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mdzsgildedfate · 4 years ago

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Gilded Fate - Chapter 7

Reincarnation AU [Chapter 7/?] Characters: Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Original Characters. Pairings: Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi

Qi obscuring talismans. That explains why this place was so hard to find. That and the fact that the opening to the cave is barely a crack in the ground, hidden among a thicket of bushes. If Jin Ling hadn’t been specifically looking for it, it would be nearly impossible to stumble upon it accidentally. Which makes the use of obscuring talismans all the more suspicious. Whoever left these here wasn’t worried about regular people finding the cave.

The distance from the opening to the bottom of the cave was about six meters, a straight drop down with nothing to hold onto to climb. Jin Ling secured a rope around a nearby tree and dropped down, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness after his feet hit the ground. The cave itself seemed rather ordinary, but the floor was split down the middle by an underground river flowing from a waterfall placed in the far corner. That explained where the water from the pond was draining from at least.

With nothing else noteworthy about the cavern, Jin Ling followed the river to where it disappeared through a smaller opening. It was large enough for a person to pass through, but he had to step into the water and crouch slightly to fit. With no light reaching inside the tunnel, he walked slowly with his hands feeling along the wall, careful not to slip and be carried away by the current. After about ten meters, Jin Ling felt the walls open back up, allowing for him to climb out of the water and onto solid ground.

A flame talisman was ignited and almost immediately dropped, as the light revealed a cavern full of about two dozen corpses scattered across the floor. Instinctively, Jin Ling grabbed the hilt of his sword, preparing to defend himself against walking corpses. Several moments passed though and none of them rose. He released his grip on the sword and stuck the flame talisman to one of the walls, freeing his hands to inspect the corpses.

Most of the bodies were quite old, already black and leathery and dressed in rotting rags. A handful of them, however, looked like they couldn’t have been killed more than a week or so ago. Each one bore no unusual lacerations or markings except for a single long bruise across their throats, indicating that each of the fresher corpses had all been strangled to death. It seemed likely the walking corpse he’d seen before had come from here, but then why hadn’t these corpses transformed as well?

Jin Ling pulled out the qiankun pouch he used to store the walking corpse in and laid its body out to inspect again. At first glance, there was no obvious difference between it and any of the other rotted corpses, so he moved on to inspect one of the other corpses. Cutting off the ragged clothes, he looked over every inch of the body, from the tip of its toes to the top of its head. Nothing stood out until he reached the thing’s hairline, fingers brushing over some strange protrusion at the base of its skull.

Flipping the body over, Jin Ling parted the hair to reveal a black piece of metal with a strange sigil engraved on it. Once he’d pulled the thing out, he could see that it was actually a thin, iron nail the length of one of his fingers. A moment later, the corpse jolted and opened its pupil-less eyes. Jin Ling stood and watched it thoughtfully as it struggled with stiff limbs to climb to its feet. Before it had the chance, he killed it and went back to inspect the corpse from the qiankun pouch.

Just as he suspected, that corpse had no iron nails inserted into its skull.

“Hmph… So this nail keeps them from transforming…” He said to himself, spinning the nail between his fingers. “What’s the point of that? Why didn’t this one have a nail?”

Jin Ling kicked the corpse at his feet. A quick check through the rest of the corpses confirmed that they all had nails, each one with the same sigil engraved in it. As strange as the situation was, one thing bugged Jin Ling more than anything; With his uncle being Wei Wuxian, the most infamous demonic cultivator, how was it that he didn’t recognize the sigil used on these nails? If this cultivator was delving into wicked tricks as a novice, they shouldn’t be able to create their own sigils yet.

After a moment longer of letting his mind wander over the evidence at hand, Jin Ling packed away the original corpse, as well as the iron nail, and extinguished the flame talisman to head back to the main cavern. He climbed back up the rope and out of the cave, pausing to take another look at the qi obscuring sigils. There was nothing unusual about them, each stroke painted correctly in black ink on standard talisman paper. Whatever the reason may be, someone was intentionally storing these corpses for later use and was using these sigils to hide from Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen.

As much as he wanted to think this was the work of Xue Yang, ultimately it wasn’t possible. A quick read on Xinyi’s spiritual energy showed that he still hadn’t fully awoken. Furthermore, the complex sigils present could only be made by someone who’d spent years cultivating a golden core. Even if Xinyi had regained his memories recently, his body’s spiritual energy would be too low to use qi obscuring talismans.

Jin Ling sighed. “That kid’s a priority. No point in worrying Sizhui and Jingyi about this just yet.”

Arriving back at the temple confirmed the need to put the cave on a backburner. Gongzhu was pacing back and forth anxiously, clearly agitated by whatever had the group of students looking equally anxious. Once his eyes fell on MingYue, he rushed to her side immediately, putting his hands on either side of her face and guiding her to look up at him.

“I was only gone a few hours, what happened?!”

She pulled away from his touch, trying to reassure him with a shaky smile. “It’s nothing, really! You don’t need to worry-”

“MingYue, you’re crying. Don’t waste my time by saying it’s nothing.”

The student at MingYue’s side spoke up for her. “Wang Xinyi went crazy and attacked her!”

MingYue put her hands up, shaking her head. “You make it sound so much worse than it is-”

“Look at her neck! He tried to kill her!”

Jin Ling tilted MingYue’s chin up, grimacing at the light bruising around her throat.

Again, she pulled out of his grasp. “Really, it was all my fault. I’ve been bothering him ever since we arrived, even after he asked me to leave him alone several times.”

“So what? Since when is being annoying deserving of a death sentence?” Jin Ling snapped back coldly. “If that were the case, I would’ve killed you a long time ago. Why are you protecting that bastard?”

