#this was my lightning bulb moment chapter title

[littleperilstories]

[Image ID: A square image featuring a close-up view of jail bars, keys, and an empty shackle. White and beige text reads, As he slipped into the corridor, he pauses, his eyes fixed on Jamie, eyebrows raised as if to say, Well? You coming, or what? End ID.]

From Chapter 31, "The Diamond in the Rough" (coming tomorrow)

Masterlist | Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03! | Playlist | Story Intro

[ythmir-writes]

A Thousand Mended Seams ch03

fandom: Ikemen Sengoku character: Ieyasu Tokugawa

brief summary: Ieyasu goes to fix a Ward. But something seems to have been waiting for them.

A Thousand Mended Seams masterlist: prologue // chap 01 // chap 02

other works // ao3 // ko-fi

no warnings

Chapter 3/?? – Dousing

      When Ieyasu and the others had first migrated to the City, all of the City’s Kapitans – or the Liga, as they were collectively called – had welcomed them.

      On three conditions.

      Not because their reputation preceded them but more because that has always been the arrangement; all Cities must receive back the protection they give. Those were the rules, and the City had named its price. Services to be rendered; bodies to be kept; favors exchanged for further favors.

      The third condition was special. Tailored in a way for the unique conditions of their group: Ieyasu Tokugawa, famed sorcerer, potions master, and third unique timeshifter, the Stag Duke who Remembers, must paint the City’s wards.

      Embarrassing titles aside, Ieyasu had jumped at the recognition of his talent and the rare opportunity to practice his craft on such a large scale. How many magicians in this day and age could claim that they were singlehandedly tasked with such a grand project?

      However, after the joy of being commissioned had settled down, Ieyasu had thought it a rather unusual request.

      In the usual course of protecting and setting barriers for a city, it was the local magicians that painted the wards. They were the ones who had the flavor of the city at the tip of their tongues, or rather hands, after all. And they were the ones who knew best how to bend and curate the magical protection unique to a location.  

      When Ieyasu had mentioned his doubts to Nobunaga, that he might not be the best sorcerer for the job, Nobunaga had only smiled and told him to just do his best. When Ieyasu had added that the Liga asking their group to set up necessary protection was only the Liga being more indebted to them – and dangerously so – Nobunaga’s smile had only widened, told him not to worry about it and leave it at that.

      So Ieyasu had left it at that, and proceeded to do his best and beyond – painting all fifty-six of the City’s wards at strategic locations to create a web of protection so intricate that should the time come that they glowed at the same time, the City would become a sparkling gem.

      Ieyasu had taken two whole months to complete the project and by the end of it, nearly swore off any chalk, charcoal, ink, and spray paint for half a century. To make sure he would not need to touch any marking instruments again unless it was completely necessary, Ieyasu had made the wards as permanent as magically possible. It had taken just a tad bit more time but it made them stronger and just a little bit more smudge-proof than most. It was his life’s greatest work to date.

      So it was curious how anyone could tamper with them – much less prevent him from sensing that something was amiss. It was not impossible (nothing was truly permanent after all) but it did mean that there was serious magic involved.

      Ieyasu worried about that.

Mitsunari seemed to worry about it too, his hands uncharacteristically fidgeting at moments while they rode the bus.

      When they reached the block where the grocery was located, Ieyasu could feel a few wisps of magic in the air; something hot, burning, with just a hint of something electric, and the sound of popping bulbs.

      But as they entered the parking lot, suddenly nothing. Just empty space.

      Ieyasu chewed his lip again, pushing his hands deeper into the pockets f his coat. Sensing nothing was much more concerning than sensing too much at the same time.

      He was not sure what he expected to see waiting for them but Masamune and Hideyoshi in the middle of an empty parking lot standing idly and chatting while waiting for him was definitely not on the list. It made a rather casual scene, and it looked as if the ward being smudged was not an emergency enough for the Liga to raise an alarm.

      Masamune waved from where he stood and Hideyoshi turned around to greet them.

      “What’s this?” Ieyasu asked as they came within earshot. “I heard ambulances, police cars – this doesn’t look like an emergency.”

      “I did say that part was over.” Masamune said, pocketing his phone.

      Hideyoshi sighed, crossed his arms. “The hubhub is over and done with. But our job isn’t.”

      Ieyasu gave their immediate surroundings a sweeping glance. There was no signs of any struggle, none of the drunken fighting that had supposedly transpired. As a matter of fact, apart from the four of them, nothing seemed to exist within twelve feet from where they stood.

      “What happened?” Ieyasu finally asked.

      “Werewolf pups. Long night. Some sort of initiation? Ritual? A newborn Were?” Hideyoshi looked at Masamune, who in turn shrugged. “Their oldest was in charge and he was being pretty vague. Stories were completely inconsistent.”

      “Clearly drunk, too.” Masamune added.

      “In any case, the pups were sent directly to the police station for questioning and possible detention overnight.” Hideyoshi continue. “They’re not in any state to be wandering about.”

      At that, Ieyasu raised his brows. He had half-expected the culprit to be strong and old magic, not were-magic. “Werewolves?” He asked. “Smudging my ward?”

      “Pack magic?” Mitsunari sounded partly shocked partly curious.

      Masamune raised his hands, equally baffled. “We’re not sure either how it happened. They didn’t have an Alpha with them. According to the pack, one thing led to another and then one of the pups slid down across the cement like it was ice. Next thing they knew, she had paint on her paws when there shouldn’t be and then there was only pain.”

      “Ahh.” That would explain the ambulance Ieyasu had heard when Masamune called.

      Part of the formula that gave the wards their permanency was how any disturbance or tampering could not be made by simple physical means. No matter how often the wards could be painted on, rained on, marked upon, or even slathered with concrete and made into a busy parking lot on, the Ward stayed. Like stubborn graffiti, or tough grime. Or really old chewing gum stuck on a wall.

      If anyone attempted to disturb it, the Ward would react defensively. Mostly depending on how much of the Ward was affected. Like a good punch to the gut, if the Ward had not been completely nullified. Violently, if it was completely erased. The point wasn’t so much as to stop the ward from being tampered – that was near impossible – as it was to make sure Ieyasu would know who to look for.  Traces of his magic from the erased Ward would stain whoever did it and Ieyasu, along with possibly Nobunaga, would follow the trail to ask some very serious questions.

      Ieyasu looked around the parking lot a second time. Nothing. No trace of anything. Like something had gobbled up –

“Did the werewolf pup die?” Mitsunari asked.

      “Nah. Had to be rushed to the hospital though.” Masamune said. “She got concussed. Thrown what, fifteen meters? Ward shot out some really fierce lightning too. The Kapitan here made sure the Alpha was on their way to reach the pup.”

      Ieyasu could imagine how it had happened. “Did the Alpha ask for reparations?”

      Hideyoshi made an impatient sound. “If anyone should be asking for reparations, it should be you. It’s your ward. Commissioned by the Liga, no less.”

      Hideyoshi was right, however Ieyasu found the idea of claiming reparations from a were-pack tedious. It was not like he could not fix the problem to begin with.

      But something did not feel right, like he was missing an obvious clue. “To smudge any ward discreetly without the warder knowing, you should know it’s there in the first place.”

      His three friends nodded. That was basic knowledge.

      Ieyasu chewed on his lip again, looking around the parking lot as if the perpetrator would unwittingly try to come back while they were there. “The wards’ locations are not public knowledge. No one except us and the Liga know. How did the werewolves know where it was? How could they smudge it without me knowing?”

      “They claim it was all an accident.” Hideyoshi’s eyes told Ieyasu he did not believe it. “We suspect someone might have accidentally tampered with it before the werewolves got their hands on it. We’re requesting the tapes. We got eyes there, there, and there.” Hideyoshi pointed to the streetlamps that had security cameras. “Whoever could have done something to it, consciously or not, would have been recorded.”

      “It’s a good thing too the place is currently closed.” Masamune said. “Can you imagine the collateral damage a shocked werewolf pup in pain could have caused? Without an Alpha trying to calm it?”

      Hideyoshi and Mitsunari’s frowns meant yes, they could. And so did Ieyasu. It was not pretty or even relatively safe for anyone who was not part of the pack. It would be a longer night for all of them if that had happened.

      “Nothing to be done about what didn’t happen.” Ieyasu then said. “I’ll start on the ward.”

      “How long will you need?” Hideyoshi asked.

      “Depends.” Ieyasu began to walk fifteen steps to his right, counting as he did. “But seeing as the werewolf pup isn’t dead and we don’t have the City’s packs howling for blood, I’d say maybe twenty.”

      “Mitsunari and I will get the tapes.” Masamune said, heading for the store, quickly followed by the other.

      “Be careful!” Hideyoshi shouted at them.

      Ieyasu stopped just a short way from another street light, its bulb broken, probably from the Ward’s reactions to being disturbed. He knelt down on one knee, and began poking at the concrete with two fingers, trying to feel for the center of the Ward.

      Before being cemented over, the entire block had once been just a small empty park, a splash of green in a city transforming into a sprawling metropolis. Back then, Ieyasu had simply walked towards the middle of it all, found a good rock, sprinkled the ingredients over the soft, fresh grass under it, and the Ward had come to life.

