#watching the person he loves have his entire sense of self torn to shreds and there's nothing he can do to save him

[kiitchensiink]

EXTREMELY feral normal about this one. Like. Mmm.

:3 go ahead , be abnormal in my replies (PLEASEI'd love to hear ur thoughts lol)

I just loooove the tragic doomed love of it all, Torchbearer knows there is no way out of this but he'd rather die at Tyler's side than on a distant shore, never seeing the core of everything he loves ever again.

he chooses to go back, to surrender himself, so that even if Tyler is lost to the war and there's no going back,, at least he will have always known Torchbearer loved him. always.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Reason to Love

Draco thought that dread would fill him as he stared across the ballroom at Harry. He had hoped dread would fill him. That would have meant that part of him had moved on. But even as the green eyes he loved so much filled with a hatred that he wished he too felt, all that remained in his veins was pain—agonizing pain that hurt just as badly as it did when Harry walked out of his flat, and then more importantly his life.

Deep breaths and calming thoughts did nothing to soothe his hyperactive heartbeat the longer he stared. Propriety—which had been instilled in him at birth—was chagrined at the notion of prolonged focus, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Months of no contact deluded his mind into thinking even an extended blink would cause Harry to disappear as if he had only ever been a product of wishful thinking.

Their locked gazes ceased being mutual as Harry turned to his date, successfully blocking Draco from his line of sight, who was left standing there staring at his back—like a weirdo.

With a lot of strength that would have disgusted who he had been emotionally even just a year ago, Draco moved across the room toward the balcony—ignoring everyone who made space to talk to him, knowing it would reach his mother come morning but he had long ago lost his will to give a fuck.

As Draco looked over the railing, mind not fully seeing the landscape as his distracted thoughts took over, part of him wished he did give a fuck. Because the person staring blankly at gaudy untrimmed hedges was a mess. A distinguished mess, sure, but a mess nonetheless—one he didn’t appreciate seeing echoed in his reflection when he could no longer hide from the lies that others believed so easily.

I am fine.

It fell off the tongue quickly; a gut reaction to deflect from the glaring obvious. He wasn’t fine and the only one who knew the truth was the same one who stared back at him in the bathroom mirror every morning.

Lying came naturally. If not because of who he was, then it was the Slytherin characteristics he embodied because he had no other personality traits to rely on. It was easy to lie, especially when those around him wanted it to be the truth. Convincing them was a breeze, but convincing himself was impossible.

His eyes slipped closed as he took a few deep breaths, wishing that it was as calming as his Mind Healer preached. Sweat beaded on his forehead and despite being outside, all it brought him was the sweltering humidity of the summer night.

“I’d say you have a lot of nerve showing up here, but you never had that, so let’s just call it stupidity and be done with it.”

Draco’s lips parted as he withheld a breathless gasp at the sound of Harry’s voice. A sound he wasn’t sure his memory properly emulated over the last few months, it seemed different. Or maybe it was because it was filled with the same hatred that had been in Harry’s gaze.

He didn’t want to turn around, and despite how bloody cowardice that was, he hadn’t been put in Gryffindor for a reason. Turning around meant facing not just Harry but facing all the lies he had been telling himself. If Draco turned around, his sense of stability would shatter just as easily as his heart did when Harry left.

I am fine.

With the smallest shred of gumption he possessed, Draco squared his shoulders and did the stupid thing by turning around.

Being up close granted him nothing more than being across the room had. It wasn’t as if he felt better, in all actuality he felt worse. At least far away he had been able to keep a semblance of distance even if it was just an illusion. Up close the hatred in Harry’s eyes was more prominent, held more emotion and made it impossible to hide from, even if he glanced away.

“Stupidity is the root of bravery, you should know that,” Draco countered, not bothering to try and find comfort in the insults. Those used to be Harry’s favorite way of showing affection.

“That’s where you and I are different,” Harry said, voice as quiet as the breeze that Draco wished would combat the humidity. But in reality, all it did was make him feel worse. “You never had a flair for that.”

While entirely accurate, it stung a little.

“What do you want?” Draco couldn’t help but ask. “If it’s just to insult me, save the foreplay for your date, will you?”

Wishful thinking had him imagining the hatred in Harry’s eyes dimming enough for annoyance to take over. While Draco was adept at handling both, annoyance was far easier.

“You knew I’d be here,” Harry said, eyes roaming Draco’s face in a manner that made him uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t aware you bought out the Ministry,” Draco drawled, hating the familiarity to the banter. “If need be, do check the invitation list, won’t you? My name is on it.”  

“You’ve avoided every function where we’d be in the same room, excuse me for thinking you’d do the same tonight.”

There was something in the tone that had Draco frowning. There was clearly annoyance, but he wasn’t sure at what. Was Harry upset that he hadn’t been around? Or was he upset that he showed up?

“You’ve been missing me, have you?” It was supposed to be sarcastic but a piece of Draco longed to know the answer, no matter how pathetic it made him feel.

There was no answer, only a hard stare that held far too many emotions to decipher. The longer Harry remained silent, the more he feared there would be no answer at all. The dark parts of his mind that never once believed the lies he tried to delude himself into whispered, did he have the right to know?

“I’m not sure,” Harry finally answered after several long uncomfortable moments. “There are times I think I hate you, and then there are times when I wonder why it has to be the present and why it can’t be four months ago when I loved you so strongly.”

The agonizing pain returned and it was strong enough to close his eyes. Getting answers wasn’t always a good thing. Now all Draco wanted was for Harry to shut up.

“And the middle ground?” Draco wondered. “Which one is more prominent?”

Harry exhaled deeply, strong enough to blow away strands of messy unkempt hair.

“I don’t know.”

Strangely, that hurt Draco the most. The indecisive approach to love.

“That’s where you and I are different,” Draco parroted Harry’s words, watching the way something gleamed in his eyes.

“If there is a reason to love, then that means the love changes when the reason is gone. I loved you without any reason,” Draco blinked rapidly, wishing the stinging of his eyes was because of the sweat still marring his face.

“While the temperament of your love has changed, mine hasn’t. It’s still there; whole, intact and going without pause.”

It was Harry’s turn to close his eyes as he covered his face briefly.

“I wish I could be like you,” Draco admitted what his teenage self never would have. “Not just your characteristics, not just your bravery, but perhaps if I loved like you did, then I’d be able to move on. If I let my love get bitter or angry then it would let in distance, would let in reasons to change it.”

Knowing that Harry’s love had changed and hearing it were two different things. It wasn’t fair. Harry got to be angry, got to fester over it and got to find closure even if it came in waves of pain. All Draco was left with was pain while the love was still there. But if love when bruised, torn and scratched remained one-sided, it would only ever lead to more pain.

“Who says I moved on?”

The question had his brows arching as he tried to understand why Harry seemed to bristle.

“Are you saying you haven’t?”

When Harry threw his hands in the air, Draco grew more confused.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered, and for the first time in a long time the tone was lost. “It comes and goes. There are days where I don’t think of you at all and it feels like a step in moving on, but then when I least expect it, you creep up into my mind and it breaks my heart all over again.”

“Despite what you might think, I’ve never wanted to hurt you,” Draco said, unable to keep the desperation to be believed from seeping through. There were a lot of assumptions people had of him, and he never bothered to correct them. Letting people believe what they wanted to was far easier than changing their mind. But the one thing he couldn’t do was let Harry think that he never cared.

There was a soft devastation to Harry’s face before, “I know that, I’ve always known that.”  

“Then I don’t—”

“I haven’t moved on,” Harry said, and the determination to the tone held a touch of surprise, as if Harry was only just realizing. “Because even when I think of you and it hurts I still wouldn’t want that to go away. I don’t want to one day think of you and it not bring me back to happy times. I don’t want to think of you and it be a distant memory with no emotion. I want to think of you and feel something, even if it hurts.”

“That’s not healthy,” Draco blurted before his mind caught up with what he was really hearing.

Harry snorted, lips tilting up in a ghost of a smile. One that still caused his heart to skip a beat, followed by a jolt of pain with the knowledge that he had forgotten how beautiful it was.

“And you’re the epitome of healthy, are you?” Harry returned, lips still quirked.  

“No,” Draco shook his head, unable to banter when the truth of the statement touched a bit too close to home. “If I was, I wouldn’t love you like this. Not with the same ferocity, not with the same passion. Not when it hurts me like this.”

Harry shifted on the balls of his feet as his tongue swiped across a plump bottom lip nervously. “What if I don’t want you to be healthy?”

There was a beat of silence as Draco’s squinted, forehead creasing harshly. “Come again?”

A red flush graced tanned cheeks as Harry’s hands waved frantically. “That came out wrong.”

“It always did when it came to you.” Was that a tease? Draco wasn’t sure that was wise. Not when it would just hurt more in the end.

A glare with little heat was sent his way and Draco hated that he craved it, hated that a simple glare could cause his breath to quicken and the tempo of his heart rate increase.

“What if we attempt something,” Harry gestured between them with a hand. “Again?”

Oh boy.

Draco took a deep breath,  not daring himself to hope, not even sure if it was all real or just another illusion to lie to himself with.

“Is that wise?” Draco asked, ever the worrier. “It hurts now, I don’t want to imagine the pain should it happen again. I don’t think I’m ready for that.” No matter how much he wanted it.

“Give me a chance to love you without reason too.”

How could something so sweet hurt more than cruelty? Draco’s heart felt close to breaking, wasn’t sure he had much more in him.

“Not to mention your love is torn, isn’t it?” He continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “You weren’t sure about the love and hate, that can’t have changed already.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

“Not when it’s my heart that’s the causality.”

“Both of our hearts,” corrected Harry.

“Exactly,” Draco said with a small shrug. “Not even an hour ago you were glaring at me, it’s not so easy to let go of the bitterness, even if you love me too. I think we need time to acclimate, maybe find out what’s different. It has been months, I’m sure things have changed.”

There was a flash of amusement in green eyes and Draco almost regretted the whole conversation.

“You wanting to woo me, Malfoy?”

Malfoy.

Merlin, it was a breath of fresh air to hear his surname from Harry. What started out as a formality, never being granted the pleasure of the familiarity enough to use first names during their youth, had changed into fondness as they dated.

Malfoy.

The name that brought pride to his father but shame to him.

Malfoy.

The name that was only ever uttered with animosity and contempt.

Malfoy.

The name that fell from Harry’s lips with love and not a hint of a sneer.

Malfoy.

“Yeah,” Draco began, a small reserved smile quirking his lips. “I think I do.”

He was Malfoy, and on his favorite occasions, he was Harry’s Malfoy.  

[superspookywombat]

Treetops {j.h}

Request:  “(Can you make it super angsty and fluffy please 🥰)

But can you make one where I’m walking around and get attacked by a vampire. Edward gets there just as I’m about to die and I beg for him to change me so I wouldn’t have to leave Jasper (he’s my mate) and he’s so sad for me because he feels like I’m a sister to him so he changes me just as my eyes close. He freaks out and takes me to the house where Carlisle is and Carlisle eases his mind that he had done it just in time(like with Bella in the end of the last one of breaking dawn part 1) . Then he when Jasper can’t find me he goes home all sad and worried and as he walks in Edward sits him down and tells him. He feels really bad and sits down by my side holding my hand just waiting as Alice and rose changes me into a cute summer dress. When I wake up it kinda like when Bella dose and Jasper is not there when I do so I end up going to look for him. In the end we just cuddle just happy to be together and read my favorite books.” from @faithie-brock-gillespie01​

Warnings: one use of a derogatory term (not a slur or anything), mentions of scars and nakedness but not too graphic in either

A/n: sorry i’ve been away for forever. yes, i’m still active and i see everything people send me (dm wise or in ask-form) anyway, i really really love this and i hope you do too

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You know it’s a bad idea. Growing up, everyone always told you not to walk alone at night. But, being the independent person you are, you took self defense classes and never went far without your pocket knife. But over the past year, being surrounded by your boyfriend Jasper all the time made you loosen the reigns a bit. Soon, the countless hours you spent in your basement practicing Hammer and Heel Palm strikes were faded lessons that sat collecting dust in the back of your mind. You didn’t have to worry about defending yourself when Jasper was always around to do it for you, and after graduating college, you would be almost indestructible like him anyway. So, yes, you know better than to be walking through the forest, in the dark nonetheless, but anger has clouded your common sense and that’s the excuse you were currently using to make yourself feel better.

The tall trees on either side of you make you feel claustrophobic. You take deep, shuddering breaths as you fight back tears. So maybe you’re sensitive, you’ve been told once or twice, but the thought of someone you thought to be one of your closest friends gossiping and spreading hurtful stuff about you would make anyone's throat tighten. Your roommate had approached you earlier in the week, she was planning a huge birthday party for your best friend back home in Forks. Of course you’d come, you said. You came home every weekend anyway, courtesy of your super generous boyfriend and his very illegal speeding. He even dropped you off at the party, which is what led to you running through the woods.

You had shown up to the party, a bottle of your best friend’s alcohol of choice in hand, and a black dress that stopped just before your knee tight on your body. The loud, booming music hurt your ears, but you soldiered through and greeted your friend with a hug.

“Happy birthday!” You said, a large smile stretching across your face. She laughed pulling you into her arms. 

“I wasn’t sure you were coming.” Your roommate that stood next to her said. You gave her a confused look, pulling back from the hug.

“What do you mean? Of course I’d come.” You said laughing it off. Holding up the alcohol, you asked where to put it.

“Over on that table.” Your best friend said. You smile and walk off, placing the hefty bottle on the colorfully covered table. You went to grab a solo cup, a glittery 22 printed neatly on the plastic. Filling it with your alcohol of choice, you brought it to your lips to take a sip.

“Should you really be doing that? While you’re.. You know.” A voice came from your right, and you glanced over to see a friend of your best friend.  

“While I’m what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Waiting for his response, you took a sip of the bitter drink.

“Pregnant.” He said. You choked on the alcohol, coughing as it dribbled down your chin. 

“Excuse me?” You asked, grabbing a napkin to wipe the drink before it reached your dress. 

“I just- I don’t- everyone’s been saying that you’re pregnant.” He sputtered, a pink tinge on his cheeks evident even through the flashing lights of the party.

“Well I’m not,” You chuckled nervously, somewhat amused. You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice. “Where did you hear that?”

His eyebrows furrowed. He leaned in close, mimicking what you had just done. When he murmured your best friend’s name, a cold sweat washed over your body. Your hands shook as you placed the drink back down on the table. Leaving him behind, you walked over to your best friend and grasped her arm, pulling her away and upstairs into a spare bedroom. 

“Tell me it isn’t true.” You demanded, fury igniting flames in your heart. She shut the door behind her, setting her drink down on the dresser.

She laughed dryly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on one leg. “Of course it’s true.”

“Why would you say something like that? You know I’m not.. Pregnant!” You yelled, stepping closer to her. 

“Don’t act like you’re so innocent. With all the unprotected sex you brag about having, you might as well be!” She said, matching your voice level. 

“It was one time! And he can’t get me pregnant anyway, I already told you that!” You replied, fighting back tears that tried to escape. 

“So? Who’s to say that you aren’t sleeping around with other people? Play stupid games, you get stupid prizes.” She said, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really really sorry. I didn’t want to, Professor Michaels-” You started to say, but she slapped you before you could finish what you were saying. 

“I would never! Why would you do this? I thought we were friends?” You asked, hurt laced in your voice. She moved closer to you, the smell of alcohol creating waves off of her breath.

“I told you not to enter the contest. You knew how much it meant to me and you still entered. And you won. My parents won’t even make eye contact! They’ve taken away my weekly allowance!” She said, tears spilling over the heavily lined lower lid of her eyes. She poked a finger to your chest, causing nerves to fire up in pain.

“Professor Michaels this, Professor Michaels that; You’re probably sleeping with him too, you slut!” She screamed, clenching her fists at her sides. You take the full cup from the dresser, and splash her in her face. You both stood in silence for a moment, before you turned on your heel and briskly walked out of the room, slamming the door so loud that you could hear it over the music. People watched as you came down the stairs, but you avoided their gaze and ran out the back door into the cool night sky. You had almost brought Jasper to the party, schedules had finally lined up to introduce him to your friends since freshman orientation. Now you were glad you hadn’t. You hadn’t even thought about calling him for a ride, you were too blind with rage. But you’d soon come to regret letting emotions cloud your judgment. 

The smell of wet earth comforts you as you double over, hands on your knees and taking large gasps of air. As much as you would love to lean against a tree, you just bought this dress and you’re not ready to ruin it quite yet. You shiver, standing up straight and hugging yourself, trying to retain some warmth. As you look around, you notice that the only light in sight was the moon. The house is nowhere to be seen, and you pull your phone out of your pocket to see that you don’t have cell reception. Suddenly you aren’t cold anymore, your face flushing with anxiety as your newly calmed breathing speeds up again. But then you hear something that causes a false sense of security; footsteps. 

“Oh thank God.” You say, turning around. Before you can make out who’s there, you’re knocked to the ground. A sharp pain tears into the inside of your elbow, and you scream out in pain. Tears fall down your cheeks as you take a sharp intake of breath. 

“Jasper!” You scream at the top of your lungs. You know it’s a stretch, but the Cullen’s house is only a few miles away and there is a chance they could hear. “Please! Someone hel-”

A cool hand clamps over your mouth, snuffing any chance of words to escape. You sob as your blood drains, your body starting to shut down. As black starts flooding your eyesight, your attacker is flung off of you and crashes into a nearby tree. You gasp, fumbling to put pressure on the gushing wound. You curl into a fetus position, the sharp earth pressing into the skin of your face nothing compared to the gash in your arm. You can’t see well, but you can make out the garbled voices of Jasper’s brothers, Emmett and Edward. You think you hear Rosalie too. 

“Take care of y/n, we got ‘em.” Emmett says, referring to you. You feel cool hands lift your limp body, and you groan.

“Jasper..” You say. Tears stiffen your cheeks as you grow tired. Your eyes flutter closed and hands grasp your numbing arm. 

“It’s torn to shreds, there’s no chance of survival.” Edward says. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or himself.

“Please,” You muster the strength to say two more words. You just need to say two more words. “T-Turn.. Me.” 

“I can’t.” He says. You want to respond, but your body finally goes fully limp in his arms, and he makes a split-second decision. He buries his head in your neck and sinks his teeth in. You don’t feel it immediately, but soon, fire roars through your entire body. You groan in pain, not strong enough to make anything louder. Before you drift off, you feel wind whipping past your hair as you’re carried through the forest.

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“Carlisle!” Edward calls out, carrying your unresponsive body in his arms. He practically flies up the stairs into Carlisle’s office, and Emmett opens the door before he can kick it down. The doctor strides over, eyebrows pulled together in worry.

“What happened?” He asks. Edward’s at a loss for words, his mouth agape. “Edward, what happened?” 

“We- I- There was screaming.. And then we found a newborn on top of her. Her arm is torn to shreds, there’s no way she would survive it.” Edward says, his gaze avoiding your body. Carlisle senses his uncomfort, and motions for him to set you down on an exam table. You lay on the vinyl, looking almost peaceful if it wasn’t for the blood slathered over your neck and upper torso. 

“Tell me I did the right thing..” Edward pleads. Carlisle glances up at him while examining your arm.

“She would have been turned regardless. You just sped up the process.” He reassures. Edward, obviously, can tell that Carlisle is being sincere. You had literally asked for it, of course, but still he felt guilty. The taste of blood on his tongue became too much, and he turned around, stalking out of the room. Though the door shut behind him, it was reopened by Esme, peeking her head in. She brings her hand to her mouth, clearly shocked. 

She walks over, yet still keeping her distance. “Someone needs to find Jasper.” She murmurs through her palm.

“Bring me water and a sponge, please.” He asks softly, pain straining his voice. Esme nods and leaves. Carlisle sighs, placing his hands on the table and looking down at you. When he first met you, he was worried. He knew that you were intelligent and was scared that you’d figure out their secret prematurely. But soon after, you weaseled your way into their hearts. It was only a few months in when you found out, and it shocked everyone with how nonchalant you were about it. Then about a month after that, you discussed your future with Jasper and decided that after graduation you’d join them and their undeadness. That was the plan.

Downstairs, Edward’s phone rings. The caller ID says his brother’s name, though he’s not sure how to answer. 

“Hello?” Edward answers. ‘Hello’ seems too relaxed, he thinks. 

“Alice called me. She said she can’t see Y/n anymore. Something happened at the party and she’s not answering her phone.” Jasper says, sounding as out of breath as a vampire can. Edward glances at Rosalie, whose face is neutral, though she seems to find comfort in Emmett’s arm around her.

“You need to come home.” Edward says, then closes the flip phone and drops it onto the couch. It rings again, but the room remains still until Esme brushes past with a tub of water and a sponge.

“He’s going to need your support.” Esme says. Rosalie looks up and crosses her arms, shrugging from Emmett’s embrace.

“He should have known better than to get attached to a human.” She says, though halfheartedly. 

“I’ll ground you.” Esme warns as she ascends the stairs. She knocks on Carlisle’s office door, then enters. Placing the bowl down next to him, she hugs him from behind and wraps her arms around his stiff torso. Pressing her head between his shoulder blades, he relaxes in her hold. “He did the right thing, right?” 

“I.. I believe so, yes. Jasper would be ruined without her.” Carlisle says, not sure if he’s reassuring himself, or her. “You can leave, I need to get the blood gone before he gets here.” 

“He’ll be here soon. Edward hung up in him.” She responds. Carlisle sighs, and grabs the sponge, dipping it in the water. He drags it over your exposed skin as Esme exits, red, watery streaks running down and pooling in your collarbone area. He leaves the areas covered by clothes for Alice or Esme to clean, not that he expects there to be much there anyway. Once you appear to be blood-free, he takes a large bandage and covers your arm, but is soon interrupted by a door slamming and glass shattering on the lower level. 

“Carlisle’s up there, y/n’s in good hands.” Edward says, placing a tentative hand on Jasper’s shoulder. He shakes off his brother’s touch, striding up the stairs three at a time. He enters the room and rushes over to you, his eyes examining every inch of your ghostly silhouette. He hesitates, but then takes your hand and presses it to his lips. He closes his eyes, feeling as close to crying as he’s ever felt before. A chair scraping the floor takes him by surprise, which is something that doesn’t happen much to vampires. 

“What happened?” He murmurs, lips tickling the soft skin on the back of your hand. He sits in the chair Carlisle offered, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Newborn attack. Edward, Emmett, and Rose found her.” Carlisle says. Jasper stares blankly at your paler-than-normal face. 

“She was supposed to call me when she was ready to leave. Why was she in the woods?” He asks. 

“I can’t answer that.” 

“Will she.. Is she going to wake up? Will she turn?” He asks. Carlisle folds his arms and leans against his desk. 

“I think so, yes.” He answers. Jasper looks at his father for a moment, then returns his gaze back to you. “All we can do now is wait.” 

After a few days, you started to show signs of improvement. You had slimmed out in some places, filled out in others. The warm hues of your skin color had completely drained, and there was a raised scar on your neck from Edward’s venom. He tried very hard not to think about it, but whenever he saw it he felt a twinge of jealousy in his belly. If Edward had heard him think it, he was generous enough not to mention it. Turning someone is intimate, for most vampires at least, and he had been looking forward to a special night. He’d give you a few more ‘human experiences’ (wink wink) and then bite you before returning to the Cullen house. But now his brother had laid claim on you, whether it was intentional or not.