MingYue looked down, her smile faltering slightly. “Well… The thing is… We used to date, and I still…”

Jin Ling sighed, stifling the urge to roll his eyes. “MingYue, forget about those kinds of feelings, okay? Men who are ok with hitting women are worse than trash. Stay away from people like Wang Xinyi.”

She trembled, but nodded her head still. Jin Ling grabbed MingYue’s sleeve and pulled her into a tight hug. At their feet, Gongzhu finally stopped pacing and whining. A short moment later, Jin Ling released her from the hug and guided her inside to their room, the spiritual dog chasing after them without a command. He sat her down and quickly set to work making a pot of tea.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a long silence.

MingYue looked up, surprised. “Sorry? For what?”

“I dragged you here and then kept leaving you alone.” Jin Ling’s tone sounded cold and his eyes never glanced her way. “If I’d been there today, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“You’re blaming yourself?” She asked with a laugh, her face brightening with a smile again. “How could you have known A-Xin, I mean-... Xinyi… Nevermind. You’re right. I won’t pursue him anymore.”

Jin Ling gave a satisfied nod and handed her a cup of tea. “Good.”

~X~

After Xinyi’s outburst, everyone in the courtyard felt on edge. They’d all known him from class for the past year and never seen him get genuinely angry over anything. He was someone who always seemed in good spirits, even when he showed up to class looking like he hadn’t slept all night. Any foul mood was quickly recovered from and grudges were quickly forgotten, so for Xinyi to snap so fiercely over something as small as a misplaced belonging- No one knew what to say about it.

“A-Qian.” Chen stood close to his friend, still watching the temple door long after Xinyi and Xingchen disappeared. “Something’s really wrong with Xinyi.”

“It’s his notebook…”

“Huh? What is?”

QianHua held up Xinyi’s bag, having picked it up not long after the man had run off into the temple. “The thing he was accusing that girl of stealing. His notebook isn’t in here.”

Chen looked down at the bag in QianHua’s hands, seeing that the notebook was indeed missing. “I saw him with it this morning. He never went back inside after that…”

“He’s been transcribing that book for at least a year, it’s no wonder he got so mad.”

MingYue’s twin in matching robes had reappeared in the courtyard, already rushing to her side. Although he was comforting her, it looked more like he was lecturing her. Something about his personality always gave him that kind of look though, making it hard to understand why MingYue would hang out with such a harsh guy. Either way, she stopped crying and went back inside with him.

Chen grabbed QianHua’s hand and dragged him into the temple after them. They followed the two at a safe distance all the way back to their room where they stationed themselves against the door to listen.

“Should I even bother asking what you did that Xinyi found so unbearable?”

“I’m… not sure, honestly. He seemed to think I took something of his, but he didn’t say what.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Take something of his?”

“GeGe, how can you ask me that? You’re so mean!”

Chen and QianHua exchanged a tired look, rolling their eyes in sync with each other.

“I’m not being mean. But if I say you didn’t when you did, it’ll make me look bad.”

“We’ve been together over two years, and you still don’t trust me?”

Jin Ling sputtered, coughing a few times before answering.

“Don’t say it like that, you make it sound like we’re dating.”

“No, I just let you drag me all over China, to haunted houses and temples in the middle of nowhere.”

“Hardly! Who’s letting who? You begged me to take you on as my apprentice, and in case you don’t remember, I never said yes.”

Chen shook his head and stood up, leading QianHua back to their room. “Well that answered no questions.”

“Yeah. I still don’t know if those two are dating or not.” QianHua replied.

“That’s not what I meant.”

They entered the room, their steps stuttering for a moment at the sight of an empty room. Having assumed Xinyi would come back here after his outburst, they exchanged a puzzled look when they didn’t find him inside.

“Where else would he have gone?” Chen whined, giving QianHua a distraught look.

“He must be somewhere with that other Daozhang.”

Chen’s expression fell. “Why would he run off with a stranger? We’re his friends, shouldn’t we be the one comforting him right now?”

QianHua shrugged and gave Chen a quick pat on the shoulder. “Don’t get too worked up about this. You said before he hasn’t been sleeping much, he probably just snapped because he’s tired and now he’s embarrassed about it. He’ll come back when he calms down.”

“Yeah, maybe… but…” Chen sighed and slumped onto his bed. “That Doazhang…”

“A-Chen…”

“What.”

“You’re not getting your hopes up about Xinyi, are you?”

Chen met his gaze, a sinking feeling manifesting in his gut at QianHua’s expression. He shook his head slightly, averting his eyes.

“A-Chen. I know you like him, but it’s not gonna happen. Don’t misplace your disappointment on the Daozhang as jealousy.”

“I’m not… I’m just worried. He creeps me out.”

QianHua laid down next to Chen, propping his head up on one hand. “Sizhui Jiaoshou used to creep you out too.”

“This is different!” Chen slumped back, looking up at the ceiling now. “They’ve never met until now, but everytime Daozhang is around, he stares at Xinyi like… I don’t know. Like he’s waiting for something?”

“Well, maybe they do know each other.” QianHua offered simply. “The Wang family are antique collectors, maybe Xinyi met him through that.”

“I guess…”

~X~

I SWEAR I’LL STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH AND TAKE IT OFF YOUR FUCKING CORPSE!

The shouts really had been loud enough to hear all throughout the whole valley. The sudden break of silence jolted Sizhui and Jingyi from whatever aimless conversation they’d been having, sending a jolt of panic through each of them. Standing up at once and dashing out of their room, they started heading towards the direction of the shouts. Before they’d gotten even halfway back to the front entrance, they ran into Xiao Xingchen walking in the opposite direction. Xinyi, who looked positively shaken to the core, was held close at Xingchen’s side.