Right now, it was not going to be just as easy.

      Ieyasu found the center about two feet from where he started, a minor zing that raced up his arm and went all the way down his spine and up again towards his nape. Tiny crackling sounds, electricity snapping at air, and then there was a warm glow as the Ward recognized him and his magic.

      Ieyasu pulled with his mind, coaxing the Ward to resurface. Slowly, the place where he knelt glowed with a bright teal color, as if neon lights had flickered open beneath the ground.

He brought out his supplies: a small paint brush, a small bottle of ink, a pack of mint candies, a parking stub, and three used cigarette butts. Back then, it had all just been flower seeds, bird feathers, and maybe drops of sweat and tears. All of them, even magic, had to keep up with the times.

      “What’s the diagnosis?” Hideyoshi asked.

      “It’s smudged all right.” Ieyasu said. “Almost a third is all that’s left, just wiped out clean. Werewolf magic is strong, pack magic stronger, but not erasing-wards-with-a-simple-swipe-of-paws kind of strong. Even with a full moon. Or several.”

      “The Liga wants to know if you can fix it.”

      “With my eyes closed.” Ieyasu answered, bemused. “Did they really ask that?”

      “Yes. You should’ve seen the look on the Kapitan’s face when they saw what caused all the alarm.”

Ieyasu frowned. Why doubt his abilities after everything he has done?

      “We got the tapes.” Masamune called out as he walked back towards them, with Mitsunari in tow who in turn was grasping his backpack tightly with both hands, smiling brightly at them.

      “All right.” Hideyoshi said. “It’s your floor now.”

      “You might want to stay back a little.” Ieyasu placed the pack of mint, the parking stub, and cigarette butts in the middle of the Ward, covered them with the plastic bag, wrapped it around thrice. Then, he dipped his brush into the black ink, took a deep breath and –

      The sun searing into his back as he walked across the lot, long lines at the cashier and even longer queues of vehicles snaking around the small space, the smell of newly painted pedestrian crossing, paper bags rolling empty in the wind, a crash of  – I can’t believe you forgot to get tissue rolls again! mum said I had to wait in the car it’s inhumane to leave a pet under this weather and didn’t I tell you to park it nearer do you know how much two bags weigh – gum chewed until the mint turned into ash and there was nothing but the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and the pairs of eyes that watches watches watches you enter and cross and leave and don’t forget your coupons and your receipt sir please –

      Ieyasu gathered the sensations into him, channeling them through his body, turning them into energy and magic and pushing them back out again into his brush as he wrote the protective seals that formed the Ward.

      That was all there really was to Warding; take the rules of life around an area, those repeated actions done again and again and again, those that form life through repetition, and became rituals in their own right – and gather them and mix them and pray they help keep the place safe.

      Take a parking lot, for example. Walk in any country, any city, any small town anywhere in the world, and grocery parking lots basically worked the same way. You got a parking ticket, or stub, depending on where you were in the world, you chewed on gum when you waited, maybe you have a cigarette or two or three – because damn the line is long and there’s plastic everywhere and did you forget that corned beef brand your mum told you to get and were you even counting your change? Little things that were universal. Little things that make up the experience. Little things that, if you knew how to capture them and knew how to bend them, you could create a ward to protect it all.

      At least, for sorcerers, that was how it worked. You found magic in life. You breathed it. And you channeled it to work for you.

      But you have to know how to listen to it first.

      Ieyasu opened his eyes and was just about to put in the final seal to finish the ward but suddenly, something hissed – at first a whistle then before any of them could pinpoint where the sound came from, it turned into a loud screeching roar.

      “Get away!”

      Ieyasu felt more than saw Hideyoshi – ever alert, ever careful – pull him back with a gesture of one hand. Then the concrete underneath both of them caved down nearly three feet, to avoid whatever it was that had swiped at them from above.

      A frustrated screech, the sound of train wheels magnified several times and the urgent thud thud thud of metal on metal.

      “Incoming!” Mitsunari alerted them.

      Ieyasu saw the car, a small dark spot in the sky becoming bigger and bigger, and then his line of view was blocked by Hideyoshi again, who had moved in front of him, arms moving upward. As if summoned, the lights from the remaining streetlamps all flew towards the car, impaling it before making it explode into harmless chunks. Bits of car parts rained down in a noisy clack clack clack.

      “Another one!” Masamune shouted, tracing the arc of the car with his ancient katana. Ieyasu clicked his tongue. Masamune would use any excuse to wield his sword again and a flying projectile was enough of one. Masamune swung in a lazy arc, blue light pulsed from his sword and cut the second car in half, which fell in a loud crash.

      “What the hell is going on?” Ieyasu shouted, scrambling to his feet. The magic of the ward was slowly ebbing from his mind. If they did not act quickly, he would have to start the ritual again. That was the downside of being a sorcerer; it was pretty hard to concentrate on doing magic while you were being distracted by projectiles. “Mitsunari?”

      Mitsunari was looking towards the other side of the parking lot. “I’m seeing one spirit. One very big and angry spirit.”

      “What kind?” Ieyasu asked.

      “Anger, movement, a solid core, the desire to sleep and wreck havoc. Poltergeist or Kanaima.” Mitsunari said, squinting. “I’m not sure which from here.”

      “Why is there a spirit?” Hideyoshi asked over the sound of another car falling in bits and pieces around them. “There was absolutely nothing in this parking lot when we got here! And we disturbed nothing. Nothing!”

      Ieyasu gritted his teeth, an odd sense of déjà vu filling his tongue.

      “I’m not sure either.” Masamune was poised to strike. “But oh boy I’m not going to wait to find out!”

      “Wait!” Ieyasu tried to hold Masamune off but it was too late. Reckless, aggressive, so very very sloppy in watching his back, Masamune shot off like a bullet towards the spirit.

With a frustrated grunt, Ieyasu held out his hands. “Mitsunari!”

      “Here!” Mitsunari did not need any other instruction. Mitsunari, purple-eyed and pale, whose soft features belied the fact that he was the most precise sorcerer among them, who saw with cat’s eyes and spoke to foxes, who needed only flick a wrist and there was wind beneath Ieyasu’s feet and he flew towards Masamune who had just barely reached the spirit –

      “Kanaima!” Masamune announced. “We got ourselves a vengeful spirit!”

      Ieyasu landed with a grunt, shifting his knees to soften his fall, his hands touching the ground. Instantly, teal colored lights zigzagged towards Masamune, coating him in a ward for protection.

      And it was just in the nick of time. Masamune had raised his sword to strike but the kanaima had roared and it sounded like trains colliding in the underground. Hot and angry smoke billowed towards them, and both men braced themselves against it.

      More smoke blew from the holes of what looked like the kanaima’s mouth and eyes. Its entire body was black liquid, dripping and dripping like oil and tar and muck, and every time it moved, something seemed to spark inside it.

      The kanaima arched towards them, raising its hands and swiping at them, howling in a garbled tongue. Masamune deflected the blows with his sword and tried to strike back. But no matter how much he cut, his blade did nothing to the kanaima, which simply roared again, irritated that it could not pin Masamune down.

   ��  “This is what you get for being reckless!” Ieyasu shouted at him while he searched for his bag for his left-over containers.

      “We all need exercise!” Masamune shouted back.

      “Masamune! We are literally going to be sucked into a vortex of doom if you’re not careful!” Ieyasu wrapped his hand around a bottle, prayed fervently it was his extra round of blessed water, and took out his hand from the bag. “We got one shot –”

      Then as if it had had enough, the kanaima slammed down its hands. The ground shook violently, large cracks cutting through the parking lot and Ieyasu staggered for even footing. Somewhere a pipe blew and water hit him square on the back, soaking him and blurring out the sound of the kanaima’s screams.

      Ieyasu wondered if the night could not get any worse.

      Masamune charged, sword glowing in golden light, and managed to cut one of the kanaima’s arms, sending the spirit in a frenzy all over again. Ieyasu scrambled to his feet and then cursed under his breath. The kanaima’s torn arm simply dissolved into steaming pool of black tar, smelled of despair and death. Then the kanaima regrew an arm. Two. And then three and four. And Ieyasu raced towards Masamune, pushing the bottle of blessed water in his hands.

      “One shot.” He said through gritted teeth. “Dead center in that glowing bit right there. Make it work!”

      “Three.” Hideyoshi squeezed in, suddenly beside them. “Mitsunari and I have extra.”

      Ieyasu whirled to see Mitsunari several feet away, hands planted on the ground and doing his best to counter whatever earth shattering chaos the kanaima was doing.

      Thank all the gods for Mitsunari –

      “You’re the only one unprepared.” Ieyasu hissed, would have shook Masamune if they were not so busy running from the kanaima’s reach. “I told you to always always bring condiments – !”

      “Focus!” Hideyoshi peeled away from them, pointed at the kanaima, holding his wand now and blasting a beam of light at it. Hideyohsi’s spell tore a hole through the monster’s shoulder for two seconds, before it filled up again with blackness and the night. The kanaima aimed for Hideyoshi – missed – and Hideyoshi rebutted with two more beams of light.

      All the while, Masamune was going for the kanaima’s left, flanking him.

      As if sensing their teamwork, the kanaima’s gaze shifted towards Masamune then back to Hideyoshi. It screamed and grew three more pairs of long, spindly arms.