Alice bounds through the door, Rosalie in tow. Rose holds a dress folded over the crook of her arm, a flash of what Jasper recognizes as your favorite color all over it. Alice flips you onto your side, rather roughly, and Jasper jumps to his feet.

“What are you doing?” He asks. Rosalie unzips the back of your black dress and starts to pull it off of your shoulders.

“Getting your girlfriend naked.” She says, fighting back a smug smile. Jasper holds his hand up, shielding your body from his view.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Jas.” Alice says with a chuckle.

 “Not while she’s unconscious.” Jasper takes one last look at your unobstructed face, then leaves the room. 

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Turn me. Your words echo in your mind, and you jolt into a sitting position. You blink a few times before your eyes come into focus. You glance down, your hands turned palms up. You can see every fine detail of your fingerprints, the undersides of your fingernails darkened from clawing at the earth, but the tops freshly painted over. Your hair flutters down over your eyes, and the sun shines through the strand, creating a glowing effect that you’ve never noticed so intensely before. You swallow, your throat feeling like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. You run your fingers over your neck, lips parting when you feel the puckered skin that.. Edward? No way. You slide off of the vinyl exam table and your bare feet touch the floor. You skate across to the other side of the room to a floor length mirror, and you gasp when you see your reflection.

It doesn’t much look like you, but it mimics your movement and expressions so well that it must be. Your hair has grown at least half an inch, and your body is sleek and toned. You run your palms down your torso and the thin, silky fabric of a fit & flared summer dress makes your insides smile. You twirl, feeling light on your feet, and the fabric flows around like a graceful tornado. You laugh, a melodic, bubbly sound bouncing off of the walls. The noise comes to a halt in your throat as you catch a glimpse of your arm out of your peripheral vision, however. You pull your arm into your full vision, and feel almost lightheaded when you see a large area of the skin patched together and covered in a thick bramble of scars. There’s a knock in the doorway, and you let your arm go limp before taking a hesitant step towards your boyfriend. 

“You’re awake.” He says. You nod. “Are you thirsty?” You nod again. He takes a step forward, and in a moment, you meet in the middle and he sweeps you into his arms. You inhale his scent, stronger than you’ve ever smelled it before, as you rest your head into the crook of his neck. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, and though it doesn’t really sound like you, the words come from your heart. He inhales your scent too, nuzzling his nose into your hair. 

“For what?” He asks, but the strain in his voice lets you know that he knows. You turn your head, your cheek on his shoulder, and close your eyes.

“We had a plan.” You say. 

“It’s okay.” He reassures. You can feel the calmness radiating off of him in waves of serenity, and since the night in the woods, you’ve craved this more than anything.

“I love you.” You say, and even though it wasn’t the first time exchanging those three words, it was the first time they held such an impact. 

Two months have gone by, and vampirism suits you well. You moved out of your dorm, and now you’re finishing your degree virtually. You cut off ties with your college peers, and found a new community back home. Jasper almost never left your side (save for book club every other Tuesday) and you both decided to get married the next spring. 

“Shh, I’m trying to read.” You lightheartedly complain, gently pushing Jasper and causing him to almost fall off of the tree you both are lying in. The branch dips slightly as he redistributes his weight to support you resting against his chest. His arms hold you close as you try to focus on the book in your lap, but between the view of the water from the treetop and his persistent need for attention, you fail. He snatches the book from your lap and softly grasps your chin, turning your head to bring his lips to yours. 

[kabira]

01 | first period biology

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

word count — 3k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence, mentions of school tests

summary — vernon doesn’t entertain bad guys on monday mornings, but the villain of the day apparently didn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

note — first chapter woohoo! in celebration of comeback day, i present to you: my first actual tumblr multi-part series. send me an ask or dm if you want to be in the taglist! masterlist coming soon <3

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

I do not have time for this.

Vernon swung through the air, landing nimbly on the road just a few feet behind the newest menace that had decided to grace his neighborhood with its presence. The self-proclaimed Rhino—basically a guy in a rhinoceros suit, as the name suggested—was tearing down 108th street at breakneck speed, which was almost as fast as Vernon mid-swing. Almost.

“Hey, slow down!” he called as he launched himself towards the suited man, and a little kid with a lollipop gaped as Spider-Man swung right towards the Rhino, legs stretched straight before him. “Tsk, how are we supposed to tango if I can’t even keep up?”

Rhino roared when Vernon dropkicked him right in the middle of his back, but the kick didn’t put him out of commission like Vernon had hoped it would. The villain (and Vernon used the term loosely) swung his fist towards him, but he flipped backwards, landing on top of a car, which dented under the force.

“Why is it always Queens?” Vernon asked, annoyed, as Rhino charged towards him. He pushed off the car to avoid Rhino, who crashed headfirst into the vehicle, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Right next to it, a yellow Kia’s alarm went off. Vernon, now hanging from the building behind it, huffed. “And why is it always right before school?”

And a Monday, too. Vernon usually allowed for supervillains busting down his metaphorical door on mornings, but Mondays were usually off-limits. Honestly, what kind of villain gets up at seven a.m. on a Monday?

Vernon scaled the brick wall of the building, looking for a high vantage point he could drop down from, but even the little effort seemed to tire him out more than usual. Having studied until late night the day before, right after stopping a third try at a robbery on seventy-third (honestly, do these people never learn?), he had only managed to catch about three hours of sleep. It was normal by Spidey standards, but not by Vernon standards. Especially when he was supposed to have a test in first period biology.

“Spider-Man!” Rhino bellowed from three storeys below, snapping Vernon back to the present. He sighed as man demolished another car, no doubt to show off his might or strength or whatever it was villains loved to show off these days. “Face me!”

Vernon looked down. In the morning, everything was awash with sunlight, including Rhino. The suit was a dark gray but didn’t seem to be made of metal, looking about three to four inches thick like some kind of hide-like body armor, and light glinted off the visor that only half-showed his adversary’s face. If he hadn’t been about to be pummeled to death by the guy in rhinoceros suit, he would have appreciated the beautiful workmanship more. The horn was a nice touch.

“If you just wanted to see me, an email would have been fine!” Vernon called, letting go of the wall and righting himself in free-fall as he hurtled towards the Rhino. “No need to put on a show for little ol’ me—”

Okay. Maybe he had miscalculated the distance or maybe Rhino was less distracted than he thought, because instead of him dropping in on the villain like a ton of bricks, Rhino swung his suited arm, catching Vernon in the chest with bone-shattering force, and sent him flying.

Vernon hit the sidewalk with enough force for his body to skid a few feet before coming to a rest. His backpack (which had somehow not been torn to shreds) absorbed most of the blow, but the impact had knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there for a few seconds, wondering if he should just stay down. His head was already pounding, and a sleepy spider was a grumpy spider.

He changed his mind at the last moment as Rhino’s fist swung towards his face, and he flipped onto his back, jumping out of the way just as the fist came down where he had been lying milliseconds ago. Beneath the mask, Vernon’s eyes widened as he saw the blow break the asphalt.

I really do not have time for this.

“What the heck is that suit even made of?” he muttered as he dodged another blow, trying to work out a way to subdue Rhino as fast as possible. The suit was big and heavy, which usually made for slower reactions, and a good old webbing-down would have been the perfect way to wrap up the show, but if the suit was strong enough, even his web fluid wouldn’t hold. Vernon had to knock him out somehow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rhino made a throaty, hacking sound like could have been laughter. “Unfortunately, you will be dead before you can even get close enough.”

“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way,” Vernon said, dodging yet another attack, resulting in Rhino’s head getting stuck in the cracked windshield of a car for a moment. God, that guy was like a battering ram. He couldn’t keep this up forever. “We can always sit down and talk about this.”

“Spider-Man, I’ll kill you!”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Vernon raised his wrists, aiming at the car. Thwip-thwip, went the fluid from his web shooters, trapping the Rhino against the side of the vehicle. “Shame,” he said, as the man thrashed against his web restraints. “I know a really good taco place around here.”

The Rhino yelled, lifting the entire car bodily. Vernon watched as he raised the car over his head, the webbing breaking from the strain of the suit against them, and threw it directly at him.

Ah, crap.

Vernon would like to think he would have managed to get away from there in time even if someone hadn’t snatched him up into the air, but he doubted it. There was something majestic about watching a villain he’d underestimated lift a whole car up to throw at him.

The person caught him under the arms and lifted him into the air, away from the enraged roar of the Rhino that resounded throughout the street. Vernon’s first reaction to being picked cleanly off the road would be fear, but his spider sense hadn’t gone off yet. He tried to look up at his captor/savior, but the back of his head collided with something hard. “Ow,” he mumbled. “Who the hell are you?”

“The guy who just saved your ass, webhead,” the boy replied derisively. Or at least it sounded like a boy, very much like those guys in the cafeteria who used to drop snide remarks behind Vernon’s back pre-spider bite. The guy dropped him on the roof of a shorter building, and Vernon rolled out of the way, getting to his feet. The boy was dressed in a metallic-looking dark blue-and-gold suit, a bucket-like helmet over his head. The lower of his face was uncovered, exposing lips twisted into a scowl. “I’m not even getting a thank-you?”

“…thanks,” Vernon muttered after scrutinizing the guy for a moment. “Uh, who are you actually?”

“I’m Nova, creep.”

“Nova Creep.” He considered this. “Interesting.”

“Just Nova!” the boy snapped, sounding even more displeased than before. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my team and save the frickin’ neighborhood.”

Saying this, he turned and took off again, no doubt heading for wherever the action was. Vernon watched him go, choosing to take a breather instead of following him back down.

New superheroes in town? It wasn’t unheard of, and Vernon had had his fair share of newbies and oldies both to deal with in his year-long career as Queens’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

He looked down over the edge of the roof. Sure enough, there were three of them—a girl in a white suit, moving around the wreckage like an acrobat and slashing at the Rhino’s suit, Nova Creep shooting fist lasers (Flight powers and fist lasers? Unfair.) at him, and—was that Iceman?

Vernon hesitated. He could join the fight and help finish it more quickly, but if Iceman was here, the X-Men couldn’t be farther away. He could leave the three to it and get to school in time to catch forty winks before class, no harm done. Was he even needed?

Unfortunately, he knew he was only giving himself the illusion of choice. Spider-Man never walked away from a fight, even if someone more capable was dealing with it.

He shot webs at the metal post hanging out from the opposing building and swung back down, joining the fight just as Rhino caught the girl around the middle like he had Vernon, sending her flying back into an already wrecked car. Vernon cushioned her landing with webs, managing to protect her body from the broken metal chassis, and she was back on her feet in seconds, joining his side.

“Thanks,” she said, which surprised him. Most superheroes didn’t take the time out to thank him, but that was usually unnecessary, since they evened out the score by saving his life. “You know this guy?”

“Nah, he’s new in town,” he replied, watching Nova and Iceman fight the Rhino. Iceman froze him from the legs to his waist, but it didn’t hold for long before Rhino broke through the ice. “Strong, though, I’ll give him that.”

“It’s the suit,” the girl told him. Now that they were up close, Vernon could see that her costume somewhat resembled a white tiger, with the pointed ears and yellow eyes. He wondered if she’d been bitten by a radioactive white tiger. “It’s made of some kind of polymer.”

“Polymer?” he echoed, even more surprised. He’d assumed metal.

“Self-regenerating,” she affirmed. “It’s not indestructible—I slashed through the hide with my claws, but—”

“Your claws?”

She raised her hand. Under the white glove, her nails extended into wicked, claw-like tips. “Cool,” he said, voice cracking halfway through the word. He cleared his throat. “Very Woverine-ish.”

“He’s a mutant,” she said dismissively. What was he supposed to call her? Tigerwoman? Tigergirl? “Rhino’s suit regenerates. We have to knock him out.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out,” Vernon muttered.

“A little help here?!” Nova yelled, zipping through the air in a zigzag manner to avoid the Rhino’s hits. “Or are you two going to stand around and chat all day?”

Vernon’s lips twitched into an unintentional smile. “I’ll web him up,” he told tiger lady. “You think Nova can pull him up?”

Tiger inclined her head. “Not on his own, but with a little frosty boost…”

“Great.” He sprinted towards the group, shooting webs at the Rhino’s head to get his attention and distract him from the others. “Hey, Hippo! Over here!”

The Rhino ripped off the webbing from his visor, not wasting a moment before charging him. Vernon lunged, wrapping the Rhino suit up in webs as he scaled the wall, trapping him in the web fluid. It wouldn’t hold for long, he knew—but he only needed a few seconds. And some blind faith.

The excessive webbing wrapped around Rhino like a net trap, and Vernon pulled, lifting him into the air with as much strength as he could muster. Below him, Iceman froze a column of ice under the Rhino’s butt, giving him a little extra height. Ten feet…twenty feet…

“Tiger!” Vernon yelled.

She lunged, pushing off the hood of a dented car to give her extra height, and ripped through the thin web holding him up with her claws. Rhino plummeted to the ground, crashing into a car and through it, the fall only broken by the ground, the asphalt cracking beneath the force.

Vernon watched him anxiously. The suit should have been heavy enough to render the man inside unconscious, unless he had a really good cushioning system in place.

He counted to ten in his head. Rhino didn’t move.

Thank god for bad cushioning, Vernon thought, swinging back down to the ground. “You guys think you could carry him?” he asked the three. Iceman didn’t even look over, broodily watching the unconscious villain’s body. Oh well. “He’s a heavy hitter.”

“We could make it back to S.H.I.E.L.D. with him,” Tiger said. Then she glanced at him, cocking her head in a perplexed manner. “Wait, why do you—”

“I gotta run.” He shrugged sheepishly, adjusting the straps of his bag, which had only undergone minimal damage. The wonders never ceased. “You see, I’m late to first period biology.”

Vernon crashed through the doors of his school so fast he almost ploughed down Joshua, who had been standing just before the entrance, probably waiting for him.

The journey hadn’t taken more than a few minutes—he tried not to change clothes in suspicious-smelling service alleys as much as possible, but some situations left him no choice—but he only had a few minutes to get to class, and detention was something he couldn’t afford to get. He hated disappointing Aunt May more than he hated getting his ass beat by some B-list villain.

“Hey, hey, hey, relax,” Joshua said, righting him. The hallways were almost empty, but not quite, indicating that he wasn’t too late to the not-party. The boy fixed his glasses, giving Vernon a look. “Did you get into a fight?”

Vernon blinked at him. “What? No. This guy called Rhino—”

“Shh.” Joshua dragged him to one side, away from earshot of the general populace of Midtown High, and gave him a concerned look. “Dude, your face is bleeding.”

Joshua was one of the only few individuals in the world who knew about Vernon’s identity as Spider-Man, which was just as well, because if it hadn’t been for his blue-haired best friend he would have walked into a test with his nose gushing like a bloody geyser. “Thanks,” he mumbled, when Joshua handed him a clean-looking handkerchief. He raised it to his face. “Did you wipe your nose on this?”

Joshua made a face. “Not that I remember.”

“Good enough.” He cleaned off the blood as well as he could, which was hard, because he was feeling jittery and apparently his hands agreed. “Do I look fine?”

“You never look fine, my friend,” his friend said sagely. “But you look like you always do, so I guess, yes.”

Vernon shot him a grim smile, and started down the corridor towards 12-B, which was where he was supposed to be in ten minutes. He wasn’t even late, actually, but Mr. Malkin didn’t need a big excuse to give someone a C+ for a tardy warning. Joshua followed close behind. “So, which guy beat you up this time?”

“I didn’t get beat up.” Vernon rolled his eyes. “Well, not entirely—”

“Vernon Parker, report to room 10-A.” Both the boys’ heads whipped up towards the source of the sound, which came as an announcement from the speakers. “Vernon Parker, room 10-A, please.”

“What?” Vernon whirled on Joshua, panicked. The blue-haired boy’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, but he only shrugged in response. “But the test!”

He tried to think back to anything wrong he might have done in the past few weeks to get called aside like this, but he couldn’t think of anything. Plus, he hadn’t been summoned to the principal’s office, which confused him even more. Why room 10-A?

“Now you’ve had it, Parker,” Flash Thompson said as he passed them, grinning.

Vernon scowled at his retreating back, his grip tightening around the bag strap. “Whatever,” he muttered, then threw Joshua his bag. “Take it to the class, won’t you? I’ll try to get back as soon as I can.”

Without waiting for affirmation, he jogged off to find room 10-A, wanting to get whatever it was over with so he would get back on time. When he got there, the room was empty except for a lady in a pencil skirt and jacket, holding a clipboard in her hand. Upon his entry, she smiled at him in a friendly way, which only served to tick him off further.

“Whatever this is, couldn’t I do it some other time?” he pleaded. He hadn’t seen this staff member before, but he didn’t seem to be in trouble, and his grades had enough pull to get him out of some random appointment before classes. “I have a test in like, five minutes.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already talked to your teacher about this,” the woman said, continuing to smile. She gestured to one of the seats. “Take a seat.”

Reluctantly, he obliged, not really having an excuse not to now. “What is this, exactly?” he asked. Now that panic had taken a backseat, doubt was beginning to creep in. Why only him? And how had he never seen this woman before?

“In light of recent events, the school has decided to start counselling sessions for all of the students to help them cope,” she said. She had a really nice smile, her skin tan and unblemished, cheeks dimpled. “I’m Melia Fox,” she said. “I just need to ask you a few questions, and you can be on your way.”

He stared back at her, miffed. A year of incidents, and they suddenly decided to have counselling sessions now? “Why just me?” he asked slowly. “I’m sorry, but isn’t there some kind of rule or protocol for—”

“There is,” said a new voice. Vernon whipped around, and there at the end of the classroom, where moments ago had been nothing but air, stood a tall black man with an eyepatch. “And Agent Fox is following it.”

Vernon gaped. “I—what?”

“Spider-Man,” Nicky Fury said, with a note of muted resolution in his voice, “we need to have a little chat.”

[targaryenimagines]

Candle in the Northern Winds

Daenerys Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 2,630

Summary: Memories played like repeated mantras in your head. Taunting you over and over again of things you could never unsee. Filling you with more and more despair as time wore on. What made it worse was the fact that you still couldn’t give her up. Despite the fact that she had completely shattered you.

Dialogue Prompt: “I’m still not over you.” and “I’ll always be there for you. Don’t you know that?”

Note: I changed the second dialogue prompt to “I’ll always be there for you, I swear.”

Other Note: Also mentions of cheating.

The winds of the North tear at your face. Freezing the tears streaming down in their tracks. Stuttering breathes escaping between chattering teeth. Hands clutching at your cloak trying to preserve any semblance of body heat.

You know that standing out here was a death wish waiting to happen, but you couldn’t bear to be in his presence anymore. Couldn’t bear to look into his eyes and see the remorse, the regret, that he clearly had. Couldn’t bear the feeling of nausea every time you saw them together. Acting to the world like nothing happened when it had torn yours apart.

Their actions had completely shifted your entire axis. Opening up a chasm beneath your feet and watching as you fell. Throwing you out to the wolves to be eaten because you had lulled yourself into a false sense of security. You had allowed yourself to love, to open up, and that had cost you more than you were willing to admit.

More than you were willing to believe, because if you did then you would remember how she had made you feel. You would remember why you had allowed yourself to open up. You would remember every single reason you had fallen in love with Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.

The way her hair always fell into her face as she slept. Golden ivory falling in gentle waves to cover the most beautiful face you have ever laid eyes on. Little snores escaping between parted lips.

The way her eyes always lit up when she saw you. Glowing violet shining like the sun as she gazed upon you. Always filled with warmth and causing you to feel nothing but security.

Even to the way her hands always held yours in such a welcoming hold. Always with just enough pressure to show you that she wasn’t going to let go, but allowing you the freedom to make up your mind if you wanted to leave. Allowing you the leeway to let go if you wanted to. Her hands were like a warm hug against yours. Filling you with nothing but love and affection.

And then that all changed. Ripped from you before you were even given the chance to prepare yourself.

All because of Westeros.

All because of the Iron Throne.

All because of Jon Fucking Snow.

Because of him, and this cursed land, you have lost everything that ever meant anything to you. Every shred of happiness, of light, has been tainted. Memories that once left you with a sense of purpose now filled you with despair and anguish. Moments that you used to hold on to were nothing but wind beneath your palms.

Your mind was tainted by something you could never forget. No matter how much you tried.

No matter how much you pleaded.

Gone were the moments of slightly tousled hair because of sleep. Now all you saw was the beautiful ivory waves knotted together because of untold passion. A mouth that had always made you feel safe breathing out a moan. Her back arched against the stocky frame of the northern bastard.

Gone were the feelings of warmth and security when you looked into her eyes. For all you could remember was the way she had looked at you over his shoulder. The shock in her gaze quickly turned to anguish. Shattering everything you had thought you knew.

Gone were the moments of simply being in her presence. Being filled by nothing but warmth and affection, because now her presence was nothing but stifling. Her hold on you, just like that night, was a prison. Her fingers like the iron bars on a cell. Trapping you in an endless sea of despair. Continuously drowning you without any hope of rescue.

After all how were you supposed to swim, to live, when the thing keeping you afloat was the one drowning you?

You squeeze your eyes shut to abate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to be weak anymore. You didn’t want to hurt anymore, but you know that the daggers that pierced your heart every time you saw her would always stay. That no matter how many tears you shed, how many sleepless nights passed by, that this hurt, this ache, would never fully leave you. No matter how much you wanted it to, because of one stupid emotion.

The emotion that still made your heart skip a beat when you saw her.

The emotion that made your hands reach out for her warmth during the harsher northern nights.

The emotion that made you crave her presence with every fiber of your being.

The emotion that made you so irreversibly in love with Daenerys. No matter if she broke your heart or not, because you couldn’t breathe without her, and you hated yourself because of it.

You hated that she still had this effect on you, but most of all you hated that you wanted to forgive her. That you wanted to give in to her pleading looks.

Give in to the gentle touches she lay on your forearm as you passed her.

Give in to the warmth that she still made you feel. To the love that still sang so brightly within your heart and soul, and that you could clearly see being returned.

Those emotions only doubled when you received the news of Viserion. Knowing how much that must have destroyed Daenerys. To not only lose your son but to then learn that you’d have to fight his corpse? A mere imitation of the light that Viserion used to be.

Bringing your palm against your forehead you try to ignore all the emotions running rampant through your body. With your other hand you pull your cloak tighter against yourself. Trying to savor the minimal warmth you gained because of the action.

Letting loose a deep sigh you watch as it clouds in front of you. Your eyes trailing across the misty lines as they slowly disappeared. Never noticing the figure that was approaching you until a warm, gloved, hand appears on your forearm.

Jumping, you pull away from the hold. Your body whipping around to face the person who the hand belonged to. Although, in your heart, you knew exactly who it was.

Your heart thudding against your chest as you met the violet gaze of Daenerys.

Doing your best to appear unaffected by her sudden appearance you straighten yourself. Your arms crossing protectively over your chest. You allow yourself to shift slightly backwards so you could put a little more room in between the two of you.

Something that Daenerys noticed automatically. Her brow turning down in a clear show of her displeasure. Though she made no move to rectify the sudden distance. Knowing that you had every right to react that way to her presence.

Finally, after a moment, she speaks. “You shouldn't be out here in the cold.” She shifts in place as she glances around at your surroundings. “You’re not used to the northern weather. You should go somewhere that’s warmer.”

