I think I'm going to be better. And every year it's the same"

Spencer nodded in understanding. He knew what it was like when it felt that you couldn't control your own mind.

Percy dropped the cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with the heel of her boot. She could already feel the twinges of addiction creeping back in. She knew she needed to stop before it became an issue again. 

She knew she needed to walk back in. She had work to do. But she couldn't move. She didn't want to look at those photos again. Plus, she was embarrassed by her behavior. She'd crossed a line.

"Are you okay to head back in?" Spencer asked.

"I think so. That policeman just touched a nerve, that’s all" 

Spencer opened his arms, motioning for her to come to him.

Percy raised an eyebrow, "Spence? What are you doing?"

"Offering you a hug? At least that's what I'm trying to do."

She stared at him in disbelief, "You hate hugs."

"You need one. I can tell."

"What about my germs?" Percy teased, mimicking his tone, "You are aware that it's safer to kiss than hug?"

Spencer laughed, "I'll take my chances. Come here"

Percy needed no further convincing. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. He gently rubbed her back, the motion soothing her.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you" she whispered.

"it's okay. I'm sorry I was pressuring you to talk." He whispered back.

"You were trying to help, Spence. Don't worry about it."

"You know I'll always be there for you, right?"

Percy hugged him tighter, "I do, Spence. And thank you. You have no idea what that means to me."

Well don't you know that happiness is a warm gun, yeah

AYNIL Tags {Message me if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters}: @theofficeofsupremegenius / @everybodywantstobetouched / @keepcalmandlovetomhiddleston / @criminal-navy-writings / @whale-of-a-time / @anton-shudders / @lizardbet / @bestillmystuckyheart / @veroinnumera

Forever Tags {Like / reblog this post if you want to be tagged in everything I write}: @jugbyers / @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals / @brithefairy / @sweetestcreaturefionn / @chocok22 / @yakirei / @innocent-until-proven-geeky / @bethany-lynn01 / @loverosetyler / @mindsunleashed / @reidspinach / @wishing-to-be-somewherenew / @queensalphawolf / @xtaylorscat / @mutifandomgirl / @lifeisabitchandsoareyou / @daskiwichen / @beysenpai / @genericanimefan876 / @ratclanqueen / @thatspookyhoe / @isabelzimmer997 / @doctorspencerreidrp / @barnstormingt 

[themurphyzone]

Secret Santa Ch 1

Welcome to my first Christmas story in MML! I kind of wanted to do something different and give perspective to Milo’s classmates that have at least had a major supporting role. Well, two of them are fairly minor but I really love writing them anyway. You’ll see what I mean!

I was originally planning to release this story on December 1, but my impatient ass can’t wait any longer. 

Ch 1: Amanda

Amanda was about ready to throw her pen against the wall in frustration. She’d already used up half of the allotted thirty minutes in her schedule for brainstorming ideas for the Secret Santa exchange.

The paper remained devoid of any ideas, apart from a few words that had been neatly scratched out.

It was Lydia’s fault anyway for signing her up without permission. Or Melissa’s. Or both. As far as Amanda was concerned, they were equally suspicious.

What was she even supposed to give Chad? She didn’t know him that well. He was nice enough, but his attempts to prove Mr. Drako was a vampire weirded her out. And he tended to be the first to go down when Murphy’s Law struck.

In other words, he would be the hypothetical first victim in a zombie apocalypse.

Wait….

Vampires. Zombies. The paranormal.

Amanda’s brain whirred to life as she hastily sketched a bubble map. Chad liked to formulate theories and gather evidence to support them. Conspiracy theories, weird happenings, spooky stuff.

Maybe she could take a page out of his book and collect her own evidence on what he liked.

Her timer went off, and she stored the bubble map in her school folder for later. At least the history worksheet she needed to finish didn’t cause any stress.

“You are not going up to Chad and asking him for a gift idea,” Lydia said, shaking her head in disapproval. “Kinda kills the point of being a Secret Santa.”

“I’m not going to ask him what he wants outright!” Amanda complained. “All I did was dedicate four to six minutes to having a conversation where I subtly lead him into stating his interests! I made a bubble map, Lydia! I am not letting those fifteen minutes go to waste!”

Lydia blinked. “You made a bubble map. For a gift exchange.”

“Yes,” Amanda said. “I wrote down a main idea and added supporting details. I would’ve added color, but I ran out of time.”

“I know what a bubble map is,” Lydia sighed. “It’s just not gonna help me. I think I got the worst recipient of all. Are you sure you don’t want to switch with me? Nobody needs to know!”

She leaned over Amanda’s desk, grinning excitedly. Amanda edged back in her seat, keeping Lydia at arm’s length. “I don’t like doing things spontaneously. Sorry.”

Lydia groaned, backing off so Amanda could have her personal space again. “Okay. FYI, I’m probably procrastinating on this like everything else that doesn’t involve theater club.”

“Procrastinating on important things is just going to-“

“-increase anxiety and throw you down a well of endless despair,” Lydia finished. “I heard the spiel before. Like, fifty-three times now.”

Amanda allowed herself a small smile. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”

Lydia shrugged. “I have a tally chart.”

“And you were getting on my case about the bubble map?” Amanda giggled.

Before Lydia could reply, Chad entered the classroom behind Milo and his friends. “We’ll finish this conversation some other time,” she whispered, scrambling out of the way before she could be a target within the splatter zone.

“I’m telling you, Mr. Drako doesn’t have a reflection in the mirror!” Chad exclaimed loudly. “How else do you explain the Hall of Mirrors incident at the school fair?”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “He didn’t have a reflection because the school couldn’t afford to supply the mirrors and substituted plastic wrapping instead?”

“I remember that!” Milo said. “Remember when Zack and I were wrapped in the plastic like a double burrito?”

Zack groaned. “Do you have to remind me?”

“Yes,” Melissa replied.

Amanda caught Milo’s eye, and he quickly looked away, his face slightly red. That was…odd. Usually he didn’t pass up a chance to greet her.

She mentally filed ‘wonder what’s up with Milo’ under lunchtime. She had a goal, and she needed to seize this perfect opportunity.

“Chad, how exactly do you know so much about vampires that you’d accuse one of the nicest teachers in the school of being one?” Amanda asked. Everyone stared at her.

Amanda wanted to curl up in the back of the school closet and waste away in the darkness among all the cobwebs and dust bunnies. Did that sound accusatory? That totally sounded less accusatory in her head.

“Easy. My vampire blog requires a lot of research into vampire lore.” Chad replied. “You know, traditional ones like Dracula to more modern portrayals. That sort of thing.”

“Now that sounds like something I have to follow!” Milo exclaimed, pulling out his phone. “What’s the name?”

“Transylvaniaterrors.com,” Chad said. “It’s a forum dedicated to everything paranormal. My blog is-“

Milo held up a hand. “Could you write that on a piece of paper? Sorry, my wi-fi cut out.”

“I’m not getting a signal either,” Melissa said, checking her phone.

Screams erupted from the hallway, followed by the sound of stampeding feet. Melissa shoved Zack in the direction of the door. Zack glared at her, carefully opening the door by a hair.

He shut it again after a few seconds.

“They’re panicking over the wi-fi,” Zack said as he pushed his back against the door as several loud thuds echoed from it. “Gonna need a blockade over here!”

Milo, Chad, and Lydia quickly pushed the teacher’s desk in front of the door. Amanda opened the window, preparing the escape route in case the desk plan didn’t work.

Thankfully, the desk held the door in place just fine.

Unfortunately, third period would probably be delayed for a while. Hopefully the situation didn’t extend into fourth period.

Amanda collapsed on her bed, exhausted. The wi-fi hadn’t come back until the last twenty minutes of the school day, which rendered her Wednesday schedule obsolete. She grabbed a nearby planner and a blue pen, too wiped to properly color-code the box.

She scribbled in ‘Expect Principal Milder to go on a five to seven minute lecture about rampaging in the school hallway during announcements’ under Thursday.

She would think about Chad’s present on Friday once she gave herself enough time to recover from a messed up schedule.

Her inspiration came the next day, when a cabinet in Mr. Drako’s classroom almost fell on top of Chad, revealing dozens of vampire teeth.

Everyone in the class looked at Mr. Drako for an explanation. He shrugged. “My ex-wife worked at an arcade and had a lot of these fake vampire teeth lying around. They’re actually pretty good things to toss into children’s Halloween baskets. Glow in the dark too!”

“I think I’m turning! I’m sorry guys! Tell my turtles I love them! The sun is slowly sucking away at my being!” Chad hissed.

Melissa leaned over and plucked one off his shoulder. “Chad, you’re not a vampire,” she said, shaking her head.

Chad slowly opened his eyes. “I’m not?”

Zack held his phone. “Chad, do you see yourself in the camera?”

His eyes widened. “Stop making me feel better! The undead is my realm now!”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Tilt the camera down. It’s pointed to the ceiling. There. I see you. You are not a vampire. Can we get back to the lesson now?”

Chad sighed in relief.

While Mr. Drako flipped through his slides to figure out where they’d left off, Amanda took the opportunity to write ‘go to discount bookstore’ in the Saturday afternoon slot.

Unfortunately, Lydia’s idea of helping Amanda decide on a book turned out to be making her read the summaries of YA vampire novels and choose one. While they were all within her price range, she doubted Chad would be interested in poorly written romance.

Besides, she figured he was more into the lore.

“Early Evening?” Lydia suggested, holding up a thick book with a black cover. “Maybe not. The prose really isn’t for everyone.”

Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Definitely not pile.”

“That’s the only pile we have so far,” Lydia sighed, setting Early Evening on top of a stack of five books.

Amanda groaned, regretting not doing any research into vampire books beforehand. “We’re doing it my way now,” she said. “We’ll just put everything on the cart and see if there’s a mythology or paranormal section.”

It took two minutes for Amanda to organize the books in an order that satisfied her. Lydia leaned against the table with her elbow, checking her phone.

“Need help with your gift?” Amanda asked, setting the books into the cart.

“No!” Lydia exclaimed. “I don’t need help! I totally have ideas and I have every intention on following through on at least one of them!”

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Whose name did you draw anyway?”

“Bradley! I drew Bradley of all people!” Lydia hissed. “He’s going to hate what I get him.”

“I don’t think he will,” Amanda said.

“He hates everything that isn’t a bolted self-serve ice cream machine or people who aren’t named Melissa,” Lydia complained.

Amanda shrugged. “Okay, we’ll figure yours out after this. Just help me find a book for now.”

The paranormal section was two aisles over from the YA novels, and appeared a lot more promising to Amanda.

After five minutes, she selected a rather compact book that held information about vampires and similar creatures from different cultures around the world. “Good choice,” Lydia grinned. “Chad’s definitely gonna love it. Unlike Bradley anyway.”

Amanda nodded. “I hope so. And if he doesn’t like the book, at least he’ll be nice about it.”

“And now you’re just rubbing it in.”

[mestizo-efp]

Ten Minutes omegaverse

OMG I’ve finally made it! It was never ending…please note that this is the first time that I’ve translated one of my fiction soooo…..please don’t kill me. I know it will be full of mistakes but I did my best. Let me know your thoughts

19 Days,Omegaverse AU

Chapter 1

He Tian x Mo GuanShan

NSFW

Summary: “He stripped off as quickly as possible and threw himself under the hot water of the shower. The awareness of using He Tian’s shower caused him an annoying feeling at his stomach as if he was sharing something intimate and private. He tried to move as little as possible, avoiding to move his feet so he wouldn’t touch too many tiles. He didn’t want to leave too many traces”

“According to recent studies at Tsinghua University, the number of Omega-class subjects is considerably decreased. The estimates point to a 50% decrease from 2010 to today and it seems that the rates are set to rise. The causes are to be credited to increased consumption of suppressants by the Omegas parties and their increasingly effective and lasting effect. This does not exclude a possible extinction of the Omega-class in the next twenty / thirty years. To date, the number of Alpha and Beta make up for the most 95% of the world population ”

«Tch,» said Guanshan clicking his tongue, tossing the magazine in the trash «Bullshits».