      Masamune swore. Hideyoshi doubled his efforts. In response, the kanaima grew in size, as if gathering more energy, and turning them into more arms and legs than they could bother to keep count.

      Ieyasu planted his hands on the ground, called on his ward, and got to work.

      They say kanaimas were vengeful spirits. Those who died violently come back with murder spewing from their hands, and unanswerable questions where their hearts had once been. Anger. Sadness. A dying scream stifled too soon, too abruptly. There was no appeasing a kanaima. There have been efforts over the centuries; pity always the soul that cannot move on. But all efforts to calm kanaimas have failed. Some debts can never be erased. There was only retribution or death.

      Ieyasu’s eyes stung with wind and water but he kept his gaze on the ground. He tuned out the kanaima’s screams, focused on warmth, protection, and guarding light glowing below him, drew out the symbols with the mixture of dribbling mud and broken concrete.

      No one knew exactly how to recreate a kanaima by choice, what kind of death had to be suffered, what kind of wish so ardent for the victim to be brought back and chained ever after. Some say that to become a kanaima, you had to be killed by one, sucked into its abyss, drained of all blood and magic and  hope. It went without saying that none of them had any intention of letting each other go down that path.

      But there was another entry on the kanaima, a footnote he had read once, lifetimes past. Ieyasu scoured it in his memory, lifting it from other memories, something about a desire, a wish, a craving –

      And as Ieyasu remembered, it all made sense. The emptiness. The déjà vu.

      “Mitsunari!” Ieyasu called upon his friend again. How many times had he relied on him tonight? How many times in so many lifetimes? He could fill a ledger, maybe more. Maybe he should make sure to watch the damn tapes next time with Mitsunari to compensate.

      “Lord Ieyasu?” Mitsunari was beside him, smelling of burning hair and lightning.

      “Kanaimas are vengeful spirits but there is one thing we’ve forgotten about them.” Ieyasu wrote feverishly on the ground, fingers almost splitting in effort. How in the ever loving hell did Nobunaga ever manage to do sorcery while talking? “They aren’t so much victims as they are often spectators. Made to witness those they love die and be lost before their eyes.”

      Mitsunari’s eyes were trained on the kanaima, watching out for Hideyoshi and Masamune, but his ears were all Ieyasu’s.

      “This kanaima was triggered by the Were.” Ieyasu said.

      “When the Were was rebutted by the ward, the kanaima must’ve seen it.” Mitsunari followed his reasoning. Frowned. “But it does not make sense, Lord Ieyasu. This kanaima is nearly fifty years old. Its vengeance is older – and the pup was a new were, maybe only in its teens.”

      “I know. But this is my ward.” And at those words, the ward beneath them glowed, as if proud of its ownership. “A ward that no one should know about except for us. A ward that has been repeatedly attacked and attacked and attacked until – ”

      Ieyasu was unable to finish his sentence. One moment, he felt Mitsunari’s hand on his shoulder. In the next, underground pipes burst out from below them, shielding them both from hot smoke and tar.

      Mitsunari grunted with effort, curled his fingers and then opened them, and the water turned sharp, piercing, and pushing back the kanaima, its spindly limbs flailing.

      Ieyasu was drenched to the bone, his teeth nearly chattering. He could hear Hideyoshi and Masamune close in on the kanaima, fierce magicians attacking and trying to pry open the defenses of an unrelenting spirit at its moment of vulnerability. Ieyasu needed to match them, needed to finish the ward quickly so he could at least be of some help.

      Ieyasu rekindled the sensations he had grasped earlier in his head. The everyday details of ordinary people walking to and from the grocery, the waiting and hunting for parking space, the rush of afternoon sales, credit card points, loyalty card points, vouchers, the smell of a typical Saturday afternoon when groceries were packed to the full and you could not even squeeze in to just get into the counter please just this one item ma’am, my daughter needs this she’s going to die please just let me in line I’m just buying one item one item ­why can’t you let me –

      Ieyasu breathed through the kanaima’s seen memories – forced to witness repeated acts of hurting and pain – held himself up above its sorrow, and let it go.

      That was why it was very important for the local magicians or sorcerers to do Warding. They who knew the ground and the air and the walks of life and who spoke to the soul of the city and to whom the city talked back. Not fresh immigrants, not a group of six wandering magicians and sorcerers with the crest of an ancient name branded on their backs.

      Then again, none of them were strangers to the city anymore.

      Perhaps that was why at the moment, the Ward somehow felt stronger. More sturdy, like a wall of doubly reinforced steel. Ieyasu was no longer just a commissioned sorcerer but a living, breathing, part-of-the-city-kind of folk now, and it gave his magic an extra kick.

      “Don’t worry about it.” Nobunaga had said. And Ieyasu hadn’t. And Ieyasu didn’t. And maybe Nobunaga had seen that this might happen; that they would stay this long were still here, it was easier to fix them.

      Perhaps this was a sign that Ieyasu should touch up on the rest of the wards. He should discuss it with Nobunaga soon.

      With a last swipe of his fingers, Ieyasu finished the last stroke, sealing the Ward into place, breathing and willing protective life into it, grasping the tiny threads of what made magic alive in a simple parking space for a local grocery and concentrating them into the defensive circle that now pulsed again with magic.

      The ward glowed with its fresh seals. Alive. Almost sizzling.Guarding the place anew. For a few seconds, Ieyasu regarded the glowing Ward with a sense of pride, tracing his bloody fingers around its edges, feeling the magic fuller and more vibrant now.

      At almost the same time, Masamune had thrown the blessed water into the kanaima’s vulnerable center, that hot pool of anger and hunger and frustration, and it sizzled on contact. The kanaima howled in pain, thrashing its many legs and arms in an attempt to inflict as much pain as it had just experienced.

      However, Ieyasu’s ward was in place and the kanaima could now only do very little. For every attempt the kanaima made to destroy, the Ward answered back with equal fervor, striking at the kanaima with particularly powerful bolts of lightning.

      Lightning?

      “Everyone out of the water!!” Ieyasu shouted at his friends.

      Thank the gods none of his friends were that stupid. Even before Ieyasu could finish what he was saying, Masamune nimbly leapt into the air, higher than what was humanly possible. Hideyoshi pointed his wand below him and he and Mitsunari were lifted up on dry land. And Ieyasu –

      Ieyasu was damn well near swimming, drenched from head to toe –

      Three things happened very quickly.

      First, the lightning, fat and angry and very difficult to follow, lashed out towards the kanaima in retaliation to it striking the ward. The kanaima wailed in screeching agony, a screaming tearing sound of metal against harder metal.

      Second, Ieyasu had closed his eyes and braced himself for the inevitable. What was another death for a timeshifter if it meant his friends and the city was safe? And vainly hoped that the ward was smart enough to bounce back from him unharmed. His ward. His sorcery. It was impossible (magic never really recognized masters) but men faced with death often thought impossible things.

      Third, something tall and dark had intervened, stepping into the circle of the ward harmlessly, and with a wave of an arm, deflected the lightning meant for Ieyasu, finding a way to turn his impossible thoughts possible.

      Ieyasu looked up, and gasped with relief.

      Nobunaga Oda stood in front of him, his black coat swirling around his feet in a way that no coat should ever move. Wisps of shadow and black smoke drifted around his ankles. He looked for all the world as if he had just came out for a stroll, a picture of casual perfection amidst the chaos around him.

      Nobunaga extended an arm to help Ieyasu up. Ieyasu accepted it without fuss and was lifted with what looked like barely any effort. Then, Nobunaga turned his attention back to the kanaima, adjusting his black gloves as he did.

      The kanaima had not yet lost its fight. It shrieked again, aiming for the two of them now. It struck out with all of its remaining limbs and Ieyasu would have braced himself, would have answered back with an attack of his own, except –

      Nobunaga was there. And his ward was restored. There was nothing for him to fear.

      Ieyasu’s ward glowed at the approach of danger, ready to protect. Nobunaga paid it no heed and instead began to walk towards the kanaima. His coat billowed wildly even if there was no wind, and shadows as dark as moonless and starless nights, darker than the kanaima itself, lashed out to deflect the spirit’s attacks.

      Where the kanaima’s limbs were heavy lumber, Nobunaga’s shadows were whips, extending nimbly and cracking like thunder. More and more shadowssnaked out from Nobunaga’s coat, more than the kanaima could counter, more thanthe kanaima could possibly even follow, more than it could possibly defenditself from. Its wail – then angry and frustrated – turned sorrowful, panickyand almost almost as if it was afraid.

Ieyasu gripped his wrist with his other hand.

      The kaniama was right to be afraid.

Nobunaga did not relent in his attack as he approached. His shadows struck the kanaima repeatedly, some pining it down, some seemingly tearing at it with a hundred unseen hands. Until it was reduced to lie spread-eagle on the concrete, until it had shrunk and shrunk down to only three feet tall and looked less and less like the destructive spirit it had been just moments earlier.

      It tried to crawl away wailing, but there was no escaping its inevitable end.

      Nobunaga stood over the kanaima. His shadows climbed into the air, twisted together to form a huge curved blade, and came down striking the kanaima straight in its abdomen, straight through its faintly glowing light, putting it out of its misery. There was a flash of bright light. Then silence.