“Xiao Xingchen-!” Jingyi started, not even sure what to say.

“Daozhang, we heard shouting.” Sizhui intercepted, taking over for his partner. “Is everything ok?”

Xingchen pulled Xinyi closer and gave the two a nod.

“Is he…?”

He shook his head, holding up his free hand.

A quick lookover confirmed what Xingchen ‘said’; Xinyi’s energy was still unchanged. Sizhui and Jingyi exchanged an unsure look, recalling Song Lan’s concerns from their earlier conversation. Xingchen was standing slightly ahead of Xinyi, acting as a barrier between him and the two Lans. It was obvious the man intended to take care of the problem himself and would not easily allow the two to intervene.

Silently, Xingchen gave the two a polite smile, bowed to each of them, and carried on with Xinyi in his grasp. Neither one of them dared question Xingchen on the matter and could do nothing but step aside and let them pass. They disappeared around a corner, leaving Sizhui and Jingyi gaping after them.

“That was weird, right?” Jingyi asked, still staring down the hall.

“Song Lan was right, Xingchen is acting strange about this.” Sizhui agreed, nodding his head.

“After everything Xue Yang did to him-?”

“He was way too insistent on being left alone with him.”

“Should we tell Song Lan?”

Sizhui shook his head. “I don’t know. This situation is complicated. I don’t know if this is something that he needs to know about or if we’d be overstepping our place by telling him.”

“What about our place as Xinyi’s teachers? Should we be worried about his safety with Xiao Xingchen?”

“I don’t think so.” Sizhui sighed and continued down the hall, altering his direction. “As a Fierce Corpse, his killing intent would’ve been unmistakeable. Whatever his true intentions are, I don’t think Xinyi is in any danger.”

A few quick turns brought them to the corner of the temple Jin Ling was staying. They knocked, not really expecting him to answer. He was almost never at the temple, disappearing into the forest for hours at a time. Jingyi had definitely made a handful of annoyed comments implying that Jin Ling was avoiding them.

“Ah. It’s you two.”

Jingyi bristled, almost ready to pull his sword already. “What do you mean ‘Ah’? Who else would be at your door? Do you-”

Sizhui put his hand up to Jingyi and interjected. “A-Ling. Are you alone?”

Jin Ling smirked at Jingyi before shifting his eyes to look at Sizhui. “No. MingYue is here. Do you know about what happened yet?”

Sizhui frowned slightly. “Not entirely. Did he… Is MingYue okay?”

Jin Ling stepped aside for the two to enter his room, their eyes quickly falling on the bruise on MingYue’s neck.

“She’s fine, but this situation is progressing.”

“We just passed Xiao Xingchen in the hall, with-” Jingyi turned slightly, lowering his voice.

“His spiritual energy is the same, but-”

“Xingchen was acting weird about it.”

“We barely got a word in with him before he ran off.”

“Ok, I get it!” Jin Ling waved a hand in irritation. “I hate it when you two do that!”

“MingYue.” Sizhui turned to face her now, kneeling down in front of her. “Can you tell me what happened with Xinyi?”

Her eyes flicked to Jin Ling for just a moment. “I’m not sure what set him off, to be honest. I was in here, feeding Gongzhu, and when we came back out, Xinyi suddenly grabbed me and started accusing me of taking something.”

“Taking something?” Sizhui asked.

“He never said what it was, he just kept demanding I give it back. It took four people to hold him back, and then Xiao Xingchen…”

“Don’t trail off. Tell Sizhui what happened.” Jin Ling snapped, his arms already crossed over his chest.

“Xiao Xingchen pulled him back and slapped him. Xinyi looked so shocked, like he suddenly woke up and didn’t know where he was. Then he ran back into the temple.” MingYue looked around the room anxiously. “Is he going to be in trouble because of me?”

Sizhui smiled reassuringly. “Of course not. We just want to make sure everyone’s okay.”

Jin Ling scoffed. “So what if he gets in trouble? I told you not to defend him.”

Sizhui stood back up and walked back over to Jingyi, giving him a look before exiting the room. Jingyi wordlessly followed after him into the hall, urging Jin Ling to trail after them indignantly.

“Hey! What are you two going to do?” Jin Ling called after them.

“What can we do?” Sizhui asked, shrugging his shoulders. “Xinyi is with Xiao Xingchen. Until they reappear, there’s nothing we can do but wait.”

~X~

The door slid shut behind them, closing Xingchen and Xinyi off from the rest of the world. Xingchen walked past the smaller man to a trunk in the corner of the room and opened it, pulling a stack of neatly folded clothes out. Xinyi idled in the middle of the room, staring down at the floor blankly. Even at the sound of the trunk closing, he didn’t react in the slightest.

Drip… drip…

Xingchen put a hand on Xinyi’s shoulder, still getting no response out of him.

Drip… drip…

“Xinyi. Your clothes are wet.”

“...That’s okay.”

Xingchen pushed the clothes into his hands. “Change out of them.”

He looked up at Xingchen, looking a little startled. When the man’s expression didn’t change, he looked at the clothes and took them. Quickly stripping out of the wet robes, Xingchen took them and hung them up to dry. Now dressed in the plain pants and undershirt, Xingchen guided Xinyi to sit down on the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

“What happened back there?”

Xinyi shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never gotten mad like that before.”

The image replayed in Xingchen’s mind. The way he spoke, the look on his face, the reaction was undeniably Xue Yang. It was a complete 180 from the sweet, boyish behavior exhibited in the river only moments before.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” Xingchen laid his hands over Xinyi’s. “At the river, when you fell, and again in the courtyard. Right?”