Sometimes he wondered why they would throw away so much money in these sensational “studies”, if in the end they always get half of it, pulling out of mere conjectures or percentages. A practical example? Both of his parents were Beta, they didn’t use suppressants, yet he was somehow born as an Omega. How was it possible?

It was his curse.

There was a knock at his door, which was locked.

«GuanShan?» it was his mother «How do you feel? Do you want something to eat?»

«No Mom, I’m fine»

There was a brief moment of silence «All right».

GuanShan listened to her footsteps receding into the kitchen before making a big sigh.

Had he always been so good at lying to his mother? The truth was that he was feeling pretty darn bad.

He has told his mother that he had a bad stomach disorder, the truth was that he was in heat, that disgusting heat.

It made him feel uncomfortable and being his first year it came in an irregular manner and with unclear effects. Sometimes he felt a fire in his veins, sometimes he felt the need to jump into a tub of hot water. Sometimes he could eat a whole cow, sometimes just the thought of swallowing a single grape made him want to vomit blood.

He had told anyone, not even to his mother. At school, everyone thought that he was a common Beta, and thankfully his first heat came during the night, while he was still in bed. He knew suppressants, and if he had told his mother she would surely rush to buy them, but the problem was just that: their damn price. With the excuse that Omegas were increasingly rare and medicines increasingly sophisticated and powerful, their price had skyrocketed. The financial situation of his family was not good, damn, at most he could afford a single pill, which would still be a waste because it would not be useful at all. So, last year, every time the heat appeared, GuanShan locked himself in his room for five long days, making up a different excuse each time.

For safety, he always closed the window so that the smell does not peep out attracting whomever. He had not understood what could be the reaction of an Alpha to an Omega during its heat. All that things about pheromones were confusing, but it frightened him anyway, even if he would rather die before admitting it to himself. He didn’t care, and he preferred not to go out and test it for himself, that was certain. He saved money and took a few days off away from school and from He Tian, that asshole.

“Disgusting!Disgusting!Disgusting!”

His feelings were at odds even with themselves. On one hand the excitement provoked by the heat, and on the other hand, the disgust and hatred for all that concerned it. It was as if the two sides were fighting each other for dominance, but something was preventing the victory of one or the other. As if something was missing.

He despaired thinking of having to live the rest of his life that way … he had to earn more money and get a lifetime supply of suppressants.

Suddenly the phone rang. GuanShan snorted, cursing himself for forgetting to turn it off. He took it and read the name on the display: Gao Peng. A classmate, it was strange that he was calling.

“That’s strange …” he answered the call «Hello?»

«GuanShan? What happened to you? It’s been a while».

«I…had things to do»

There was a brief silence «Look, something bad has happened»

«Something bad?»

«Yes, this afternoon Ma Qiang has clashed with some guys from another school and tomorrow they want to settle things, we need your help»

“Damn it”

«I … I don’t think I’ll be there»

«What? Are you kidding me? Do you understand or not what happened?»

«I get it! I’m telling you that I have some fucking problems and I don’t know if I can be there»

«You’re still the same! When there is a need you disappear! Ma Qiang is in trouble and he needs us! Are you scared or something?».

GuanShan tightens his fist so hard that it hurts him. He narrowed his eyes, biting his lip.

«A-Alright … I understand we’ll meet tomorrow at the usual spot»

«Finally! See you tomorrow».

It took several minutes before GuanShan fully realized what had just happened.

«Fuck!!» he shouted, pulling a strong punch to the mattress.

He stood up, making back and forth across the room. What had he done? Had he just agreed to come out of the house in full heat with no suppressants? How stupid!

He crouched on the ground running his hands through his hair. He could not go back, call and say that he could not go. They would have called him a coward and, damn it, no one was ever allowed to call him that way in the face without going back home with a few teeth less.

“Okay, okay,” he thought, “Think, there must be a solution, any solution”

He thought for a long time, considering all possibilities, but every possible plan went to hell whenever, in his head, he put one foot outside the house. He lived in a damn city, with thousands and thousands of people. God only knew how many Alfas could be around. Although … maybe in his district, not so many.

An idea flashed in his head, it was pretty good, but not without its risks … and certainly a big loss. He gets up, approaching his desk and opening the second drawer, there appeared a double bottom that kept inside a case. GuanShan grabbed it, sighing. They were his only personal savings. He had promised himself that he would use it only in case of absolute necessity, perhaps for his mother or to pay off some debt.

It wasn’t much, a few savings accumulated over three years with sporadic jobs.

The temptation to put it back in its place was strong, very strong … but what else could he do? He was not a coward, damn it!

He sat on the bed, clutching the case for a few minutes.

“Okay, I can do this. I will recover in some way, even if it means doing something for that bastard ”.

He took the phone and began to formulate the phases of his plan. In his district, there was a pharmacy open 24h-24h, which was a blessing in his case. He had to go around two, three in the morning, to encounter fewer people as possible. Following the back streets, there was a chance he met anyone. The possibility of finding an Alphas’s salesman or saleswoman was slim to none. They usually were quite wealthy people, unlike him. He would buy the most disgusting and cheaper brand of suppressants and then he would return home.

He nodded satisfied, feeling a sense of relief: he had never taken suppressants and the idea of finally being able to get rid of that discomfort heartened him a little.

He spent the rest of the afternoon and evening studying the best route and the places to avoid. There was a nightclub, on the way, that usually stayed open all night and it was quite busy, but it was quite far away from the pharmacy.

At two in the morning, GuanShan went into the bathroom, making one of the longest and cold showers throughout his life. He rubbed his skin up to scratch, eliminating any trace of smell. For security he splashed a lot of deodorant and perfume; although it was summer, he covered his mouth with a scarf, but not before having brushed his teeth three times. He looked like a thief, but who cares. He thanked the fact that his mother was a heavy sleeper, and furtively he left the house as quickly as possible. He followed his ideal path to perfection, checking at every turn that the way was clear. The plan seemed to have a great success and GuanShan, happy and victorious,

managed to reach the pharmacy without meeting anyone. He does not even remember the last time he had felt so satisfied with himself. He was so happy he ignored the embarrassment of having to grab the box of pills and the curious gaze of the saleswoman. Omegas were rare. He went out and stood for a moment in front of the automatic doors, pulling out the suppressants' box from the small plastic bag. All of a sudden GuanShan lost all his enthusiasm. 148 Yuan for that miserable light blue box. There were only a dozen pills inside… and they were the less expensive ones.

“And so they go my savings…oh well”

Sighing, he put them in his pocket, he began to get very hot and it was better to go back home. He looked up and…

«Ah!» said someone, right in front of him.

“It can’t be” thought GuanShan, incredulous and bewildered: He Tian. He just came out of the 7 Eleven which was located in front of the pharmacy and he was holding a bag full of snacks and pre-cooked meals.

How the hell had he forget about He Tian?!? He lived in the area, and that was one of the shops that he frequented more often!!! He had completely forgotten.

He Tian seemed quite surprised to see him and after the first moment of surprise he tilted his head to one side and grinned, pointing him «You’re still alive, where have you been?».

GuanShan backed away, his heart began to beat fast-paced, so strong that he felt the veins of his neck throbbing. He was terrified, to say the least, a thousand and one questions began frantic buzzing in his head.

Did He Tian saw him with the suppressants in his hands? Did he put them away fast enough? There was someone else with him? Was he sweating? And if he were somehow sending some kind of scent without realizing it? No, that didn’t matter unless He Tian was …

“Oh, shit” he suddenly realized “He Tian … an Alpha?”

Wasn’t it obvious? Rich, arrogant, swaggering, with thousand of girls always around him, taller at least three spans more than a common Chinese… and strong, terribly strong. So strong that he was able to knock him down with just one hit of his knee.

He stepped back again, and to confirm his doubts something strange pinched his nose … it wasn’t a smell … more like an annoying itching of the nasal septum. For a moment he felt like an electrical discharge that reached his brain.

«Hey…» said He Tian, drawing his attention «… is that a scarf? You did realize it’s summer, right?»

Guanshan widened his eyes if he got too close it would be the end. A deep and powerful cry rang through his whole being:

“RUN!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Gritting his teeth and eating the asphalt with the shoes, he ran as fast as the wind and almost imagined the confused expression that could have He Tian at that time. But who cared, damn it? He just had to run. Go home, close himself inside his room and take those damn pills. As quickly as possible, he stopped only when he was almost crashing to the ground stumbling into a flower bed. He crouched down, catching his breath, and then pull himself up and, looking at the sky, taking a deep breath. NOW he was soaked with sweat. He wiped his chin, looking around.

“Huh?” he thought “Wait a minute”

He turned a few times, recognizing the road but making a terrible discovery: he had taken the wrong direction. It was on the opposite side to where there he should have been.

He pulled his hair, exasperated. He knew he was unlucky, but this was ridiculous. “Who is that bastard who sent me a curse?!? I’ll kill him! I swear I’ll kill him!”

Well, he could not waste time. He turned and froze. A group of people was coming right at him, they looked as if they have just come out of a nightclub and even though he was a few steps away GuanShan distinctly felt the stench of smoke and alcohol.

He could not move, he stood there like a statue until they passed him. And just when in his mind he was going to breathe a sigh of relief …

«Hey …» someone said «What’s this smell?»

For the first time in his entire life, GuanShan’s blood seemed to freeze in all his body. Pure, simple, fear.

He turned. A man in the group (taller than the others) was looking around him. His eyes and those of GuanShan met for a split second, but that was enough for the man. GuanShan thought he saw a spark ignite in the stranger’s eyes, and an electrical discharge went through him from the tip of the hair to shoes. No one else in the group seemed to sense something, but he still followed the gaze of what he was now certain was an Alfa. GuanShan saw him open his eyes wide, surprised, and then smile in one of the evilest and wicked smile he had ever seen. He had no hope of fighting, not in those circumstances. They were a group of six men, all certainly older than him and in his state, he would not hold the effort. Once again the only solution that was he able to follow was to escape. He had hopes of succeeding? He found no answer because his legs had begun to move even before he knew it.

«Get him!» he heard shouting behind him

«What? Why?»

«I’ll explain later! Don’t let him getaway!»

Even without looking GuanShan distinctly heard the footsteps behind him, following him numerous and unrelenting.

“Why? Why? Why!?!?! ” He thought, angry- no, furious with the whole world. The hell! He didn’t have a choice, no one had asked him to be born that way! To hell with his parents, that asshole of his father and the fucking money that were never enough. It wasn’t his fault, he did nothing.

His lungs began to burn with fatigue, as well as the legs and arms. But the footsteps behind him were still there, they didn’t stop.

Something tugged at his sleeve and he fell to the ground tumbling, banging his nose and his cheek. Heedless of the pain he pulled up as quickly as possible, pulling punches and kicks to anyone who came within range. He was able to hit a couple of men, but the other four swooped on him, hitting him first in the face and then in the stomach.

He gasped, spitting blood.

They slammed him against a wall, surrounding him. He had to blink at least ten times before he was able to distinguish their faces.

«Let me go you bastards» he managed to hiss

«Who is he?» asked one of them to the Alpha «He owes you money?»

The man didn’t answer but instead approached dangerously close to GuanShan, inhaling a deep breath of air at one centimeter from his nose. The boy felt such disgust that could barely suppress a gag. The tingling in his nose was different from before, it was strong but so annoying it was giving him a headache. Its smell was rotten and sour, like rotten meat.

«I knew it,» said the Alpha, making one step back and grinning malignantly «An Omega»

The other members of the group were surprised to hear those words, widening their eyes and looking at the Alpha.

«An Omega?» they said

«I can’t believe it»

«I thought they were gone … Where does he come from?»

The man licked his lips, hungry and GuanShan found no escape in the wall behind him. The Alpha seemed deaf and blind to the world around him, he followed GuanShan’s movements as a starving beast, imposing his gaze on that of the boy. He expected a small movement, just a spasm of a muscle, and he would jump on him.