      And just like that, the kanaima was gone. Lifetimes of pain, lifetimes of being an unwilling witness, reduced to nothing in a mere instant.

      And not for the first time tonight, Ieyasu felt a pang of something that hurt. He wished there was a better way for them to go, an easier way, a less painful way. But then, where would all that anger go? Where would all that pent-up frustration be channeled into if not in a final display of aimless destruction? A plea for a swift death.

      Ieyasu wanted to sit down, and think for a while.

      “Lord Ieyasu, you were amazing!” Mitsunari immediately exclaimed, turning back to look at him, beaming with a sense of wonder. “Your performance with wards is top-notch as usual.”

      “I was just doing what I normally do.” Came Ieyasu’s automatic response, deflecting Mitsunari’s wide-eyed praise. He felt nothing like amazing and Ieyasu was sure he among all of them was the one who least looked like amazing.

      “It appears I arrived just in the nick of time.” Nobunaga said. His shadows were gone, his black coat unmoving as all black coats should.

      “Yes you did, Lord Nobunaga.” Mitsunari turned his attention to the other man, and Ieyasu mentally thanked him.

      “Lord Nobunaga!” Hideyoshi approached them, all smiles despite being out of breathe, tucking his wand into his inner breast pocket. Masamune was close behind, sword hidden wherever it was that Masamune tucked his weapons.

      “We weren’t expecting for you to come.” Hideyoshi continued, almost vibrating with joy.

      “I was on my way home and thought something was not right.” Nobunaga said. “But it looked like you were handling it.”

      “Sure.” Ieyasu grumbled, running his hand through his matted hair. “And I am a perfect example of someone who was handling it, all right.”

      Hideyoshi and Masamune had only soot and a few scratches as proof they disabled a kanaima. Mitsunari looked pristine, his bag not even riddled with any dirt. And Nobunaga – well, he looked like he always did. It would be unfair to Ieyasu to compare himself to them.

      Nobunaga chuckled. “You do look a little worse for wear.”

      Ieyasu shrugged.

      Mitsunari’s smile had not dimmed. “I wish I had my camera.”

      Ieyasu shivered. “There’s nothing worth recording.”

       “Give yourself some credit.” Masamune slapped Ieyasu’s back and Ieyasu almost toppled back to the ground. “You did in a short time what other sorcerers or magicians do in an hours. Maybe even more.”

      “They just need more practice.” Ieyasu deflected again. “Besides, we all did our part.” Ieyasu gave Nobunaga a pointed look. “Some less than others.”

      At that Nobunaga chuckled again. Hideyoshi choked in disbelief.

      “Of course. The Duke Stag who Remembers, can do it all.” Nobunaga teased him.

      Ieyasu hoped the heat in his cheeks was fever and not him blushing at compliments; he never did like that nickname. Too many responsibilities. “Whatever. Look, it’s done.”

      And it was. The ward was slowly fading back into obscurity, sinking into the concrete. Ieyasu regarded it one final time before turning back to his friends.

      “I’m still confused though.” Masamune said. “Why did the spirit attack us?”

      All eyes went to Ieyasu and not for the first time tonight, he felt a little bit overwhelmed at the attention.

      Ieyasu would have adjusted his coat if it were not wet and sticking to his skin. “Kanaima’s are vengeful spirits, yes. They’re animated by something that caused their deaths – it fuels them to seek out and execute retaliation.”

      But those were basic stuff. Ieyasu dug further into his mind. His friends waited for him to carry on.

      “There was a footnote on the kanaima that I’ve read.” Ieyasu continued. “I think around the industrial revolution when the scientific approach to understanding spirits became more aggressive. Someone noticed that the kanaima’s weren’t just the angrier cousins of poltergeists – more like, as part of the consequence of a successful revenge, they don’t move on. They’re forced to see more and more acts of cruelty, pain; the consequences of their action. And they can do nothing to stop it. Again and again and again.”

      “How does the ward fit in?” Hideyoshi asked.

      “The kanaima must’ve thought the ward reacting to being erased against the Were was a trap. Or something similar.” Ieyasu shook his head. “I don’t think it has anything to do with the ward though. The kanaima simply reacted to the Were being hurt.”

      “And it thought we were the perpetrators?” Masamune asked.

      “I think so. I repaired the ward. The kanaima attacked as soon as I touched it.” Ieyasu turned to Nobunaga. “Which reminds me, we need to look at all the other wards, reinforce them. Someone or something was able to poke at this one.”

      And prevented me from sensing it. Ieyasu wanted to add but he did not want Hideyoshi to panic any more for tonight.

      “We’ll put that in the agenda.” Nobunaga looked thoughtful. “But for now, I think we all deserve some rest. It’s been a long night.”

      Ieyasu gave him a sidelong glance, wondered how much Nobunaga already knew.

      “Right.” Masamune clapped his hands twice. “Now we’ve saved the city again, yes. Congratulations! We have to celebrate!”

      “We still have to tidy up.” Hideyoshi reminded them.

      Masamune flinched. “Can the Kapitans do this – just this once? Like, can we please just go home right now?”

      Ieyasu surveyed the parking lot which looked nothing like how it did when they had first arrived. And someone had to do a lot of explaining with the wrecked cars. He could already imagine the paperwork.

      “Please take clean-up seriously.” Hideyoshi frowned at Masamune. “I’ll be heading over the nightwatch HQ and have someone look over the tapes. Then there’s a report we’ll need to make for the Liga. Ieyasu, I need your statements so –”

      Masamune made a face. “But we can literally do that in the morning –!”

      Ieyasu sighed as the two bickered about which task had to go to whom, when to do the appropriate task, and how Masamune did not again bring at least the basic condiments to work. Ieyasu looked at Nobunaga, who in turn was looking up at the night sky, somewhat pensive, as if he was trying to trace something above them.

      Ieyasu looked up as well, saw the stars as they usually were, and was just about to ask what Nobunaga had been looking at when he felt Masamune grab him by his neck, pulling him in for something resembling a hug.

      “No. And no. Both of you can do that in the morning. Like, after resting and waking up.” Masamune said. “Ieyasu here needs his beauty rest – ”

      At those words, Ieyasu felt ready to fight again. “What does that even mean –?”

      “It’s been a long night for all of us – especially Ieyasu.” Masamune mock-frowned at Hideyoshi. “And I call for a late night snack for all of his hard work at the restaurant tonight. And of course, Lord Nobunaga’s here!”

      Nobunaga was smiling. “I think I can use some late night snack.”

      “Lord Nobunaga!” Hideyoshi placed his hands over his face.

      Ieyasu rolled his eyes, tried to put as much as his heart to make it as believable as he could. “You want us to celebrate by making me work again?”

       Masamune gestured. “I mean, who else is gonna –”

      Mitsunarialmost raised his hand, “I would be very happy to – ”

      “No.” Ieyasu grabbed Mitsunari’s arm before Hideyoshi could, pulled it down. “Let’s not go there again.”

      Mitsunari angled his head. “But Lord Masamune can’t go into the kitchen and you’re tired Lord Ieyasu and we can’t have Lord Nobunaga cook so it’s only natural – ”

      “I’ll do it.” Hideyoshi and Ieyasu said at the same time.

      “We will order takeout.” Ieyasu hastily added. “You can just,” he struggled for the words, “rest.”

      Mitsunari looked surprised. “But I don’t feel particularly tired.”

      “That settles it then.” Masamune grinned from ear to ear, dragging Ieyasu and Mitsunari along. “We’re celebrating working hard and hard work!”

      “We have not yet decided on clean-up!”

      It had taken a call from Nobunaga for some other local agents of the nightwatch to help with the cleaning. Then after much debate, decided only by a flip of a coin, they stopped by a local burger joint for takeout, moved on to buy drinks (juice for Masamune), and walked back to their apartment which was three floors above their restaurant. They ate and drank for the city, for good health, for their successes, and for the gods to continue smiling kindly upon them all.

      By the time they finished, the sun had begun its climb from the Sierra Madre. Ieyasu wanted nothing more than to collapse in his bed and sleep the rest of the day away. The moment his head touched his pillow, he was gone and Ieyasu Tokugawa dreamed of teal colored wards and a woman running hard to catch up on him.

[scripted-dalliances]

Rest In Peace: Chapter Eight

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 8

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“Fear no more, says the heart...” -Virginia Woolf

+

Mad Sweeney pushes himself up off the floor, pissed for several reasons, top three being the fact he has just face fucked the floor, that Laura had ruined what was turning out to be a fan-fucking-tastic dirty dream and worst of all, he was clearly sporting a stiffy.

“Fuck you, dead girl, I was sleeping!”

“Yeah, and now you aren't. Come on, get up and get dressed, ginger bitch. We have a long drive back.”

That gets his attention, “Back where?”

“Back to Indiana. To find Anubis and Ibris. I have questions and I want them to answer them. I mean. Odin is dead now, so even if they had a deal it should be fine to just ask what it was.”

“You sure that's smart? They might take one gander ‘atcha and decide your trial period of second life is over. I might not be able to pluck that coin outta you, but Anubis might.”

“Then I will do a lot more than smack his hand if he tries.”