Xinyi nodded slowly. “I feel like I’m going crazy… seeing and hearing things no one else… It was deafening. I could barely hear myself screaming at MingYue when I-...”

“You need to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to. It’ll get worse if you don’t.” Xingchen pushed on Xinyi’s shoulder, urging him into the bed.

Xinyi resisted briefly. Xingchen persisted and ultimately he gave in, laying back against the bed with a worried look. He sat down on the bed in lotus position beside Xinyi and closed his eyes. Only ten or fifteen minutes passed like that before he could hear Xinyi relax into slow, sleepful breaths. When he was sure the man was asleep, Xingchen opened his eyes again and held out two fingers over his chest, sensing the unsteady spiritual energy coursing through him.

It’s strange… He’s on a precipice. He should have awakened by now, but there’s something resisting against it.

He looked at Xinyi’s face, studying the peaceful expression he wore in sleep. Was this how he looked in Yi City when they shared a bed together? Did he look this peaceful laying beside him? Or did he watch him with wicked eyes, waiting for the moment to reveal his true identity at Xingchen’s expense?

A gentle hand reached out, hovering over Xinyi’s face. The tips of his fingers brushed across the soft skin, hesitantly, before the rest of his hand flattened against his cheek. His heart fluttered and he pulled his hand back quickly, turning his head to look away. Refocusing his attention, Xingchen went back to analysing the eb and flow of Xinyi’s qi, trying to find the source of the block.

It was unstable, as expected, but stuttered at random points. It was almost as if there was a physical block in Xinyi’s pathways, keeping the qi from circulating properly. As far as he knew, the other cultivators had not sealed Xinyi’s energy, and the Song of Clarity should have only calmed its erratic nature, not set up blocks like this. He laid his hand flat against Xinyi’s chest, feeling the beats of his heart mixed with the flow of energy.

“Mm…”

Xingchen looked at Xinyi’s face again, pulling his hand back. The peaceful expression had tensed slightly. Restlessly, Xinyi rolled onto his side and grasped the sheet beneath him. For a moment, he relaxed, making Xingchen wonder if his touch was bothering him. He closed his eyes and went back to meditating, leaving the man be while he slept. Another thirty minutes or so passed and, again, Xinyi became restless.

This time, Xinyi rolled back onto his back with a pained expression on his face. His forehead glistened slightly and his breathing had picked up. Xingchen passed his hand over Xinyi’s body again, feeling the energy surge.

Hardly any time is passing between falling asleep and having nightmares… It’s just like back then. He only ever slept for an hour or so at a time.

The thought ruminated in his mind for a moment. Back when Xue Yang was just the nameless house guest, Xingchen could hear him getting out of bed all throughout the night to wander the house or disappear outside before settling down again. It only stopped when he started sleeping beside Xingchen and A-Qing.

Xinyi breathed in sharply and clenched the sheet with tight fists. The longer Xingchen waited, the more distressed Xinyi became. With the memories still fresh in his mind, Xingchen laid down on the bed beside him, wrapping an arm around Xinyi and pulling him close. With his free hand, he grabbed Xinyi’s and laced their fingers together. Almost at once, Xinyi’s muscles relaxed and his breathing returned to normal.

Xingchen couldn’t help but smirk. You still sleep better at my side.

#mdzs #mdzs fic #the untamed #the untamed fic #xuexiao #xue yang #xiao xingchen #junior disciples #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi

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shesdangerace · 6 years ago

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I learned from my pain

Happy belated Valentine’s Day! Tumblr hates us all and might make this super hard to post here SO. I’m going to post as much of it as I can, and if you like it, you can check it out on AO3 (also linked at the end). I now present to you, a very Andrew Minyard Valentine’s Day. -

He remembers the colour of the sky outside the window.

He remembers the tree branch swaying in front of the glass.

He remembers the breeze that day.

He remembers the hands, the quiet, the pleading.

AJ’s first Valentine’s Day.

Andrew’s eyes feel heavy.

Allison gave Renee roses today, a question written out in cursive with a kiss on the end. Matt was talking about his plans in the locker room. Nicky has been beside himself thinking of Erik coming to visit.

Andrew is leaning outside of his open mesh-free window trying not to think. Cigarette burning down in his hand.

Andrew never got asked. Andrew never got elaborate plans. Andrew never got giddy anticipation. At least, not his own.

And now, he doesn’t want those things. Can’t want them. Doesn’t see a point in them.

It always came at a price, is the thing. And it was never enough.

Love meant crying without making a sound so she wouldn’t know. Love meant bleeding so his twin wouldn’t have to. Love meant throwing away the chance of it. Love meant cut brakes.

That was the love he was taught anyway, when his ‘family’ told them they loved him as they crept into his room at night, asking Do you love me? Do you love me?

Andrew was taught that love was cruelty. Pain. Bloodshed. A blind eye. Vengeance. Sacrifice. Loss. Responsibility. More bloodshed. He never knew what love was meant to feel like.

And now all Andrew knows how to feel is nothing.

There’s a knock on the door frame, firm and assured.

“Hey. Time for practice.”

Neil, standing there like a memory of a different life. Auburn and dressed all in grey.

The cigarette falls slowly from Andrews’ hand, swaying back and forth by the light February wind until it touches the ground of the car park below like a distant feather.

The cheerleaders are here. They’re being loud and it’s unnecessary.

Andrew doesn’t know why the cheerleaders are here. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. It matters that they are and that they’re being loud.

She’s here too, of course. She’s also a cheerleader after all. Not quite so loud though.

That may be because while Andrew is not looking at her, he’s looking at Aaron, and Aaron is looking at her. He’s willing to bet she’s looking back.