«Don’t touch me» GuanShan hissed, with a narrow view in front of him, where the figure of that animal stood threateningly. «Fuck, stay away, I’ll kill you … I’ll kill you».

He repeated all the insults that came to his mind, spinning like a broken disk. He could not do anything else.

He wanted to shout, punch him and make him eat the asphalt with his teeth, but he couldn’t. A strange instinct rooted in him forced him to submit, to not run away. But that wasn’t what his head wanted, he wouldn’t give up, for nothing in the world, at the cost of dying.

Fighting against his own will, GuanShan bent his knees, fisting with all his strength. But it was useless, the man seemed to have had a terrible burst of adrenaline and, grabbing GuanShan’s wrist, he advanced in his direction, pushing him strongly against the wall and leaning on the boy with all his weight.

«FUCK!!! LET GO! LET GO! LET GO!!»

Grabbing him by the forehead, the Alpha pushed GuanShan’s head with incredible force against the wall behind him. The boy felt a sense of total loss, and his view blurred until it disappeared into a white mist. The world roared frightfully for a long time, until one hand first touched his hip, then his neck.

He also heard a voice, blowing into his left ear.

«I always wanted to try an Omega … it’s a shame that he’s a fucking brat and not a pretty girl but … I’ll settle for it»

“No,” GuanShan thought “Not to me… not to me”

At that moment he somehow remembered reading somewhere that a person could commit suicide by biting its tongue. Hemorrhage is such that you can almost drown in your blood.

He was already pressing his teeth in the soft flesh of his tongue when for some reason the Alpha seemed to stop.

«What’s happening ?!» shouted the man.

Then the pain in his head still prevented GuanShan from seeing clearly what was happening, he could only hear footsteps and noises. The man’s grip disappeared from his wrists and he slipped to the ground, unable to stand.

«Who the fuck are you?!» said someone.

The Alpha burst into an animal cry, screaming ferociously. GuanShan looked up and managed to distinguish two figures, one of whom recognized as the aggressor, thanks to the white shirt he wore. The other was just a blend of blurred colors. GuanShan shook his head, shaking his eyes with strength and resting his forehead on the cold asphalt beneath him.

The fight went on for a long while until there was a tremendous hustle created by the fall of a garbage bucket. Then, silence.

GuanShan rolled his back to the wall and raised his arms to his face.

He wanted to escape, but he couldn’t, he could only hope to protect himself. He heard the footsteps, which were closer, closer and closer. He clenched his teeth, forcefully and almost believed that he would explode, when a voice woke him up.

«Hey»

As if touched by a hot iron, GuanShan frowned incredulously, wide opening his eyes and mouth: He Tian. He was right in front of him, kneeling to the ground, at his height. He looked at him seriously and sweaty.

“What is this?” GuanShan thought, relieved to have recovered his sight. Around them, the aggressors were lying on the ground, and farther the Alpha with his head inside a garbage bucket tilted to one side.

“What is this?” GuanShan thought, relieved to have recovered his sight. Around them, the aggressors were lying on the ground, and farther the Alpha with his head inside a garbage bucket tilted to one side.

It took him a few moments to fully realize what had just happened and what had been avoided thanks to He Tian’s intervention. Just the idea made him nauseate.

«What» GuanShan’s throat was damn dry, talking to him was hurting «You, here … why?»

He Tian shrugged, indifferent «You ran away that way, it wasn’t polite from you»

Should he answer? What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know, GuanShan didn’t understand anything. He looked down at his hands: they were dirty and… they were trembling. He held them tight, closing his eyes.

“It’s over… it’s over”.

He opened his eyes and saw He Tian staring at him, then he remembered. It wasn’t over yet, even He Tian, he was an Alpha too.

Trembling he stood up, barely resting on his legs.

«Home» he whispered, «I need to go home»

«I’ll go with you,» said He Tian, standing up and leaning a hand on his shoulder.

That touch, mild and strangely delicate, burned like a fire on the boy’s skin, which snapped at the side by hitting his arm and turning away with a terrified look.

«NO!» he shouted, but seeing He Tian’s gaze, he tried to keep himself together «No, I’m…I’m fine»

Stumbling over, GuanShan managed to reach the main road toward his home. He Tian, however, followed him at a distance, his hands sunk into his pockets.

«Stop following me,» said GuanShan, but He Tian didn’t listen to him «Stop it!» he shouted, turning towards him.

«I just want to make sure you get there in one piece»

Deep rage came from GuanShan’s depths, which against all common sense fluttered on He Tian, gripping him by the collar of the shirt.

«You’re happy aren’t you? To find out all this! Another reason to look down on me, to feel superior and treat me like scum! I don’t need anyone, you hear me? DON’T DO IT!!! Don’t look at me with pity, that’s what I hate the most … It makes me wanna… puk …»

He felt a sense of nausea so strong and deep that for a second his head swirled like he was riding the tallest roller coaster in the world. He had to get on the nearest bush and use it to reject all dinner and probably that morning’s breakfast. And then the rest of the bile, burning like fire. And the humiliation of being attacked and hunted like an animal, and the fear of what might have happened.

He tried to breathe again, but at the first breath of oxygen, he was forced to sink into himself.

He breathed through his nose, forcefully, forcing himself not to die choking. He was dirty with mud, sweat, and now that crap he had thrown up, what would his mother think? He passed the back of his hand to his lips, noticing He Tian behind him, still where he had left him.

«Come to my house, so you can clean yourself up» he snapped out of nowhere

«Fuck you!!» answered GuanShan, without many compliments.

He Tian approached quickly, keeping a distance that wouldn’t put GuanShan uneasy. They looked into each other's eyes, intensely, and GuanShan’s legs seemed to turn into melted butter as well as the rest of his body.

«Come» he ordered, baritone «l won’t do anything, I promise»

And, turning around, he walked away. The boy didn’t move, shifting his gaze from the deserted road to He Tian, who was moving away. A noise sprang from an alley and GuanShan cursed himself, as he followed He Tian’s footsteps.

They walked at least five meters from each other, yet GuanShan still felt that strange pinch in his nose, compared to that of the bastard it was almost pleasant and light, like a warm breeze. He closed his eyes for a second and breathed in, founding himself quieter, relaxed. They reached the skyscraper and entered the elevator. GuanShan hesitated a long time before closing in such a cramped spot with He Tian. But He Tian was imperturbable, standing in front of him, giving him his shoulders and impassive as ever.

“Perhaps, I’m wrong?” GuanShan thought, looking at him while he was calling the floor number, should he ask him?

«Why?» he whispered, staring at his neck «How, how do you manage to …»

«Hold me?» He Tian said, preceded him, without turning. «Let’s say … I have a will of iron when I want to» he turned his eyes a little, staring at him with the corner of his eye «Although I must admit that you are putting me in serious difficulties»

«Tch … go fuck yourself» spat GuanShan crossing his arms.

«If it’s any consolation» He Tian continued with a grin «You also have a particular control, it’s weird»

«What would you know?!»

He Tian smiled, but GuanShan preferred to ignore him. The elevator stopped its run. The corridors were empty and the lights dim; GuanShan walked through the threshold and noticed that He Tian’s apartment looked increasingly empty and sterile. He Tian dug in a box pulling off a trouser and a shirt, then moved to the kitchen filling a glass of water and then giving it to GuanShan.

«You know where the bath is» he sighed, returning to the kitchen to empty the shopping bag.

«What’s the water for?»

He Tian chuckled, avoiding turning to «For what you bought at a pharmacy and for which you came out as an idiot at three in the morning»

GuanShan blushed «You bastard! This is none of your business! Stalker!» he ran into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

In the bathroom (as big as his bedroom) He Tian’s smell was particularly strong, so much it made him feel dizzy.

“I need to hurry”

He stripped off as quickly as possible and threw himself under the hot water of the shower. The awareness of using He Tian’s shower caused him an annoying feeling at his stomach as if he was sharing something intimate and private. He tried to move as little as possible, avoiding to move his feet so he wouldn’t touch too many tiles. He didn’t want to leave too many traces.

He washed quickly and grabbed a towel, studying his face in the mirror: he had bruises on the left cheekbone and his right eye was a bit bloated, his lower lip had a cut and when he touched his head he felt a bump, aching and swollen.

“All in all I’m not that bad,” he thought, wiping his hair firmly. “If He Tian didn’t come,” a shiver spread through his spine. “Maybe… maybe I should thank him” just the idea gave him goosebumps so he grasped his trousers in search of the suppressants.

“Uh?” He said, feeling the right pocket empty “What the …” the left pocket was also empty.

He tugged on his pants, shaking them with force.

«They’re gone,» he said. At that point, the desire to desperately cry terrible curses was strong, damn strongly. Too bad it wouldn’t have returned the pills, nor the money he had spent.

«Fuck!» he hissed, throwing his pants against the mirror «Fuck, fuck, fuck». Why did he leave his house? What the fuck had jumped in his head? Damn Gao Peng, he would’ve killed him.

He sighed, placing his hands on the sink. There was a much bigger problem at the moment: He Tian. He seemed to know how to control himself but … how far could he trust him? He had to go home, but would he let him go out without the use of suppressants? No wait, He Tian couldn’t know he had lost them, he could tell him that he had taken them and ran home. It was a few blocks away; He didn’t want to risk… but at that moment he was in the wolf’s den, literally.

“All right,” he said, determined.

He dressed in He Tian’s clean shirt and trousers. He wiggles his nose when he finds out how oversized they were and how much they were full of the boy’s smell. He pulled the shirt to his nose and sniffed it gently, it was such a natural gesture to realize what he was doing just after a few seconds.

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

He drank the water and left the bathroom. He Tian was near the window and he was talking on the phone. GuanShan stopped, curious.

«Yes,» he heard him say. «It looks like him, no doubt. In the identity card, I got there is also the same name» GuanShan saw him throw an identity card on the ground, and from the photo, he recognized the asshole of a few hours earlier «I want you to crush his bank accounts, lose his job. So that everyone knows which son of a bitch he is. I want to see him crawl, get it? And if he tries to get nearby …» the voice from the other end of the cellphone seemed to interrupt him. «You get it,» he said to him. «So then… I’ll leave the rest to you» And then he closed the call.

“Huh,” GuanShan thought, remaining a few seconds behind the bathroom door, before opening it and then getting out. The two exchanged a glance and for some reason fell into an embarrassing silence, the atmosphere was strange, and GuanShan realized that as soon as He Tian immediately darted his eyes as if he had been stung by a needle.

«You were quick,» he said, throwing his cell phone on the bed and heading to the counter on which he had placed snacks and sweet sandwiches. «Hungry?».

«No I-» stammered, the redhead «I’m going home»

He Tian looked up, crunching a cracker «How much time does it takes?»

GuanShan tilted his head «What?»

«How much before the medicine work?»

«Oh, Uhm …» “Damn it!” He didn’t have the slightest idea! It ranged from product to product … he said the first thing that came to his mind. «T-ten minutes … more or less»

«Wait here, then go wherever you want»

«Don’t decide for me, asshole!»

«Don’t go if I don’t say so! Sit and wait for these ten miserable minutes! Or do you want me to tie you to bed?»

This last threat scared GuanShan, who sat down on the opposite side of the house, leaning his back on the cold glass wall.

“Why the bed?” He thought, tapping his forehead on his knees. And now? He could wait all night, but nothing would have happened, what should he do?

Suddenly he felt tired and had to fight hard not to close his eyes and hang himself there, on the floor. That damn smell had a strange effect on him.

«Hey,» said He Tian.

GuanShan sighed, holding his head low. «What do you want?»

«I know you’re pretty stupid but …»

“ This asshole…”

«Why didn’t you send someone else to buy them for you?»

GuanShan looked up, looking at him in rage. «You who are so smart don’t ask this stupid! You lazy bastard».

He Tian chuckled, shaking his head and lighting a cigarette. He took it to his lips, taking a big breath.