Sweeney gives out a dry chuckle, he doesn’t deny that he kind of wants to see it. An ancient god of death getting slapped silly by little Laura Moon. It was a painful experience, that he was familiar with but that didn't mean he had sympathy for anyone else who was on the receiving end of it.

(More so if he thought they deserved it)

“Fine, give a man some fucking privacy to get dressed.”

Laura looks down her nose at him, still on the floor, hidden by the bed.

“You got a boner, don't you.”

He feels his fucking ears burn, “Out!”

She leaves, but he is distinctly aware of her smug knowing smile.

He most certainly does not jack off to that same smug smile at all.

+

They decide to take one of Ostar's cars. It's the least fancy and brightly colored of her harem of cars, just a black SUV that has tinted windows and enough space for Sweeney’s long legs, so it's possible she'll never even notice or care. They argue for hours on who gets to drive it before a light bulb bursts right above his head, proving soundly that his luck is still fucking shit and they're more likely to survive if she drives.

Before they leave, Sweeney hunts down one of Ostara's many fluffy friends and picks it up by the scruff of the neck to bring the rabbit to his face.

“Oi, tell your old lady we'll bring the car back after we've paid a little visit to Anubis.”

The rabbit’s black nose twitches and Sweeney rolls his eyes.

“If anything happens to the fuckin' car you can have Shadow fuckin' Moon be the one to fuckin' pay for it. Its his damned dead, asshole wife!”

“Ex- asshole wife.” Laura calls out, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sweeney drops the rabbit, “Whatever, call it alimony then.”

“I had a better paying job than Shadow and owned a house, if anyone is paying alimony it would be me.” She says as he gets into the passenger side and she adjusts the car seat. Bringing it up as close as she can to the wheel. Meanwhile, he rummages through the bag at his feet that he brought, until he finds a stack of air fresheners.

He unwraps three lemon shaped ones and throws them in her lap. Laura looks down at them with a sneer while shoving on a pair of sunglasses.

“Really.”

“Shadow might not care for lemon scented you, but I sure as hell pick it over molding corpse.”

+

The first few hours of their drive isn't bad. Its not like they aren't used to sharing small spaces for impossibly long distances. This time she has the ability to aim all the air conditioners in her direction while he keeps the seat warmer on his side on high.

It also helps that he brought a blanket and a very pink fuzzy hat.

“Not a fuckin’ word outta of you dead girl.” He pulls it on and crosses his arms like a grumpy child. As if she was the one who made him wear it.

Laura keeps her face carefully blank, “I didn't say any thing.”

“You were thinkin' it.”

She struggles to hide the uptick of her lips.

“You do look pretty in pink.”

“Fuck you, dead bitch.”

“Fuck you back, Suibhne.”

+

“I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter ‘C'.”

“It better be cat.”

“It ain't.” Sweeney says with a delighted smirk.

Laura slams her feet on the brakes and Sweeney hits the dashboard with enough force to warrant a crunch.

“You’re an asshole, dead girl.” He hisses at her. Blood from his busted nose runs down his face and into his beard. She grins and continues their little game.

“I spy with my dead eye, something that begins with the letter D.”

Sweeney sniffs wetly, but then after a beat of silence asks, “Is it dickhead?”

“Bingo.”

+

The drive goes by faster than before. Probably because the SUV is naturally more efficient than an old ice cream truck, it helps too that neither of them need to stop for much. At most it’s a quick bathroom break, but Sweeney isn't the type of man who cares where he pisses so more often than not its just the side of the road.

On one such occasion, Laura gets out too just to stretch her limbs. There is a hint of stiffness in her that makes her worried that rigor mortis is a real possibility if she doesn't keep moving. It makes sense as much as it doesn't, her body moves but her insides don't.

There's no blood, every vein clogged and more than one of her organs stapled shut. Twice in some, while others are completely missing. Making her feel like a doll with no stuffing, nothing keeping her together but a gold coin and thread.

Except when she kissed Shadow and felt her heart beat…

Except when she touched Sweeney and felt her blood race…

Above her, a bird cries out. Laura covers her eyes to better see it fly over head. It circles twice, enough for her to fear it might be a damned vulture before it lands atop the car's hood and she realizes its far too small.

It's a hawk, and it opens its mouth to yell at her.

“What the fuck is this.” Sweeney comes up behind her, smoking and glaring at the bird as it continues it’s angry squawking. “What’d you do to piss it off?”

“Why do you think I did anything?”

“I might have shit luck, but even I’d still bet on those odds, darlin.”

“Go!” A new voice shouts.

“…Did that bird just tell me to go?” Laura questions, mostly at the bird.

“There you have it. Even the local wildlife is telling you to piss off.”

The hawk spreads its wings and lets out a sharp gutted cry; could be anger or indignation, fuck it could be a happy sound. All Laura ever owned was cats, she knows fuck all about birds.

“Go with!”

Laura has been having a really weird after life, all things considering, so stopping to talk to a hawk on the side of the road is just…well it is what it is. Fucking weird, but she does it.

“You…want to come with?”

The bird ruffled its feathers, puffed up and started earnestly bopping it's head. Laura shrugs and opens the passenger door, but quick as a lightning , Sweeney is pushing her hand aside and crawling in.

“I call FUCKIN' shot gun, the talking chicken nugget can sit in the fuckin' back.”

Laura slams the door closed, Hard enough to catch the tall idiot by the elbow and moves to open the back door instead. Gesturing to the bird to get in.

“Sure you want a lift? I mean you've got wings and this idiot never shuts the fuck up. I know which one I'd choose.”

The hawk flies into the back.

“Great.” She closes the door and walks back to the driver side. Mad Sweeney is glued to the radio, the bird is perched on the seat. Every now and then picking at something between it's claws and chewing.

“So, a dead woman, an unlucky leprechaun and a talking bird go on a road trip. Set up for a good joke, right?” She says, strapping herself in.

“And by good joke. You mean fuckin' awful, right?”

A new voice from the back pipes up, “Actually, I'm a God.”

Both of them scream in reply.

+

The bird who is not a bird at all, sits casually and as both Laura and Sweeney spit and sputter out curses in shock.

“Fuckin hell! Give a fella some sort of fuckin' warning you trickster asshole!” Sweeney puts a hand to his chest, where his heart is trying to escape his ribs. He will die of a damn heart attack before the end of this trip. He can feel it in his bones.

“Normally I wouldn't agree with him for anything, but holy shit yeah.” Laura looks at the man. He's handsome, dark skinned and naked. Really, really naked. “Also…maybe clothes? I’d like to at least know your name before I know what your balls look like.”

Sweeney glances back. Regrets it instantly.

“At least cup yourself, lad. This ain't our fuckin' car and I ain't paying to clean your dick sweat from it.” He tells the guy but there is no reaction from him. No shame.

Mad Sweeney looks harder at the man and sighs. He knows that look.

“Oh fuck me…” He glares at the dead woman beside him. “You just had to do it, didn't ya. You just had to let the bird in.”

“He asked!”

“He is fuckin' mad as shit! LOOK INTO HIS FUCKIN' EYES, WOMAN. HE IS BATTY AS A FUCK-” Sweeney glanced back to point, only to find he couldn't, “..he is a fuckin’ bird again. Fuck.” The hawk was back and blinking at them both. “Why the fuck is he a bird again?”

Laura shrugged, “How would I know? Maybe all your stupid yelling scared him.”

The hawk flapped it's wings.

Sweeney glared, “You’ll have a lot more to fear from me than the tone of my voice if you don't fuckin' change back, you mad feathery fuck, and tell us what the fuck you want.”

There is no pop, no dazzle of magic. Just one moment there was a bird, the next the man was back.

“I'm not scared of you.” The man says simply.

Before Sweeney can fling himself into the back and start a fight, Laura catches him by the shoulder.

“Stop trying to fight naked bird boy. I do not have the energy to properly workshop all the insults I could make from it right this second. And I'd really like to give it my all, so maybe hold off?”

“He wouldn't win.” The man says, as if stating a fact and nothing else.

“Wanna fuckin bet, bird brains?”

The man tilts his head, either confused by the insult or Mad Sweeney in general. Either way, Laura clocks the blankness in his eyes and acknowledges that whoever he is, he isn't playing with a full deck.

“Hey, so. Hello. I'm Laura.”

“I know.”

Taken slight aback, she waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, she pushes on. “Any chance you can tell me your name or perhaps the reason why you suddenly decided to join us?”

The man blinks at her, processing for a long time before answering.

“I am called Horus. I know you are going to my brothers. I wish to come with.”

“…Okay.” Laura accepts this best she can. Horus as far as she can tell, is also an Egyptian god. So that makes sense…at least in the context of where he is traveling to. “Still gotta wonder. Wouldn't flying as bird be quicker?”

Horus doesn't answer, only looks at her with mournful dark eyes. Laura is shocked to see a second later a tear runs down his dark cheek.

“Hey, listen its fine. You can come with.” She awkwardly attempts to back track. She isn’t good with people, and knows it. But so far this God hasn’t done anything to her except ask for a lift and within seconds she has made him cry. That's a record even for her.

“Shit. There is probably some shitty karma coming my way now isn't there? For making some innocent god cry?”