Aaron looks happy. Wistful. Awed almost. Where did he learn that? How did he manage to learn how to feel like that?

Andrew doesn’t look at him.

He hits balls and waves his heavyweight stick around for hours, while Kevin yells and Neil cusses out the baby Foxes and Nicky laughs like a demented hyena and Aaron feels all over the court floor.

Andrew doesn’t look at him.

And then Katelyn comes wafting over, blonde ponytail bouncing and hands wringing and smile matching the quiet one on Aaron’s face. A smile Andrew has no clue how to replicate on his own. And then she asks him, and he grins at her and says yes, obviously, and then she kisses him on the cheek and giggles and her ponytail bounces away.

Andrew tilts his head away and doesn’t look at him.

He looks at Neil. He doesn’t really have a choice.

He’s standing right in front of Andrews line of sight, close but not close enough to touch Andrew, smirk almost as sharp as his eyes. Batting his eyelashes like an idiot, hands wringing and toe nudging against the floor.

“Be my Valentine sugar plum?”

That cocky smile, that exaggerated posture, that orange bandana, that mess of hair, that shock of bright blue, that stupid, stupid idiot.

“Fuck off.”

Neil just laughs, that huff of gentle sound, and Andrew looks at him and can’t seem to stop. And Neil can’t seem to either, looking right back, smile just strong enough to bring out the subtle dimple on his right cheek.

How did he learn that?

How did he learn to dimple like that from bruises? How did he learn to look at Andrew like that from a lifetime of running? How did he learn to laugh for Andrew after knives and cleavers and flames and irons?

Andrew just looks at him.

Neils’ hands on his Exy stick are strong and unwavering and deliberate. Careful. Reverent.

Andrew just looks at him.

---

It’s two days before Valentine’s Day.

They’re at the coffee stand. The three of them have classes in 15 minutes but no one cares. Neil stands beside him, staring as disinterestedly as Andrew.

It’s pink. It’s stupid. There’s large lettering in altering colours of red, green, and yellow. There’s three black silhouettes like bathroom door signs. A red cross. A green heart. A yellow question mark. A lot of pink. It’s a poster.

It’s a traffic light party.

“Neil please, come on, it’s literally perfect and you’re the only one who can convince him.”

Andrew thinks about the colour red.

“No.”

It’s so vicious and ugly, so glaring, a screaming no that Andrew has had painted on his hands and his lips and his skin for years now.

“Neeeeil come on!”

Andrew has been red for a long time.

“Nicky, you have a long-term partner. Why would you need to go to this?”

Neil sounds tired. Neil is right to be.

“But Neil, that’s the point. Not only do I get to declare myself as taken, I get to show off my hot German husband.”

Red is not as simple as a t-shirt or a badge. It’s sticky and it festers and it stains like dye and you don’t get to change your mind once it’s on you.

“You know you haven’t even asked him to marry you yet right?”

Green is an unrealistic colour. It’s bright where red is dark, joyous like red is angry. A garish neon sign declaring yes. Yes, I’m here and I’m alive and I’m okay and I fucking want this.

Andrew doesn’t think he could ever be green having been red.

“Fuck you, Neil. It’s understood, it’s an inevitability, and the world needs to know!”

Green can start pure and be muddled and abused until it’s ugly and brown enough to be red anyway.

“The world does know. You’ve been talking about him non-stop for days. It’s annoying.”

There’s a coffee cup in his hands. When did that get there? Latte, caramel and vanilla. Neil’s name is written on it.

“Okay, can we please get back to the point? Which is the party? And that we should go?”

The sun is out today, and there’s no breeze. The skies are clear and still. Neil is walking beside Andrew, staring at him under his lashes every now and then as Nicky pleads his case. He’s walking close enough to Andrew that Andrew could touch him if he asked.

He’s wearing yellow. It’s a logo, on his grey hoodie. The drawstrings are yellow. Bright, like the sun. Hopeful.

After a while, after Baltimore and Riko and several screaming panic attacks in department store changing rooms with Allison’s guilty voice over the phone, Neil started to touch colour. Gentle prods, careful explorations.

He has an emerald green shirt now. Long sleeves. He has several Fox-orange articles of clothing that he wears in the dorm, the house, or with Andrew around campus. He has accents of colours on his shirts or his hoodie or his hat in the winter.

He has no blue brighter than navy. He has no red either.

Today, he is quietly yellow. Sipping his black coffee with one sugar and studiously ignoring Nicky in favour of watching Andrew ignore Nicky.

When Andrew asks and Neil says yes, in an alcove five minutes late to class, his fingers wind their way into those sunshine yellow drawstrings. He swears it stains his fingertips just a little.

Nicky is singing. A little bit drunk, a lot off key. It’s pop music and it’s incessantly loud. He got a phone call half an hour before. He did not take it well.

Erik has to stay in Germany for another day. A despondent Nicky had explained to them, and Kevin, that this means he’ll be flying in on Valentine’s Day instead of tomorrow, and this means that he’ll miss most of their first Valentine’s Day together in forever and Kevin would you please pay attention?

“Fuck men, seriously, Ari is so right you know? She just fucking gets it like, she understands and you know what I mean right Neil? Back me up Neil.”

Neil is in no condition to be anyone’s back up. He’s wrapped up in the embrace of the beanbag chair next to Andrew’s and he’s exasperated and exhausted. Nightmares. Not Andrew’s this time. The yellow was a particularly bold a choice today. But Neil is smirking in amusement all the same.

“Thank you, more like no thank you sir- “

In the corner, Matt is trying to film discreetly. On the couch, Kevin is paying absolutely no attention, waiting for his phone to ring.