«Alright then» he walked thoughtfully, filling the room of the acrid smell of tobacco. Breathing it, GuanShan noticed something strange: that was the smell that He Tian usually had: tobacco and cologne water. What he felt during his heat was another thing: it was a smell not derived from the external elements … it came from He Tian himself, from his skin, from his breath. He couldn’t explain with words but it was something more … deep.

He shook his head, looking at the watch hanging over He Tian’s head: seven more minutes.

«So,» said the young man «Here’s my conclusion, which is, by the way, quite obvious» he rested his hip to the opposite wall, looking at a random spot over GuanShan’s head. «Pills are very expensive so you didn’t want to tell your parents about your conditions, so they wouldn’t have spent more money to buy it. For some reason today you needed them more than usual so you came out without telling anyone and … well, you did a very stupid thing».

GuanShan wrinkled his lips, annoyed by the fact that He Tian had guessed everything but most of all because hearing about his plan in that way it made it sound really stupid.

«Well look at that…apparently I’m right» grinned, He Tian

«Shut up! This is none of your business!» shouted GuanShan

“Four minutes, four minutes”

«What do you think you know? I-I had things to do»

«I know I would think twice before risking so much. Do you know how it is said? Living sick to die healthy. Maybe I’m not the one too attached to money, after all»

“This is too much”. The ten minutes had passed.

GuanShan stood up, too tired to argue.

«I’m leaving» but before he could only take one step, He Tian blocked his way. GuanShan looked at him badly, he knew he would not approach him.

«Nothing changed»

«What the fuck do you mean?»

«The suppressants» hear him say that word for the first time filled him with anger and embarrassment. «I can hold back, but … I can still “feel”, nothing has changed since you left the bathroom. No effect»

«T-that's not…» “Fuck! This is bad!”

He Tian stared at him, slowly stretching a hand, «Let me see, the pills»

GuanShan quickly moved his eyes from He Tian’s hand to his eyes «Why should I?»

«No reason. I want to see them»

Instinctively the guy stepped back, and He Tian seemed to realize everything «You lost them, didn’t you?»

GuanShan tightened his lips, lowering his gaze.

«And what if I did?»

«What if- ?!» He Tian took a few steps, then stopped, closing his eyes and clenching his fists.

He reopened them after a few seconds.

«You’re stupid. After what happened … in spite of everything …» he chuckled, shaking his head.«No.. You thought I wouldn’t notice it?»

GuanShan took a second step back «This is none of your fucking business»

The smile disappeared from He Tian’s lips, which, like a lightning strike, approached GuanShan, pushing him against the glass wall. He didn’t touch him. The distance between their bodies was just over a centimeter. GuanShan had He Tain’s chest right in front of his nose and despite all, he could feel the beats of his heart. They were fast and strong. Like the roar of thunder. He Tian’s face was just above his head on the left side. He breathed heavily … as if he were tasting the air. And his body emitted heat, burning like fire. The smell became so strong that it penetrated him to his brain. It wasn’t going well … at all. He Tian swallowed soundly, his hand slipping slowly over the window behind him.

«Do you know what you are?» whispered at that moment He Tian, his voice was profound, dry as if he was dying of thirst «Right now you are like a child with a knife in his hand. You feel safe about you, shaking it right and left, unaware of how dangerous it is for you … and for those close to you»

GuanShan’s breathing became irregular. His stomach, like all his blood, seemed to catch fire. He blushed on every inch of his skin, stiffening like a statue.

“Damn it…” he glanced down, taking the back of his right hand to his lips. Then on his forehead “Stay calm, stay calm”

«Even now» continued He Tian, lowering his face and nearing GuanShan’s cheek. «Do you realize how dangerous you are?»

“Getaway! Don’t touch me! ” wanted to shout GuanShan with all his strength but in opening his lips, no sound came out, or at least it seemed to him. He was confused, he had to move away from He Tian, now!

He raised his hands on the boy’s collarbone and pushed him with all his strength: he managed to move him by one step.

He Tian grabbed him for his elbows, lowering his head until he touched his head with his forehead. GuanShan tried to get away, but his movements were slow … soft. He tried to move He Tian’s head with his own, pushing him away. By contrast, He Tian continued to press his forehead on him, with just as much force as he made him almost hurt. That strange strength test continued for a while, with the hair of the two boys gently rubbing one with each other, the movements were slow, delicate … similar to caresses. Like the cats that dangle their heads against their companions as a sign of affection.

With a swift movement, GuanShan pushed up but inadvertently, He Tian’s face slipped into his hair, bringing them face to face.

He Tian’s eyes were half-open, and a strange heat was coming out of them. For a moment they lingered over those of GuanShan, then lowered slowly to his lips. Their faces were so close that GuanShan could see the boy’s dark hair move at the breath of his nose. He tried to release his arms from He Tian’s grip, but he didn’t get away, he held him too strong. The heat was unbearable as if it had a fever: it burned everywhere.

He Tian’s lips were half-open and … so close. He closed his eyes and his body floated lightly in the darkness where he closed, feeling a strange feeling, like a pleasant tingling throughout his body.

Then something soft rested on his lips. He opened his eyes, finding him there, leaning over him, with his lips gently resting on his. They too, burned. He moved away, turning his face and bringing his forearm to his lips.

«N-no …» he whispered

In contrast, He Tian grabbed his arm first, moving it away, then grabbing his chin, turning GuanShan towards him. He kissed him again, with more emphasis.

He Tian’s smell seemed to be strengthened as never before, so much that GuanShan believed he could taste it.

“This is bad …” he thought, “I can’t… I’m losing myself”

With the last shred of reason he had in his body, he tightened his lips, trying again to push him away.

He Tian answered that gesture biting his lower lip, licking it on the cut. He Tian’s hands caressed him with light movements moving over his clothes. First on the back, throughout its length, then on the chest following the rib line.

The kisses moved to the cheek, then to the ear.

«Asshole,» said GuanShan in a low voice «Pervert … no, stop»

He felt mortified, humiliated, he wanted to push him away, trample him like the scum that he was. But the energies had abandoned him. Once again his instinct was about to prevail, and unlike a few hours ago, this time his mind wanted to surrender too. Why? Why did the situation look so different from before?

With a sudden strike, He Tian’s hand clenched on GuanShan’s head, pulling his hair, forcing him to raise his head.

“Hot” GuanShan thought “I’m so hot …” he opened his mouth, looking for oxygen.

«This expression» whispered He Tian, more and closer «Are you provoking me?»

He Tian’s tongue slipped through the damp lips of GuanShan. He explored every corner, and GuanShan was lost in a thousand and more sensations that he had never experienced until then. An electric shock passed through his back to his brain, sending him in full short circuit. Their tongues intertwined in a frantic dance without the time of one breath.

He Tian’s lips were soft and good, sweet.

They continued for a long time until they were forced to breathe again. He Tian licked his lips, drying a string of saliva from GuanShan’s lips with his thumb.

The boy lowered his head, his legs became soft and he could not stand to his feet, shaking his head, looking down from it «What … what did you do to me?»

He Tian approached, widening GuanShan’s legs, placing a knee on his groin. He bit his left lobe, licking it slowly.

«I’m the one who’s supposed to ask that» he whispered. Even his voice was hot «Look what you did to me».

He took GuanShan’s right hand, slowly guiding it over the swelling of his pants.

GuanShan blushed, moving his hand so fast that it seemed to be burning.

«You’re a fucking pervert» he whispered, looking away

He Tian chuckled, licking him behind his ear «And what about this?» He Tian’s knee pushed higher, and GuanShan jumped up. It wasn’t painful. Horrified, he looked down on himself, noting that he was pretty excited himself.

«So?» continued He Tian, rubbing his leg more vehemently «Mhn?»

«S-stop!» GuanShan stretched out his arms, trying to move the boy’s leg. In contrast, He Tian threw himself on him with all his strength, pulling up one of his legs and making their hips join. He began to move without any modesty so that his thrusts would have enough friction to give pleasure to both of them. GuanShan once again forgot the world around him, his heat amplifying everything: the feel, the hearing, the smell. Every push of He Tian on his body brought him such pleasure that he had to bite his lips forcefully to hold back the sighs of pleasure that pushed to go out.

He Tian noticed it, lifted his face, forcing him into a kiss so he could open his mouth.

«I want to hear you» he whispered to his lips, before kissing him again «I want to hear your voice»

«N-no… mhn» He Tian’s tongue did not give up, preventing him to shut his mouth or catch his breath. The pushes were more and more concise and fast.

GuanShan shook his head, prey to his emotions. He raised his head, narrowing his eyes.

«Ah!» sighed, following the rhythm of a particularly strong push «Mnm … ngh …»

He Tian grinned, satisfied, grasping his ass and clinging tight to him, striding with more and more force. «Look at you … you have a perverse expression, you know?»

GuanShan closed his eyes and tightened his teeth with all his strength. He couldn’t allow He Tian to do as he wanted … not that way.

He leaped forward, clinging to He Tian’s back and biting him on his neck. He didn’t care and probably used more force than he wished to use. He felt He Tian whirring, pushing him against the glass wall. The black-haired boy placed his hand to his neck and looks almost surprised not to find it stained with blood. He glanced up at GuanShan, who was staring at him.

«You thought,» he said, «that I would stay silent while you were enjoying yourself?» he pointed his finger against him «In your dreams, you fucking bastard»

He Tian licked his lips, grinning «Are you sure that making me angry is a good idea?»

«WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?!» With an impetus and incredible speed, GuanShan loaded a fist, but He Tian stopped it very easily. Grasping his arm, he bent it firmly behind GuanShan’s back and pushed him without regard against the cold window.

GuanShan tightened his teeth, furious with himself. He watched the condensation of his breath, and the city beneath them shone intensely.

He was leaning on him, his big, warm chest over his back. His hips close on his. Something hard pressed on his bottom and already knew what it was. With the corner of his eye he saw him grin and approach dangerously to his lips; but GuanShan, frowning, turned away, leaning his forehead against the window.

He Tian chuckled, resting his lips on his nape and talking through his hair.

«So stubborn… maybe» his breath lowered, more and more «I should soften you a bit». He licked on his neck, right between his shoulder blades.

At that point, GuanShan opened his eyes, terrified. He tried to get away with all his strength, but He Tian didn’t feel any reason, and indeed he held him even stronger.

«H-hey» stammered the red «Are you kidding me? Let go!»

He Tian kept on kissing his neck, centimeter by centimeter. He knew what he was doing and it wasn’t good. If he had bitten him in that place, he would have formed a bond. GuanShan would be marked for life as He Tain’s companion, it would be his Omega. He didn’t … he couldn’t! Not that way, not so suddenly, he was too young and a bond would have forced him in the same way as a chain. He had too many things that he had to do.

“He can’t be serious”

«Enough!» with all his strength GuanShan bent his free arm, trying to pull away He Tian’s face. The black-haired grabbed his hand, licking the index first, then the middle. He turned him, staring at him

GuanShan swallowed at the sight of that look: he was completely lost in the excitement And his smell… GuanShan could be inebriated. He Tain kissed him again, with much, much more force. He grabbed his tongue biting it and licking it. He never had enough.

Once more, he stretched his face over his shoulder, turning him and heading toward his neck.

GuanShan grabbed his shirt, pale. He wasn’t reasonable, not anymore.

Desperate he grabbed him by the hair, at the cost of hurting him he pulled with all his strength; He Tian moaned, brushing himself over him. He was close to his neck, too close.

«Don’t do it ok? Listen to me!!» now he was practically kicking him. Annoyed He Tian threw him on the ground, leaning over him.

«Stop struggling» he whispered to his ear

«N-no!» GuanShan stretched out his hands, leveraging his forearms. He Tian’s hand moved on his back, pressing on the bump and making it hurt; He pushed him to the ground, immobilizing him. One of He Tian’s hands moved to his groin, slowly massaging GuanShan’s erection over his pants.

His thin lips touched him first on his shoulder, then the scapula and again on his neck.

GuanShan opened his eyes, trembling.

He heard He Tian’s tongue, his breathing, and excitement … and his teeth, which slowly began to press.