“Ain't you, dead girl.” Sweeney tells her, voice lowered. He hands the weeping god his blanket and even an opened pack of peanuts. Which seems to cheer Horus up considerably. As he quickly stops crying and  starts to pop them into his mouth to chew. “Chances are he has been a bird so long, everything up there is scrambled eggs. Doubt he remembers what his brothers look like let alone what street they live on.”

He knows, after all, just how little it takes to lose your mind. What it's like to be a bird and lose everything that you were and not even notice until its too late. The ability to turn back into a man fades every time you take flight, that's what they don't tell you.

Even now, sometimes he has days he wishes he could spread his wings and take off. Leave everything behind, just to feel the wind and the air hold him again, to be free and light as only a bird can be.

“But he knew who I was. Knew I was headed to them…”

Horus, having finished all his treats, leans towards them.

“The ravens told me.”

Laura glances at Sweeney, who growls and bangs his fist against his knee. “Okay, does that mean something or is that crazy bird code?”

“Huginn and Muninn. Odin's pet ravens. They've been following us for so long, I sort of forgot. Figured with Odin dead they'd fuck off. Either they've gained a sense of self or someone else has given a job to the lil bastards to keep tracking us.”

Horus frowns, “They were always meant to leave him. Even he knew that. If they work for someone new, it was always meant to be.”

Horus holds out his hand. And it takes a second for Sweeney to realize he wants a treat. With a heavy roll of his eyes, he bends to pull out another bag of snacks from his bagged horde. He pops it open and hands it over, watching in disgruntled amazement as the god upends it all into his mouth at once.

Laura starts the car and pulls it back onto the road. She doesn't exactly remember the way to the funeral home, other than a vague general direction she should head to and can only hope there is a sign for their business when they reach the state.

“So, Odin has a few minions still roaming about. Does it matter?”

“Does it matter she asks,” Mad Sweeney repeats, voice mocking. “Of course it fuckin matters. You, dead girl, killed him. In front of a group of holy witnesses at that. Now Shadow and Miss Spring might not say anything, but you can bet Media and Techdick will. I have no doubt they were watching from afar.”

There had been too much going on, afterwards to notice for sure, but Laura didn't doubt it.

“Never mind what feathery dumb and dumber are up to, by now there will probably be a whole new war gearing up. All against the dead girl who decided to go highlander on their big man. Fuck, there's no telling if they're teaming up or not either, old gods and new.” He chuckles, “Ain't nothing brings people together like a common enemy.”

Laura frowns, “I don't know why you're laughing. If they come after me, you're just as fucked.”

“Aye. Not much changed for me then is it?”

Laura stays silent, he's been eerily right for most things and she hates the idea he might be right about this.

>

[dorepil]

when you love someone┊final

*inspired by a webtoon something about us by lee yun ji

summary: you consider younghyun and yourself the best of friends. the people around you seem to think otherwise. however, one day, you start to view younghyun differently than just ‘best friends’.

pairing: reader x young k (younghyun)

genre: fluff, a bit of angst, best-friends-to-lovers!au

word count: 4.9k 

chapters: 1 , 2 , 3

notes: [ mood: bittersweet ] finally! this marks the end of when you love someone, it has been a rollercoaster! one day, i had so much ideas for the story, and the next day my mind is completely dry. i truly enjoy writing this series, and i hope i ended it in a good note! i’d like to thank the readers for all the support i’ve received! thank you again, and enjoy reading :) -admin moon

‹ confession song ›

flashback - highschool

it was a late afternoon.

your best friend had dragged you all the way up the rooftop while you were in the midst of reading your novel.

you asked him curiously, “so how was your break? i couldn’t ask you earlier since i forgot.”

younghyun took a seat on the ledge and you plopped down right next to him.

“canada was great~ i met up with my old friends!” he replied.

“and a lot of them are attached,” you mentioned, recalling seeing the pictures of his friends with their girlfriends on his instagram.

reaching down and taking his guitar out of its case, he let out a chuckle.

“yet, here i am all alone.”

have you ever mentioned that high school kang younghyun was a hotshot? 

you rolled your eyes. “don’t say that when you rejected almost the entire population of girls in our school.” 

you enjoyed the light autumn breeze against your face while you lightly kicked your legs back and forth in mid-air.

“you know the song i’ve been working on since the start of the year?” he said while strumming the strings of the guitar lightly.

you turned and looked at him questionably before answering, “that song.”

“well, that song... i finished it over the break,” he announced proudly.

you were eager to hear the “highly confidential” song that he has been keeping from you. 

“promise me, you won’t laugh.” 

“ i promise.”

you do have to admit, younghyun has a nice voice.

it is the type of voice that reflects easily on your emotions, tugs at your heartstrings, and allows you to empathize with its meaningful lyrics through his calm and silky voice.

why why why do I stare at the ceiling every night?

i gave you so many hints so you can notice but you don’t

i’m serious my eyes say that i like you why don’t you feel it? my face is so obvious

i can’t stop loving you

“the lyrics dude, where-- who inspired you?” 

“just some romantic chick flicks i watched over the break. plus, listening to unrequited love songs, and reading all the friend-zone experiences on the internet.”

you joked, “out of a sudden...? who hurt you?”

he averted his eyes away. “very funny.”

“i’m joking-- the song’s really good! it talks about how this man or woman is seriously in love someone but the person’s acting ambiguous, i highly emphasize with that person you know.”

“someone friend zoned you or something?” 

“yeah! you know donghae?”

“oh my god, please tell me it’s not that guy from super junior?”

you waved off the topic. “enough of my love life. what are you going to name this song?” you asked.

he hummed, pausing for a moment to think. 

“i’ll title it ‘i’m serious’.”

“let’s hope that you won’t become your own song.”

younghyun playfully pushed you in the shoulder.

“ha. ha.”

present - the annual festival

in the dressing room, you stared at your reflection in complete horror.

“oh my god, you look so cute!” nayeon squealed.

hugging your body was a brown furry onesie, with a cute headpiece that adorned your head and a pair of fluffy gloves.

“what am i?” you asked her.

“you’re grizzly from we bare bear!” nayeon said.

“how did we end up with this theme?”

nayeon giggled, “henry went late for the department meeting, the rest of the department had already chosen their themes and the only theme left was this.”

henry, overhearing the conversation between you and nayeon, walked over and joined in. “i’m sorry about being late, and also, i hate this equally as well.”

“heavens! what are you?” you almost screamed aloud.

henry was wearing an atrocious furry green body suit, a fake bushy green mustache stuck on the top of his lips and hair was sprayed in a shade of neon green.

“i don’t even know whether i’m the grinch or charlie the bigfoot.”

“you’re going to scare people off.” nayeon shook her head in dismay.

henry sighed, “i know right! i hope people still notice my out-of-the-world looks, that’s my biggest concern.” he pointed at his ‘out-of-the-word’ face.

“hi, can i take a picture with you?”

you’re the 104th person that had asked me that. you thought, grinning through gritted teeth.

“sure, why not--wonpil!”

after wandering around and promoting around the area for people to visit your department’s store, you stumbled upon a wild wonpil nearby the game stations.

“your department theme is pokemon...?” 

wonpil, who was wearing a charmander outfit nodded his head enthusiastically. 

“you look so adorable! i wanna squish you!” wonpil cooed, reaching out and tried to squeeze your cheeks.

“i’m going to bite your hands if you do that.” you threatened playfully.

he squealed, “oh my god, that makes it even cuter!”

you saw a plastic ball flew in the direction of wonpil’s head.

before you could warn wonpil of the incoming danger, he winced as the impact on the back of his head.

“i choose you charmander!”

“what the heck! who is-- jae!” wonpil shrilled

jae laughed hysterically in the distant, earning a death glare from the poor boy.

wonpil picked up the plastic ball, aiming it in the direction of jae. 

jae managed to dodge the ball, much to wonpil’s displeasure.

dowoon (dressed as a pikachu; yellow shirt, a pointed headband) and sungjin (dressed as bulbasaur; green shirt, green plant bulb backpack on his back) joined you, wonpil and jae afterward.

the school of music got the pokemon theme. the school of liberal arts got the harry potter theme. the school of business got the royalties theme. the school of arts got we bare bear theme.

we bare bear theme practically wasn’t a thing only after the whole cartoon got really famous, replacing the highly-loved spirited away theme.

jae, who had a lightning ‘scar’ on his forehead with a circular frame was trying to mimic the famous protagonist.

“are you the bear from the revenant?”

“excuse me? i didn’t mock your suckish harry potter impersonation, plus, i can’t wait to get out of this costume.” you defended yourself.

dowoon pointed to a group in front of us, “hey, look! isn’t that younghyun?” he asked aloud.

the five of us looked at the same direction, watching a group of girls swarming and constantly repeating ‘can i take a picture with you?’ while the person himself in the middle looked completely flustered by the attention he was getting.

“i guess brian is the mvp this year.” jae commented, a tinge of the envy in his tone. “c’mon girls! give our man some space!”

wonpil bumped you lightly on the shoulder, giving you the ‘look! jae is jealous’ and you giggled. 

“hello prince charming, where’s your consort?” 