Your mouth twists into a self deprecating smile. Your words spitting out of your mouth like they were acid. “And where, pray tell, should I go? To you?” A short laugh escapes your mouth. Ignoring the hurt that flashed across stunning violet, you continue. “Or should I stay in the great hall where I have to listen to the great Jon Snow speak? Or, better yet, should I go back to my chambers that only stay warm for half the night? Where would you like me to go, Your Grace?”

Wincing at the use of the formality Daenerys moves closer to you. “You can stay with me.”

“Why would I want to stay with you?” The question is practically snarled between clenched teeth. “Why would I want to stay with the woman who broke my heart? Why would I want to stay with the woman who promised me forever and broke it the moment she got something better? Tell me, Khaleesi, why would I want to be anywhere near you?”

Daenerys doesn’t speak but as you were asking your questions she wilted more and more. Defeat flashing across her face as the words rang through the air. The venom laced within your tone causing her to blanch.

Scoffing your move further away from her. Very much aware of her burning gaze following your form. You could feel the way defeat was beginning to worm its way through your body. Your shoulders slump because of it and your voice drops to a pained whisper.

“Do you know what’s worse,” you ask, agony laced within your tone. “After all of that. After everything that you’ve done to me. I’m still not over you.” Chuckling lowly you turn your gaze back towards her. Your eyes darkened because of your emotions. “I still love you with everything that I am, and I hate myself because I do. I hate the fact that you still make my heart skip a beat. I hate the fact that I miss your voice as the first thing I hear in the morning and the last I hear at night. I hate the fact that I can’t seem to get any air without you being next to me. I hate that you still own my heart and soul even after you destroyed them.”

Widened violet eyes meet yours before they narrow. A determined look flaring across her face. Fire alighting within her gaze. Moving Daenerys situates herself in front of you. Her gaze leveled with your own, and you try to fight down the feelings of warmth that you got because of it.

Bringing her hand up Daenerys’s hand cups your cheek. Her thumb running soothing circles against it, and you fight with every instinct in your body telling you to lean into it. You watch, silently, as Daenerys seems to be processing things. Her mouth thins with thought as she continues to stare at you. Finally, after a moment, she begins to speak. Her voice was low and filled with sincerity.

“There aren’t enough words to express how sorry I am for hurting you. No words that could ever excuse my actions. No words that could ever show you how much I need you to forgive me, but I’m going to try to say what’s needed to be said for over a fortnight. Whether or not you forgive me is up to you. I am not going to begrudge you for any actions you take against me nor will I try to sway your feelings for me. I am simply going to say what I should’ve said the last time you were in front of me like this.” Taking a deep breath Daenerys closes her eyes for a beat. Trying to work up the nerve to continue. Feeling you shift causes her eyes to snap open and a determined look to flare, once more, across her face. “I am going to start by saying the truest thing that I have ever said, I love you. I love you with everything within me. You are the one that has always stood by me when times were at their hardest. You loved me at my best and cherished me at my worst. You are the reason that when I look back that I’m no longer lost, because I know you’d be there. I know that you’d always be there to cheer me on. You’d be there when I need a shoulder to cry, and I took advantage of that. I took advantage of the fact that you were always there. I started to believe that you would always be there. So I stopped paying attention to you. I stopped paying attention to your needs and desires, and started fueling my own. My need for the Iron Throne blinding me to what I already have.” She pauses. “Had, and that’s something I can never forgive myself for. I can never forgive myself for letting my own goals push themselves before you, because you’re the only one that’s ever put me first above anything else. You’re the only one that’s ever loved me as both Daenerys Targaryen and the Mother of Dragons. You’re the only one that is more important to me than anything else in my life. Which is what makes my actions even more despicable. The fact that I willingly hurt the love of my life because I was hurting, because I couldn’t handle everything that life had thrown at me. I was weak and ignorant. Forgetting everything that you’ve gone through for me. The years of you staying loyal to me, and how did I repay that? By cheating on you with the one person I should have never touched. The first new thing that had come my way in Westeros.” A cynical laugh falls from Daenerys’s lips at the thought. “I suppose he was exotic to me, but that still will never change the fact that I was unfaithful to the most amazing being that I’ve ever met. To the one person that has never given up on me. Who has always been there for me. Well now it’s time that I’m here for you, and I promise I’ll always be. I’ll always be there for you, I swear.”

Closing your eyes you could feel the way your breath sucks in sharply. Feeling the way the cool air stings your nose because of it. You know that in your heart what Daenerys said was the truth, and that she would stand by her words, but a part of yourself, a big part, didn’t want to be hurt again. Didn’t want to give Daenerys the chance to do it again, but the other part wanted to. For there was no greater risk than loving Daenerys.

Opening your eyes you meet glowing violet in a steadfast gaze. Trying to convey to her how important your next words were going to be. Something she seems to understand immediately based off the shifting in her stance.

“Time,” you murmur, watching as confusion flashes across her face. “I need time. I can’t forgive you overnight because what you did shattered me, but if you’re willing to pick up the pieces? If you’re willing to accept the cuts that will happen because of it? Then I know I’ll be able to forgive you one day.”

Her face breaks out into the largest smile you’ve ever seen. Her exuberance clearly glowed within her eyes. Bringing your hand to her lips Daenerys presses a chaste kiss to it. Her lips curling into a smile against it.

Whispering, almost reverently, Daenerys looks at you with complete devotion. “I would wait until the end of time to be with you. I would go through any pain, no matter how great, if it meant having you in the end. For there is no greater pain than losing you, and I’ve become all too aware of what that feels like. I vow never again to go through it. Nothing will ever keep me from you.”

Smiling you allow yourself to feel warmth and love once more. Accepting the feelings with a welcomed embrace. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been pushing away for so long. It was like coming home after a long journey.

Glancing towards Daenerys, and her bright gaze, you know that there was still a long road ahead of you. That there would be bumps and that there would be tears shed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but determination.

For as long as you had each other you could get through anything.

As long as you kept moving forward you would be okay, because there was no need to be lost anymore.

Not as long as you had her and she had you.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

In A Day or Two-Ch. 31

Chapter 31

           I was sure Kenny could feel my fingers trembling as we followed my mother. He squeezed my hand and drew it up to his lips, brushing a faint kiss on the knuckles. All I wanted was to turn and run, to snatch what personal stuff I could and follow Kenny back to Japan. To go back to when I had been happy, and the world of New York City was just a distant memory.

           “Shaytan,” he whispered, leaning in close so that my mother wouldn’t hear. “It’s going to be fine. I promise, koibito. I’ve faced worse.”

           I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “No, you haven’t.” He squeezed my fingers playfully.

           “Damon Alexander Walker,” my mother practically snarled as she rounded the corner into the formal sitting room. My heart slipped down past my stomach toward my toes. No one ever used this room unless they were pulling the old New York blue blood money card. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

           “Mom, chillax,” came my brother’s voice. It was a little deeper and more gravely than it used to be. “It’s Shaye and her boyfriend. You’re the one who’s trying to act like there’s some big deal going on.”

           I couldn’t help but feel a stab of affection for my baby brother. He was more trouble than he was worth sometimes, but I loved him. And he was exactly what I needed just then. My hand closed a little tighter on Kenny’s as we slipped into the room behind my mother.

           My brother had thick, dark hair that settled in a mop of curls on his head. He had brown eyes that were calmer than his behavior suggested. He was all easy smiles and mischief, until it turned from innocent to criminal. Damon was everything the Hearst Walker dynasty wasn’t. Metal band t-shirts, ripped jeans, Chucks, skateboards, and spikes. My brother walked to the beat of his own drum, and my parents hated it.

           “Sha-sha!” Damon said when I appeared from behind our mother. His face lit up in a bright, easy grin. He had on dark purple eyeliner and his fingernails were painted alternately white and black. I watched his eyes get bigger and brighter as he saw who was standing next to me. “Holy fucking shit!”

           “Damon!” My mother hissed, cutting her eyes between my brother and Kenny. “Please, for the love of God, act as if you have some sense of propriety.”

           I grinned, wanting to rush across the room and snatch him up in a hug. I loved my brother desperately in that moment, not only because he drew the attention from Kenny and me, but because he was desperately honest with himself in a way that I wished I were. Kenny squeezed my fingers and drew me closer. From the corner of my eye, I saw him smile.

           “I’ve heard a lot about you, Damon,” Kenny said, his voice bright with playfulness. “Shaytan has told me stories of your… adventures.”

           I bit my bottom lip to keep from grinning. Adventures was a nice way to put the trouble my brother had gotten into in his lifetime. My mother’s face went an interesting shade of puce as Damon smiled back. “Ah, betcha Sha-sha hid most of it. She’s always makin’ me look better than I am.”

           “Your sister is the only one who sees any sort of promise in you,” my mother replied as she walked to a sidebar and poured herself a drink. “But God only knows why.”

           She held a glass toward us, tipping her brows up as she offered. I waved my hand in dismissal. “No, thank you, Momma. Kenny doesn’t drink.”

           “Straight edge?” Damon queried. Kenny dipped his head in agreement. “Right on. Power to you, dude.”

           “It’s not an easy thing to do in my line of work,” Kenny responded. “But it’s worth it.”

           “Good Lord,” my mother stage whispered. She splashed another shot of bourbon into her glass, swirling it around. She knocked it back and repeated the process.

           I tugged Kenny across the room to sit on the sofa beside Damon. My brother’s eyes got wider as Kenny sank down in the space between us. “Seriously,” Kenny said as he sat back against the cushions. “You gotta get off that stuff. All of it.”

           As the two of them slipped into a conversation, I turned my gaze toward the mahogany door that led to my father’s study. I was desperate for him to come into the room to save me from my mother and her blue blood insanity. Just as he always did when I was a child. It didn’t matter to him that he was a Pitzer, or that Mother was a Hearst, it only mattered that we were a family.          

           Sometimes, I wondered if that’s why he was away on business trips so much. Being a Hearst was the center of my mother’s identity—or it least it had become that way as I’d gotten older—and she seemed to spend more time flexing her Old Money than my father wanted. The pressure must have gotten to him more than he ever let on in front of us.

           “Listen…” Kenny’s voice broke through the thoughts turning sideways in my head. “I’ll make you a deal, Damon. Get off it… all of it… and I’ll fly you to Japan. An entire week. And I’ll show you around, just like I did with Shaye.”

           “Kenny…” I said carefully, drawing the word out. “I don’t think…”

           My brother sat up straight, his face going serious. He watched Kenny for a few moments then nodded and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

           Kenny gripped Damon’s fingers and smiled. “Stay outta trouble, and I’ll get you into the Tokyo Dome.”

           Before any of us could say another word, the door of my father’s study opened, and he slipped into the formal sitting room. Jeremy Pitzer Walker was almost six foot four, his hair still thick and naturally dark at fifty-four. He had eyes a shade lighter than Damon’s, but the same easy smile. There was a soft curl to his mouth as he rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows.

           “Well, sorry I’ve kept you. Hope you haven’t been waiting long,” my father said as he crossed the room. I saw Kenny wipe his palms on his pants before he stood. “No, please, don’t get up. I’m Jeremy, Shaye’s father.”

           Kenny stood anyway, holding his hand out toward my father. The two of them shook hands, and I could see by my father’s slight nod that he was impressed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

           “Call me Jeremy, please,” my father crooned, grinning as he leaned in. He gripped Kenny’s elbow and drew him a little closer. “I’m sorry about all this. Caroline goes a little overboard.”

           I rolled my eyes and covered my mouth with my hand, coughing to stifle my laughter. Damon didn’t even try to hide it. “Overboard? Dad, Mom’s insane.” My brother turned toward Kenny and grinned. “The last time we used this room… it was a governor or something. Seriously…”

           “At least one of us remembers that we have an image to uphold,” my mother replied, knocking back what I thought was her third or fourth whiskey. “God forbid the three of you act like you remember who you are.”

           “We remember exactly who we are, darling,” my father said as he stepped over to my mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Has Noel finished dinner?”

           Kenny looked sideways at me, his gaze sliding back and forth between me and my parents. “You have a cook?”

           “And a maid. And a driver, but you’ve met him,” Damon answered, his grin getting bigger. “They’ve both got personal secretaries—but Dad works for an investment firm, so he needs one. Mom’s is mostly for… social engagements and society events. You know really ‘important’ stuff.”

           Damon had no shame and absolutely no sense of self-preservation. I was one hundred percent certain that if Kenny hadn’t been there, my mother would have torn my little brother into shreds. I watched her grip her glass just as a petite blonde woman turned the corner. I cringed at the sight of her starched white jacket and black slacks. Jesus Christ, I thought as I rubbed my fingertips over my brow. She’s made Noel wear a uniform.

           “Dinner is served,” Noel said formally. She looked stiff and uncomfortable. I hated everything about being a Hearst-Pitzer-Walker more in that moment than ever before.

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @imagineall-the-fandoms​ @Waywardstrong @lilred91​ @lakamaa12​ @maelleoute​ @not-that-kinda-gurl08​ @writtingrose​ @unabashedwrestlefics @hungmanhorsecarriage​

[isozyme]

just listened to "something to do w my hands" and WOW YEAH the savior complex & the need to support someone but a lil bit in a selfish way bc then that makes himself a good person... also YES idk why i haven't seen this yet but he's actually extremely smug & judgemental if you watch the corner of his mouth in cql it's VERY funny. would love your thoughts on why you think he doesn't ever put himself together again/come out of seclusion? have seen args either way & i think it comes down to jgy!

yessss you understand lxc!!!! the way his relationship with jgy is about lxc’s hunger to be needed, to be special, to be the only one who can see who jgy really is, to be better and kinder and more fair than everyone else, oof, it’s so good. i am hype to share my opinions on why lxc is irreparably broken at the end of the series.

to start, importantly: i basically take lxc/jgy as canon. i don’t think the plot makes sense without it. they are fucking, they love each other, they’ve both fucked around with nmj and that shit is fraught. you can’t convince me otherwise and all of my meta assumes this is fact.

i think lxc knew that jgy's hands were dirty, and almost certainly suspected that jgs’s death was jgy’s doing. i don’t think he knew about nmj, or how gross jgs’s death was, the incest stuff, etc. i think he saw enough to know that jgy probably killed his dad, went “you know what, that’s fair, i can forgive him for that” and decided that if he didn’t dig any deeper he wouldn’t have to know for certain and he wouldn’t be forced to do anything about it. lxc averting his eyes so he didn’t have to confront jgy doing a couple murders led to some...uh...bad stuff happening.

so that’s guilt #1.

then there’s guilt #2: he killed jgy. he got tricked into being a weapon and he put a sword through jgy’s chest.

guilt #3: he still loved jgy, even though jgy was an objectively vile person. he grieves jgy and he feels guilty for grieving and it fucks him up!

when it comes to lxc and guilt, you gotta take into account that this man has been told his entire life that he’s the most talented person in the five clans. he’s the first jade. he’s peerless. lxc strives for perfection and is pretty sure he’s basically nailed it, which means he believes fundamentally that if a thing is possible, he is capable of doing it. are we seeing where this is going? yeah. lxc thinks he could have stopped all of this. if he’d looked closer. if he’d been less selfish. it’s all on him. it’s his fault.

building on the “lxc has put his own damn self on a pedestal,” issue, now that he’s fucked up so spectacularly, all that certainty that he’s a perfect person is torn to shreds. he can no longer trust himself to make any good decisions. a huge part of his self-concept was a lie all along. he was not good. he was not fair. who the fuck is lan xichen if he’s not the cultivation world’s shining beacon?

in guanyin temple he shuts his eyes, drops his hand, and decides he doesn’t care how he dies, because he’s fucked up so bad. all the fight goes out of him. i don’t think he’s ever going to heal entirely from that moment.

oh also he’s really really angry and is absolutely not going to acknowledge that or deal with it, because lxc doesn’t do angry. (that’s the cost of having perfect control of your temper.) he’s furious that this happened to him and he was massively betrayed and that nhs used him and that his brother chose right when he chose wrong. so that’s fucking him up on top of the guilt and the grief.

basically that’s why i think lxc is permanently damaged by the end of cql. he’s never ever going to go back to being the first jade, zewu-jun, lan-zongzhu. that identity has been thoroughly destroyed. with time he might recover enough to be a functional member of the clan, but he’s always going to be fragile.

as for the seclusion question! i’d totally believe it if lxc walked into seclusion and never came out. that seems in character to me. with the right coaxing, he might come out again. absolutely not before at least 5 years have passed. likely longer. when he goes into seclusion i certainly don’t think he’s planning to ever return. 

it really hinges on lz, who’s the only one with a chance of drawing lxc back out into the world. lz is stubborn enough to do it! eventually, even lxc would be worn down by “my beloved little brother, who i basically raised from a child, kneels outside my door for eight hours on the first day of every month, the same way he did outside our mother’s house after she died, and i can’t stop remembering scooping up his cold little body out of the snow where he’d fallen asleep waiting, again, for someone who’s never going to emerge, watching him kneeling bravely during lessons the next day even though his knees were so, so bruised, and i’m repeating every single mistake our parents made only worse because i know exactly how much it’s hurting lz because i’ve watched it before.” 

i personally headcanon that a decade or so after guanyin temple, lxc shows up unexpectedly at lz’s shoulder at a cultivation conference. he’s got the exact same smile and makes the same polite conversation, because those things weren’t ever particularly connected to his actual emotions. but he’s thinner, and he holds himself like a porcelain statue, one missed step away from shattering. if he thinks nobody is looking at him, the smile stays on but his face doesn’t move, like there’s just nothing there underneath the polite expression because he’s not putting any effort into animating it. it’s unsettling as fuck!! he’s useful, efficient, great at killing evil things, he eats, he drinks tea, but you can tell his tether to the physical world is tenuous at best.

after guanyin temple, lxc never weighs in on a single important political decision ever again.

ONE THOUSAND WORDS LATER, that’s why i think lxc’s not gonna just bounce back from this one!

[camillemontespan]

the edge of the world [mal x MC]

I’ve been torn between Mal and Tyril but writing his fic has just made me decide on Mal, no regrets.

Warnings: NSFW. Some light Saturday smut in the morning with your coffee, right?

@moonlightgem7​ @emichelle​ @ibldw-main​ @katedrakeohd​ @mskaneko​ @pug-bitch​ @argylemnwrites​ @saivilo​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @pedudley​ @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​

****************************************************

Mal let out a hiss as Aurelia pressed a wet flannel on his torn up arm. 'Fuck, Aurrie,' he muttered, grimacing in pain.

Aurelia winced. 'Sorry,' she said. 'But needs must.'

Mal rolled his eyes. 'Worth it to see that demon meet his tragic and well deserved demise.'

Aurelia smirked. 'I see you've not lost your sense of humour.'

'Never will,' Mal drawled, leaning back to watch her clean his wound. 'The day I lose my sense of humour is the day the world is a little bleaker.'

'And still full of yourself,' Aurelia teased, wringing out the wet flannel. Mal shot her a lazy smile. He winced again when she pressed the flannel back on his injury.

'Is it really bad?' she asked.

Mal stared at her. 'What do you think? My arm is bloodied and shredded. Take a wild guess.'

'Wow, touchy..' Aurelia muttered, pressing the flannel down harder, deliberately.

'OW!' Mal yelled out.

Aurelia sniggered. 'You deserved that.'

There was a silence.

'Yeah, you're right, I did,' Mal agreed.

They say in companionable silence as Aurelia tended to him. She wrapped his arm in a bandage, making sure to be gentle.

'Okay, where else are you hurt?'

Mal shook his head casually. 'Nope.'

Aurelia sighed. 'Mal, come on.'

'Gah, fine,' he groaned. 'My chest.'

Aurelia gestured for him to take off his linen bloody shirt. Mal chuckled.

'Keen to see the goods?'

Aurelia glowered at him. 'Oh please,' she said dryly. 'Get over yourself.'

Mal tutted. 'Can't get proper care without being objectified..'

'Mal.'

'Sheesh, woman, okay!' Mal said, noting her tone. He pulled his shirt off, hissing in pain as parts of the fabric stuck to the open wounds on his skin. Aurelia reached out to gently help him.

'Undressing me already, I see,' Mal muttered, his voice tight as he tried to ignore the pain.

'Stop being sarcastic, I'm trying to help you,' Aurelia snapped.

Mal sighed. 'I know, kit. I appreciate it. I do.'

Together, they managed to take his shirt off. Aurelia surveyed the damage. His tanned chest was bruised with a gaping red wound on his left pectoral. The skin had been torn off.

'Oh god, Mal..' she croaked.

Mal sighed. 'Yup. Take a close look, Aurrie. This is the life of an adventurer. Attractive, right?'

Aurelia leaned closer so she could inspect the wound. Mal blushed as he felt her fingers gently run along his skin, but he managed to hide his feelings before she could see.

Aurelia's fingers touched the copper chain that hung down his neck.

'Is this a necklace?' she asked.

'Compass, actually,' Mal corrected her, lifting the chain higher so she could see a small copper compass attached to it.

'Did you steal it from pirates?' Aurelia asked, giving him a wink.

Mal chuckled. 'It belonged to my mother,' he told her softly. 'She gave it to me so that I would always find my way home.'

He held the compass in his scarred hands and smiled weakly. Aurelia reached out to squeeze his hand. Mal's brown eyes caught hers.

'Here,' he said, breaking the silence. 'You have it.'

Aurelia drew back. 'No Mal -'

'Shut up, kit,' Mal interrupted. 'You have it instead.'

He took it off and gently reached out to pull her dark hair to the side so it wouldn't get caught on the chain. His fingers burned the back of her neck. Aurelia swallowed.

'Why do you want me to have it?' she asked quietly. 'It belonged to your mother. It's yours.'

Mal bit his lip, trying to search for the right words. 'Because, kit,' he finally said. 'If you're ever lost, you can find your way back to me.'

Aurelia met his steady gaze. For so long their relationship had consisted of teasing jokes, insults and the occasional flirt. Never before had they been so candid. Never had Mal actually acted serious about something.

He was looking at her seriously now. It was a look of intent.

'I'll always find my way back to you,' Aurelia whispered, abandoning her self consciousness.

Mal smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 'That's all I ask, kit.'

They were only an inch apart now. Aurelia could feel the warmth from his body and the heat in his eyes.

Aurelia touched the compass that now hung down her neck. Mal reached out to stroke her finger, grazing her fingernail with his calloused thumb.

'I'll guard it with my life,' she vowed, smiling softly.

'Hopefully you won't have to,' Mal croaked, his voice hitching as he inched closer, not once taking his eye off hers.

'Mal..'

'Aurelia.'

That was it.

They collided.

Their tongues twisted in a feverish kiss. Mal pulled Aurelia in close, her chest pressed up against his as he kissed her with all of the feeling he had held back. She tasted of burnt sugar. She was delicious.

Mal's body felt strong around Aurelia. Her hands clutched his broad shoulders, taking care not to touch his injuries. He tasted of copper blood and rum.

She felt his fingers scramble to unbutton her shirt. She helped him by pulling it off. Their new life had been one of running and fighting - there was no place for corsets in her world. Not now. She needed clothes that were loose and easy to wear, easy to put on and take off.

They were both grateful for the easy way her shirt slid off her body, revealing herself to him.

Mal’s eyes darkened as he studied her. ‘Jesus..’ he muttered. ‘You look..’