“Don’t do it” he thought “Please”

GuanShan’s head was in complete chaos and everything went out in a single terrified shout.

«HE TIAN!!!!!!!!!» cried GuanShan, with all his strength, burning his vocal cords.

Something broke in that instant. Suddenly the apartment was cold and silent. More empty than it had ever been.

With tight fists at the sides of his face, GuanShan didn’t even lookup. He clutched his teeth with force, cursing himself and cursing all the rest. He heard He Tian get up and get away; Without is weight and warmth he felt a painful cold feeling.

He listened to him walking a few steps, remaining anchored to the ground in his misery.

He heard a tinkling of keys and the opening of the apartment’s door.

«Sleep here,» said He Tian’s voice. It had a weird sound, which he couldn’t define «Later you can go home».

The door closed with a hit sound and immediately closed with three key turns.

GuanShan rubbed his forehead on the parquet, taking two deep breaths. He shook his head, punching it with fury until his knuckles bleed.

He sat down and looked down on him, disgusted in seeing how excited he was. He gets up, walking slowly toward the door, knowing that it was closed, but he lowered the handle anyway, pushing with force. Giving it a couple of kicks, hurting himself.

He passed his hand over his forehead, then his eyes and finally his neck, finding it still wet of He Tian’s kisses.

In the bathroom he washed his hands and face, forcing himself to not look in the mirror.

Returning to the room, he looked at the bed, but disgusted, he felt the smell of He Tian even at that distance. He crouched to the opposite side of the room, clenching his legs to his chest.

His mind was strangely empty, his stomach feeling heavy and turned like a sock. Something bothered him, something had gone in a way that didn’t give him peace. He had shouted his name so strong that he must have sounded terrified.

“Were you not?” whispered a voice in his head.

“I don’t know”

“Just like with that guy in the alley”

«NO!» He shouted suddenly, and he realized: it was regret. He felt guilty because He Tian, having heard him shouting like that, must have felt at the same level as that Alpha who had attacked him like an animal.

He bit his lower lip. “I’ll never feel guilty for that asshole.”

He lowered his eyes and closed them. A deep tiredness wound him and the clock ticking scanned a time he could no longer follow.

“I wonder,” he thought, while his sleep slowly wrapped him up. “What expression did he had … before leaving?”

A few hours later, GuanShan woke up thanks to the sun-lit daylight, which warmed the entire apartment. The night view was breathtaking, but even during the day, it was amazing. He was lying on his side and his back hurts so much. He had a headache, and the bump on his head seemed to be more swollen. He shook his head and noticed, a few feet away from him, a blue box.

He stood up, looking around: no trace of He Tian.

He grabbed the sealed box by turning it into his hands; They were suppressants. The ones he lost. He closed his eyes, sighing.

He Tian had written something on the box: “5 minutes”

Somehow GuanShan found himself laughing.

“Not ten huh,” he thought, opening the box and swallowing one of the pills.

So little, that was it. His body would stop being like a stranger and his enemy, people wouldn’t attack him on the street, and he would stop feeling like a fucking little girl.

He passed his hands through his hair, shaking his head.

“Ah,” he noticed, after a moment, pulling He Tian’s shirt “This smell … this too, will it fade away?”

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. Yes, five minutes, only five. For that little time, it would be granted, he would taste it a little more, slowly.

He closed his eyes, pulling the shirt even further.

“Not ten… huh”

[sordidpassionsandlockedemotions]

-day 5 of malec week non supernatural au-

“Back up means both of us Jace.” “Well I am busy so you will just have to deal with being solo helping the other cops with that party.” “Fine whatever.”

Alec flipped his partner off and stormed out of the police building well mentally, outwardly he kept an indifferent mood. Getting in the squad car driving to the address of the out of control party. Replying on his radio he would be there soon.

Once at the party he got out watching that everything was mostly in control. Heading inside to help which was an lot of calling people rides and so on. Eyes glancing at one person all dressed up,good makeup most of the people were famous not that he knew names or cared. But swore his sister had mentioned this guy possibly.

Was attractive maybe not the best taste in hobbies though. Soon the place was mostly cleared out and the man came up to him much to his surprise,“Sorry it got out of hand.” Oh so he threw the party well that was amusing.

“Happens actually was easier dealt with than a lot of situations.” Noting the eyes glance him over he glanced towards the door everybody even the other officers were gone. Great well he needed to get back to work they must have forgot about him. “I need to get going on duty and all.”

“Of course thanks Officer Lightwood.” Alec gave an nod quickly retreating out to the squad car and drove back to work. Life went along as usual collapsing on his couch when he got home. Quickly opening up the internet on his laptop trying to figure out why the male from earlier was recognizable.

*more under read more cause length*

Then it made sense make up artist his sister must have had him at some point,or in general would explain why she had mentioned him and to his surprise had an pretty cool name. And regrettably he found himself scrolling through social media mostly because had to admit the other was talented.

Night ending with delivery food and falling asleep watching television. Saturday was his day off so he slept most all day then did everything he couldn’t during work days. Heading to the store for groceries seeing the area he was in empty stood on the cart and pushed with his foot like an skateboard foot back on made his way down an aisle.

Quickly getting off and halting the cart on seeing the smiling face and the person standing there of course just his luck it was the other male. “Could hurt somebody doing that.”

Alec pretended interest in some fruit snacks. No way was he doing it socializing especially when he felt funny around the other. Or especially considering they first met when he was on duty.

“Shame you aren’t in uniform,then again you are attractive with or without it.” Oh great shameless flirting his worst social situation. “By the way you wouldn’t happen to be related to Isabelle Lightwood would you?”

“Yeah she is my little sister.” Why had he answered? Putting the fruit snacks down looking at the other. “And if you want her number or whatever ask her.” Was the other smiling in amusement yeah most surely was. Alec glanced around felt boxed in for no reason.

“Thought so she mentioned you sometimes, and hardly would be my interest she is very pretty but an good friend.” Ah great so they were friends and Izzy no doubt whined how he could be so much more than an officer. “If you aren’t busy later care for an drink?”

“Sorry probably will be.”

The weekend dragged on and Monday afternoon was more torture than relieving. Especially as his phone went off with an text probably Jace or Izzy. Orrr not apparently.

[Text from:Unknown] Hey this is Magnus Bane your sister sent me your number [Text from:Unknown] Sorry if this is weird

Alec sighed leaning against the nearest wall no need walking home,or anything else would not be wise. Always got injured multi tasking texting and heading home.

[Text to:Unknown] Uh hey [Text to:Unknown] An bit but I know it was her idea or whatever

No replies for the next five minutes ugh whatever. Walking home with his phone turned off coat off,shoes and then dug around for something to eat. Turning his phone back off and nearly smacked his head on an open cupboard.

[Text from:Unknown] It sort of was [Text from:Unknown] Being fair I might have mentioned I thought you were attractive and charming [Text from:Unknown] And I was wondering if we could have an drink sometime

Blinking mean was not new but at the same time could hardly keep rejecting… Then again he didn’t want to either. So instead he thought an moment picking the phone up to reply.

[Text to:Unknown] You uh okay then [Text to:Unknown] Persistent aren’t you? [Text to:Unknown] Fine Friday night red wine

Setting it down surprised with himself but busied himself making dinner. Listening as his phone went off an couple times. When Friday night rolled around he arrived nervously at the other’s house. Hardly ever dated or really done much too busy or at least was his excuse. Double checking his clothes right before the door opened.

He could feel his breath leave his lungs the other’s hair had dark pink tips,sparkly eyeliner,jewelry,dressed in an waistcoat well he felt under dressed. “Alexander.” Alec swallowed and stepped inside was just an drink why was he so nervous.

“Hey Magnus so you uh look great.” Well that was terrible he kept his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. The door shut and he reminded himself was nothing compared to patrol,nerves were way worst though no instructions to liking somebody. 

“Thank you,and you look good too.” Soon they were sitting down drinks in hand Alec was mostly looking at his though. Unsure what small talk had passed by,was hard to focus on anything but the make up artist. Taking an sip of his drink,the place looked amazing when not decorated with remains of an party. 

“So why aren’t you an model,or singer your sister said had the talent but you chose to be an cop instead.”

“Didn’t want the spotlight much,wanted to help people what about you make up artist why not fashion or something?” Alec looked at the other curiously hadn’t meant it at first but now seemed genuinely curious in the other’s choice of job. 

“I like doing it,art of an sorts meet interesting people.” Their eyes locked an moment and Alec glanced at his drink taking an sip. “Would prefer the idea of us having met sooner were you not in law enforcement.” Alec turned an slight bit red odds of them ever meeting was next to nothing,that party had been an game changer for sure. “What was that too much?” Oh now the other was just teasing. 

He swallowed,”That’s uh cool and you really have an way with words.” Drinking an portion of his goblet down. Eyes noting that impish smirk on Magnus’ face and what could almost be taken for an loving stare. “You don’t dance around much do you?” 

“Around what I want to say no,can dance though.” Alec turned an bit redder of course the other probably was capable of so much unlike him. Out of his league even finishing his drink he set the goblet down. Seeing the glass already there,half full of whatever Magnus had been drinking. “You add me properly in your phone yet?”

Alec coughed,”Um not yet why?” Smoothly the other pulled out an jewel encased phone holding it out. Probably was real diamonds or whatever he noticed but didn’t comment,realizing why the phone was being offered. 

“Could use an picture of you for mine,and I’ll fix my information on your phone.” Taking out his phone,plain in comparison he swapped with Magnus staring at the already filled in information. Eyes widening in surprise at the other’s pick of name ‘Alexander Lightwood possible boyfriend’. Swallowing he quickly took an picture,hated pictures of himself but why not.

Holding the phone back out,”Shameless much?” Getting an grin from the other,followed by an brush of fingers as the phone was taken felt electric almost. Alec took his phone back studying the information,picture,and of course the name was changed to ‘Magnus Bane’ just that well okay so the other wasn’t ruthless.

“Well it’s true,would really like to date you.”  “If you count this as an first date I’m moving.” “That’s an bit drastic Alexander.” “I’m curious could’ve done anything to the name why didn’t you?” “Because maybe you’ll come up with something yourself.” “Why would I do that?”

He felt Magnus move closer and almost just dropped his phone. Heart beating at an somewhat alarming rate,he lost his opportunity to keep himself from falling the second he saw the other. “Because Alexander we just might be falling in love.” 

Alec turned his face fully towards the other about to reply when the other moved closer,”If I can count this as our first date,do you mind if I kiss you?” That wasn’t what he expected,the asking made his breathing catch again in surprise. 

“Thought you were already assuming such,and okay but only if our second date involves less making me blush.” An eye roll and he tilted his head as the lips pressed against his,maybe he’d be happy with somebody an while. Happy with Magnus,though he felt glitter transfer onto him not so great but forgivable.

[jemkook-blog]

the reason why

word count: 5318 pairing: yoonmin playlist: the reason why by halcyosu (me)

warning! mentions of alcohol

the first time that yoongi meets jimin, it’s more like a dream than a conversation, colors whirling brightly as jungkook tugs on his hand and insists that it can’t just be the two of them and namjoon, that yoongi needs someone to talk to in case namjoon and jungkook get too caught up in each other.

“are you setting me up on a double date?” yoongi asks dryly, but he can’t find it in himself to even be a little angry when there are cheers and laughter and when the amusement park all around them is filled with life. besides, he knows that his best friend doesn’t mean anything by it. yoongi, jungkook, and namjoon had always been the power trio, but things had been a little off since two of them fell in love. it was nice to have them looking out for him as they always did, and he secretly hoped that whoever this person was, they would be relaxed enough to join their group.

he wasn’t expecting someone whose height is equal to his own with a face that looks as though it’s been touched by an angel. he’s all smiles as he introduces himself, and yoongi relies on his usual quiet demeanor to cover up the fact that he’s astounded by the galaxies that seemed to reside within park jimin.

love at first sight might be a stretch, but there’s an immediate attraction that he can feel tugging deep in the pit of his stomach.

the day passes all too soon, even though it’s been eight hours since jungkook had dragged yoongi into the park, but yoongi spends all of it trying not to betray the new feeling that he feels blossoming in his chest and spreading pink petals across his cheeks. when namjoon asks, a hint of wry knowing in his voice, he blames it on the cheap bottle of soju that they had picked up after dinner.