As Nicky dances to the same song over and over, and Kevin bolts out of the room to answer Thea’s call, and Matt fails at discretion, and Neil radiates sleepy warmth next to Andrew like a furnace, Nicky bleeds.

He’s haemorrhaging love, the good and the bad and the ugly need of it. With the clarity of experience and many Wednesday sessions Andrew can see it. He can see the dark edges of Nicky, the sadness underneath his exuberance, his pain. He sees Nicky’s own sharp memories poking out from beneath his grin.

When he looks back at Neil, he sees the same understanding in those perceptive blue eyes.

It’s not about some pointless day in February. It’s about months without him. It’s about not knowing love without pain before him. It’s about conditions and fear and confusion and self-loathing and conversion. It’s about finally getting to hold someone’s hand knowing that he’s safe.

“I’m just saying I’m a fucking catch and I don’t deserve this, and you know what?”

Nicky stops here, stares at Neil balefully, then at Andrew, then back to Neil, gesturing with his whole body for the peanut gallery to speak.

Neil sighs and gives in.

“What Nicky?”

“I’ll tell you what Neil! I’m so fucking ungrateful for this treatment! That’s what.”

He trips.

And then, from his pile of slumped limbs and tired bones, Neil laughs. A true sound, a warm rich low sound.

Something in Andrew stutters for a moment. And then Nicky is throwing himself at Neil.

Nicky with his explosive love. Neil gifting his affection in laughs and smiles where there used to be none. Kevin breaking his single-minded devotion at the drop of a hat when Thea calls. Matt texting all the videos to Dan no doubt. All of them, loving each other out loud.

Andrew closes his eyes.

Nicky haemorrhages for hours.

---

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day. They’re at the traffic light party.

Nicky is bright red in the face from dancing, bright red in the face from alcohol, bright red in his shirt. He’s smiling almost as wide as he was when Andrew loomed over him in the locker room and said they were going.

Neil is wearing a black and neon-orange hoodie because he lives to be contrary and confusing. Andrew is wearing black because so does he.

The music is loud enough that Andrew almost can’t hear his thoughts. Almost. But of course, Andrew could never be so lucky, nor could Neil be so merciful.

The lights of the club are passing over his face like real traffic lights, sharpening and softening his face and colouring his eyes different shades. They could almost be in the Maserati, driving a touch too fast, Neil looking out of the passenger window, lounging like he belongs, smiling softly at Andrew’s reflection under the cover of night.

But they’re not. Neil is standing there like a living, breathing fuck you, glaring down anyone who gets too close, staring blankly at those who mistake his orange for yellow and then laughing to himself when they scuttle away. He looks gloriously alive, and completely unreal.

They’ve lost Nicky.

Neil looks at Andrew, really looks at him. Face like a storm.

The music gets improbably louder. Bass heavy. Rumbling. Growling.

Neils eyes get impossibly darker, his face impossibly sharper, his presence impossibly brighter.

He raises his eyebrow at Andrew.

Are you red or yellow or green?

Andrew steps closer and hooks his fingers into Neil’s collar.

Neil takes him by the edge of his black denim jacket, turns away, and Andrew follows the glowing shape of him through the thick crowd of sweat and mistakes.

By the time they reach the wall in the corner Andrew’s vision is all traffic lights and neon and storms.

Neil leans his head back against the wall, the bass louder still. He smirks at Andrew, but his eyes betray him and it becomes a smile. Warm and mischievous and foolhardy. He tilts his chin up at Andrew.

“So does black mean you’re taken?”

Andrew doesn’t dignify this with a response, just breathes.

“Should I take that as a yes or a no?”

Aside from the sharp roll of his eyes, Andrew doesn’t respond to this either.

“Andrew. Yes or no?”

Neil isn’t joking anymore. His eyes are softer than they have any right to be in lighting this sharp and dangerous. He’s searching, he’s already accepted Andrew’s answer.

The growling, rumbling bass around them is eclipsed by Andrew’s own growling yes, Neil’s lips brushing his like a promise. Neil kisses him like he’s desperate, not for his own sake but for Andrew’s. Like he’s been waiting. Like he just wants Andrew to know that Neil is there. Like he just wants Andrew. Whatever that means at any given time.

Right now Andrew doesn’t know what it means.

Neil tastes like midnight. And that makes no sense and it’s fucking stupid.

The lights are still flashing but the bass is different when Neil leans his head back against the wall. For some reason Andrew follows, can’t seem not to, rests his forehead against Neil’s. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and neither does Andrew.

And then.

“Andrew, can I hold your hand?”

It’s a wonder Andrew hears him over the sound of this stupid party. Andrew says yes because honestly, he’s mildly curious to know what happens next.

Neil’s hand is warm. Firm. Scarred and unafraid and gentle and soft and calloused and it holds Andrew’s so tenderly. Like a rose and not a thorn.

Andrew doesn’t understand it and doesn’t understand why he doesn’t understand it because it shouldn’t be complicated. He doesn’t understand how Neil can look at him and feel. Because he so clearly does and Andrew can’t seem to hide from it.

Are you red or yellow or green or –

“Fuck, there you guys are! Come dance with me!”

And Nicky grabs Neil’s hand and pulls and Neil, as sharp and observant and devoted to his Foxes as he is, would never say no.

---

Andrew wakes up slowly and way too late in the day, to see Neil still asleep. His face is half crushed into his pillow, eyebrows relaxed, hair skewed in every direction like hellfire. His mouth is soft in sleep, his cheeks flushed with warmth.

There’s something so different about Neil when he sleeps.

When he’s awake, Neil is all winter stillness, observant and contrary and dramatic. Ferocious and disinterested and loyal. Loose and honest when Andrew kisses him. Defiantly, viscerally alive.