Aurelia blushed. Mal shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze, and pulled her in closer so he could kiss her hard, his hands reaching out to cup her breasts. 

‘M-Mal-’ she whispered, breaking away from him. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. 

‘You alright?’ he asked. ‘You want to stop?’

‘No,’ she answered quickly. ‘But.. I.. I’ve never..’

She looked down at her hands. A red blush coloured her cheeks as she waited for him to realise what she meant. Mal blinked in shock. 

‘You haven’t.. Been with anyone?’

‘I haven’t,’ Aurelia confirmed, her voice shaking. ‘I never got the chance.’

There was a heavy silence between them. Mal cleared his throat. ‘Well, you should wait for someone who’s actually worthy of you-’

‘I want it to be you,’ she interrupted. ‘I just wanted to tell you the truth so you know that if I’m terrible at it, then you would know why.’

Mal stared at her, his face turning pale. ‘You want to lose it to me? Me? Really?’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Aurelia asked, her nostrils flaring. ‘You don’t want to?’

Mal let out a dry laugh. ‘Well, I’m questioning your decision making, kit. Have you met me? I’m the shit on your shoe. You don’t want to make a life changing decision with me involved, trust me.’

‘I want to,’ Aurelia snapped. ‘Don’t make me beg, Mal. It’s just that you’re the first person I’ve met who makes me feel something. I feel adventurous when I’m with you. I feel like I can do anything. So yes, I want to do this with you.’

Mal closed his eyes. ‘Kit..’

‘My name is Aurelia.’

Mal opened his eyes and could see the determination on her face. ‘Yes, you are, aren’t you?’ he whispered. He thought she looked so fierce right now; fiery. He loved it. 

‘You’re on,’ he said quietly. ‘Let’s do it.’

Aurelia gave him a satisfied nod and leaned close to kiss him again. She was surprised when he stopped her. 

‘What?’

Mal sighed. ‘If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it properly.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

Mal gave her a knowing smile. ‘We’re going to do it my way.’

‘And what does that involve?’

Mal smirked. ‘Lots of orgasms.’

‘Oh for God’s sake-’

‘From you.’

Aurelia stopped talking. ‘Excuse me?’

Mal chuckled softly and kissed her gently before tugging her lower lip with his teeth, making her groan. 

‘I’m gonna make you feel things you’ve never felt before, Aurelia,’ he whispered. Her name sounded like magic on his tongue. ‘And by the time we’re done, you’re gonna want to do it all over again.’

*************************************************

Mal was true to his word. In the glow of the candle in the lantern, Mal settled between her thighs and let his tongue whisper dark spells. The sensations were all new to Aurelia. She hadn’t realised that a flick of his tongue against her would make her entire body convulse. She hadn’t realised that his fingers that grazed her thighs would make her moan in ways she never had before. Mal took his time which was entirely new to her; he was usually a man of act first, think later. He always jumped right into the deep end without fear of the consequences. But right now, he was taking it slow, teasing her little by little, making her want more. 

‘How does this feel?’ he murmured, his lips brushing her thighs.

‘Good..’ she managed to say. ‘Really good.’

Her body jolted as she felt a wave in the pit of her stomach. ‘Oh god, Mal, I feel something-’

‘Good girl, kit,’ he whispered. He looked into her eyes now. She felt his fingers slide into her, making her cry out. 

‘Easy, easy..’ he soothed. ‘Just laying the ground work.’

He gave her a wink to show he was teasing. Aurelia rolled her eyes then let out a gasp as she felt his fingers slide deeper into her. 

‘How does this feel?’ he asked again, always aware. He knew the importance of what they were doing right now. This version of Mal was serious. He was paying attention to the consequences of his actions. 

‘It’s still good.’

Mal smiled. ‘Ready for more?’

‘Yes.’

Mal reached down to unbuckle his weapons belt. Aurelia watched with dark eyes as he stripped his trousers off until he became exposed to her. She swallowed as she studied him. 

‘Wow..’

Mal chuckled. ‘That’s a reaction I’ve never had before.’

‘Really?!’

Mal blushed. His hand gripped his length and she watched as he slowly started to pump his hand along. Aurelia reached out to grab his hand. 

‘I want to do that.’

Mal’s eyes widened. ‘You do?’

‘I want to make you feel things too.’

‘Aurelia..’ Mal breathed. He watched her as her hand replaced his and she began to slide it slowly along his cock, making his breath hitch. As she began to feel more confident, her pace quickened and Mal’s breath became more rapid. He closed his eyes, focusing on her touch. 

‘I’ve thought about this for a long time..’ he murmured, his eyes still closed. ‘What it would be like with you.’

Aurelia smiled. ‘Is it what you pictured?’

Mal opened his eyes. His expression was stripped bare. ‘It’s better.’

Aurelia let go of his cock to lie back. She spread her legs invitingly. ‘Mal?’

Mal let out a low growl. ‘Much better.’

He descended on her, kissing her urgently. Aurelia gripped the back of his head, the locks of his hair twisted in her fists as she kissed him desperately back. His body was strong around her, his arms pulling her in close. 

‘I want you,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Now.’

‘You sure?’ Mal asked, breaking away to look at her seriously. ‘You’re sure about this?’

Aurelia nodded. ‘Yes. Make me feel things, Mal.’

Mal gently pushed her down so she lay on her back. His hands ran down her hips until they settled on her thighs. Gripping her legs, he pulled her gently towards him so her hips were angled against his. His cock stood to attention at her entrance. 

‘With pleasure,’ he murmured. With their eyes locked on each other, Aurelia braced herself for impact. 

******************************************************

Aurelia bolted up in a tangle of sheets, sweat covering her body. Her heart pounding, she blinked rapidly as she took in her surroundings. She was in her bunk. Above her, Nia was asleep, snoring lightly. Tyril was asleep on the other bunk, his feet hanging over the edge. The elf was too tall for human things. 

Mal was asleep on the bunk above Tyril. 

Aurelia thought back to the dream she had just had. Oh god. Oh god. Her and Mal. How could she even look at him now? How could she look at him the same way? 

Rubbing her eyes, she untangled herself and left her bunk, her feet padding softly along the wooden floor of the cabin. She needed air. Aurelia made her way through the ship, climbing up the stairs to the sea air above. 

The sky was black, lit up with glowing stars. The sea was calm, almost like glass as the ship sliced through the water on its way to their next destination. Aurelia hugged her arms around her body that was clad in a white linen night dress, wishing she had thought to wear something warmer. But she needed the cool air to calm her hot skin; the dream had made her body react in ways that she wasn’t used to. 

Leaning against the edge of the ship, Aurelia surveyed the sea before her. She had always wanted a life of adventure; now here she was, sailing on a ship, dangling on the edge of the world. 

‘You’re up early… or late.’

Aurelia jumped at the voice. Turning, she saw Mal strolling towards her. His hair was dishevelled. 

‘I could say the same to you,’ she replied, turning back to look at the water. She couldn’t look at Mal right now; not after her dream. 

Mal stood next to her, mirroring her stance. They stood in silence together until Mal broke it; he hated silences. He had no use for them. 

‘Penny for your thoughts?’

Aurelia’s face reddened. ‘Nothing to concern yourself with.’

Mal smirked. ‘You usually sleep so soundly. What woke you?’

‘Nothing,’ she snapped. ‘Nothing woke me.’

Mal smiled to himself. ‘Bad dream?’

God, he wouldn’t let it go. 

Aurelia sighed. ‘Something like that.’

Mal turned his head to the side to look at her. She was tall, like he was. Her hair was set in braids and her skin was like mocha. Her cheekbones were high and she always looked so regal. He liked the look of Aurelia; not that he could admit that to her. 

‘What was it about?’ Mal asked. ‘Me? Was I being incredibly scandalous?’

Aurelia looked away but Mal could see her jaw setting.  He had never seen her this shaken up before; she was usually a picture of calm, as opposed to Mal’s constant picture of chaos. 

‘Kit, what’s wrong?’

‘Don’t call me, kit,’ she whispered, her voice cracking. ‘My name is Aurelia.’

Mal sighed. He liked giving her a nickname; it meant he couldn’t get close to her. Aurelia was a beautiful name, a name that evoked images of angels and beauty. He couldn’t say it without feeling things. 

‘Kit-’

‘Aurelia,’ she interrupted impatiently. 

Mal closed his eyes. ‘Fine. Aurelia. Talk to me.’

She was silent. Her hands gripped the side of the ship, turning her knuckles pale. Mal reached out to touch her hand; she jumped at his touch. 

‘Wow, touchy,’ Mal muttered, taking his hand away. ‘I’ll leave you in peace then.’

He turned to go. Unable to stop herself, Aurelia grabbed his hand, bringing him back to her. She looked up at him sadly. 

‘Sorry Mal,’ she said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to take it out on you. My head is just all over the place right now.’

‘I get it,’ Mal told her. ‘You need to find your brother, the shard.. Your life has changed completely. You’ve on a ship with people you have only just met and you’re away from home.’

Aurelia bit her lip. ‘We’re on the edge of the world, like I’ve always wanted,’ she admitted. 

‘So what’s wrong?’

Mal was studying her with such intensity. He was serious. He was never serious. 

Aurelia crossed her arms and looked out to sea. Mal’s eyes roamed her face, trying to decipher what she was thinking. But she was a closed book; she was always hard to read. Sometimes, he thought she liked him. The way she would roll her eyes at his jokes but smile anyway; the way she would always join him on little jaunts; the way she would look at him. 

‘I guess I feel a little lost and confused,’ she finally told him. ‘More lost, to be honest. I don’t know where my head is at or how I feel.’ 

Mal edged closer to her, his eyes still fixed on hers. ‘You know you can talk to me,’ he said softly. ‘I know I don’t tend to be serious but I can be. If you need me, I’m here.’

‘I know,’ she murmured.

She cast her eyes down. Mal made a decision right then; he reached into his shirt and pulled out his mother’s necklace which held a compass on the end. He pulled it off his neck and held it out to Aurelia. 

Her eyes widened in shock. 

‘Mal?’

‘Take it, Aurelia,’ he whispered. ‘If you ever feel lost, this will help. You will find your way back.’

Aurelia was looking at him with a strange expression. He couldn’t work out what she was thinking. 

‘Back to what?’ she asked, her voice low. 

She was looking at him with a strange intensity now. He didn’t know what to do. His eyes flicked down to her lips which were so full. 

What could he say? Back home? But he liked having her with him. He didn’t want her to leave. But he wanted her to be safe. He wanted her to feel like she could travel along the edge of the world with no fear, at home in the world wherever that may be. With or without him. 

‘Back to wherever feels like home,’ Mal finally told her, his voice wavering. ‘That’s all I want for you, Aurelia.’

He didn’t tell her what he was really thinking. What he could have said. 

Back to me. 

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: punch drunk princess; jay white [m]

Notes:

okay so.. this one was another sent to my main’s ask. but it was sent so long ago that I honestly forget who exactly sent it, oops? Anyway, this belongs to the whole vamp x human universe that I created for Jay White and my oc, Esme. Maybe one day I’ll make something out of it.

Summary:

Jay put a glamour so strong on Esme years ago that she’s totally forgotten him. But when they’re reunited because he sought her out and chose her to do his interview Jay decides that maybe he wants to remind her exactly who he is and what they were to each other. Fingering and hand jobs, body fluids. Mature.

Pairing:

Jay White x OFC, Esme

Warnings:

hand jobs and fingering, body fluids, risky sexual situation, use of mental manipulation / a glamour and some pretty intense bickering and banter back and forth.

Esme took a deep breath and smoothed her hands down the black leather strapless dress. One quick glimpse at herself in the mirror and she was ready.. Well, as ready as one gets to go out and give a tempermental self proclaimed vampire an interview.

… just get out there,  let him do his promo and  don’t ask any of the questions on the no ask list. It’s not that hard, Esme… she reminded herself as she reached for the door handle and took two long and deep breaths to center herself  a little bit.

Having never met a man who claimed to be a decades old vampire before,  Esme was torn between believing the stories she’d heard and thinking the man was all show and no go; secretly leaning more towards the latter if it really mattered.

Given the men  she /had/ encountered -and been let down by, it wasn’t a real stretch for her imagination.

“You’re on in ten, Essie.”

“Mark, we’ve discussed this. It’s Esme.  E-S-M-E. Surely you can remember a four letter name and stop trying to make it cute?” Esme’s tone was sharp and Mark, the stage hand winced, but Esme just fluffed his hair and  straightened his tie. “Is my coffee ready too?”

“Already out front.” Mark assured her.

Esme stared at the black velvet curtain separating her from the professional wrestler she was about to interview.

“Four seconds.” someone called out and Esme started to make her way to the curtain. When she stepped through, she took her seat quickly.

The man sitting next to her was decked out in a designer leather  trench coat, leather skinny jeans and a pair of pretty pricey biker boots that she was almost certain she’d seen in a top end boutique that she shopped right next to. She didn’t realize  she was staring, - or that he was staring right back, until he cleared his throat and chuckled, leaning in ever so slightly.

Esme got the distinct sense that it was more to throw her off or unsettle her than anything, but there was this underlying note of seduction there that she’d have to have been the most oblivious person in the entire world to miss.

She smirked calmly as he whispered,  “Y’ look tense, princess.”

“Not  tense at all, sir. Let’s just do this interview  with no cute stuff and no outtakes, yeah?” Esme whispered back, careful not to let on just how much the man was truly getting to her.

She’d been warned about him before she’d been told that he specifically chose her to give the interview and asked if she  would,  so she was not about to let him play whatever game he was going to try and play to make her lose her level of professionalism. She took a sip of coffee and almost the second the cup was level with her lips, her mind was absolutely flooded with all this mental imagery..

The man sitting next to her, standing behind her, cock standing tall and straight, one hand tangled in a fist full of her hair and the other hand wrapped around his shaft, guiding it over her dripping cunt, teasing her with a shallow thrust here and there. She nearly choked and he chuckled from beside her, reaching out to pat her upper back as he muttered calmly, “Thought y’ were like steel. Nothin  could rattle ya.”

Esme gave a non amused glare, he gave a playful wink and clearing her throat firmly, Esme asked the first question on her spoon fed list from his personal manager. “Are you happy with the block you’ll be wrestling in for G1 Climax this year?”

“Very satisfied, yes.” Jay answered, studying her intently. Seeing her on a screen and being face to face  with her again after all this time were… two totally different things  and if he said he wasn’t beyond affected by being around her same as he had been that last night with her, he’d be lying. The thought had him shifting in his seat and he raked his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, trying like hell to keep the mental images flooding his mind from doing so right now.

After all, he didn’t need Esme knowing the deepest inner fantasies he may or may not have had about her before the interview even took place.. The way he wanted to sweep all the shit off  the  top of the table they currently sat at, tearing down that dress, letting his mouth roam over those perky tits.. Grab a handful of her ass… No, he wanted to reach between her legs and rub her cunt til  she was arching her back and whimpering; begging him for more, telling him not to stop.

She tensed next to him  and he gave a satisfied smirk the second she did,  glad that she couldn’t see it. If he had to suffer the mental imagery, it was only fitting she suffer it too.

The program went to commercial and Esme leaned in, a smug look of determination in her eyes as she whispered calmly, “I don’t know what your game is, Jay White.. But it stops now.”

He met her gaze with the most innocent of looks and a haphazard shrug as he chuckled. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. It’s Esme, right? Pity.. you know  my full name. I don’t know yours. Maybe we should change that?” for the moment, Jay was pretending not to know her beyond having seen her show. In reality, he knew her… Oh,  he knew her quite well..  And it stung a little that the glamour he’d used on her years ago after a very intense and passionate night together worked so well that she didn’t even feel some tiny spark or  shred of recognition.

… well  I’ll just ‘ave t’ change that, given that I’m back and I aim t’  make her all mine…

“That’ll be a hard pass from me, Jay. Pretty sure you’re like the rest of the men I’ve had on to interview from that profession.” even as Esme said it, she had this feeling somewhere deep down..  There was something tugging at her mind she couldn’t quite make sense of..  This sense of familiarity where Jay White was concerned.

“You mean like yer last boyfriend, yeah? No, nothin like him. For starters I’m more ‘f a man in one of my fingers as he is overall.. To do th’ things I heard he did behind yer back…Only a coward sleeps around on the woman he supposedly loves.” Jay met her shocked expression with a smug look and Esme’s mouth opened and  closed because for  the first time in probably her entire life,  she had absolutely no quick comeback. She muttered the word jackass under her breath and Jay leaned in, mused against her ear quietly, “Tell  me somethin,  princess?” - he knew he shouldn’t ask the question, because he didn’t want to have it confirmed that yes, he  had done such a good job with the glamour  he put her under while she slept  the morning after  their night together that she’d completely forgotten, but he… had to know.  So, he asked.

“I have a name.” Esme started to correct, but then her eyes met his and she felt this… Sudden lucidity washing over her.  She couldn’t even really remember what she’d been so irritated by  in regards to him by the time the fog wore off. She shook her head and stared at him a few seconds, curious. “Well?”

“Do y’ even remember me at all?”

Esme raised a brow  and bit her lip, wondering why he’d ask her such a strange question when she’d never met him before in her entire life.

“ I’d have to have met you first to remember you.” Esme answered calmly. The show picked back up and Esme started her interview again. Jay watched her intently, mulling over just how good he’d glamoured her all those years ago after their night together.

The problem was, even recalling the night with her… Bought it all rushing right back to the surface.

Esme nearly choked on her coffee again when her mind was flooded with another round of erotic mental imagery.

Her hands tied to a metal bedpost that looked vaguely similar to an old frame she once owned.. Legs spread wide.. The feeling of facial hair and a warm, wet and oh so thick tongue as it trailed slowly up the inside of her right thigh. His eyes as he stared up at her. The white of his fangs  as his mouth turned upward in that devil’s smirk. The feel of his hands  against her bare skin.

The way he fucked her with his tongue - and on two separate occasions that same night,  his cock. The way he pulled her hair and the way he lie there holding her in the semi darkness of the room for a few hours after that night.

Esme tried to keep her face blank and the tension out of her body, but the mumbled swear  was definitely heard by Jay and all he could do was smirk to himself a little, calmly answer the question she’d asked and flash her his best flirtatious grin.

Her side brushed against his and it was like a jolt. She tried not to react in any way, but she tensed before she could stop it. When she felt his hand squeezing her thigh,she bit down on her lower lip just to keep from purring at the contact. Sad to say, yeah.. It had been a while.

By the time the interview was over, she found herself thinking, she was definitely going to need a long and cold shower. When Jay leaned in and whispered against her ear quietly, “You’ll remember exactly who I am soon enough,  princess. After all, I am the one who erased the memory t’ start with..Only I can fully restore it. Maybe I will, princess..” in a slightly smug tone,Esme boldly met his gaze and raised a brow..“You really believe you erased my memory? Well okay then..  whatever helps you get by, Jay. And I do believe, sir, you have me mistaken with someone else. Because I’m telling you, I have never met you until your publicist reached out, saying you requested me  to do this interview.”

“Oh no.. I’d never forget the way those legs feel around my waist.. Or the way it feels to wrap my hand in your hair and tug on it as I take you from behind.. Tell me somethin, princess… Do y’still have that little birthmark on yer bum? The slightly heart shaped one.”

Esme’s cheeks flushed bright red and despite her best efforts, warmth pooled to her cheeks and between her thighs. Her panties were soaked. She clenched her thighs tighter, trapping Jay’s hand just as it slid between them. Jay shifted in his seat as he felt the sticky warmth coating her inner thigh. His hand crept higher and Esme jumped a little in her seat, thankful for the front of the table being made to look like a desk and thus, being totally hidden from view. Her heart started to beat wildly against her chest and she took a labored breath.

Jay stopped, meeting her gaze with the calmest look on her face.

Irked by it, she decided to get a little payback. She lowered one of her hands covertly, slipping it right into his lap. The second he felt her hand rubbing at the bulge strained against his leather jeans, he gave an audible grunt and smirked to himself.

Esme bit down on her lip just to keep from whimpering into her mic as she felt Jay’s thick digits brushing the soaked cotton covering her cunt to the side. As his fingers trailed lazily over her folds, she fought desperately for composure.

Jay wasn’t going to allow it, apparently because nearly the instant she got herself reasonably composed, she felt two of those thick fingertips working her open. Just to see if he’d stop if she called his bluff, she shifted in her seat, bucking against his fingers as she did so. As all this transpired, the two of them were masks of composure, carrying on the interview as if absolutely nothing else was taking place.

Esme started to rub at the bulge strained against his jeans a little harder and faster as soon as she felt Jay’s own pace changing and heard him swear under his breath.  She worked the zip down  and her hands slipped into his silk boxers, circling his cock, pumping up and down slowly and lazily, lingering long enough at the tip to trail a fingertip over it. Jay’s legs opened wider to give her more room and his fingers continued to fuck in  and out of her cunt, his thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing a  circular motion. He bucked as carefully as possible against her hand, biting his lip. Esme smirked and slowed  down her strokes drastically under a warning look from him during a third break.

Jay  slowed down the movements of his own fingers as he felt her starting to tighten and tense at his touch. He leaned in and muttered so that no one could hear, “Goin t’ give me somethin’ t’ taste?” as he sped back up. Esme did the same, groaning as she felt his cock throbbing in her hand, felt the warm and stickiness of his seed as it lazily drizzled down his length. Her own orgasm shattered through, leaving her no choice but to dig her  toes into her shoes and grip at the edge of the table they sat hidden behind  as it  took over. Jay felt her cunt tighten around his fingers and he felt  the spasms, the warmth of her release as it flooded her panties and covered his fingers. Slipping his fingers out, he smirked as he cleaned himself up as covertly as possible -careful to make it seem as if his hands were merely resting in his lap out of sight.

The interview was ending and on shaky legs, Esme stood. She felt like she’d explode if  she didn’t get somewhere with a locking door  and collect herself.

Jay stood too and as soon as he went in for  the handshake, he pulled her against him; suddenly not giving a fuck how it looked on screen. His tongue dragged along the outer edge of her ear covertly and he whispered; “Was good to see you again, princess. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.. We’ll be together again soon enough.”

Esme stood there, floored by his  words.  About five seconds into it, she was hit by all  these crystal clear memories.. Of a night that until just now, she’d long forgotten about. Given  the nature of her memories of Jay White from back then, she was hard pressed to figure out why in the hell she’d managed to forget all about him, but somehow she had.

… seeing him must have stirred it all up again, that’s all…  she shrugged off remembering as a mere coincidence and from where Jay lurked out of sight around the corner, he  smiled to himself while rubbing his chin.

Oh yes.. He would most certainly be seeing her again very,  very soon. Because just like last time, he thought  to himself with a smirk, she would invite him in… After all, she had to be curious what a repeat of  the last night, which he’d just restored the memory of, would feel like….

[moviegroovies]

y’all i saw terminator: dark fate!!!!!!!!!