“ha. ha. very funny, sungjin.” younghyun rolled his eyes.

he turned and looked at you, and you felt your breath got hitched up in your throat. 

wearing a black suit and a golden crown right on top of his perfectly styled hair, he looked like a prince that had come out from a fairytale book. 

indeed, only kang younghyun can pull off that.

“you looked so done with yourself,” he remarked.

“i am. meanwhile, you look... great!” you replied, fixing your headband self-consciously.

younghyun squeezed your cheeks and you let out a small yelp.

“you look fine~ cute actually.”

you felt your face began to heat up, and you quickly slapped his hands away.

“remember when we used to have band practices after high school?” sungjin reminisced, his attention now directed to the campus band who was performing on the platform stage.

jae smiled. “i haven’t thought about that for a while. wow, i really missed those days.”

you smiled fondly at the memories, remembering the times when you would stay back after school just to watch them practice, listening to the sounds of melodies echoed the gym room.

“y/n was our supporter, isn’t she? she would always sit on the sidelines while she watched us frolicking around with our instruments.” wonpil mentioned.

you chuckled, “i wasn’t the only one. you guys had a huge fanbase in the school going on. you guys literally receive confessions every single day!”

a group of high-school girls would follow behind them in the hallways, often a gift or letter in their hands.

“no, you were totally different. you would bring food for us after school, knowing we would be practicing on an empty stomach, watched us practice without complaining, and give actual helpful suggestions.” 

“wow, i’m touched brian.”

your best friend groaned, “brian...? i take back everything about complimenting you.”

you felt your phone vibrated. 

“sorry guys, this is my cue to disappear. nayeon needs help with managing the store.” you excused yourself, reading the emergency text from nayeon.

“see you later paddington!” 

you shot him a glare, “let’s see how you will have to bear with the consequences later, jae.”

you found nayeon frantically preparing drinks, with many customers watching curiously at the girl who was stressed out.

“thank god you’re here! henry and a couple other helpers decided to ditch me to go watch the band perform, i’m going to kill him later.” nayeon explained.

“i’ll do the snacks. just focus on the drinks okay!” 

“thank you! you are the best y/n!” 

the both of you spent the next an hour and a half preparing food and drinks before the two of you settled all the orders.

“whew! you don’t mind if i go to the restroom for awhile?” nayeon asked.

“go ahead, i’ll be fine!” you shoo-ed her off.

you began to daydream after you were alone, gazing at the people passing you in a blur.

“hello, can i have one of those?”

you shook your head, breaking away from your reverie.

“i’m so sorry-- jinyoung!” you exclaimed.

the handsome alumni stood in front of you, chuckling at your reaction.

“you’re here!” 

“i couldn’t miss this, the festival is always the best.”

you handed him the drink. “it’s okay, it’s on me.”

“kind as ever.” 

“well, it’s rather embarrassing to see me in this state.” you sighed.

jinyoung scanned you from head to toe. “you look adorable, what are you talking about?”

“really?” 

jinyoung laughed, “two years ago, during my last year here, when the school of arts got spirited away as the theme-- i was the no-face. it was the worst.”

“that was you?” 

you recalled flipping through the past years school magazine, remembering crackling out loud at the picture of a frowning no-face.

“that’s my dark past.”

you chattered with jinyoung for a little more, catching up with him on hani, mr. han and his work life.

“y/n! oh, my god! why didn’t you tell me anything?” nayeon said loudly, rushing back to the store.

“what? what’s going on?” you asked, confused.

noticing jinyoung was there, she froze before recomposing herself and shyly greeted, “hello, jinyoung.” 

“hey, nayeon.” 

henry came running back after nayeon. “y/n! there you are! hurry over to the middle of the campus now!” he informed in between heavy breaths.

“why? are you guys okay? what’s going on?” you asked, concerned with the sudden change of behavior of your friends.

“there’s no time to explain, jinyoung can you follow y/n there?” nayeon asked.

jinyoung, who was also as confused as you, nodded his head.

“sure, i’m meeting hani there too. c’mon let’s go!” 

you and jinyoung squeezed through the crowds, heading in the direction where henry had instructed you to go.

it wasn’t far from the place where you and your 5 friends had met up earlier.

“unfortunately, that was the final song from our own campus band. despite that, it is not the end of the performance yet! we have one last-minute addition. also a band, here are sungjin, jae, younghyun, wonpil, and dowoon.” the emcee, jimin announced. 

stunned, you turned to look at the stage where your five friends were standing.

“jinyoung, those aren’t my friends... right?”

“they are. and look! there’s hani!” 

“let’s start with some self-introductions first.” jimin said.

“i’m jae, from the political science department like my boy, jimin. i’m pretty known around here, follow me on my twitter @/jaesix!”

“the audience didn’t ask for a shameless plug, okay next.” jimin rolled her eyes. jae, unaffected by jimin’s clever comeback, sent a wink towards the audience.

“hi, i’m sungjin. i’m from the faculty of music along with wonpil and dowoon. i will be playing the acoustic guitar.”

“hello, i’m younghyun. i’m from business administration course.”

“hi everyone! i’m wonpil and this guy beside me is dowoon. i play the piano and he plays the drum!” wonpil introduced both himself and the shy dowoon.

a large group of people began to gather near the stage, curious by what was happening on the stage. “i’m going to the front, will you guys be okay?” you asked jinyoung and hani.

“go ahead!” the both of them replied in unison.

you maneuvered through the gaps before finding yourself an open space at the front. younghyun spotted you immediately, sending you a small smile.

“what are you doing?” you mouthed.

he mouthed back, “you’ll see.”

“okay, what will guys be performing today?” jimin asked.

all of them turned and looked at younghyun.

“we’ll be covering two songs then sing one of our self-composed songs. pardon if we don’t sound the best, it’s been a few years since we had a band performance.” 

“let’s give them a round of applause!” jimin cheered, slowly backing to the side of the stage.

you watched nervously as they picked up the instruments. they took a moment to familiarise with the instruments and the environment before they started playing.

they started off with wonder girls' ‘nobody’ and it immediately lifted the mood of the audience and everyone began chanting the famous lyrics. 

you were awestruck. 

they certainly did not sound like a band that had gone on hiatus for a few years. every strum from the guitars and bass were on rhythm, the piano was harmonizing beautifully with the song and every stroke of the drums was on perfect beat.

you felt like you were transported back in time. you were experiencing the exact same feelings you had when you watched your friends jumped around the stage, having the time of their lives as they performed.

you truly missed this feeling.

after covering cnblue’s ‘i’m a loner’, the crowd went even crazier.

“this is a song for someone special, i hope you remember this song.” younghyun said to the microphone in english.

the meeting of two drumsticks commences the final song.

you froze when wonpil began singing the first verse.

why why why do I stare at the ceiling every night?

this song... isn’t it ‘i’m serious’? you felt a feeling of deja vu pulsed through your body.

i gave you so many hints so you can notice but you don’t

you felt your heart beating rapidly. 

“...it talks about how this man or woman is seriously in love someone but the person’s acting ambiguous.”

i’m serious my eyes say that i like you why don’t you feel it? my face is so obvious

immediately, you looked at him with an open-mouthed stare, younghyun, at the same time, made eye contact with you.

“confess, serious, feelings… do you think he has a liking towards someone?”

it finally clicked in your head. “the english phrases... they were hints?”

in the end, i just made you listen to useless things and i let you go with a smile why am i like this?

“wait...” your ears perked up at an unfamiliar part of the song that you had never heard before.

i try to start a conversation to figure out how you feel trying to pass it off as a joke but why don’t you know? i’m only looking at you

“speaking of guys, you never seemed to have a guy you like.”

“what do you mean? don’t you remember my super junior phase?” you raised your brows.

younghyun let out a sarcastic laugh, “donghae? i’m speaking realistically.”

you stroked your chin, thinking deeply. “maybe jungkook from bts? he’s cute.”

when the song ended, there was a brief silence before everyone applauded

instead of joining the majority of the audiences with clapping, you were experiencing shortness of breath as the one particular verse of lyrics rang over and over in your head.

i can’t stop loving you

i can’t stop loving you

i can’t stop loving you

how could you not realize that you were the one all along?

when night falls, it concluded the end of the festival.

ever since the end of the performance, you were at a loss for words. you returned back to the store where nayeon and henry bombarded you with burning questions.

“i...i-- i’ll tell you guys later.” you sighed, taking a seat down on one of the plastic chairs.

you kept telling yourself that it was a joke, “no way he likes me, i’m practically like a sister to him.” 

you got up from your seat abruptly, breaking your train of thoughts.

“nayeon, i’ll go change first then i’ll come back.”

you needed to get distracted, all these questions were perpetually killing you inside.

after changing out of your stuffy bear costume, you walked back to the store where students were already packing up and preparing to leave campus.

you and nayeon helped carry cardboard boxes with leftover poster back to the studio.

“wanna head for supper later?” she asked you as you closed the studio door.

you were about to excuse yourself for the night but you changed your mind quickly. “sure, i need a few drinks anyway.”

you, nayeon and henry were about to exit the campus before your conscience asked, “i wonder where’s the five of them. i haven’t seen younghyun after the performance too...”

you shook your head. “now is not the time to think about this.

henry had also invited jinyoung and hani to join along.

when the five of you were settled down at the restaurant, henry managed to break the ice by starting the conversation on his character during the festival.