“i didn’t take you for a lightweight,” jimin says, his tone teasing, and yoongi reassures him that he’s anything but - he had picked up another bottle on the sly and had it all to himself. this isn’t a lie; the desperate, vaguely panicked look that he had spent so much of the day had come out when talking to the cashier, and she kindly offered him another bottle half off.

“is it the one with the sunrise hair?” she asked curiously, and she took the bitter curve of his grin as assent. she gave him a genuine smile of her own. “the two of you would look cute together, i think. if you have any more friends, though, please bring them my way. all of you are gorgeous.”

startled, he let out a bark of laughter, and the cashier looked pleased, as though that had been her intention the entire time. she passed him the two bottles and watched with vague amusement as he slipped one into the inside pocket of his loose black hoodie.

“damn selfish bastard,” namjoon says, and they dissolve into tipsy laughter. “i hate it when you pull this kind of shit on us.” he turns to jimin. “don’t be friends with him. he’s a fucking piece of shit, and i would know. i’ve known him since we were young.”

jimin flashes a smile that could outshine the sun, and it causes yoongi’s heart to pound in his chest erratically. “i think you’re selling him a little short, don’t you think? he’s quiet on roller coasters, unlike your bitch ass.”

and yoongi falls into something that tastes like love and a bottle of soju with one small comment. he’s not sure he even wants to get out.

the second time that yoongi meets jimin finally feels like reality. he’s had his morning cup of coffee, and seeing jimin in his recording studio is startling, but he doesn’t wonder if his drink had been laced with adderall like he might have if he had been seven cups deeper into his creative process.

“hi,” jimin says, looking nervous but somehow still holding himself with an alluring natural confidence. “jungkookie said that you run this studio with namjoon, and since he’s sick today, i was wondering if you would listen to a kind of impromptu audition?”

if your singing is half as angelic as your expression, i’ll beg you to join. this is what yoongi might have said in another life in which his hair is dyed mint green and he could make a girl faint with a smile, but instead he is a ceo of an unknown recording studio and he’s up to his ears in bullshit and he could really use another cup of coffee right about now. instead, he says, “what the hell do you think we are? a fucking straight to tv movie?”

jimin’s face falls and yoongi instantly begins to retract what he said, heart squeezing in undesired sympathy. if he’s looking for a studio, then he probably isn’t used to the way people bicker in this business. if he had been talking to someone else, a singer and wannabe rapper by the name of kim taehyung, he would have spat an insult right back, but this is jimin and he might not be used to this. he’s a fucking idiot.

“shit, sorry,” yoongi apologizes. “yeah, go ahead and let me hear what you have, kid. i’m excited. just know that in this business, most of us are running on minutes of sleep and gallons of stimulants. we’re asses to relieve the stress.”

and just like that, jimin is smiling brightly again, and it unconsciously brings an upward tilt to yoongi’s lips. he’s cute, he decides. he doesn’t go for cute, though, especially not when it wants to be in his studio. cute can find another cutie to date and fall in love with. he doesn’t have the time or patience for the picture perfect lifestyle that cute deserves.

the panda memory stick that he plugs into his computer makes him want to bark out a laugh, as if to reinforce the conclusion that he had just come to. “which file?” he asks, and as the younger man leans over to point it out to him, he can practically taste the scent of iris and wood. bois d’argent smells a hell of a lot better on jimin than it did on tuesday’s one night stand.

ridding himself of those thoughts, he clicks on the file entitled lie and finds it amusing that the first twenty seconds are mostly just the sound of deep breathing accompanied by a foot tapping on a wooden surface. the rosy burn on jimin’s face also indicates that he hadn’t checked the file closely beforehand. it’s unprofessional, but then the singing begins, and yoongi finds himself shaken.

jimin’s voice is so rich that it could practically be a sonata, a clarinet piece accompanied by the melodic beat that he’s unconsciously drumming out next to the microphone. in an instant, yoongi picks out the timbre of his voice, matching it and comparing it to the assortment of instruments he has on file. a full symphony blooms into existence within the confines of his information, a thrilling opera that barely has time to finish before the curtains close unsatisfyingly.

“where’s the rest of the song?” he asks, disgruntled after being thrown from his thoughts.

jimin has the decency to look embarrassed as he explains, saying, “today was the only day that i would be able to come to the studio for a week or so, and i really wanted to show it to you before i lost my nerve. i know that it’s not great, or even finished, but i thought that you might be able to salvage it.”

a frown curves across yoongi’s face. “not good? fuck, if that’s not good, then half the singers we have in this shithole are worse than dirt.” he softens as he looks at the boy (that’s really what he is in this moment, a boy with his heart and his dreams on the line and hadn’t that been yoongi once?) and, unable to resist the urge, claps his hand against the other’s back reassuringly. “you did well, jimin. i’d love to have you with us. we’re not exactly big or formal, but we’re like a family. i hope you like it with us.”

“i have a punch card to the coffee shop across the street. i was practically a member anyway.” the joke comes out easily, but there’s relief in the crescent moons of his eyes and joy lifting his features and yoongi wonders how an honest opinion can mean so much to someone brimming with talent.

but because he is min yoongi, full time ceo and full time trainwreck, he doesn’t voice those thoughts. instead, he says, with a smile bordering on fondness, “well, i’m glad we made it official.”

the fifth time that yoongi meets jimin is more like a hallucination than any of the pleasantness that had been evident in their previous visits. jimin had come to the studio twice since the initial meeting, and each time, yoongi had been more and more tired. he covered it well with coffee and five hour energy, however, so an unsuspecting jimin hadn’t noticed the massive bags under his eyes.

today, though, he’s running on six hours of sleep in the last two weeks and about seven cups of coffee today alone, and he feels certain that if a cop were to pull him over, they’d arrest him for drunk driving.

he stumbles into a convenience store at one in the morning, and the cashier makes no assumptions, because she’s seen enough of his early morning runs to know that he doesn’t overindulge in drink; work is his vice. she moves away from the counter and begins gathering things that she knows he’ll be looking for. he has a slight suspicion that she has a crush on him, and it causes a distant laugh to echo from a mouth that doesn’t feel like his. how anyone could harbor feelings for a man that walks around like a half-dead scavenger is beyond him.

he rounds the corner, looking for some ramyun, and collides with someone who smells like faded myrrh and crushed iris.

“yoongi? it’s one in the morning. what are you doing?”

and with pupils blown wide and a manic smile on his face, he supposes that he does look a little crazed, especially to someone who is as unfamiliar with his habits as jimin is. “i could ask the same of you, sunshine.”

the cashier brushes against him as she passes him, the choking scent of vanilla and honey replacing jimin’s for a moment as she grabs his usual relaxing tea from the shelf. she flashes him a ruby red smile, and yoongi wonders why she’s so dressed up to sell to drunkards. the moment she’s not looking, he wrinkles his nose.

jimin giggles, and it’s only then that yoongi can make out the smudge of eyeliner around his eyes and the tight leather of his pants. his heart seizes, and it’s all he can do to take a deep breath and resist the urge to push past the other man and rush the cashier into checking him out. “sometimes i go out and have fun, but something tells me you don’t have time for that.”

“don’t give me that fucking sass,” he responds, but the way that he sways from side to side and the listless tone of his voice drains all the bite from his words. “i used to club when i had the time. namjoon and i go when we aren’t swamped, although that’s practically never. where do you think i built up my alcohol tolerance?”

“drinking yourself into a stupor so you can sleep?” but the flirtatious (flirtatious?) tilt of jimin’s mouth and the teasing lilt to his voice says that he doesn’t mean it, or, at least, he doesn’t mean it enough to hurt. yoongi decides that he likes the night version of jimin just as much as he likes the day version. the harsh convenience store lights turn his hair into fire, and there’s a hunger to him that’s concealed in the daytime.

it’s a familiar hunger. he too longs for greatness, proof that he is better than anyone could have imagined. occasionally, it’s nice to have a reminder that he’s not alone.

maybe that’s what compels him to invite jimin to his apartment, or maybe it’s the lack of sleep convincing him that this could be a good idea, but either way, their stuff is bought together, with small bickering about who should pay for what (yoongi wanted to pay for all of his stuff, and jimin wanted to split it in half.).  in the end, they both stumble into the shithole that’s yoongi’s apartment laughing about something that he can’t remember.

“eat your ramyun before it gets cold,” jimin says, and it sounds so caring and so concerned that he shoots the other boy a glare.

he does eats the ramyun, though, because it would be stupid to let it go to waste just to prove a point to the younger man.

he’s halfway through the tteokbokki when he begins to feel tired, the food combination finally lulling him to a more restful state. jimin is in the middle of a story, though, and he finds that he likes the sound of the other’s voice. it’s lively in a way that he’s not used to, and he discovers that he wants to hear it more and more with each syllable that his sunrise boy utters.

but since when did he become his sunrise boy, instead of the boy at the carnival with the pretty smile and the bright laughter?

and then his head is resting on jimin’s lap, and this is not what friends do, especially not a friend he’s only known for a month, tops, but does it matter? not to yoongi, who feels like heaven is somewhere between sleep and wakefulness and the hand that strokes through his hair. not to jimin, who has such a look of serenity on his face that the black haired man feels as though if he breathes too deeply, the whole thing will shatter. not to anyone else in this world, because this is a moment made for the two of them and the only thing that’s real is the warmth that surrounds him.

“good night, yoongi,” jimin says, and he shifts yoongi’s head so that he can lie down beside him. he curls into the other’s side, and it’s the most restful night yoongi has had in ages.

the sixth meeting comes the following morning, when yoongi opens his eyes languidly and finds pink hair tucked under his chin and resting against his chin. jimin’s voice is muffled against the shirt that yoongi was wearing yesterday, but yoongi can still hear his cheerful, sleep laced good morning.

“you stayed over? what a fucking idiot.”

“i’ll make breakfast while you shower.”

“that’s what the gamdongran is for,” yoongi grumbles, but he disentangles himself from jimin and shuffles over to the bathroom and showers in what, for him, is record time. fifteen minutes later, he’s pulling on a black sweater to complement his ripped jeans as he enters the kitchen, marginally more awake than he had been. five hours of sleep feels good, and he smugly tallies his hours of sleep to eleven in two weeks. almost an hour per night; namjoon will be jealous.

“the way you live is unhealthy,” jimin chastises, as though he’s known yoongi for long enough to tell him how to live his life. “i could barely find a vegetable in your refrigerator. how do you expect to live a full life when you have no nutrients and no restorative sleep?”

“as a wise man once said, live fast, die young, bad girls do it well.” the tone of yoongi’s voice is flat as he repeats the lyrics, and something about the absurdity of the situation, of this whole morning, causes them both to laugh uncontrollably. yoongi is starting his morning with the sunrise, and the colors are so pretty that he can’t do anything but laugh and laugh.

when they sober, jimin barely saves the bacon he had cooked from burning and grabs the gamdongran. it’s a more nutritious breakfast than yoongi has had in a month, and he finds himself devouring it hungrily.

“you should come finish the song today,” he says through a mouthful of egg, and chokes on laughter as jimin wrinkles his nose. “we can finish it if we work hard.”

“and by hard, you mean until three in the morning.”

the corner of his mouth twitches. “hey, hard work takes time. don’t be such a bitch about it, or you’ll never get anywhere even if your voice sounds like sunlight.”

“i found you playing online go fish last time i came in.” but there’s something softer about his demeanor now, and yoongi realizes that his compliment had sent jimin reeling.

so he smiles and smiles and smiles, wider than he ever has before, because jimin deserves to know that he is incredible. “fuck off. i was taking a break, and anyway, taehyung bet that i couldn’t beat him, so i had to put him in his place.”