GOD i loved it. i think i’ve admitted before that the only way i really rank exciting plot points in movies is by how much i anticipated them/wanted them to happen, and terminator: dark fate did NOT disappoint. fuck every writer or director who makes weird shit happen in their stories just to give the audience a story they couldn’t possibly have anticipated. (cough avengers endgame cough.) sometimes the best ending is one you can see from ten miles away, because that means it’s been set up EFFICIENTLY. 

obviously, i think the new terminator did that. there were a few things i wanted to happen that didn’t (mostly regarding the life of one or two key characters), and a few things i legitimately didn’t see coming that i really liked, but ultimately the story was solid, awesome to watch, and very faithful to the original. i haven’t seen any of the sequels past judgement day, and i have no plans to change that anytime soon (lmao), but i’ve heard that it discounts all continuity past the second one, and that’s completely fine by me. the actors were great. LINDA HAMILTON was great. and i am sexually attracted to old soft arnold schwarzenneger. 😔

i was debating on whether or not i should make a separate post to talk about the time travel in the terminator franchise or if i should just go crazy go stupid and lump it in with my review and ultimately i think it can just go here, because i have some things to say re: the way it ties back to the originals. 

personally i think the neatest example of time shenanigans in the franchise comes from the very first movie. that one sets up time travel in their universe as very “you already changed the past,” insofar as, without the time travel elements, there is the very real sense that the future the terminator came from would never have existed. kyle reese, from the future, becomes the father of his superior officer john connor. without the time travel, there would be no human resistance for skynet to fear. not only that, when the terminator’s arm is left behind intact, even after sarah destroys the machine, they set out the idea that skynet itself was DEVELOPED FROM THE TERMINATOR’S TECHNOLOGY, so if there was no time travel, there was no skynet, and no apocalypse... etc. at the end of the movie, the picture of sarah that kyle comes back with is taken by a child at a gas station, and it seems like a clue that everything is happening on track. sarah will give birth to john connor, the machines will rise up, the resistance will rally, time travel will ensue. the events of the first movie are a closed time loop, and ultimately, i find that really satisfying. 

However. 

from a narrative perspective, i think the changes in those time travel mechanics are super interesting. 

basically, in judgement day, there’s still some implications that the timeline is a closed loop--the terminator’s hand is actually shown to be the basis of what will become the skynet computer, which is being built right then and there. the apocalypse could indeed be on, and everything seems fixed. then, though, they find the creator of the computer, and miles bennett helps them to destroy his work in horror at what he will create. skynet never happens. they change the future. 

by dark fate, that ability to change what is “written” becomes not only a plot point, but a sort of rallying cry. the skynet apocalypse is officially off--now the dark future is controlled by a very similar breed of computer known as legion. sarah’s efforts changed the future, permanently. there’s the feeling perhaps that the future can only be changed to an extent (the skynet apocalypse being canceled, but replaced by a very similar robo-hell, for example--almost like the timeline is trying to set itself right), but that feeling is tested and challenged as the movie progresses. in that sense, dark fate is the full culmination of the trendline that their “trilogy” represents: sarah’s fate was sealed in dark fate, but with john’s influence in judgement day, things were officially set off course. dark fate represented dani’s turn, and she took everything into her own hands--she personally stood up and refused to run, refused to let the bad future win out, refused to take things lying down. sarah felt a kinship to her, based on the position that she found her in, but it’s like she realizes--dani is not sarah. sarah’s realization is that “she’s john,” which is closer--she’s the leader of the resistance, humanity’s only hope, but i think the message is pretty clearly telling us that she’s not john connor either--she’s dani ramos. 

and she fucking OWNS.

one thing that i was a little iffy about at the start of the movie was the “white savior” thing. i don’t think that was an unfounded reservation to have--based on the formula from the first movie, a terminator is sent back to kill, and a hero is sent back to protect. this time, the “hero” is a white girl cyborg named grace, while the character in danger, who the movie clearly wants you to think is in the same boat as sarah connor, ie the mother mary role, literally important not for her own self but for her womb, is a mexican woman. that could have reached unfortunate implication levels like hella fast, but honestly (and i will disclaim this by adding that i’m white, so if you felt differently about it i would appreciate hearing why), i think the rest of the movie subverted that pretty beautifully. for one thing, grace being fundamentally human underneath her augmentation meant that she wasn’t an unstoppable machine ready to continue on until her metal frame was torn to shreds. she was a BADASS, obviously, and in the first fight, grace did prove herself a worthy successor to the “uncle bob” terminator in t2 with her kickass skillz (sorry kyle reese you’re just not that cool), but soon after that we got to see grace’s limits. if it hadn’t been for sarah connor, grace’s plan on the bridge finally boiled down to “when the terminator starts to kill me, run.” soon after that, grace’s power is shown to be fallible even more thoroughly when she hits her limit and starts to convulse, a byproduct of her augmentation. grace can do more than what a human can do, but she can’t do it forever like a machine could. very quickly in the movie, the tables were flipped, and even though grace came back through time to protect dani, dani was the one who had to take over the driver’s seat (despite never having driven before), and the one responsible for getting grace to medicine so that she could be resuscitated. and all that was BEFORE the big reveal.

a note: there were two scenes in pretty quick succession in this sequence that made me sob. the first of these was the death of dani’s brother diego, because in his last act, he was reassuring his sister that he was okay, despite being impaled by a metal pole. that line gave his character some depths that i hadn’t expected, and it really made dani’s pain after the car went up feel palpable. diego didn’t get a lot of screentime, but we saw him flirt lamely with a neighbor, we saw him dream of internet fame, we saw him joke at the factory even as his job was being replaced. we saw how much dani cared about him when she told him to take her job while she sorted out his replacement by machine parts. their relationship was a solid brick in the movie’s foundation, and his loss felt a lot more real than many comparable losses in movies. you know that whole “show, don’t tell” adage? they didn’t have to tell me that losing diego (and her father) was like a knife in dani. i saw that for myself. the second scene was at the pharmacy, when the employees and the other customers reached out to help grace even after she and dani had both lashed out and threatened them with the gun in fear of what was happening. y’all ever get emotional over the way that people are essentially good and will help each other when they can? god i fucking love that.

anyway, the reveal. the reveal was awesome. 

i started suspecting that dani wasn’t the mother of humanity’s last hope, but rather, humanity’s last hope herself, during the conversation on the train telling us exactly the opposite. sarah makes some assumptions and projects her experience onto dani, telling her flat out that she’s pretty much a walking incubator for humanity’s last hope. there’s a sense that sarah might be bitter about having that role handed to her, and perhaps even more so because it was then taken away--she lost the son that she risked everything for, fought two terminators for, and for nothing: for some machines in a future that no longer existed. in that scene though, crucially, grace never says anything to confirm sarah’s assumptions. the one character with knowledge of the future doesn’t impart it, and it shows. sarah knows things that dani doesn’t simply because it’s not her first rodeo, but she’s also wrong sometimes, too. again in the kitchen later, the “carl” terminator asks about grace’s mission, but she doesn’t share it or give any information on who dani is going to turn out to be. the absence of information can often be an answer all in itself, and the reveal had some EXCELLENT groundwork throughout the movie--both in grace’s actions and in the brave and heroic actions of dani herself.

dani’s nature and grace’s past being revealed in the plane was one of the best scenes in perhaps the entire franchise. i said i sobbed at those scenes i outlines before, right? yeah, that was nothing to how hard i was crying and also cringey stimming during the reveal. we got to see a peek of dani ramos some twenty years in the future, and she’s incredible. she’s fearless, she’s tough, but crucially, she’s still kind. she takes no shit, but she not only saves a child’s life, but she offers a new one to the thugs who were chasing her. in just one scene, the way that dani bands a resistance together is obvious: she’s the best of us, and she uses that for good.

god, i love dani ramos. 

the way that ultimately, dani takes the “hero” role over for herself (much like sarah did, honestly) and the way that we get to see grace’s weaknesses make them a very balanced pair. they’re both badass women in their own right (hell, sarah is, too), and they counter each other excellently. grace is augmented, and has physical capabilities that dani can’t match. at the same time, though, dani is willing to make risks that grace isn’t, because while grace’s concern rests on the fate of one woman, dani wants to find the best outcome for everyone--including herself, but not ending there. grace is willing to drop dani at the bottom of a mineshaft, if that’s what it takes to keep her safe. dani is willing to sacrifice her safety to face the confrontation that’s looming, because that’s what it takes to move forward. 

i think one of the coolest things about the movie is that both grace and sarah come into the action with more experience in combat than dani, and more knowledge about the situation than dani, but ultimately the movie shows that they aren’t infallible, and there’s never a moment when dani is punished for naivety or made to feel stupid because she wasn’t as informed as them. both grace and sarah, in fact, are openly shown to be wrong about dani in different ways--grace knows who she’s going to become, intimately, but that closeness makes her too reluctant to put dani near the front lines, choosing to run indefinitely from the terminator rather than face it head on and use every advantage they can get to beat it. sarah, meanwhile, respects dani’s agency more, but in a way she sees past her at the start of the movie, dismissing her importance in a way that reads as sarah dismissing her own--she’s attacking herself and using dani as a proxy, but sarah’s wrong, because dani isn’t her. i love how both grace and sarah are good characters, and they’re both doing what they think is necessary and right, but they’re allowed to be wrong and misguided. ultimately, if it wasn’t for dani’s own agency and choices, the terminator would not have been defeated, and there would be no hope for subverting the bad future everyone is waiting for.

fate, believe it or not, is a very present theme in dark fate. obviously, i talked earlier about how this movie is the culmination of the “you can’t change the future” ->  “you can change the future?” -> “you can change the future.” chain of events represented in the good terminator movies that i will acknowledge, but it’s more than just that. through the character of the “carl” terminator, we also get to see the blatant subversion of one’s nature for the better, and that was just. really epic. ngl.

in terminator 2, i enjoyed how john connor was protected by the reprogrammed terminator “uncle bob,” but i was a little disappointed by the execution. having uncle bob be a protector to john was exactly what i wanted, but the explanation that he had been programmed to do so rubbed me a little the wrong way. what i didn’t realize until i watched dark fate was that this pinged as wrong because dark fate gave me what i wanted: a terminator that didn’t change sides because he was taken down and forced to change, but rather, a terminator that actually made a conscious decision to be better because of what he observed in humanity. carl saw a familial dynamic and realized that he had taken that from sarah, and reached out to her, giving her a purpose like his family had given him a purpose, because he chose to. and that was the sexiest thing he could have done.

can you tell i LOVE what they did with the terminator. his arc and sarah’s were such awesome continuations for sarah’s general history and the progression of terminators played by arnold schwarzenneger. part of me was hoping for an ending where we saw sarah and carl drive off together, waving to dani and preparing to live out the rest of their years saving the future. yeah, well, we didn’t get that, but there were several scenes that hinted at forgiveness from sarah (an almost impossible feat given how she felt and what she lost) and trust between the two of them, and i loved that too.

dark fate was a good movie, y’all. it was so good. 

there’s probably a million other things that i could talk about going down this vein, but this post is already a monster. i’ll just sign out by saying: one last thing i thought was epic and cool was how the protagonists cross the border from mexico into the us and at no point is such an action demonized; in fact, it’s necessary for them to reach essential aid in the form of carl, and the man who facilitates the action, dani’s uncle, is never treated amorally or like a criminal. i know, i know, the bar is on the fucking floor, but in the political climate we’ve got, for a blockbuster to take that stance felt like a pretty solid statement to me. 

also, i liked the terminator’s line about texas. watching that in a theater in texas, i must report that it got the biggest audience reaction out of any line in the whole movie. folks, there were wolf whistles. ciao.

[carvedbones]

❝ you didn’t show up. i kept waiting. ❞ from child!dany for our private verse. ;-;

regret,  guilt,  remorse :  synonyms for the same phenomenon, an emotion stronger than any army if tormenting the wrong man, like a shadow of chaos that held the heart in an iron grip. the infamous outsider had experienced it all, from relentless melancholy to anger that burnt his very tongue with each word passing lips ;  but nothing stung quite like the sorrow of regret, something so visceral that the reminder was enough to haunt for days at a time. this one … this one would never stop following him. he vividly remembered when she was born, such a small thing, so clingy. as if she were made solely to be held by his hands, cradled in his arms, given love with a capacity the outsider wasn’t even aware he possessed. he perceived himself a creature of cruelty and rot, a being whose sole existence defied hope, love, comfort and joy  — a dead thing that refused to die, whose soul would eternally wander the realms within its reach until time it self ceased to exist.

but after the sheer agony of childbirth, even as the adrenaline of his misery wore off, there was nothing left in his heart but adoration for the tiny child within his grasp. as she drifted into well-deserved sleep, all he could think of was her :  this child was his heir, bound to grow up with the void whispering to her at night, creatures of shadow following her as they sensed her presence. how he wished he could’ve been the one to raise her, love her as the daughter she was, but in that moment he was weak, disillusioned by thoughts of depression, suicide, or even vivid delusions. the loneliness and rejection culminated into a severe form of postpartum, and the illness did not rest even as he begged it for forgiveness, to be able to bond with his little girl the way he imagined. 

it did not relent. the outsider was defeat by his own body, his one dream shattered to pieces by poor circumstance. as black tears dripped down his cheeks / lips parting to expose a sharp-toothed grimace / anger and self-pity merged into an overwhelming cocktail of exhausting emotions, dany’s small physique left his hands. to replace a mother’s sorrow, a stillborn erased from history. it was done. she was safe. her future was secured.

yet   — ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡. he never would. sensing her desperate wails as her current mother was occupied, it tormented him until the depths of the night, parental instincts urging him to comfort her. he wished he could’ve left, but it never was that simple. anger at oneself turned to anger at the person he’d entrusted this child with, how dare she ignore the child when she needed her most? it was wrong, it tore him to shreds, but he cooed her at times, fed her when her ‘mother’ was prioritizing other matters, putting her to his warm skin. his heartbeat was faint, as expected from a long-deceased deity, but what did it matter to a newborn?  this could not continue for long, and it didn’t. one day the guards came in, to deliver the babe to its mother, and the shadow of a man lingered too long. from then on, the door would always be open, someone permanently by the well-decorated crib. it was a cruel, necessary goodbye.

years passed after that. her presence lingered in his mind more often than not, him having torn himself away from her entirely in an attempt to leave her be. it was torturous, years of a hollow heart having eaten away at what was left of his compassion and empathy. it was meaningless, until  —-

here they were. she had called for him after knowing of his existence, and if the outsider were asked it was way too soon. this, however, he could not pause. nothing could be changed now. to most his appearance was a blessing, a rarity to know he was listening in the first place   —-   but if she even whispered his name, his focus would shift. like magnets, eternally bound together by blood, unique in the world. alone, save for each other. her eyes, bright and vivid, spoke a language of its own, one a pathetic god could listen to for hours. daenerys, rightful heir to the throne. daenerys, child of the void. so young, so small. what had the world done to her? how he wished to hold her, protect her from tyrannical forces beyond his embrace. but that would do no good here. 

                                             — ‘  𝒊 𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈.  ’

i’m sorry. oh, i am so sorry. fingers entangled with each other as his physique stood before her, struggling to conceal his near-uncontrollable shivering. he would not break, not as she watched. what could he say? she deserved the truth.

 ❝  if i returned..  ❞  a pause. how could the great outsider struggle so with words? what had he become?   ❝  …your mother would no longer be your guardian. i would have taken you away from the house you found comfort in, to bring you to my own;  a realm of dreams, an eternal sea of blue. alone with me, until you could call it your home. however, that existence is very lonely. lonelier than you could ever imagine. i’m not so certain you would have liked that, nor the existence my presence would prepare you for. where you were, how long i disappeared.. i thought it the best.  ❞  he knew that was a lie, but she was too young for the details.

❝  i did it out of love for you. if there had been an alternative at the time, i would have done it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, fate does not care about our hopes.  ❞   this, he would have to live with. until the void swallowed the world and took him with it.  ❝  … i am so sorry.  ❞

[1358456]

Review Response, Destiny #041

... Huh. ... Just ONE day after updating... 10. ... For the first time since May 2016...

Well then, I guess it’s time to make a review response. Even though the system has changed... 10. I’ll just cover whatever’s left on the 24th.

... Let’s see if this chapter also does what hasn’t been done since May 2016, which is NOT drag the average down (current story average: 12.34).

1) That end to the chapter though was not what I was expecting but it was very interesting, that deltarune hint thought

I will admit, this confused me greatly. I was like “WHAT Deltarune hint?!” So I read over the entire chapter like 3 times, scanning to see if my sleep-deprived, delirious self put in Deltarune references without me knowing. I put in quite a few game quotes this chapter, but not Deltarune. And upon not spotting any, I looked through all the Deltarune posts that I made, because I wondered if I forgot the events of that game so I couldn’t recognize the references.

And THEN I saw...

... Ah. THAT hint. ... Yeah. Hehehe... I decided to have Crystal shredded by the 10% Zygarde formes like... a year ago? And I just had to play Deltarune before that chapter occurred. Heh. I was also expecting people to ask about that but I guess either no one cared or thought I was joking.

2) WoW this was really cool So Crystal died and did gold die too? Thats an... interesting way to break up A pairing you didn’t care for anymore. Looking forward to the next one

Eh, I didn’t kill Gold and Crystal to break up a pairing I didn’t care for anymore. I had Crystal killed because she has never died in any of my stories yet... as far as I know. Thus Crystal was killed. The brutality of it... ehn. Why not. I was originally going to have her actually torn apart but... that felt like a little much. For now.

And as for Gold, it seemed like the logical result, upon seeing Crystal getting pretty much eviscerated like that. Given his personality, upon seeing someone he really cared about getting killed like that, chances are, he would snap and charge towards the enemy. But hey, because of that, Emerald doesn’t die. Gold saved his life, in a sense, by beating him to the reckless charge that killed himself.

3) R.I.P. Johto. I mean people could just evacuate Kalos and have Groudon Hiroshima the place. Or even without the evacuating part. But I guess that wouldn't be interesting. Also, couldn't Latias/Latios just fly to Dex Holders to warn them, like without Ruby and Sapphire? Eh I guess there's some ulterior motives going on here. A pleasure to read as usual, keep up the good work.

Hehe. Evacuate Kalos and then have all three Primals obliterate the whole region. “Zygarde cells are hiding all around this region? Let it burn.” Primal Groudon glasses a third of the region, Primal Kyogre floods another third, and Primal Rayquaza bombards the remaining third with raining meteors.

Yes, Latias or Latios could’ve flown over to Emerald and warn him while the other looks over Ruby and Sapphire. But they wouldn’t have really had the reason to do that. Like, they wouldn’t know whether the Dex Holders were struggling or not against Zygarde. And given their (offscreen) conversation with Emerald, they would’ve heard the plan of action and figured the Dex Holders would’ve been fine.

4) C'THUN! C'THUUUN! C'THUUUUUUUUUUN!

Heh. That minion only ever says ONE thing. ... And then it dies. I miss C’thun decks. Even if I have to draw 25 cards first on average to draw that f*cking thing. Part of the reason why I put in so many C’thun quotes into Zygarde. Flee... screaming.

5) 1st: YAY AN UPDATE! 2nd: DAMN IT DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO KILL GOLD?! HE WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITES (ASIDES FROM GREEN WHO IS ALREADY DEAD!)

Yep! Update! For the first time since July! ... And... heh. I’ve heard THAT before back in SA when I killed Gold there.

6) You had to kill them...

Crystal, yes. Gold, ... cause and effect. I’m kind of trying to kill the Dex Holders who have yet to die in my stories, who are NOT protected by plot-immortality.

7) Oof rip all the Johto dexholders, I have a feeling I know what the solution Latios and Latias were talking about is and now that's zygarde is 100% is there really any chance for a happy ending?

Happy ending? Sure. ... For some of the Dex Holders, anyways. Heh. This is like a branching path. Like those games that have multiple endings depending on what you did. The good ending: everyone lives from this point on. The neutral ending: ... probably what’s going to happen. The bad ending: ... f*cking everyone dies.

8) Lots of action this chapter! I loved it, bit i was still sad. Dang that super zygarde is bad news, and what happened to the mega hunter? The cliffhanger is going to kill me!

The johto trio is now completely wiped out . I get the feeling that ruby and sapphire are going to die because of what was said between latios and latios.

No mention of soneone from the sinnoh trio dying but i doubt you’ll let them remain untouched. Finally im almost certain that either black or white (or both) will die since thats your favorite duo to torture.

While I said that I probably wouldn’t update Destiny again this year... given, well... 10, I probably will. IF the average gets raised by this chapter... then I might even update before December. So you won’t have to wait too long! ... Maybe!

The fates of Ruby and Sapphire have been set long before Destiny itself has existed. In fact, their fates were an idea that had been lingering since the days of SA.

Ah, do I want to kill the Sinnoh Dex Holders? Or Black and White again? In Destiny, there are 3 types of Dex Holders: those who are guaranteed to survive due to plot, those who are guaranteed to die due to plot, or neither. Obviously, the first two are set, but those that fall in the third category, like Gold, I can just... toss away in the final battle. Now, where do the Sinnoh and Unova cast fit in? ... That is the question, isn’t it?

9) Oh there's the Complete Zygarde! I was wondering when it would show up and RIP Gold and Crys. Though I guess it wouldn't be surprising if it ended in a way where Red and Blue were the only survivors (and maybe Dia and Platinum). Loved it as always and can't wait to see the next chapter and what the Mega Hunter will do now that he's slowly breaking free~!

The 100% Zygarde that had been planned since the game’s reveal WAY back has finally appeared! Hell, it’s about time. Heh. Spare only Red and Blue? What is this, that show that I used to watch back in Korea when I was like 6? Everyone died in the finale except for the first three characters. ... But I already killed one of the first three, didn’t I? ... Whoops.

10) Gah, my heart. My poor babies TT

Poor Crystal. Just like Sapphire in our collaboration chapter, she was jumped by a pack of wolf-like things. But Sapphire had the plot-immortality and brute strength to survive. Crystal... did not. Thus Crystal gets her neck broken, arms and one leg broken and almost torn off, and even got her heart physically shredded... ouch.

[magioftheseas]

Setting Sail/Departure

First part! Second part! Third part! And this is the LAST part!

Summary: Komaeda hallucinates his past self as he deals with the aftermath of the NWP and despair. With all that's happened, it's difficult to figure out how he feels about it. But perhaps there is some closure he can seek.

Rating: M

Warnings: Surreality with disturbing and suggestive themes. Hospitals, mental instability and breakdown, depictions of violence, mentions of death and injuries, and attempted murder. Also this fic is 22K words long.

Notes: Last fic and this one’s a doozy! Hopefully it’s a good ending or at least a good...fic. Cross-posting this was unsurprisingly hell. Thanks Komaeda. Love you, too. Anyway, so we finally get to sdr2′s ending theme which is the most uplifting of the four songs! Hopefully this ending is uplifting, too.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

The recovery of the remnants had been a complete success. All comatose students had been awoken, with himself as the last one. By all accounts, this should be means for celebration. Probably.

It’s even a clear, perfect day outside, as though hope itself shone on the horizon. Nary of cloud of despair in sight. Just vibrant, carefree, endless blue.

Funny, he doesn’t actually feel that way at all. He just feels...cold, he supposes. Cold and vacant.

But that’s typically how he always feels when stuck in a hospital room by himself.

“Komaeda? You’re up?”

Komaeda perks up, blearily turning in the direction of that voice. That person freezes for a moment, not unlike Hinata, and then they relax, expression smoothing over into calm unreadability, not unlike Kamukura.

He’s still not exactly sure who and what this person is.

But he still thinks of them mostly as Hinata-kun for the sake of simplicity. And Kamukura-kun for moments that went beyond that.

“Even though you don’t really know nor actually remember Kamukura-kun all that well.”

Komaeda waves that other voice off, trying to focus at least somewhat on the person physically in the same room as him.