When he sleeps he is just as still, but unguarded and vulnerable. Almost awake almost always. Soft and quiet, warm like a summer morning.

The February sun is streaming in through the dorm room window, and the sky is clear and crystal blue.

Nicky is beside himself with excitement outside the dorm room somewhere. Eriks’ flight lands that afternoon.

Because it’s Valentine’s Day.

It’s also a Saturday and that’s much more meaningful to Andrew. It means he’s not missing anything Kevin can annoy him for.

Eventually, Neil’s eyes open, and he sniffles at Andrew like a kitten.

It’s so rare to see Neil so taken with sleep. Andrew doesn’t often see this, Neil all strung out on the feeling of being only half awake, soft and malleable like taffy.

Andrew sighs and asks quietly:

“No nightmares?”

And Neil smiles, and that dimple is back on his right cheek. Such a rare sight indeed in February. And to have seen it twice already is almost hard to believe.

“No nightmares.”

Andrew nods.

Neil edges closer, just the tiniest bit. He’s almost nose to nose with Andrew, and Andrew is almost there. He’s on the precipice of something.

One of the worst things about being Andrew Minyard is that apathy makes feeling almost painful and hard to ignore. Andrew has no choice; he can’t lie and he can’t hide and he can’t run and for some god forsaken reason he doesn’t particularly feel the need to.

He gives, and lets himself feel the warmth of Neil. He whispers his name in the scarce air between them, and kisses him. Soft. Unyielding. Bee would be so proud if he would ever tell her.

Neil whispers right back. Kisses right back. Runs his fingertips between Andrew’s on the sheets without touching them. Andrew nods his answer and he feels Neil all around him like the winter sun. Sharp and painful and bright and vital.

Neil is awake, and so is Andrew.

---

At sunset, everything in the Maserati is cast in purple and blue and pink. Neil is lounging like he belongs, smiling at Andrew’s reflection in the glass of the passenger seat window. He looks dreamlike, like he’s feeling that feeling Andrew can’t name.

He turns to Andrew and asks. Andrew says yes and then Neil is holding his hand. He grins at Andrew and for fucks sake. How can he look at Andrew with that much feeling? Who was it that taught him how to feel it at all?

The sounds of the road echo in Andrews ears, the sounds of Nicky’s happy crying from a couple hours earlier in Erik’s arms, Neil’s laugh, his cutting remarks, his questions. Neil’s lips brush Andrew’s hands like a prayer and it’s possible somehow.

Somehow, despite all reasoning and logical experience, it’s possible that Andrew is capable of more than nothing.

When he tells Neil this, laying in the grass off the highway in the last rays of purple light, the look in his eyes and the depth of his kiss are evidence enough.

ao3

#andrew minyard #Neil josten #andreil #nicky hemmick #nickyxerik #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #Valentine's Day #fic #my fic #angst #mentions of past abuse #hurt/comfort #club scene #Valentine's fluff

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spacerangersam · 6 years ago

Text

Into The Deep

The first chapter of a very short story about a sailor girl being saved and falling in love with a mermaid-selkie hybrid (partially edited for now)

It took three months on a boat for Piper to decide that she hated sailing.

She was draped across the battered sofa in her cabin, socked feet dangling over the top as her head lay on a pillow on the floor. Her ginger hair was quickly coming loose from the low braid she had pulled it into at the beginning of the day, stray curls tickling her nose and neck.

Outside she could hear the rain hammering against the wood, and prayed to all the gods she knew there wouldn’t be a leak. Who knows when they’d be able to fix it, the storm seemed to be neverending.

She squinted at the words she had previously been attempting to read, holding the book in the air in one hand, and adjusting her glasses with the other. The words once clear, were now blurry and beginning to fade into the darkness of the cabin. The lanterns never did last as long as she wanted, she mused. Perhaps this was a sign that she ought to rest her aching eye; she had been reading for a while. But what else was there to do on a stinking on ship miles away from any port during a thunderstorm?

She reluctantly put the book down, though did not move from her position. Her limbs now felt as heavy as the anchor of the ship, holding her down to the floor. Her bed seemed a mile away, and so she gave in and accepted the chair as her resting place tonight.

As she closed her eyes, the noise got louder and more intense. She could hear the thundering rain, the crashing waves and the howling wind, though muffled thanks to the thick wood. She could hear the loud obnoxious cheers and songs of the men above her, as they drunk and wailed out old sailor songs that sounded crude upon their jagged tongues. It pierced through the floor and the door, pricking at her skin like an unturned nail.

Her brother, she decided, was dead. As soon as they got to port, she was chucking him overboard, stealing his lovely new boots, and never coming back to that blasted ship.

She could have been doing anything right now. She could be dancing with the ladies in Mr Roy’s grand garden, playing pretend and having tea parties with the children, and sharing stories of Daniel failed love affairs with his new wife, but no.

Here she was. Cold, uncomfortable and unable to sleep.

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said.

Speak of the devil, and he comes a-calling. Piper clicked her tongue as her brother stumbled in, his freckled face flushed and his dark eyes glassy.

“Piper! Why'yr not drinking wivus?”

“You said I’m not allowed.”

He frowned.

“Did I?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. It’s a miracle I’m allowed to breathe.”

“Courseya hafta breaf. Die otherwise.”

Piper rolled her eyes and forced herself up onto her feet.

She didn’t like looking at Daniel. It was like looking into a slightly smudged mirror. They had the same deathly pale complexion, the same splatter of freckles, the same dark eyes. The same oval face, the same long, skinny, bony limbs.

Her mother had been so happy to have identical twins. Luckily, she had been even more excited to learn she had a girl. But it still left a burn in the bottom of her gut like a shot of whiskey whenever she looked too long at her brother.