“is go fish even a skill based game?”

“you have to smell the scent of a four of a kind, jimin. any pro go fish player knows that.”

the ridiculousness of this statement sets them off again, and this time, jimin laughs so hard that he has to rest his forehead on the cool countertop, shoulders heaving wildly as he tries to contain himself. “you’re-” he’s cut off by another burst of laughter, tears streaming down his face. “you’re so fucking dumb.”

only for you, he wants to say, or maybe it would be what he would say in a different timeline, an alternate universe, but instead, he sticks to what he knows. “get your ass into my closet and pick out something to wear, you little shit. we’re going to the studio whether you like it or not.” there’s still a trace of a smile on his face.

he doesn’t expect to be so incredibly affected by seeing jimin in one of his sweatshirts, a cute kumamon piece that he had found in some thrift store. it looks good on him, but it looks positively angelic with jimin’s bright smile. there are still leftover smudges of eyeliner around his eyes, but he looks better with it than anyone had any right to.

but, of course, he doesn’t vocalize any of that. “are those my jordans you’re wearing, you bastard?”

jimin shrugs, causing yoongi to stick out his tongue childishly, and it’s in this manner that they begin the walk toward the studio. birds call around them, and a child they walk past idly wonders if it’s a starling. yoongi almost tells him that there’s no way it could be one, as they prefer the open countryside. it’s more likely a carrion crow, but the day is nice, and he doesn’t feel like ruining it for someone.

jimin stops at a flower shop that yoongi has passed a thousand times, but never bothered going into. “what’s your favorite flower?” he asks, and yoongi struggles for a moment before claiming iris as his favorite.

”mine too,” jimin says, and yoongi feels as though some secret that he wasn’t even aware of has been revealed.

his sunrise boy goes into the flower shop, seokjin’s sprouts, and comes out a minute later with a bouquet of irises. “for you,” he says, and yoongi takes them with cautious gratitude. jimin turns around and begins walking again, and, shaking himself out of his stupor, yoongi hurries his stride until he’s caught up.

he steals glances at the other as they walk, often timed when the breeze lifted the scent of the flowers to his nose. it’s driving him batshit, all of this waiting and wishing and wanting for someone he doesn’t even know, but somehow, this morning feels like a release of the tension that’s been building in him.

“tell him,” namjoon had said without even being informed of the situation. he had a way of knowing more about yoongi than he himself did, but he supposes that those are the perks of knowing someone for so long. what he hadn’t told namjoon was that it didn’t feel like a casual thing, something where he could ignore the sting of rejection and go about his daily life as per usual. he hadn’t said that because he knew how it sounded, and how it sounds even now. six meetings is not a lifetime, not a true indicator of what forever could be, yet yoongi wants tomorrow with jimin.

he’s a fucking idiot, and he would willingly admit that to just about anyone.

“she’s cute.” these words snap yoongi out of his reverie, and he follows jimin’s gaze to an attractive woman exiting the tea and coffee shop across from the studio. she has long brown hair that cascades to her waist, and even from this distance, he can tell that she looks quite stylish. once upon a time, yoongi might have asked her for a drink and his approximation of a dance.

he makes a noncommittal noise instead and brushes by the younger man into the studio, feeling a deep breath swell his abdomen as he loosens the fist that’s clenched around the iris stems.

he doesn’t check to see if jimin is behind him. he slams the door to his shared office with namjoon open and finds the other sitting at his desk.

“bad morning?” namjoon asks, eyeing the flowers pointedly.

“it was a great morning,” yoongi spits bitterly. “and the newbie bought me these flowers while we walked here, so you can stop looking scandalized.”

“he doesn’t live in your direction. what was he doing by you?”

“he stayed the night.” namjoon starts wiggling his eyebrows, and it’s his turn to look affronted. “christ, not like that, and even if it were, i don’t inquire about you and kook’s probably disgusting sex life, so you can stay out of mine.”

“at least i have a sex life.”

“real fucking mature, joonie.” yoongi rolls his eyes, but the familiar banter has him back on level ground. “so glad to know that i run this shithole with an eleven year old.”

jimin enters, then, a pout on his face as he looks at the two of them. “you left me outside, yoongi.”

“you’re inside now, aren’t you? i thought i would do you a favor and let you look at that girl a little longer. did you get her number? creep her out?” too late, yoongi realizes that namjoon has directed a smug gaze his way. he curses himself for letting the reason for his irritation slip.

namjoon spins in his chair, a satisfied smile stretching the corners of his mouth. “i told you that he’s a piece of shit, jiminie. you should have listened to me.”

yoongi waves him off with a disgruntled look, but the others can tell that he doesn’t mean it. “shut that goddamn mouth of yours unless you’re going to do something productive with it.”

“sorry, yoongi, but i’m not sucking you off. i’m dedicated to jungkook and jungkook only.”

this time, he doesn’t bother to respond to namjoon, instead logging into his computer to access the variations of lie that he had crafted on days when jimin hadn’t been there to give his opinion or add to it. he reaches his hand out, and, like a practiced routine, jimin places the panda memory stick in his hand so he can add the files and then move into a different room where they can focus.

he downloads them quickly, and as he gets up to leave, namjoon clears his throat. “you have taehyung at two thirty today. he wants to ask about spoken lines on stigma.”

“can’t you help him?”

“he wants you. he says i’m too by the book, or some shit like that.”

“well shit, i guess he’s not wrong.”

but this is counter to what his plans are for the day, and he finds that he’s irritated by the disruption of his schedule. today would not be the day after all.

it is not the next meeting that’s memorable to yoongi, but rather what happens in between, seven shots of vodka warming his cheeks and the lingering beat of music thrumming in his veins. this time, yoongi wears the leather pants and the thick rings of eyeliner, and his head lies in jungkook’s lap, the younger boy’s hand brushing across his sweaty forehead.

clubbing with namjoon, jungkook, and taehyung usually meant complete exhaustion, and this time had been no exception. it had been nice to forget about jimin for a few hours, even if the overly bright guy on the dance floor swung his hips like jimin does sometimes, when he’s really feeling the beat of the music and is lost in the melody. even if he saw jimin around every corner and between every couple.

taehyung, world’s most social butterfly, sent people his way all night in the hopes of providing even a small distraction, but yoongi lost interest in each one quickly. it wasn’t their fault; he was too distant from the start, and, at any rate, they were more of tae’s type anyway.

by the fifth shot and second beer, he had already been off balance, so by the seventh shot, he was supported by taehyung as they exited the bar.

a tear slips out of his eye before he even realizes what’s happening, and jungkook swipes it away with one finger, almost as if it didn’t happen. namjoon won’t let him off that easily, however, and he sits down next to his boyfriend and leans over to meet yoongi’s vacant gaze.

“min yoongi,” he begins, and yoongi has to laugh at that, because his friend is so serious and nothing in his life is serious, nothing is permanent except for this room and the people in it.

so he responds with a giggle and a response of “kim namjoon”, and namjoon glares at him, and yoongi really wishes that he was a lot more drunk than he already was, because he knows what’s coming now,

“fucking say something, man. you never back down. you never give up on anything. a bystander could tell that you’re head over heels for park jimin, and yet you won’t say anything.”

“does it even matter if he turns you down?” but taehyung has said the wrong thing, and namjoon practically burns a hole in him from the aggressive stare he gives.

yoongi smiles, but it’s beyond bitter, the mixture of the vodka and the self induced stress causing him to dig his nails into his palms. “yes, it does, in fact, matter very much, asshole, so i would appreciate it if you could fuck off.”

he stands up, wobbling on his feet as the alcohol hits him, and stumbles to his room, crashing onto his full twin bed petulantly.

it’s jungkook who comes after him, and though it should be namjoon, his oldest friend, he finds himself soothed by the younger man’s presence.

because it’s jungkook, there’s no snarky comment or making light of the situation. there is only the honest truth, and that’s something that yoongi appreciates more than anything else.

“if he’s messing with you this badly, i think you’d be stupid to not explore the possibility of being with him, yoongi. it’s not like you can even look at anyone else.”

“we work together, jungkook.”

“and you’re supposed to be a mature, responsible adult. if you can’t continue to work with him despite personal matters, then i’ll say that jimin would be right to reject your sorry ass. this is not who you are. you are min fucking yoongi, and you’ve faced a lifetime of mistakes and mess ups. you are ready for anything, so do yourself a damn favor and just tell him how you feel.”

“i know,” he says, and he cringes at how pathetic it sounds. “i know, and i’m really trying. i’m tired of hiding my feelings over uncertainty and fear.”

“and that, more than anything, is the reason why you are worth so much.”

lucky number seven feels like a mistake, but it’s something that’s become unavoidable, and yoongi has decided that he’s sick of dodging feelings and making a game out of things. he is min yoongi, and he doesn’t run from things, no matter how much he might want to. he settles into a table at a cute coffee shop and begs his stomach to stop churning.

it’s just jimin, he thinks, but that doesn’t help at all, so he gives up on that train of thought. he looks more professional than he ever has in the studio, and he nervously adjusts his glasses, wondering if it’s too much. his turtleneck is too warm, and everything feels as though it’s spinning around him. he’s not ready for this; he has to be ready.

“yoongi!” the voice alone sends a shock through his body, and he finds himself tensing. jimin is a vision, cotton candy hair messy and a rumpled, oversized dress shirt tugging at his heartstrings.

he’s whipped, and they aren’t even dating.

but they have to keep up some pretense of normalcy, or yoongi does, at the very least, so he waves at the boy and notes the appreciative glances being shot toward jimin.

“it’s good to see you too, jimin,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, desperate to be released.

there’s a lingering air of awkwardness between the two of them, and yoongi knows that it’s entirely his own fault. beneath the table, his nails carve little crescent moons into the skin of his palms.

“i’m glad you invited me here,” jimin says, and yoongi silently thanks him for covering up for his complete lack of social skills. “it’s a nice place to be on a pretty day, and i like my company.”

unbidden, a gentle warmth spreads across yoongi’s face, and he has to look away in order to steel himself.

“there’s actually a reason that i wanted you to eat with me today.”

“dodging exes?”

before he can think about it, he throws jimin a baleful glare. it’s relaxing, the normalcy of the response, and it soothes him a little.

“no, dumbass.” he ducks his head and curses under his breath. what a charmer he is. “i just-”

“yes.”

yoongi’s head snaps up. “what- are you sure you know what i was going to ask?”

jimin looks so innocent, lips turned up in an excited smile. “you’re asking me to stay full time at the studio, aren’t you?”

and because this is not what he was planning to say at all, he snaps. his hand pushes roughly through his hair and his foot taps harshly against the tile floor.

it’s now or never. “jimin, i like you, dammit.”

the look on the sunset boy’s face is a lot more devilish now, and he rises out of his seat. yoongi watches with widened eyes as he sits down on the black haired boy’s lap and pulls himself closer.

“i know,” jimin says, and presses his lips against yoongi’s.

the world has fucking exploded around yoongi, and he can’t handle it, so he crushes jimin against him. faintly, he can hear mocking cheers from the group of frat boys at the table by the door, so he kisses him harder. someone coos over how adorable they are, so yoongi kisses him harder.

then they have to part for air, and jimin is more beautiful than he ever could have imagined, and he knows the reason why.

[braindamageforbeginners]

A Moment of Introspection (or, Why Positive Thinking is Actually a Bad Thing)

Since starting the whole end-stage brain cancer thing, I’ve gotten a variety of messages from assorted friends and acquaintances wishing me well - it's quite heartwarming, actually - and, although it's universally well-intended, a significant percentage (about 20-40%, I'd estimate) have the glaring subtext, “Cheer up, for Chrissakes.” I appreciate that, for most people, that's intended as a sincerely well-meaning sentiment, but, uh, no; no thanks. I was never a cheery person, I'm unlikely to turn into one under current conditions. All of this reminded me of why I'm fastidiously documenting this whole process. We tend to see dying people as “the great other,” (believe me, we really do, you just don't experience it until you're on the wrong side of the equation), and that colors a great amount of my interactions - you can kind of simulate this experience, by spending a day where you don't discuss, or do, anything pertaining to a time frame after the next six months. It'll be easier for some of you than others.