“I’m up.” A moment of hesitation. “Good morning, Hinata-kun. Or is it good afternoon? Aha, the clock in this room is still broken, you see...”

Hinata—or whatever—looks at the broken clock in question.

“I... Do you want to get that fixed? I can probably ask Souda...”

“Oh no,” Komaeda laughs. “Don’t bother nor worry about something so mundane. It just isn’t worth the effort. And it’s not like I really care.”

Hinata swallows and nods.

“I...see...”

Komaeda nods back.

There’s a long stretch of silence, then Hinata comes closer, eyes flickering about. To the IVs, to the beeping machine, to the windows, to the curtains, to the wilting flowers that one of the nurses left behind. They’re quite pretty, really, a soft mellow shade of yellow that resembled the ones Komaeda remembered keeping in his cabin.

In the simulation.

The simulation...

He glances towards them just as Hinata speaks up once more.

“How have you been feeling, Komaeda?”

“Fine, fine,” he said easily, giving a crooked smile after snapping back to attention. “The doctors and nurses have been taking pretty good care of me, which is far better than I deserve, ehe. I don’t think I’ve woken up to one person trying to smother me overnight!”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Hinata said, scowling. “These people are sympathetic. They understand what happened.”

Komaeda hummed noncommittally.

“My, my, such upstanding people. They really do make us look all the scummier, huh?”

Hinata flinched but said nothing. No surprise there. It wasn’t like Komaeda was wrong after all.

“We’re...not like that anymore,” Hinata mumbled after a while. “The program erased that.”

Komaeda’s smile drops.

“Careful,” they hiss at him. “Hinata-kun might be dense but Kamukura-kun will definitely notice.”

And Hinata does perk up at his expression, eyes narrowing. Komaeda’s sure his heart skipped a beat, but he smiled once more like it was nothing.

“You say that, but Kamukura Izuru is still present, isn’t he?”

It’s so easy. It’s so unbearably easy. Hinata twitches, and that suspicion on his face fades into something more complicated.

Well. It is a complicated matter.

“I wonder if despair really can be erased like that,” Komaeda went on. “Are you saying that a relapse is utterly impossible? Tsumiki-san had relapsed in the program after all, so clearly there are cracks in the barrier, so to speak.”

Hinata hesitated, and then, he takes a deep breath.

“It is true that relapses and breakdowns are a possibility, however the likelihood of that event repeating is increasingly implausible. Now that we are aware of the situation, we are more guarded against it. Everyone here does not wish to fall back into that state. That will make a difference.”

He would’ve clapped, but he lacked the number of hands necessary. All the same, Komaeda giggled brightly.

“I see, I see. Then we’re well on the road to recovery! How lovely.” His grin widens. “I suppose you could say despair is the bridge to hope after all. Ehehe.”

“I suppose.” The response was clipped.

“Do you really agree?” he asked. “Ka-mu-ku-ra-kun?”

“It does not matter. Boring.” And then, Hinata returned to ask, “So has everything been going alright, Komaeda?”

“Yes.” His own response was clipped as well. “Everything is fine. Nothing to worry about. The only issue here is that I keep having to look at your face.”

Hinata scowled at him.

“Dick. If you’re that shitty, no one’s going to visit you.”

“I don’t want them to,” he says. “For the sake of my health, it’s better that way. Any despair at all makes me sick. So, please leave me alone and never come near me again.”

“You can’t order me around,” Hinata hissed, and then he huffed. “But I get the message. Fine. Whatever. Bye, Komaeda.”

Komaeda waved cheerily.

“Bye-bye, Hinata-kun! Kamukura-kun!”

The door slammed behind them. He couldn’t be sure which one slammed it, but in the end it didn’t really matter.

The bed dips, and Komaeda knows it’s just his imagination, but—

“You really played it up, Nagito-kun,” they told him, playing with the chain dangling from his collar. “That was rather unnecessary. You might’ve really hurt Hinata-kun’s feelings!”

“Like that matters,” Komaeda retorts darkly. He receives a laugh in response.

“It does,” they reply. “After all, Hinata-kun is precious to you, isn’t he? Even now, he swells in your heart like a tumor. It might just be malignant. That’s no good.”

Komaeda grimaces before rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

“Servant-san,” he says, sniffing. “Your sense of humor is absolutely dreadful.”

Servant giggles once more at him.

“Ehehe. I suppose you could say it’s despairing.”

Komaeda groaned at the awful joke.

“...it’s very despairing.”

--

After the world destroyer program succeeded, it was only fitting that he went from that paradisiac prison to absolute hell.

“H-Hey, can you hear me...?!”

Hinata had been the one to greet him, but it was likely Kamukura who had looked him over. They both pulled him up as the world was spinning around him.

“Hinata Hajime...or Kamukura Izuru...?”

“They both are me.”

Komaeda blinked at them blearily and he itched all over, especially around his neck. His arm—

His wrist was gripped before he could shred the itchy, itchy bandages wrapped all around his arm.

“Steady yourself,” he was told. “Just breathe, Komaeda.”

Komaeda had tried but it was difficult. Like his throat was clogged up, his nose stuffed, and then he sneezed. It was still itchy. The bandages, the wires, the hospital clothes—

“You’re probably disoriented, so just take it easy,” Hinata said softly. Was it Hinata? Maybe it was Kamukura, but—he couldn’t hear the cadence properly, so he wasn’t entirely sure.

“I suppose that makes sense. You never were terribly familiar with Kamukura-kun.”

Komaeda blinked. Once. Twice.

“...you...”

“Komaeda?” Hinata asks, but Komaeda’s not focused on him, he’s focused on, on—on the other presence. The one from the failed simulation, the one who had helped him remember for a time. The one that the world destroyer should have torn to shreds along with that fake program.

They blink at him, fidgeting with a long, rusty chain dangling from their neck. It takes a moment, but Komaeda does remember once more. He remembers seeing them in his reflection before but not like this. Never like this. Even in the simulation, they had never been so...clear.

“H-Hey, Komaeda?!”

“Don’t say anything,” they told him. “If those two realize—you might just end up back in that pod, Nagito-kun. And who knows how much of you will make it out next time?”

Komaeda blinks. Once. Twice.

“K-Komaeda, say something!”

“Say something,” they hissed at him. “You need to say something.”

Komaeda screamed.

Everything rushes by quickly, suddenly he’s thrashing and struggling against multiple arms. Hinata is pleading with him, but the other presence just watches with a blank, vacant gaze.

He’s gasping, face damp, he shaking his head and resisting the multiple people trying to hold him down. He can barely register Hinata, he, he, he, he—

He’s sedated. And then everything goes black.

--

He wakes up with his one good hand handcuffed to the bedframe and the rest of him strapped down. His arm had been freshly bandaged, so it wasn’t itchy anymore. At least there was that.

And the other presence was pinning him down.

“You overdid it,” they said. “You completely overdid it. How disappointing.”

Komaeda breathes, inhaling, exhaling, and then sighing.

“Why...” He swallows back saliva. It hardly helps his dry throat. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t want to be,” they reply and sit back on his legs. Komaeda can register the weight and that—that’s really kind of creepy. “But the Neo World Program was quite the faulty creation. Such a shame. I’m so disappointed. Despairingly disappointed. That was supposed to be Matsuda-kun’s final project. And I thought Gekkogahara-sensei had perfected it.”

Komaeda blinks at him, mind rather hazy as he tried to remember those names. It was as though his head had been stuffed with a dense fog, and the only thing he could see—was the reflection in front of him, sitting atop him.

“It’d be one thing if you were just a hallucination,” he said. “But you shouldn’t remember things that I don’t.”

“Like I said,” they replied. “The Neo World Program was quite the faulty creation.”

Komaeda blinked and then he lied back, inhaling, exhaling.

“So,” he said. “Who are you?”

“I suppose...nothing more than a servant.” A smile twisted across their face, jagged and unpleasant. “Though perhaps I can’t even be that much in this kind of state.”

“Perhaps,” Komaeda echoed. “Servant-san, then.”

“Such formality!” Servant laughs. “Are you being sarcastic, Nagito-kun?”

Komaeda hummed, wiggling his wrist just a little.

“Servant-san...can you get off?”

Despite giggling at him, Servant slid off obediently.

“Are you good luck or bad luck?” Komaeda asked, blinking at him.

Servant’s smile twisted anymore.

“We shall see.”

--

Recovery was tedious. He expected that much. The doctors and nurses were all formal and kind. Since Komaeda kept quiet, since Komaeda kept his head down, there wasn’t much for them to complain about. So they were all formal. And kind.

He wondered if any of them found that disappointing. A former remnant of despair having all the assertiveness and agency of a doll. He supposed it didn’t really matter what they felt as long as they kept doing their job, and that he didn’t really care.

All of this was something he was used to, prior to despair. It didn’t leave an impact at all anymore. It just was what it was, being every bit as mundane and familiar as school days. It really was just...

“Incredibly...boring...”

Yeah. Despairingly boring.

But it wasn’t like he really strove for anything more. He forced himself to walk even when his legs threatened to give out, and he swallowed down every unpleasant pill, but... All that was only because it was what he was accustomed to doing, and because he didn’t exactly know what else he should do.

It wasn’t like he was going along with them because he wanted things to get better. Because he wanted to live. Because he wanted to be better.

It’s just because I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. I’m really at a loss.

“Well, that’s understandable.”

Servant didn’t bother him much, trailing after him, watching him eat, probably watching him sleep, too. After a while, that, too, became a mundane normalcy that wasn’t worth paying attention to.

“They say your health is progressing but you’re just at a standstill,” Servant said, as if he didn’t know that already. “After they deem you well enough to leave, what are you going to do, Nagito-kun?”

Komaeda could only shrug.

“Are you going to try and assist the Future Foundation?” Servant asked cheerily. “Or maybe just help along the island? Or you can try and live a peaceful life here. You could take up gardening! Doesn’t that sound quaint?”

“I can’t imagine living a quaint, peaceful life after everything,” Komaeda said. “Truth be told, that just sounds impossible. Distant. Like imagining being able to fly or teleport.”

“I see...” Servant trails off before turning his attention to the new flowers left out. Daisies, to be precise. “Do you want to die then, Nagito-kun?”

“I...” He stared at the window, shielding his eyes only slightly from the filtered sunlight. “I don’t actually care. If I live. Or if I die. I don’t think it really matters anymore.”

Servant blinks at him and then gives an enigmatic smile.

“Is that so? And after you had put yourself through so much to take down all of Ultimate Despair by your lonesome,” he hums, reaching out and prodding Komaeda’s cheek. His touch was cold. Cold enough to make him flinch. “That’s pretty disheartening to hear. Is that really how you feel? Or is there more to it?”

“If there is,” Komaeda murmurs. “I wouldn’t know what.”

Servant is quiet, for a moment, contemplative it seemed. That in itself was strange.

You’re a fragment of my mind, right? He wondered. You’re a part of me. Shouldn’t that mean I always know what you’re thinking?

“No,” Servant said aloud. “Due to the effects of the program, that door on your end has been shut. Actually, think of it as a two-way mirror. Transparent on my end, not so much on yours.”

“I see.” He fists his hand into the sheet. “I don’t really understand—but all I can really do is accept that as an explanation.”

Servant nodded at him cheerily.

“I think you’ll understand with time,” he said. “After all, I can tell you haven’t completely give up yet, Nagito-kun.”

I suppose you would know that best, huh.

He wondered about that, especially as Servant’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming.

--

He’s well enough to walk but his stamina is somehow even worse than it used to be.

“Don’t push yourself,” Servant told him. “I can’t exactly steady you, Nagito-kun.”

He stumbles, falling hard enough onto his knees to leave them throbbing and well. He almost thinks he hears Servant give a pained hiss in sympathy, but—

“For the sake of hope, this trivial injury is nothing! That’s how I’d look at it anyway.”

“It still hurts,” Komaeda growled at him. “Also, what does hope even have to do with any of it...?”

“Careful, careful,” Servant murmurs as he shakily pulls himself back to his feet. He struggles from the exertion and only having one hand. “Easy, easy. You have this.”

He manages, panting and feeling ready to faint.

“It’s not a long walk back to your room,” Servant said. “You can make it, Nagito-kun! Fight, fight!”

“I could just remain here,” Komaeda mumbled to the wall. “One of the nurses or doctors is sure to notice me. They can help me back. I don’t have to push myself.”

Servant puffed his cheeks. “How boring! You need to be more proactive!”

“Whenever I am,” Komaeda whispered, leaning against the wall. “I just seem to make everything worse.”

“Things often have to get worse before they get better,” Servant said sharply. “Despair is the bridge to hope.”

...Yeah, I’ve said as much before. But...

“I’m tired,” Komaeda sighs, slumping. “I’m so, so tired, Servant-san...”

“I understand.” Servant says it so seriously that Komaeda does believe him, despite himself. Despite everything and himself, really. “But you have to continue going on, Nagito-kun. That’s what it means to recover. And to live.”

“Funny how the ghost of my former self is the one telling me that,” Komaeda muttered before letting out a soft chuckle. “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

His legs were shaking.

“Sorry. I. I don’t think I can walk back like this. I’m going to have to wait for someone to come get me.”

Servant frowns and sighs and plops down beside him. The chain rattles and rustles from the motion. It’s eerie. It’s eerie how real Servant sounds.

“Sit down, then,” Servant said. “Best not to strain yourself.”

Komaeda sits, but Servant seems rather huffy that he did.

“You really don’t remember much, do you?” he asked, almost accusingly. “I remember. I do.”

Komaeda blinks at him blearily.

“Okay.”

He can’t think of anything else to say. Or really anything else he can do, really. He just sits there, waiting for someone to come get him. Like a child waiting for their parents at the end of a school day.

It’s...frustrating. It’s really kind of frustrating.

But what is he supposed to do?

Servant, predictably, doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even hint at a potential one.

With a heavy sigh, Komaeda buries his face into his knees, and can only continue to wait.

--

He waits. And waits. He remembers waiting this helplessly before. After the plane had crashed, he—he spent a lot of time waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

I always have to wait for people, don’t I? Wait for them to understand, wait for them to move forward, wait for them to turn back. How irritating. So irritating. It’s no wonder I spend so much time alone. Maybe someone like me is meant to be alone. Maybe, once I am well enough to leave...

His mind draws a blank.

I...still have no idea what I’m supposed to do. What does it matter at this point? Hope, despair, luck, fate... It still feels like everything’s slipped through my feelings in the end. After all that, I woke up with nothing but a ghost who should’ve been erased.

How depressing. He really does feel hopeless. But this isn’t despair. Somehow, he knows that much, at least.

It’s just apathy. Emptiness. Ennui. Really, what does it matter?

Servant leans against him with a sigh, making him perk up, shivering for a moment. Servant doesn’t say anything nor does he move, and his body is, so, so, so cold. Cold enough to send his teeth chattering. And, and, and, and, and—

“K-Komaeda?!”

Komaeda stiffens, recoils really at the call of his name.

Oh no... Oh no, no, no... I wasn’t waiting for you!

“Hinata...kun.” His face is undoubtedly pained, mouth twisted into a grimace before he turns away. “Urgh. Just keep on moving. Don’t mind me.”

“Did something happen?” Hinata surges forward, kneeling before him and eyes scanning him with such intensity that Komaeda felt almost violated. “Your... Your legs gave out, huh? And you don’t have the energy to walk back? So, were you just waiting for someone to come get you?”

Komaeda’s never wanted to scream so badly before.

“Aha. Nothing escapes Kamukura-kun’s focus. How frightening!”

That doesn’t help!

“I... I was,” he stammered out. “So it’s no big deal. One of the nurses or one of the doctors will walk past, and they can help me. Like I said, just...keep on moving, Hinata-kun. Don’t mind me.”

Hinata backs off a little, but his frown deepens.

“I can help you,” he said, the words flowing so easily. “If that’s all it is... I can help. I’ll carry you back.”

Komaeda shook his head firmly.

“I don’t want you to,” he snapped. “If you do that, I’ll have to thank you afterwards. I’ll be in your debt. The thought is beyond sickening.”

So just leave. Just...

“It would be a privilege if you let me help you, Komaeda Nagito,” Hinata says so dully that the very atmosphere dropped. “If you let me help you, I would be ever so grateful.”

Komaeda blinks, and his face scrunched up. “Are you mocking me?” He makes a sound of disgust. “But if you really feel that way, I suppose I should feel pressured to accept. Goodness, someone like you considering something like that a privilege...”

I almost want to strangle you. But I can’t do that with just one hand.

“So will you do me the honors or not?” Hinata asked, still unimpressed.

Komaeda trembled for a moment and puffed his cheeks.

“Fine. After all, you did save me.” He sneers. “The least I can do is repay you for that. You and Kamukura-kun.”

Hinata didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead he leaned in and scooped Komaeda up into his arms, startling him.

“W-Wha—hey, hey! I-Is this really necessary!?”

“It’s what’s easiest,” Hinata replied coolly as Komaeda clung to him out of necessity. “You’re really light. You should eat more, Komaeda. Just toast for breakfast isn’t enough.”

“That’s none of your concern!”

Hinata snorted and Komaeda reddened more with anger. Without even breaking a sweat, Hinata strode on ahead, cradling him with ease.

This... This really is the worst luck... Just the worst...

“His chest is warm, at least. Isn’t it, isn’t it?”

That’s the opposite of helping, Servant-san.

Somehow it just irritated him further.

--

As though handling something fragile, Hinata sets him down carefully atop the bed.

Komaeda crossed his arms tightly, but all the same he kicks his feet under the cover. He turns away petulantly when Hinata continues to loom.

“Don’t you have other places to be? At least pick up on the mood.”

“You’re still in that shitty mood, huh?”

“Your observation skills know no bounds,” Komaeda hissed, every centimeter dripping with sarcasm. Then, he sighs. “I don’t know how much clearer I can be about how unwilling I am to bear witness to your company. You, Kamukura-kun, anyone who used to be despair, really... I want nothing to do with any of you.”

“Well that’s tough,” Hinata said bitingly. “Considering we’re all stuck on this island together.”

Komaeda waved his hand dismissively.

“That doesn’t change my mind.”

Hinata stiffened, and then, he growled, fists clenching.

“That’s unfair!” he exclaimed. “I know we all did fucked up things, but—that’s not enough reason to act so fucking cold, Komaeda!”

“It’s not? Aha. Funny. Funny. There was never enough reason when it came to me getting treated coldly.” Komaeda snorted. “On the island...even before that...during despair, too, right...?”

“Yes. Right.”

“I’ve never really been a part of the group, right? Never...not really. So why continue to pretend? Why not embrace it now? If I’m near you, you’re unhappy. If I keep my distance, you’re unhappy. Hey. Hey. What do you even want from me, Hinata Hajime?” He turns to Hinata to glare at him. “What about you, Kamukura Izuru? Do you think that this is all funny? Entertaining? Interesting? We could have all died because of you. You could have brought her back. Is that what Matsuda Yasuke would’ve wanted?”

Hinata goes dead still.

“...Matsuda-kun? Do you even remember Matsuda-kun?”

He did. A little. But not very well. Matsuda was grouchy yet kind, right? He had—black hair and blue eyes, right?

Was...that right? Matsuda... Yasuke... Matsuda-kun...

“If you don’t really remember, you shouldn’t just use his name like that.”

But I...!

The door once again slammed shut. It was so sudden that he jumped.

“A-Ah...?” He blinked once. Twice. “Hinata-kun...? Kamukura-kun?”

No answer. Of course now. But still.

“W-What the hell...? All upset over some guy who died years ago...” He hmphed. “That’s so pathetic.”

Servant was frowning at him, but just as he met Servant’s cold stare, Servant smiled cheerfully like nothing was wrong.

“You really are lucky,” he said. “Being unable to fully remember. It must be so nice.”

Nice?

“Even you, Servant-san...?”

“Even me,” Servant chirped happily. “And even you, even if you don’t remember. But it’s whatever. All in the past! Even Kamukura-kun knows better than to get all twisted up over some carelessly spoken words!”

Komaeda doesn’t say anything, instead lying back down, covering his eyes with his bandaged arm.

“...they were upset. Even if I’m rightfully angry at them... I should apologize for that, at least.”

“Ohhh?” Servant intoned. “Just like that? How very mature of you!”

“It’s not mature,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “It’s just...proper behavior.”

“You have Matsuda-kun to thank for that,” Servant said. “Your proper behavior.”

...I have a lot to thank that person for, don’t I?

“You do.”

Komaeda really felt so exhausted. It wasn’t much longer before he fell asleep.

--

Unsurprisingly, Hinata doesn’t visit in the next few days. Or the rest of the week. Or the week after.

His usual routine didn’t change at all. Though perhaps the food was steadily getting blander, mushier, harder to swallow.

“Or maybe that’s guilt,” Servant remarked, nibbling on toast. Was that, too, a hallucination? When Komaeda reached for it, however, Servant smacked his hand away. “No. Get your own.”

Komaeda pulled away grumbly. Even if he did eat his own bread, it still tasted so much...like nothing. He forced himself to chew and swallow all the same.

“That hand...” His gaze flickers to the mitted hand that Servant smacked him with. “Under that mitten...is it...?”

Servant blinks, smiling at him innocently.

“That’s a secret,” he said, shoving the rest of his toast into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and grinned. “I don’t feel close enough to you to divulge such intimate information, Nagito-kun.” He feigns a blush, cupping his cheek. “It’s just so embarrassing!”

Komaeda frowned. “How much closer do we need to be? And that’s really unfair. I’m not in any position where I can keep secrets from you.”

“It’s better that way,” Servant said. “Those memories were erased for your own good. It’s just unfortunate that they’re seeping out.”

“If it’s unfortunate, then fortune should come from it.”

But... If that’s the case, then...what kind of fortune...?

Servant gave him another smile, but that was hardly an answer.

Hey... What am I even living for, anyway?

“Servant-san...”

“If people see you talking to yourself,” Servant said, almost snapped. “You’ll be stuck here longer. And I don’t think you actually want that. This purgatory is...incredibly boring.”

Purgatory, huh?

He supposed he couldn’t disagree with that.

--

Purgatory was a good name for it. But purgatory was eternal. This wasn’t.

“Komaeda-kun, good news! You should be able to leave the hospital soon! We just need to run a few more tests.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve been very well-behaved, Komaeda-kun. Such a shock!” A laugh. “I never would’ve believed you were despair a mere year ago!”

“Yeah...”

They were smiling at him so assuringly that it was sickening. But he just swallowed that back and kept his head bowed. It’s easy, after all. He’s been a patient more times than he can count. All this time spent in the hospital now was hardly different to the time spent in years past. Prior to Hope’s Peak. Prior to despair.

But back then, his teacher would at least send a gift basket when they remembered. Not always but... Having something was nice.

He would likely miss the flowers that the nurse kept setting up.

There wasn’t anything else to miss. Not really. It wasn’t like he got visitors.

But one day, he did receive a couple of letters.

None of them were from his classmates. One of them was from Naegi. Another had a stamp with Usami on it. Gekkogahara, then. And the last one—was from Yukizome-sensei.

He froze up at that one. Shakily, he opened it, Servant peering over his shoulder.

Included was a picture of him and the rest of class. The day before they graduated. Everyone had been grinning so stupidly that day, including himself.

Komaeda blinked. Once. Twice.