“you have no idea how many side-eyes i received from people today... it was the absolute worst.” 

jinyoung laughed, “now you understand how i felt when i dressed up as no-face?”

“that’s different! people still know you are handsome under that layer of face-paint.” henry argued.

“henry please, let this serve as a lesson for you to never be late again for important meetings.” nayeon patted henry’s back.

you and hani burst into waves of laughter.

at that moment, a group of people entered the restaurant and you instantly recognized who they were.

“hey! guys! over here!” henry called them over.

oh no.

jinyoung joined a couple more tables together so that it can fit everyone. 

“yo, paddington.”

“jae, are you not going to drop that?” you sighed.

great, why does younghyun have to sit on the opposite?

“y/n! did you see our performance?” wonpil asked excitedly.

you glanced at younghyun, who was looking at you with the same curiosity before answering, “yes! you guys were amazing!”

dowoon did a little drum movement and jae awed at the younger boy’s little action.

“what did you think of the last song we performed?”

you tried to contain your shock from the question, looking at him confusingly.

“what do you mean younghyun?” you acted as if you were clueless, then bringing the glass of alcohol up to your lips.

“you’re such a bad liar y/n.” 

why are you doing this to me?

you didn’t respond much after younghyun’s probing.

your nerves were running wild in your body, causing you to fidget slightly. hoping the alcohol would calm you down, you poured the content down your throat again and again.

“hey, enough.” someone took your glass away before you could take another sip.

it was none other than your best friend.

i’m tired. you breathed out exhaustedly, getting up from your seat slowly and said, “i need to head out for some fresh air, don’t mind me.” 

once you headed outside, some of the stuffiness from your chest disappeared a little.

you spotted a little playground on the other side of the road and you turned and looked back at the restaurant. “just for a little while.” you mumbled to yourself.

the playground was deserted, there was an air of serenity and it helped relieve a terrible headache you were currently having.

you plopped yourself on the empty swing, slowly moving back and forth as you loosen your neck and let your head dropped.

“i thought we were just good friends. but now... something feels different. if... if i were to... tell you i like you... what would happen?” you spoke, allowing your feelings out in the cold night air.

you looked at him as a friend until you realized you loved him.

credits

sighing deeply, you got up from the swing. “enough dilly-dallying y/n.” you reminded yourself.

looking up, you felt your heart stopped. 

“how long have you been here?” you asked cautiously.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

you fell back onto the swing, bringing your hands up as you covered your face.

“y/n...”

“you weren’t supposed to hear that younghyun.”

“i-i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. it’s not your fault i have feelings for you.” 

uncovering your shaking hands from your face, you turned and looked up at younghyun with a forced smile, “let’s pretend you didn’t hear anything. i’m going to head back home now, please tell the rest i’m sorry for leaving so suddenly.”

“wait--”

before he could complete his sentence, you hurried off.

the next morning, you woke up in cold sweat.

 the incident of the previous night had led you to a sleepless night, despite how tired you were.

“right, it wasn’t a dream.” 

reaching out your phone from the nightstand, you checked whether you have any missed calls or messages.

0 missed calls or unread messages.

were you hopeful that he would call or text you after what happened? 

probably.

you eventually got out of bed, taking a few minutes to get prepared for school.

unlocking the door, you headed out. you told yourself no matter how much you wanted to hid from him, you have to face your own shame no matter what.

“y/n!” 

younghyun?

“oh... wonpil!”

“what are you doing here?” you asked while locking the door.

“ah, younghyun told me to come to wake you up if you overslept.” 

you pursed your lips.

“well, i will have to thank him later.”

“he says he’s sorry that he can’t walk you to school today.” wonpil relayed his message.

“it’s okay. you’re here,” you replied.

this was your nightmare coming to life, a slip-up that has suddenly caused an unplanned tension between you and your best friend. for a long time, you’ll be haunted by the fact that everything will be awkward between the two of you, he’ll be reminded by your one-sided love while you’ll be reminded by your embarrassment.

no wonder he called wonpil to walk with me to school.

the two of you walked to school together, except the fact that this daily routine was replaced by wonpil.

after a short walking distance, you and wonpil finally reached campus.

“y/n! wonpil!”

“dowoon?”

wonpil and dowoon shared a look.

“i’ll take y/n from here.” dowoon smiled, linking arms with you as he dragged you away from wonpil.

“dowoon... what is going on?”

“you’ll see.”

after climbing multiple steps of stairs and take random turns, the two of you stopped in front of the recording studio.

“once you head in, go into the recording booth and put on the headphones okay?” dowoon instructed.

you nodded your head slowly, following his instructions although you perplexed by what was going to happen.

in the recording booth, you put on the headphones carefully.

“y/n, can you hear me? if yes, speak to the microphone.” dowoon asked.

you gave a thumbs up. “yup. crystal clear.”

“someone is going take over and give you further instructions, hold on~” 

you watched from behind the glass panel as dowoon got up from his seat and left the recording studio.

“huh?” 

checking your phone, you realized you only have an hour before lecture.

“what are the two of you up to?” you were about to send a text to wonpil and dowoon before a music began to play in your ears.

in life, there aren’t many days when things go your way there are more days when it didn’t go my way will today be another one of those days? i am pretty worried

after I tell you these words i’m not sure if we can go back to smiling like we are now but I have to i

like you i tried holding it back but i can’t anymore now i can tell you i want to love you

your phone slipped out of your hand, landing on the soft carpet as you listened to the chorus.

“who?” you whispered, turning and faced the glass panel.

someone else was inside the studio with you, and it was neither wonpil nor dowoon.

it was someone you had least expected to be there with you, observing you intently with an indescribable expression.

i’ve thought of you like this but if you don’t feel the same

you just need to tell me “i’m sorry” and i’ll be fine

like you i tried holding it back but i can’t anymore now i can tell you i want to love you

you could feel the emotions building up your body as the violins (or an orchestra) joined with the final chorus of the song, and you bit your lips from trembling.

when the song ended, he finally spoke, “i hope my song expresses what i want to say to you.”

you sucked in a deep breathed, then spoke into the mic. 

“you don’t have to do this just because i like you.”

he smiled, “why not?”

why?

“you must’ve have pitied me because i’m your close friend. you didn’t want to feel bad for rejecting me because you’re afraid your guilt will eat you up.”

he let out a laugh. “y/n, why in the world would i do that to you?”

you sighed, removing your headphones and headed out.

“y/n... where are you going?” 

he held your arm just as you were about to leave the studio.

“younghyun, don’t you understand? we’re friends, for a very long time. i’m afraid after this moment, i’m not sure we can go back to being normal, being friends. i don’t want to lose you because of my feelings for you.”

he loosened his grip on your arm. 

“what if i don’t want to y/n?”

“what...?”

“what if i don’t want to be just friends, y/n? can’t you see? please, look at me. it took me a lot of courage to do this. ever since you got close to jinyoung, i went crazy. completely out of my mind. when i found out from jinyoung that you rejected him, i was ecstatic! from there onwards, i began to drop you hints... well in english because i was still scared. you weren’t the only one scared of losing this friendship y/n, i was terrified! every day, my feelings for you blossomed, and i don’t think i should hold back anymore. what i’m saying is, i like you y/n.”

you were astonished by his words.

after all, a man that you had been crushing on finally proclaimed his romantic feelings for you.

“i-i... is this a dream?” this was all you could muster out of your mouth.

sighing, younghyun lowered his body. the next thing he did literally pull the soul right out of your body.

he pressed his lips against your forehead, then proceeded in embracing you.

“is this still a dream?” he whispered in your ears.

you felt your vision blurred, a giggle escaped your lips as you embraced him back.

“you’re not crying are you?”

“stop it! these are tears of happiness, you idiot!”

a chuckle erupted from his throat, “well, that’s good to hear.”

there were cheerings from outside the door, and you and younghyun could easily guess who they were.

“wow our boy bribri beat us all here in getting a girl first!” jae exclaimed, his fingers furiously typing a new tweet talking about his single life. 

@/youngk93 got a gf today, why am i still single #whyamialone #singlelife #tindercan’tevengetmeagf

wonpil and dowoon pressed their ears against the door while intertwining their fingers together.

“wonpil and dowoon, give them some privacy please.” sungjin grabbed them each by collars.

jae wiggled his brows, “yeah, give them some privacy. go get it brian!”

sungjin continued to drag wonpil and dowoon away. “jae, can you hurry up and for once, stop using your goddamn phone.”

“hold on-- i’m reading the comments! wait--! @/jiminpark07 replied to your tweet: look at yourself in the mirror first b4 asking why you are alone, loser. dude, she’s asking for trouble.”

the day finally ended with you resting on your bed, relaxing your sore back as you looked up at the ceiling, a content smile plastered on your face.

the only sounds in your room were the snorings coming from the person beside you.

you turned and faced him, reaching out and lightly traced the side of his face.

“i always felt a little alone and scared in this small, empty apartment. however today, it suddenly felt so full, just because you are here with me.”

you slowly shimmied closer to him, careful not to wake him up from his deep slumber.

“i’d like to be with you all the time, create as many memories together as possible.”

although he never told you this yet, you are his sun, his moon, and all his stars.

end.