It had gotten better over time, as they received different scars and bruises, but still.

“Wha' da want?” Piper asked.

Daniel burped.

“Cap'n wans ya. Upper deck. New log.”

“Alright, I’ll go. Now leave, the men’ll be missing you.”

"Won' youse sing me a song before you go?"

Piper pursed her lips.

"I'm not your music box. Go ask one of 'em to serenade you. Now shift."

Daniel didn’t put up a fight and swayed off into the darkness outside of her door. This was not worth any amount of gold or ‘experience’. Cock and bullshit, that's what it was.

She put on her boots, grabbed her lantern and began the trek outside her door to find the captain. Honestly, what kind of a captain couldn’t read or write? And if he couldn't, why go through the fuss of hiring someone specifically to write his logs? What was he even going to ask her to write? They had done nothing worth noting.

Piper shook her head and walked slow. She flinched with every creak of the floor or the walls and kept her eyes trained ahead.

In the corner of her eyes, she watched the light dance over the walls. It looked like a mischevious nymph, stretching out shadows and playing with them like toys. It made her fingertips throb and she dug them into the think skin of her palm as if that would make it stop.

Under all the chatter, she could hear another noise. A strange, low groaning that seeped up through the floor from beneath the ship.

Piper walked faster.

A whale, she reasoned, it's probably just a whale.

As she came closer to the stairs, she saw a figure, facing away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Captain Boyce, you wanted to see me?"

The Captain did not speak and began to walk up the stairs.

Piper frowned and pushed her glasses up her long nose. Had she got the wrong person? No, it couldn't be. No one else on the ship had blonde hair, nor clothes that expensive. And in this weather, it was impossible for someone to have snuck on.

Drunk, he was probably drunk.

She held her lantern tighter and began to climb after him.

"Captain! I hope you had a good reason to interrupt my reading."

But again, he did not respond. He just kept walking up and up, towards the door that lead to the deck. Christ, he'd get himself killed if he went out!

"Boyce, stop! It's not safe out there!"

She began running after him, eyes wide and heart slamming against her ribcage like salmon trying to escape from a net. But he faster, and soon had his hand on the doorknob.

"Captain!"

She pushed off the last step, hand reaching out to grab his coat...and fell onto her knees. The Captain was gone, the door still closed. How... what had happened?

But then, the door opened.

The wind and the rain hit her face hard, a shower of silver bullets, and she gasped. The air was so cold it froze her throat, and the world around her blurred as her glasses were drenched.

And yet, just in the distance, at the forecastle deck, she could see him. Captain Boyce. Leaning close to the bowsprit.

Was this a mirage? A hallucination? Surely she hadn't been at sea that long.

His hat was ripped off by the wind, and his golden curls stuck wet to his face. It seemed real. Very real. It had to be real.

Piper sucked in a breathe and forced herself up onto her feet, limbs shaking already. Slowly, she began making her way to the other side of the boat.

She yelled his name, the cold air scratching at her throat until it was raw, but he never responded. She slipped and slid, clothes ripping and skin patchy and red. Every inch of her begged to turn around, but she moved on. Her skin tingled and burnt ice cold, her fingertips turning numb.

Piper was close now, just the small staircase to face and she'd be on the same deck as him. She tried to spit out the curls that had crawled in-between her lips, but in her mouth, they stubbornly stayed.

Then, the boat jerked to the side, flinging her onto her hands and knees. She hissed, taking a moment to process the flaming pain on her palms. As she did so, she hard that same moaning, but louder now.

She crawled up the stairs like a dog, only standing upright once she had reached the top.

"Captain!"

And this time, he responded. He turned his head ever so slightly, looking at her from the corner of his eye. But then he went back to facing the sea.

Clumsily, she ran towards him, breathing so fast it hurt her lungs. But she'd made it, it would be fine now, she'd grab him, drag him back in and-

He vanished.

Piper stared at the air where he used to be, stumbling over to the bowsprit. She placed her hands on the soaking wood as if that would bring him back.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She'd been tricked. By her own mind or something else, she wasn't sure. But either way, she was here and had to go, fast.

She paused, however, when she heard the noise once more.

Piper pulled off her glasses and squinted into the swirling depths. She could just about see a shadow, long and straight, and bigger than any creature she had ever seen.

She couldn't breathe.

And then something struck the keel.

The back of the boat was pushed above the waves, and Percy was flung against the bowsprit, struck hard in the back. She let out a cry and scrambled to find something to hold onto as the keel fell back into the water.

She heard footsteps, and could just about see a small glow coming from the door entrance.

"Polaris!" Her brother cried.

Immediately after, the creature struck the middle of the boat, and it began to break in two. Piper was flung up and fell back down hard.

Her skull rattled as her head hit the wood, and for her, the world went black.

The men tried to cross the shattering desk, but the creature struck again, and the boat was split in two. It began to sink, the shadow circling the wreckage. The men cried and screamed, dirty fingernails digging into soft wood, trying desperately to stay afloat.

But Piper stayed still, laid on her side as she began to sink down.

Her brother yelled for her, but she did not respond. He tried to swim, but hands grabbed him and held him down.

"My sister, I have to-"

A hand clamped over his mouth and he was silenced. Though he struggled against his captor, he couldn't escape.

"Stop'i, you're gonna get yourself killed! You can' make it to 'er with tha' thing below!"

Daniel glared at the hands holding him back before looking back towards his sister. He was just in time to see a hand as dark and grey as the swirling sea around it, reach out towards her. It latched onto Piper's slim waist and pulled her towards the depths.

And then, Piper was gone.

#ahhhh #i've never really written an actiony scene before so i have no idea what im doing #luckily this should be the only one like it

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