He tore up both the picture and the letter without even reading it, crumbling up the pieces and tossing them.

“You weren’t in a lot of class photos,” Servant said. “Still it’s pretty bad taste for Yukizome-sensei to pick that one to send, aha. Ooh, what would Munakata-san say?”

“Does that matter?” he hissed. Servant just shrugged, shaking his head.

“No, I suppose not.”

Irritably, Komaeda moved on to open the next letter. The one from Gekkogahara.

He shivered a but, peeling it open.

It had a picture included with it as well. And the picture was—

“Matsuda-kun!” Servant exclaimed, eyes bright and sparkling. “Look at that, it’s Matsuda-kun! Ooh, I remember this picture! Do you?”

“No...” Komaeda stared at it, at the scowling face of a boy with eyes as blue as the sea and dark, messy hair. Right beside him, he saw his own bright smile reflected back. They were pressed rather close together, shoulders touching. He blinked. “I...”

“Matsuda-kun! Please smile! This is supposed to be a happy memory!”

“Just take the damn picture, sensei. I have other things to do.”

“Uwah! Uu, so cold...”

“Matsuda-kun, you really shouldn’t be so cold!”

“Puh, puh.”

“Aah, but, sorry sensei, Matsuda-kun’s other responsibilities are pretty important. So please snap the picture so that he can leave!”

“Uu, uu... Okay, if Komaeda-kun insists. Even without Matsuda-kun’s smile, this is still a precious memory.”

“I don’t remember that well,” he muttered lamely, flipping it around. Love, love was scribbled on the back in loopy handwriting. “Gekkogahara-sensei took this picture with her computer, right? So, it’s not a surprise she still has it.”

“Still, it’s nice to see,” Servant coos. “Matsuda-kun’s so handsome. Ehe. I really miss him.”

“Do you, now...?” Komaeda shuffled the picture behind the letter, unfolding it to read. “Dear Komaeda-kun...”

I heard you’ve been getting better! That’s so good to hear! As long as you continue looking forward, hope will always remain in your heart.

The path might be difficult and you may struggle a lot, but I know you can do it. You’re stronger than you think.

In the meantime, you should definitely try to talk more with the people who care about you! At times like these, surrounding yourself with these people is especially essential. When I find a way to work around Munakata-san, I’ll definitely visit all of you. It’s a bit nostalgic, going back to our old sessions. Much has changed though, hasn’t it?

I included a picture of that day Matsuda-kun dropped you off. I know Yukizome-san included a picture, too, but... It’s important, I think, to continue carrying around the memory of people who can only be with us in spirit. Matsuda-kun cared very much for you, even if he struggled to show it. I never want you to forget that, Komaeda-kun.

I’m sorry. The Neo World Program didn’t work as intended. I really let all of you down. When I visit, I’ll be sure to apologize in person, too. But know that even with all this, I know in my heart that you can pull through. Especially you, Komaeda-kun! Don’t forget it.

Love, love!

And then one last sentence, scribbled along the bottom alongside a little stamp with Usami’s beaming face.

Thank you for taking care of those children, Komaeda-kun. They’re in good hands now.

Komaeda folded up the letter and set it aside. As for the picture...

“Do you want to keep it?” he asked Servant tiredly. Servant perked up, blinked a few times and laughed.

“It doesn’t really matter what I want, Nagito-kun.”

Delicately, Komaeda folds the picture up and tucks it away.

Then I might as well.

He opens and unfolds Naegi’s letter next. Naegi, thankfully, hadn’t included a picture. It was just...a kind, handwritten letter, asking about how he was, informing him of the situation with the Future Foundation to an extent, and... It just...

It doesn’t matter. It really, really doesn’t matter.

“So harsh! You should be more honored!” Servant exclaimed. “The Ultimate Hope going out of his way to write someone like you a letter... It’s an honor! The highest honor!”

Komaeda gave him a disgruntled look.

“Even I can tell you’re being sarcastic, Servant-san.”

Servant laughed again.

“I was being a little serious,” he said. “But yes. I might be just a little bitter towards Naegi-kun. It’s not his fault, really. I’m just that kind of conceited person.”

“Somehow I can believe that,” Komaeda replied. “Servant-san is quite the audacious person. It’s sometimes sickening to think that you’re the ghost of my former self.”

“Then it really is bad luck that the program didn’t fully erase me!” Servant chirped. “I wonder what good luck this will lead to.”

...it’s hard to imagine...

“I should write letters in return,” Komaeda sighs. “It’d be... I guess...proper behavior. I have no idea what to say to any of them. And my handwriting is terrible. So I would have to get someone to write it for me.”

“You can ask one of the doctors or the nurses; I’m sure they won’t mind,” Servant said. “And they would be less suspicious, too.”

“...I suppose.” He sets Naegi’s letter with Gekkogahara’s. “Is there even...any point to it, outside of formality?”

“You’re so boring, Nagito-kun,” Servant said cheerfully. “Are you saying you don’t want to write them?”

“I... No, not really.” He shrugs almost helplessly. “I haven’t really wanted to do anything in a while. Save for apologize to Hinata-kun, maybe. But...”

He’s been making that difficult. So I’m starting to feel like I shouldn’t bother.

“I see, I see!” Servant nodded understandingly. So understandingly it almost felt unsettling. “You’re even more pathetic than Kamukura-kun, in that case.”

Komaeda scowled at that.

“That’s way too harsh, Servant-san.”

“It’s how I feel,” Servant said. “Should I apologize for that? Sorry. You shouldn’t take the things I say so seriously. I am a hallucination, after all.”

Komaeda huffed. “Dick.”

Now he knew how Hinata felt.

...Hinata-kun...

Servant had that knowing look, but he thankfully didn’t press the matter. Thankfully because Komaeda suddenly felt too exhausted to banter with him. Instead he retrieves the letters and the picture with Matsuda. He rereads and looks over the lines on the papers in addition to the stress lines on Matsuda’s face more times than he can count.

I might end up forgetting all this even so.

How depressing. How despairing.

“You should have more hope than that, Nagito-kun,” Servant murmured, humming as he laid back against the bed, perpendicular to Komaeda. “Hope is essential to the human condition after all.”

There was nothing to say to that.

In the end, he doesn’t write anything. He doesn’t ask anyone to write anything, either.

--

When he’s well enough to leave, he’s given plain jeans and a plain shirt to change into. He does so and after he heads into the hallway, he spots Hinata talking to one of the doctors. Hinata notices him and waves him over.

“Oi, Komaeda!”

“Hinata...kun.”

Swallowing, he makes his way over and Hinata waves once more in greeting.

“Since you’re leaving, I thought I’d walk you to your cabin,” he explains. “Y’know, because... You showed me around in the simulation. I thought I might as well make up for that.”

“That doesn’t make this good luck or bad luck, then.”

“That’s a lame excuse,” Komaeda said. “I’m pretty sure I can find my way back without any help.”

“Still,” Hinata huffs. “It doesn’t hurt to make sure nothing happens, right?”

Komaeda’s unimpressed frown deepens.

“I suppose not.” A pause. “Thank you. For this. I suppose.”

“It’s nothing,” Hinata replied. “I suppose.”

“You two really are similar, aren’t you?”

I don’t want to hear it.

He follows after Hinata meekly, arms crossed and holding himself close together. Once they’re outside, there’s enough of a chill to send shivers down his spine.

I miss my jacket.

“Your jacket’s back at your cabin,” Hinata said, startling him. “I had all your old belongings stored there, just...in case.”

“What were you going to do with that cabin if I didn’t wake up?” Komaeda asked, narrowing his eyes. “Were you going to burn it to the ground? Get rid of everything then and there?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hinata retorted. “You’re here now, right?”

“...I suppose.” There wasn’t anything else to say. “Hinata-kun... Why did you bring me back anyway? Or...was that Kamukura-kun’s choice? Did he feel bad?”

“It was both our choices,” he said. “And we don’t regret them, Komaeda.”

“Why?”

“We...” Hinata hesitated. “Everyone deserved to be awake. Deserved another chance. Deserved to face their future. Regardless of everything, everyone includes you. It wouldn’t have been right to just leave you be while everyone else...”

“I doubt you would’ve been too torn up about it if you just left me behind,” Komaeda said. “You probably would’ve moved on so quickly that I would’ve been forgotten soon enough. You really made a mistake, both of you—”

They stop and then turn around on their heel. Tightly, they grip Komaeda’s arm. Tight enough to bruise. He flinched, but they just spoke in the lowest, chilliest voice.

“It wasn’t. A mistake.”

Komaeda looked up at him, pained, wincing, biting down on his lip. Immediately, he was released, leaving him to just rub pitifully at his arm.

“Sorry,” Hinata muttered gruffly. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Whatever it was, it was scary,” Komaeda said quietly. Hinata flinched, but said nothing, just gesturing to him with his shoulder to continue following. Keeping his head down, Komaeda nodded along and trailed after him.

The air around Hinata-kun is completely different to before. If I didn’t know any better, I’d doubt this was the same person who fainted on the beach. But...

“It isn’t really the same person.”

No...

“It’s not the same person who was with you on the boat, either.”

No...

“Nagito-kun,” Servant spoke to him quietly. Almost hushed. As if Hinata or Kamukura would be able to hear him. “What would you say your feelings for this person are?”

Right now? Komaeda looked up at his broad back, the back of his head. The darker spikes, that same ridiculous antenna... But if this person had looked over his shoulder it would be with cold, mismatched eyes. With that in mind, Komaeda couldn’t help but think, I don’t like him.

Servant chuckles softly. “I don’t really like him, either. So, I guess in this way, at least, our hearts are one.”

Funny, then, how things turned out.

--

“Here we are,” Hinata said, opening the door. “They look more like they did when we first got into the simulation but no security cameras. Those were deemed unnecessary so more privacy, thankfully. No television screens either. But it’s not like there’d be anything to watch anyway.”

The inside of his cabin looked so utterly barren save for his old clothes nearly folded atop the bed. At least he had the same curtains as before, Komaeda supposed. He wondered, idly, if they had always been there.

Or if Hinata had set them up.

There was a minifridge there. That had to have been set up recently.

All things considered—this cabin looked clean. Not lived in yet tended to all the same.

“So, um...” Hinata rubs awkwardly at his nape. “Welcome home, Komaeda.”

“Hearing you say that is gross,” Komaeda remarked, going inside and kicking off his shoes. “So are we done here?”

“I... No.” Hinata scowled. “We still meet up every morning at the hotel at the same time as we had in the simulation. We... We expect you to start showing up, too.”

Oh. Huh.

“I don’t want to,” Komaeda said. “Don’t you remember? I said I don’t want anything to do with any of you. I had meant that.”

“Komaeda,” Hinata growled. “Look. I get it. You don’t want to see us. Fine. But you’re stuck on this island with us, so we need to check on you minimally at least. We need to make sure no one relapses into despair regardless of how small the chances are. It sucks, but it’s necessary.”

“No, it’s not,” he protested. “If that were all, then why not just stay at the hospital?”

“Those people have more important things to do than continue babysitting you!” Hinata shouted heatedly. “Stop being such a child and making this more difficult than it needs to be! Just... We don’t even have to talk to each other, you just have to show up. You don’t even have to eat with us, you just—you just have to show up. Maybe wave. And then leave. That’s all we’re asking for, Komaeda.”

Komaeda dug his nails into his palm, likely leaving behind four angry red crescents. He doesn’t say anything.

Hinata sighs.

“...if it’s that big of a deal, then I’ll check on you every morning.” Hinata chews on his lower lip. “I’ll just knock on your door. And you can just...shout. Or something. How’s that sound?”

With a tired look like that, it’s almost as if he’s pleading with me.

“Either way, as you said, I’m stuck on this island with all of you.”

“Yeah...” Hinata shrugs. “So you... You have to work with us at least a little, Komaeda. Please?”

Komaeda shakes his head.

“I don’t...want to.”

I don’t want to be here. The hospital I could tolerate because I was used to, but this? How am I supposed to deal with this? Just the idea of seeing more of them makes me ill. It’s sickening. It’s sickening. The only way I wanted to be reunited with all of them was as a statue.

“But you hadn’t wanted to be trapped in that paradisiacal prison, either.”

Hinata frowns at him, but with a hardening gaze, he just turned away.

“I’ll give you time,” he said quietly. “But I’ll still check on you every morning until then. I’m sorry, Komaeda, but it’s necessary.”

“It’s not like I can stop you,” Komaeda replied dully. “I’m skinny, frail, and I only have one hand.”

“...I don’t want to force you.” His voice was even quieter. “That... That’s not...what I want.”

“If it doesn’t matter what I want, it shouldn’t matter what you want,” Komaeda said simply. “Just do what’s necessary, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata snapped towards him and he really did look—so stricken. So uncertain. Near tears.

So he still makes that face. Aha.

How pathetic. Just that face was enough to stir his heart as before.

“Komaeda...” And then, Hinata steps closer. “Komaeda... I... I just... Can’t we just work together like we used to?” He manages this ridiculously pitiful smile. And again, his worthless, pathetic heart stirs. “C’mon, don’t you remember how easy it used to be? Don’t you miss those times? I know it’s painful, but... I... I just...”

“Hinata-kun, with all that we’ve gone through, with all that we’ve been aware of... It’d be really irresponsible to think we could ever go back to those times.” Komaeda frowned at him disapprovingly. “It’s impossible, too. And you know it.”

“We can at least try,” Hinata offers, sticking out his hand. “We can at least try to face the future together as we had faced the island all that time ago. Komaeda, it’s what she would have wanted.”

Komaeda blinks once. Twice.

“...she?”

“Nanami,” Hinata answers, stressing out the name like it’s essential. “Nanami. Nanami Chiaki. Don’t—don’t you remember her? She hadn’t just been our friend in the simulation, she was our friend before...!”

“...oh. Right. Nanami-san.” Komaeda continues to blink. “What about her?”

“What about?!” Hinata almost looks ill. Komaeda frowns, tilting his head.

“What does she have to do with anything?” he asked. “I only barely remember in the simulation and... Before that, I spent more time in and out of the medical faculties than I did with the class. From what I remember anyway.”

I had known Matsuda-kun fairly well as a result, right?

For some reason, Servant didn’t answer. When he glanced around, Servant didn’t even seem to be there. That—unsteadied him more than he would’ve liked to admit.

“H-How is she, anyway?” Komaeda hurriedly changed the subject. “Well, I don’t... I don’t really care since everyone’s Ultimate Despair...”

Wait. Did Nanami-san have anything to do with that? I don’t remember her. I don’t remember ever seeing her!

Servant still wasn’t there. Servant could’ve explained, right? Right?

“Oh, wait, was she the traitor? Well, you would’ve woken her up either way, so that doesn’t matter anymore. That said, I can understand her not willing to visit trash like me.”

That doesn’t sound right. Why? It’s not like that’s wrong, is it?

“She’s dead, Komaeda,” Hinata said quietly, a quiver running through the words. “She’s been dead for years. She died during our time at Hope’s Peak, she... That Nanami we knew in the simulation was an AI to assist in the program. And...she’s gone, too. What happened in the simulation just completely wiped her data.”

“Eh? Oh.” Komaeda tried to wrap his head around it. “Well, that’s...a shame. Ah, right. Right, right.” He remembers, briefly, flashes of blood and the sound of screaming. But was that really a memory? “Sorry, I, I guess I just blocked that out. Well, it doesn’t matter now. The dead are dead. And that other Nanami-san was just pieces of data.”

So then what I did was completely pointless. An AI...

Somehow, he didn’t even feel disappointed. Just detached. From this. From that. From all of it.

“She was still our friend,” Hinata pointed out. “She may have been a simulation, but she was still important. And, before that...”

Friend?

No.

“Nanami-san might’ve been your friend, I guess,” Komaeda huffed at him with irritation flaring up. “But don’t presume I felt the same way. Someone like me, there’s no way I could be friends with any of you. Besides, that Nanami-san was a program, right? Why are you even so hung up about a program anyway? That’s weird, and, now, what does it even matter?” He shook his head. “She’s gone either way, isn’t she?”

Hinata’s hand dropped.

“...is that what you think?” His voice was void of any emotion. But it wasn’t Kamukura. It was still Hinata. “Is that what you really think?”

Komaeda hesitates for a moment but he nodded, remaining firm.

“It is,” he said sincerely. “I’m sorry. That must sound horrible but it’s the truth. Come to think of it, I’m sorry, too, for bringing up Matsuda-kun like that earlier... That was really cruel and uncalled for. Matsuda-kun, I think, was actually special to me once upon a time, so...”

So...what? The dead stay dead. Gekkogahara-sensei’s words are moving, but... If you carry too many people with you, they become a burden. Isn’t that true, Servant-san? Servant-san?

Still nothing. Komaeda was starting to tremble.

Hinata exhaled, and he flinched.

“A-Ah...” Komaeda ducked back further. “Sorry, I... Sorry. I don’t mean to cause so much trouble, Hinata-kun, I... I just... I want to be left alone. That’s... That’s the only thing I can even think of wanting right now.”

Not to live, not the die, but to be left alone. Ha. Haha.

“It’s alright,” Hinata said tiredly, making him perk up. Hinata didn’t seem to have the energy to muster up even a smile. “That’s just how you are, right? It can’t be helped.”

Komaeda shrugged again, unsure of how to answer.

“It’s okay,” Hinata said again, the shadows under his dull, mismatched eyes looking all the darker. “I may not—understand, but... Just yelling... Just arguing... That’s not going to solve anything.”

“Did Kamukura-kun inform you?” Komaeda asked. Hinata snorted.

“It doesn’t matter.” He turns back to the door and lingers. “I’m just gonna go. I’ll see you in the morning. There... There’s some food in the minifridge. It should be stocked for a while.”

“Okay.” Komaeda bows a little. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” Hinata opens the door. “Later, Komaeda.”

“I don’t want it to be later,” Komaeda said. “I want it to be farewell.”

Hinata says nothing to that. He just waves and shuts the door behind him.

Sighing, Komaeda goes to fall face-first into his bed.

It smells clean. How recently was it washed?

If he pondered it further, he might end up so frustrated his eyes would blur with tears. They were stinging already. How pathetic was that? How absolutely pathetic...!

“Shhh...”

Careful, freezing cold fingers card through his hair. Komaeda shudders, and then, he relaxes.

“Shhh, just let it all out, Nagito-kun,” Servant murmurs. “When you’re alone like this, what’s the point of even holding back, right?”

“...” His breath hitches, and then. “U-Uu...”

“That’s it,” Servant coos. “It’s alright, Nagito-kun. There’s no point in holding back anymore.”

It’s really, really pathetic, how little more coaxing he needs before he’s reduced to crying like an absolute child.

--

He tires himself out enough to sleep for a bit but he can just tell it’s not for very long. Since he slept so much during his days at the hospital, he’s not too concerned.

Instead, he pushes himself up, rubbing at his sore, dry, cracked eyes.

“Urgh...”

“Yep, you’re going to look absolutely terrible,” Servant chirps. “Crying really makes a person ugly. How disgusting!”

“Well,” Komaeda huffed, wiping off his nose with a sniffle. “It’s not like I want anyone to see my hideous face anyway.”

Servant giggles, and Komaeda remembers his folded-up clothes. They hadn’t been stirred, and he pulls them towards himself.

“...I had a chain leash,” he says, looking at the one on Servant. “Was that...broken or did Hinata-kun not pack it? If he destroyed it, he should’ve told me that.”

“Yeah,” Servant agrees. “He should’ve.”

That’s not an answer.

But what did it really matter?

Even his clothes were clean. His jacket had even been carefully mended. But there was something in its pockets. When he checked, he heard the like tinkling of metal and closed his fingers around a small chain before pulling it out.

On that chain hung a pendant. Old, slightly discolored and worn. A white cat painted on it. A lucky white cat.

Servant was staring at it intensely, he knew. Just looking at the thing caused a surge of emotion in his heart that he simply couldn’t—or wouldn’t define.

All the same, he struggles in putting it back on but manages.

“It’s pretty cheap,” he says, flicking it. “But it has quite a bit a charm. It’s cute.”

“It is,” Servant replies, nodding. With that, Komaeda squirms his way into his jacket, next. Being surrounded by that, too, is comforting, even with the unsettlingly clean scent. “Tomorrow morning, you should probably thank Hinata-kun for taking such good care of it, right?”

Komaeda stilled, sniffling at his sleeve.

“Tomorrow morning...”

I don’t...

“You don’t want to even hear his voice,” Servant said. “I get it, I get it. But it can’t be helped. You are trapped here after all.”

“...trapped...” The word stung. He nearly bit his tongue for it. And then, he thought about it. “But is that really true?”

“Oh.” Servant’s lips twist at the corner. “Goodness, are you serious? Even for me, that’s...”

“I want to be alone,” Komaeda said, reminded him. “I can’t do that here. I can’t do that with them. So... I have no choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Servant said. “But in this regard... Well, this is interesting, at least. Perhaps I was wrong about you after all, Nagito-kun. The idea of not knowing myself nearly as well as I thought—how exciting!”

Komaeda couldn’t let himself get overwhelmed. He had to stay focused. Absolutely focused. There was only so much he could rely on his luck. He had to strategize. He had to think things through.

With that in mind, his mind was made up.

--

He headed out. Jabberwock Island in the simulation wasn’t a perfect mapping of the island in reality. That much he had been able to tell right out of the gate. It was more fortified, even to the bridges. This place clearly had been intended as a safe haven for sorts if necessary.

Shame, then, how it actually got used.

Sometimes he sees his former classmates. A flash of Saionji’s robe here, a glance of Souda’s garish jumpsuit there. When he’s noticed by any of them, they hurriedly look away. He doesn’t know where Hinata is.

He wonders if this island has any arcade machines. He then brushes it all off.

“Now’s not the time to hesitate,” Servant reminded him. As if he hadn’t felt this way before. In the simulation. After finding the files. “You must keep your eyes ahead, Nagito-kun.”

Komaeda finds his way to the docks. No one has stopped him yet. He isn’t surprised. The only person who ever really sought him out was Hinata, after all.

There are various people in uniforms, packing boxes and occasionally talking to each other. If he strains himself, he can hear fragments of conversations related to this island as well as the Future Foundation. But it’s all insignificant information. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is the opportunity.

I can only rely on my luck so far, but... My luck could just as easily ruin everything. If anyone learns about this...

“You’ve snuck around before,” Servant told him. “You can do it again here. Relax, Nagito-kun. I believe in you.”

He leans in, brushing his lips against his ear.

“Now, let’s leave.”

Komaeda swallows and crouches by the bushes. He has to be extra careful, considering the snacks he stored away in his coat for later. He can’t mess this up. He only has this one opportunity.

And then, he just acts as if on instinct. Crouching, crawling if necessary, avoiding the stares and glances of any of the uniformed workers. He gets onto the ship, and he tucks himself away with the cargo.

He can feel the slight rocks of the ocean waves against the boat. Workers are unaffected, likely used to this. A lot of them are tired, yawning. It means they’re not as alert.

Still, Komaeda holds his breath, curling in on himself, and willing his heart to not pound so hard.

“Be steady, my heart,” Servant murmurs, and he just trembles, burying his face.

The seconds feel like minutes. The minutes feel like hours.

And then, the ship’s horn is blown. The ship starts to move. With that, the easiest part of this ends, and the most dangerous part begins.