The ClifNotes version of this rant is how to properly respond when you hear bad news about a friend or neighbor, and why positive thinking isn't such a good idea. We’ll tackle the second one first, because I'm a Star Wars fan.

When you develop a dangerous disease, you will be overwhelmed by many things, but the most annoying are people telling you to remain positive. This is a bad idea on many levels, not least of which because it could kill you. When I first found out about the latest tumor in July, I was told not to panic, that this was a fairly slow-growing tumor, and I had some time to deal with it. When my tumor was removed in November - that's about 4 months, for those keeping score - the tumor had leap-frogged from stage II to stage IV.  If I had freaked the fuck out the minute I heard the word “tumor” and had it removed immediately; I would be in a completely different diagnostic category, with a completely different prognosis and life expectancy. And that wasn't even positive thinking, that was just relying on well established medical facts and/or probability. So you can understand why, perhaps, I'm suspicious of positive thinking at the moment; it’s demonstrably dangerous to me. So, you'll forgive me for operating under the assumption that this will be my last Christmas. That may or may not be accurate, it's simply an inference based on current events (speaking of which, there's an excellent chance I’ll eventually lose my insurance if that despicable tax bill becomes law, which will result in blocking access to care, which will inevitably end in a sub-optimal result for me). I suppose you could take that the other way, and assume, “Well, the disease behaved unpredictably already, that could swing the other way, too,” but it's still not a bright idea to bet on a team on a losing streak. Also, I already beat the odds - for fifteen years. This is just the law of averages catching up to me.

We are also an outcomes-oriented society - no one’s about to show up and give me gold star for living 30-odd years as a decent, kind human being who never really achieved anything of import; it's unlikely I'll get credit for weathering this particular shitstorm with grace and dignity (BTW, dignity is the very first thing that gets jettisoned in these situations; I think I left any remaining scraps of that on the floor of the shower when I had to have a nurse physically support me throughout the entire shower/basic hygiene process). I should get credit for not strangling any of the nitwits who try to cheer me up the wrong way.

THE PROPER WAY TO CHEER ME UP: Tell me about your aunt who beat brain cancer (I’m actually being sincere). Maybe leave out that epilogue about her living a full three years past what the doctors expected; I'm not in a position to refuse any extra time, but I'm ambitiously hoping for more than five years. Call me crazy! Or, y’know, just treat me like a regular person who's in the middle of a bad divorce. I'm aware that my situation is much worse, but I can not escape the constant reminders that I'm in a really bad way (I'm taking very strange meds that give me insomnia and heartburn; I'm on the phone with my doctors, nurses, and insurance company every hour or two; I could go on), so it's nice to be treated as a person, and not a disease bound in human flesh. I love Oprah, I love Oscar Wilde, but until they're sitting in a waiting room next to a man with literally only half a face, please don't spout inspirational garbage unless you want to make it onto the “To Stab” list.

Speaking of being an outcome-oriented society; a great deal of my (and probably most other cancer patients’) dread and anxiety is based on the uncertainty of outcomes. We tend to be of the mind-set that our fear of an event is much worse than the event itself; and, normally, I'd agree with that sentiment. Except, at almost every single step in the diagnostic/discovery process, the outcome has not only been far worse than my worst fears, it's outstripped my doctors’ predictions. True, I have gotten slightly lucky in a few ways (the surgery went far better than expected, I do have a mutation that gives me a 40% chance of survival with conventional treatment, I'm in a drug trial that should improve those odds, and I might be able to get insurance next year), but even those all come with caveats and qualifications. And they're weighed against an uncertain future in which even death isn't the worst possible outcome (remember Two Face in the waiting room? Yeah, it's not likely to happen to me, but neither was stage IV brain cancer). So, you might understand why, with a future that's decidedly more S. King than B. Potter, even with the rosiest predictions (and not a whole lot of future, at that). The happiest baby rabbit photo in the world isn't going to improve those odds, so keep the motivational posters to yourself. If things are looking better in a few weeks, yeah, sure, I'll be cheerier, but I haven't even started treatment yet.

I realize that most of these misfires come from the human impulse to do something to help each other (again, knowing that people are just well-intentioned idiots has saved a few of those idiots from a much-needed eyeball gouging), and it just comes out wrong. I try to preface everything I write with the warning that I don't speak for all cancer patients, just me. Today, I'm going to abandon that stance and speak as Cancer Man (but not the cool, X-Files one), patron saint and mouthpiece for all patients with terrible afflictions, and give you, dear reader, the perfect response when you hear that unimaginable tragedy has struck someone you care about. I'm so confident in its efficacy, that it will work not only for cancer, but for almost all diseases, and, indeed, tragedy in general, from unexpected weight gain to a neighbor losing their child. However, before we get there, let's look at the very best, and very worst, reactions (there's only one of each, I won't hold you in suspense for too long).

So, far and away the best response to my situation came from a former boss in the biotech industry, who had heard of several promising clinical trials, and offering some advice about trial eligibility. I knew I was a decent employee, I didn't think I was that good.

Now, the very worst response - and the one I've possibly received the most - is, “"I could get hit by a bus tomorrow.” Or something similar. Usually this is whenever I bring up the odds of me making it five years (about 40%), because Americans don't understand how probability or basic math works (this also explains our economic policies). Fortunately, most people realize it's kind of a dickish thing to say, “I can completely empathize, because I am also mortal.” It took me a while to figure out the proper response to that, which is; “"I'm so glad you agree, let's play some Russian Roulette.” Once I break it down that way - that I'm in a life or death situation over which I have absolutely no control - most people back off.

Anyway, here's your go-to response whenever tragedy strikes someone you know; “"That's awful. I am so sorry, and I have no idea what to say. Is there anything I can do?” That will work for every unpleasant disease you can imagine, I'd wager my life on it (another phrase that used to mean something).

And the only person who's inquired - unprompted - about my emotional state was my radiation oncologist. She was sort of double-checking that I was depressed (or trying to figure out if the cancer was causing it, I'm not sure). Either way, the implication was the disease could be directly influencing my emotional state and/or outlook. If you're still having trouble understanding why I'm slightly upset, imagine having an alien parasite in your brain that can alter your very perception of reality - what we usually call our sanity - and knowing that, if science fails, things will get much, much worse, and eventually, you will die. That's not a problem if you're Kirk or McCoy, but let's say you're slowly becoming aware - like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern - that you're a nameless red shirt. BTW, if Spock doesn't synthesize an antidote in time, these dispatches are going to become very surreal as I descend into madness and pain.

Finally - and don't worry, I'm mostly done with self-pity - you'll have to be patient, I literally found out about all of this five weeks ago. It's all a little much to adjust to in less time than it takes to establish residency in most places. Hell, just for comparison, my chemo/radiation course is - minimally - six weeks. Which brings up my final point (hang in there, we’re almost done), why I'm writing these things. In our society, we tend to view dying people (or those in grave situations) as The Great Other. We want Morrie Schwartz, or we want sick people to shut up and go away (BTW, the feeling’s mutual on the other side of the fence, sick people just want you to give us morphine and let us die in peace). I have not heard of anyone undergoing this, uh, process, while maintaining their surliness and cowardice (and you would be, too, if you were only getting a few hours of sleep every night) - not that I'm dedicated to those traits, but they come naturally to me in crisis (or this particular crisis; I don't know what I'd be like if I was sleeping well and didn't have to call some specialist or billing department or coordinator every hour or so) - and I think future cancer patients should be assured that a bit (or a lot)(or even massive amounts) of griping and fear is fairly normal and has no real effect on the outcome (it doesn't, I haven't seen a study conclusively showing any correlation between attitude and patient outcomes). And this whole writing project will help me keep track of my efforts to find the world’s funniest cancer joke. It has to be out there, somewhere; I've been unable to shake the feeling that I'm somehow involved in some horrible, tasteless joke (and I've crunched the numbers; this whole thing is so statistically outlandish that finding out I am some sort of fictional character in an elaborate story about end-of-life issues would not be the most surprising (or upsetting) discovery I've made this month), and damned if I'm going to leave before figuring out the punchline (of course, I'm about to be damned, anyway; my mother described the radiation waiting room as “the line to cross the Styx”). And finally, I'm doing this because I still can; there may well come a time when I'm unable to write - a thought that scares me far worse than dying. And it may very well may happen; after all, we live in a universe rich in possibilities.

In conclusion, if you feel the need to cheer someone up, there are other cancer patients you can bother. Some of them are probably serene and wise, even (those are the patients with personal assistants to wade through the vast pile of BS that is the bureaucracy of the modern medical-industrial complex). If, on the other hand, you're interested in seeing how far down the rabbit hole goes, with a host who isn't afraid to ask, “This is really fucked up, right? This isn't just me, is it?” I'm your man. For good or bad, my life looks the way it does because I'm too lazy to pretend to be someone I'm not (well, that, and life-long neurological disease); and I'm certainly not going to work on that skill while simultaneously trying to survive what promises to be the very worst (possibly even the very last) two months of my life. Speaking of which...

UPDATE: I met with the researcher running the neurocognitive assessment trial, which is kind of fun (the neurocognitive tests are kind of like some sort of therapy for dementia patients (which, I suppose, could describe me soon enough); you get to draw things (sort of), you play word games (sort of), and you get to play with blocks (sort of)). And then I got to fill out some forms to assess my current neuropsychiatric state. I realize I use synonyms for “fear” a lot on this blog, but the questions on the psych form were deeply upsetting in their implications (”Have you had recent troubles articulating your thoughts or feelings?” YOU. MOTHERFUCKERS. Writing is the last thing I have any real control over; don't you dare take this from me). Good news; the researcher assured me that current radiation treatment is much less nuclear holocaust-y than old fashioned radiation treatment, and the goal of this study is to demonstrate just how much better it is for patient cognitive abilities. She was less happy about my constant pestering her about specifics (”Have I experienced balance problems in the last week? Yes, but since someone was sawing through my somatosensory lobe a month ago, I don't think it was a psychiatric issue.”), so she eventually told me to shut up and scribble any notes or caveats in the margins (I don't think anyone will be amused that, after I rated the statement “I am afraid of dying” (I very strongly agree with that statement, obviously), I wrote, “There is about a 60% chance I'll die in the next five years, it's not a fear, it's just basic math.” Still, it was reassuring when she told me that she does see most patients again at the three month follow-up, and that most of them are mostly-intact. And, in surprising news, I finally saw the psychooncologist; and she seemed remarkably empathetic and intelligent (I guess it's just the administrative staff that are cruel and incompetent). I guess I have adjustment disorder (no shit, Sherlock)(also, there's probably a few readers who saw that coming). But, bigger news, the antidepressant I was on is linked to anxiety, insomnia, and, wait for it... seizures. So, I will be transitioning to a less dangerous (for me, anyway) antidepressant over the next few weeks, so things might get a little odd around here during that time. She (the psychiatrist) also said something to mull over; (and I'm paraphrasing), “Any time you cut into the brain, you permanently change the neurochemistry. And we've done that to you three times since you were 17.” I also got a call from my original mad scientist oncologist in Northern California (or one of her Igors, anyway), reminding me that she wants an MRI a month after starting radiation, which is reassuring. I have no illusions about her investment in me; it makes for a much better case study if the patient lives longer, and I am a once-in-a-lifetime medical specimen (I don't mean that in a sleazy, “Welcome to the gun show” way; I once calculated that there are fewer than 250 people with similar medical histories... on planet Earth). Still, the more people who want me to live, and are in a position to help make that dream a reality, the better. Now for the bad news; the radiation department is still haggling with my insurance company, and that's holding up this whole process. However, they're expecting to hear back in a day or so, and, as Dad noted, the insurance company has been quite generous and almost-mammalian during this whole process. All I want for Christmas is chemo.