--

It’ll only take two days. Two days is an incredibly long time to be constantly on guard, without rest. He has to sneak around, and one of the things he steals first is a uniform that just happens to fit. Later, he hears someone loudly complain.

“Urgh did someone take my uniform again? Whatever.”

Komaeda really, truly is someone blessed by luck.

“Careful,” Servant says later. “Don’t eat so fast that you choke, Nagito-kun.”

Smacking his sternum a few times, Komaeda only swallows. He shoves the trash back in his pocket. He’ll have to properly dispose of it later. For now, it’s too risky.

Servant sits close by, even though it doesn’t matter, but... Having Servant there, while his heart is beating wildly, it helps if only a little. He may have fled the island for the chance to get away from everyone else, but—he still can’t help but be glad he isn’t that alone.

Even if he is, technically, by himself.

“Don’t overthink it,” Servant said cheerily. “Just continue to strategize. Don’t forget you need to leave this ship without anyone noticing. You really have to be careful! If anyone hears a former despair is running around unsupervised when the Future Foundation is trying to reverse all the damage despair has done, well... You might just get shot at, Nagito-kun! Repeatedly!”

Yeah. He’s aware of that.

“This stunt could endanger Hinata-kun, too,” Servant added in a low voice. “Considering he likely took responsibility over all of you. But when Hinata-kun realizes you’re gone—I wonder what he’ll do?”

He has 14 other people he’s worried about. Not to mention other things on his plate, but...

“Kamukura-kun will know how to find us,” Servant murmurs. “He’s always known how to find us.”

Komaeda digs his fingers into his arm.

“Mind you, a part of me had wanted him to find me,” Servant went on. “Is that the case for you?”

Komaeda shook his head, biting on the inside of his cheek, picking at it with his teeth until blood seeped from the wound. There may very well someday be a scar there—if there wasn’t one already.

Someone passes by, and they take out a cigarette to light it. It’s a bit of a romantic sight. Smoking, out at sea, under several glittering stars. The smoke rises to the sky in thin, dissipating strips of gray and white.

Komaeda sighs softly and pulls his knees in closer.

If I could dissipate like that, it wouldn’t be so bad.

But that was just beyond impossible, even if he burned alive.

It would just hurt. And then it would end. How tedious it is, to be a living creature.

He keeps a careful eye on the worker. They never glance back; they just continue to look at the stars.

It’s a long, long night that follows. And he still has the next day.

--

Sneaking off is more difficult than sneaking on. They’re much more alert on the mainland, so he has to don the uniform he stole, and he has to use one of the various duffel bags to stash his belongings. He’s not the only one, so he can blend in with the crowd.

Once the opportunity arises again, he slips away. He really is lucky. No one even tried to talk to him.

The city they’re in is hardly standing, but it’s less ruinous than cities he remembers in brief flashing nightmares. The first order of business is to find shelter. He changes out of the uniform quickly. It would be troublesome, after all, if any civilian came to someone like him for help.

He has to always be careful. He has to always be on his guard. He may have escaped Jabberwock, but he’s far from free.

I might as well be a fugitive. Isn’t that essentially what I am?

You are. Essentially.

Right.

The city’s been well cleaned up, at least. There aren’t any Monokuma units roaming around. It’s just a broken-down area. People are passing him by to get to the Future Foundation workers. Once again, he blurs into the crowd.

No one recognized him. He was just another nobody. It made sense. He hadn’t exactly made spreading despair a public showing like his classmates.

“I avoided my classmates and the Monokuma units whenever possible.” Servant hums, playing once again with his chain. The rustling and creaking is timed eerily perfectly with their steps. “Just because I was their classmate for a time didn’t mean I got spared. Then again, I hardly shared that classroom with them. I really was just scum on their shoes. It’s no surprise I got excluded, ehe.”

He almost wants to laugh but somehow the would-be sound just dies in his throat before anything can come of it.

But there is a child laughing, stumbling over the rocks as their mother calls for them. That child then trips and would’ve fallen face first into broken concrete had Komaeda not been there to break their fall.

“Careful, now,” he murmurs to which they grin up at him.

“Thank you, mister!”

With that, they rush on ahead. Their mother bows gratefully at him for a moment before hurrying after them, calling his name.

Komaeda does glance back, and he feels a sharp, undeniable ache as the mother catches her child’s hand in hers and squeezes.

“Nagito-kun.”

He perks up at Servant tugging at his sleeve.

“Come on, now’s not the time to get distracted.”

“Ri...” He swallows, stopping once he remembers that no one else could see this person. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders and just moves on.

That ache does fade with time, but it lingers like a bruise.

--

In one of the sparsely populated areas, he finds a place to sleep. It’s infested with bugs, but it’s still an abandoned place overall. Acceptable shelter, since the beds were still in one-piece, albeit with worn, torn, dusty and previously molded sheets. There is some water nearby, surprisingly. Perhaps he can try and wash them a little.

Apparently, the Future Foundation had recently set up irrigation in this area. That made it more likely to attract other refugees in the future. It was just a matter of people managing to scramble their way over in spite of the still lingering destruction and still running Monokuma units.

But it was getting easier, even as it remained difficult.

“You might be more at risk of getting sick, Nagito-kun,” Servant said as Komaeda covered his mouth with a face mask, coughing lightly as he did. “That hospital was pretty sterile. Your immune system might be weakened.”

Truth be told, he already felt like the dust and decay was getting to him.

But I’ll manage. Somehow. I have to. My luck won’t let something this trivial be the end of me.

“I suppose not,” Servant murmured. “Still, be careful. Recklessness is no good.”

Komaeda nods along and does his best to scrub out the dust and bugs. It might be impossible to get it all, but he just needs to get as much as he can.

Somehow, he manages. Afterwards, his fingers are aching as are his shoulders, his feet, and back. He lies down almost immediately and is unspeakably grateful that the bed isn’t terribly hard or lumpy.

“Rest is important!” Servant chirps. “Don’t forget you need to eat, too.”

“Right...” He pops the joints in his shoulders and neck, groaning as he does. “Servant-san... I’ll have to travel even further tomorrow.”

“Aha, really? Do you have a place in mind or are you just going to try and get as far from Jabberwock as you can?”

Komaeda sighs, glancing up at the ceiling, and blinks a few times, remembering that child and their mother.

“Actually... There is one place I have in mind.”

“Oh?” Servant asks. “Well, that’s fine.”

Komaeda’s gaze flickers towards him.

“Servant-san, is there someplace you want to go?”

Servant blinks and sits beside him. Again, he gives off an unsettling chill but at this point, Komaeda’s starting to grow accustomed to it.

“You shouldn’t,” Servant says, and then he clears his throat. “You shouldn’t ask a hallucination something like that. I’m not a traveling partner, Nagito-kun, I’m the part of you that should’ve been shut out.”

Even if that’s true... Even if...

“It just seems proper to ask you,” Komaeda murmured. “Since Servant-san is stuck following me.”

Servant ruffles his hair. The cold makes him more tired.

“Rest, Nagito-kun.”

“Mm...” His eyelashes flutter. “O...kay...”

--

There’s a sense of familiarity to traveling like this, but it’s one accompanied with a deep sense of emptiness.

The world is much emptier, after all, with despair fading away. People are rebuilding, slowly and clumsily. It is a difficult process, but...it is recovery. Recovery is not meant to be easy. Nor interesting.

Sometimes he has to gather food. Sometimes he has to try and wash himself. Sometimes he sleeps outside. Sometimes he finds shelter.

Sometimes he finds himself surrounded by the scraps of torn up Monokuma units. It’s almost like being in a different kind of graveyard.

Servant remains with him, as expected. Every step of the way, they’re together. Sometimes he talks to Servant. Sometimes he doesn’t. It’s a matter of how he feels about the loneliness.

“It’s understandable,” Servant says. “It’s not like I mind.”

“Are you lonely, too?” Komaeda asks, chewing on his rations. He pauses, thinking it over. “You probably are, aren’t you, Servant-san.”

Servant leaned back against rubble, eyes flickering upwards to stare at the sky. Not red, but blue. A clear blue.

“I wonder.”

“You wonder?” How enigmatic. “Servant-san... I don’t remember everything clearly. Is that because of you?”

There’s a soft breeze in the air. It’s cold enough to send hair standing straight up, but wrapped up in his insulated coat, Komaeda doesn’t much feel it. It’s better that way and yet, he still has a sense that there’s a barrier that he cannot cross nor truly see through. Like frosted glass.

Servant-san is like frosted glass.

“That’s a pretty romantic-sounding simile,” Servant hummed. “Even if it’s neither a compliment nor an insult.”

“It is pretty strange, to say that about someone who is yet isn’t your past self,” Komaeda agreed. “Then again, isn’t this situation plenty strange already? You shouldn’t even exist.”

“That’s right,” Servant said. “I shouldn’t. Maybe you should kill me, then. What do you think would happen? If you could kill me, get rid of me, discard your despair self completely—would that be good luck?”

“If discarding despair were so easy then this world truly is a worthless and wretched place.” Komaeda looks down, lifting his left arm, taking in the knot in his sleeve where the rest of his arm should’ve been. His gaze turns to Servant’s mitted hand. “Human beings aren’t slabs of marble that you can chip away until you create a beautiful sculpture. Despite what some people may think.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Servant pointed out cheekily.

Komaeda popped a ration into his mouth and chewed noisily as he shut the canister. He swallows.

“Killing you would just invite its own struggles and conflicts,” he said, and then quieted. “What you’re suggesting is just an uncertain possibility anyway. There’s no guarantee. I’m not going to kill someone over something so flimsy.”

Even if it’s Servant-san—it’ll feel real enough to creep me out.

Truth be told, in general he didn’t like the idea of killing someone by his own hand. It just seemed so...brutish.

He repacks the canister and pulls up his bag.

“It’s funny,” he says. “When I think about all the people I’ve gotten killed, I can only think of the people that didn’t stain my had with a single drop of blood. Deaths that I wouldn’t be blamed for by any...normal person. Have I ever killed someone directly? I don’t...remember...”

Servant’s smile remains. The thought continues to niggle at his mind.

“Maybe once. Maybe twice. Maybe a great deal. Maybe never. What would you consider good luck?”

He thought about it, the flittering thoughts eating away at him like moths on the old mattresses he’d been sleeping on.

“It doesn’t matter. The absence of blood hardly takes away the stain of despair.” The wrong things that I had done. Not just under her but under the false pretenses she set up. The game that I happily played along with. With Hinata-kun, with the others, regardless of what I told myself— “You can’t give me direct answers, can you? So, then, there’s no point in asking...other than for the sake of asking. Apologies. I really am stupid and incompetent if it takes me this long to realize something like that.”

“Aw, cheer up!” Servant chirruped, waving his hand. “A sense of curiosity is a good thing! It puts you above Kamukura-kun!”

“Mm...”

The distant sound of the train. Komaeda perked up at that and turns towards it. Without missing a beat, he hurriedly sprints towards it. Uselessly wrapped up in his own useless head as it were, he had forgotten that he was supposed to be at the station waiting.

Worthless.

His feet slam against dirt and cracked concrete.

Utterly worthless!

--

Through a stroke of luck, he had gotten onto the train before it left. And then, rather appropriately, several people trampled on his feet in their rush. It already hurt. A little bit added to the meager pain wasn’t a problem.

Even if it did...really hurt.

The train ride was loud. Uncomfortable. Suffocating. But it was being ran pretty efficiently. He wasn’t sure if it was just the Future Foundation to thank for that.

Technology sure is incredible... Programs that can erase traumatic memories... Trains that can still run when the world’s been ruined...

“It really is brimming with hope from all the cracks caused by despair, isn’t it?”

Sighing, Komaeda leaned against the window, watching the broken world zoom by.

Brimming with hope...

He thought that over.

I suppose there is a sense of beauty in that.

--

He was getting into more wooded areas, which meant less crumbled buildings in favor of gnarled plant life where the soil wasn’t completely dead. His bag was so heavy that it might just break him, but he continued walking on, along a muddled path.

He does remember what this place had looked like before despair. Before her. Even with the dead trees, the weeds, the broken stones, there was a sense of nostalgia about being here. There was still a sense of sad beauty to it.

The hike up this hill was as difficult as it had always been, especially with the weight of his bag. He pants, it starts to hurt to breathe. It’s almost too harsh on his throat and lungs to take.

He ends up toppling backwards. He doesn’t scrape anything, but it is enough to leave him winded. Still, he pushes himself back up.

He climbs back up.

“Servant-san,” he found himself saying. “At this time of year, there would be cherry blossoms blooming. But the cherry trees are all dead, so there are no blooming flowers. That’s rather sad but it can’t be helped, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Servant echoes.

Komaeda walks and walks until he reaches rows and rows of graves, breathing heavily all the while. The river that had once run though has, unsurprisingly, dried up.

“That sort of poetic beauty...the road framed by pink petals and the flower rafts floating downstream... It’ll be restored someday, right?”

Servant doesn’t respond verbally, he just surveys the cemetery. And then, Komaeda laughs.

“Just kidding. Reality can’t just be restored like a computer system. They can try and recreate it, but it’ll never be exactly as it once was.”

With that in mind, he moved on ahead.

“With all that in mind, it is rather despairing to think...but it can’t be helped can it?”

He weaves through the graves with purpose until he comes across shattered rubble. Just enough of the engravement can be seen. It reads eda. Rather fittingly, weeds are growing all over, and twigs are littering the ground. It really is unlucky. These seem to be the only graves desecrated by the world’s destruction.

“Mama,” he says, and then his breath catches. “Papa. I’m sorry I took so long.”

With that, he drops his bag and unzips it. He pulls out a sponge first. Then, some soap. Then, one of the many clean water bottles he picked up. He unscrews it open and wets the sponge so that he can get started on cleaning.

He tries to do all he can, pulling out weeds even when they blister his hand. Somehow, he manages. It takes what feels like forever, but he manages that.

He scrubs what remains of the graves, even trying to piece them back together with the pieces of it that he finds lying around. It’s clumsily done, to say the least.

All the same, he does the best that he can.

“Sorry... Sorry, sorry...” Komaeda sighs. “This really is all I can do.”

He pours water over the graves to rinse them off. He repeats scrubbing until he’s on his last water bottle. Servant stops him from pouring it with the rest.

“It’s clean enough,” Servant said. “So just drink it.”

Komaeda drearily obeys, downing the water even as it’s a bit of a struggle. He coughs a few times and shudders as Servant rubs his shoulders. He gets a sense of vertigo for a moment but quickly shakes his head to shake himself out of it.

He tosses the empty bottle with the rest.

Next, he burns the incense he also brought and prays the best he can with one hand.

“With everything that’s happened, I wonder what the two of you would be thinking,” he murmurs. “You’re probably beyond disappointed. I wouldn’t be surprised if you both had never wanted to see me again. It’s understandable. Completely understandable.”

What a worthless son I am.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, bowing his head. “Much has happened, much has changed. I... I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t think I ever really...knew. I just acted like I did. I would be that impertinent.”

But all the same...

“This world used to be one of despair, and now it is one brimming with hope. I suppose that’s a wonderful thing. But it all feels so fragile, so unsteady. Despair still lurks in the hearts of people just as how hope sleeps within them.”

A pause.

Komaeda looks about. At all the weeds. All the remains of dead plant life. The dirt. The graves. The sky above starting to gray.

“With all that in mind... What am I supposed to do? Would either of you know?” He turns back to them, to the burning incense, and then he gives a rueful laugh. “Forgive me...with how much of a mess I’ve made... It must be hard to answer. Even if you two could answer. Even if you two wanted to answer...”

There’s no answer to be found here from a destroyed grave, even with Ultimate Luck. No matter how hard I look.

“Servant-san,” he said. He perked up as Servant knelt and prayed, paying his respects. Blinking a few times, Komaeda pressed. “Servant-san, do you have anything to say?”

“It’s going to rain soon,” Servant replied. “You’re going to catch a cold. Mama and Papa wouldn’t want that. If they still care.”

Komaeda blinks, and chuckles lightly into his hand.

“If they still care,” he echoed. “As if that matters either way. But it does tend to rain while I’m here. Always ruins the flowers. I didn’t bring any flowers this time, but...” He shrugs. “Well, I guess it is what it is.”

Dusting himself off, he pushes himself up. Servant, too, stands.

“You should pay more of your respects,” Komaeda said. “But I suppose I can’t make you. There are cottages near here. Hopefully one of them will make of adequate shelter. If any of them are standing, of course.”

“Then you should check, Nagito-kun.”

A drop of water lands on Komaeda’s nose.

“You should hurry, Nagito-kun,” Servant says so seriously that he wants to laugh and laugh.

--

The cottage they find is almost as quaint as the ones on Jabberwock. Smaller, yes, not as well-furnished. Much dustier, of course, but the bed was comfortable enough once Komaeda wiped it off. There were surprisingly some candles lying around, so Komaeda lit those.

And his teeth chattered as he tried in vain to wring the water from his hair and his coat. As expected, he was not able to avoid the rain after all. Servant almost looked like he felt sorry for him. He laughed, and then Servant watched as he stripped out of his wet clothes, down to his miraculously dry lucky boxers.

Outside, there were rolls of rumbling thunder and lightning flashes. Komaeda laid there on the bed, wrapped up in old comforters and shivering as he watched the flickering flames of the candles.

“This storm...” Komaeda speaks up rather suddenly. “It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it? Flashing lightning. Crashing thunder. The way light splits across the sky. Cracks in the heavy gray and darkness. It’s really beautiful...”

He shuddered, catching his breath. He ended up sneezing.

“I wonder...if this storm was how I thought of despair. The lightning, I supposed, was hope. Generated, setting the world ablaze. Lighting up everything.” Komaeda was quiet for a bit, blinking and then reminiscing. “There was a time when I sat outside during a storm, aha. I wanted to see where the lightning would strike, and, ahaha, it missed me by a mere speck. It was enough to knock me over, to startle and stun me, but it wasn’t enough to scorch. To burn.”

I was only just a scant distance out of reach. That, I suppose, became a familiar feeling. Brushing so close to destruction and light that I can taste it in the air. A brush of contact. But never enough to embrace.

“I remember that,” Servant said. “Nagito-kun caught a cold the next day.”

“Isn’t that your memory, too?” Komaeda asked cheerily. “Servant-san, you’re acting strange. Or is it just me? You are my hallucination, after all. Which means you should go away at some point.”

But when that happens...

“It’s bittersweet to think,” he admitted, so whispery soft that the thunder muffled the sound. But Servant would hear. Would understand. He always would be able to... “Perhaps... I’ve grown attached to you, Servant-san. Isn’t that sad? Isn’t that rather pitiful? Servant-san is at best an imaginary friend, after all.”

“I’m not imagined,” Servant said. “I represent something very real, Nagito-kun.”

Komaeda nods to that.

It’s true. You do. Despair... Servant-san is supposed to represent despair...

But, looking upon Servant’s face... Even as Servant wore his usual smile. With the flickering light of the candles illuminating the room, warm hues contrasted against colder, heavier shadows, and that was especially clear upon Servant’s face.

Despair...what is despair...? Despair is the bridge to hope. That’s what Servant-san and I agree on. Even Hinata-kun, or... Kamukura-kun...

He squeezed his eyes shut, curling in on himself as he tried to think.

Despair isn’t always such a clear route. Sometimes, it’s dense like fog. It’s suffocating like smoke. But... But...

A flash of lightning.

“Once your heart knows it,” Servant said quietly. “You can cut through the dense fog of uncertainty and feast your eyes upon the shining course that continues onward, toward the future of tomorrow.”

A crash of thunder. The very cottage shudders with Komaeda.

“It is with despair that hope sparkles at its brightest,” Servant said. “That was why I could relax and become despair. That was why...”

“I let it destroy myself,” Komaeda murmured, pushing himself up. “But that...it was all an excuse, wasn’t it? Though I told myself it was for hope... I was still being consumed by despair. And in the end...”

He touched his pendant, and then his eyes widened as a memory flashed through.

Matsuda writing in his clipboard. Matsuda looking over papers. Matsuda looking so, so tired as he scratched out notes. Over. And over.

“If you grip that stupid thing any tighter,” Matsuda snapped at him. “You’ll break it. I won’t fix it for you or buy another one, you know.”

Komaeda squeezed his pendant, letting out a harsh laugh before ultimately pulling back.

“I know that,” he replied. “But it...helps. When I get all tense or feel like I’m about to burst.”

“What the hell do you have to be all tense about?” Matsuda asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re at your best when you’re acting as a carefree idiot. Didn’t I already tell you not to worry about anything? I’ll handle everything.” His tone quiets, just a bit, just a little as he averts his gaze and his lashes lower. “I always do. I always have.”

Despite the deep shadows marring the underside of Matsuda’s eyes, the crystal blue of his irises remained sparkling. Clear. Pristine, really. It was why, despite her, despite everything, Komaeda truly believed Matsuda’s words from the bottom of his heart.

...But.

Either Matsuda was right. Or he was very, very, very wrong. And if he was wrong, well, he wouldn’t just fall to pieces, he’d be devastated. Completely and utterly.

At least, that’s what Komaeda can’t help but think. And it’s that fear of the inevitable burst from all this build, whether it would be good or bad, full of hope or full of despair, that has him gripping his pendant the way he does.

“Matsuda-kun... That girl... I hope she dies.”

Matsuda startles at that, blinking at him rapidly.

And for a moment, that beautiful, pure, crystal blue darkens.

“Aha, of course someone like me is too pitiful to kill her,” Komaeda goes on. “So I think you should do it instead. Preferably before she infects my entire class! Tsumiki-san is already acting really weird, you know...!”

Matsuda flicks his forehead.

“Idiot. Even if she deserves to die, I’m the last fucking person you should ask for help. She’s my childhood friend, remember? And...” He trails off. “I don’t really have a choice. She’s important.”

“Do you love her?” Komaeda asks and there’s such—a pang in his chest at the thought.

“It’s nothing like that,” Matsuda sighs, waving his hand. “But it’s also none of your concern. As I’ve been saying, you shouldn’t worry about it. I’ll handle everything. I’ll figure something else out.”

Komaeda huffs. “I believe in you, Matsuda-kun, but...”

He yelps as Matsuda drags him forward by the ear.

“But enough about that,” Matsuda snaps. “Has your brain started regressing, Nagito? Is that why you made such an insensitive remark? That’s my most pressing concern right now. Let’s get scans right away.”

“A-Ah, Matsuda-kun...! Matsuda-kun!”

Matsuda ruffled his hair almost furiously until it was at its most floofy, making him whine.

“Matsuda-kun, so harsh!” Moaning, he tried to comb the strands back with his fingers. But thanks to Matsuda’s ministrations, they just sprung back up. “Aw... Now it looks like a tangled mess.”

Matsuda snorted. “It doesn’t look that bad. Chin up, Nagito.” He pushes Nagito’s chin up himself. “As I said, you’re at your best as a carefree idiot. So don’t worry about anything, alright?”

Komaeda blinked up at him.

“I’ll take care of everything. I promise, Nagito.”

“Matsuda Yasuke-kun was such a fool,” Komaeda said, choking on a bitter bout of laughter. “And I’m no better. I... I’m even worse. Matsuda-kun was closer to her than I was. And he still... And I still...!”

“It’s funny,” Servant whispered. “How despair ruins you. You find yourself before a cliff. You think that of course you wouldn’t jump—but you do anyway. It’s more than mere hopelessness.”

Komaeda wheezed, voice cracking with a flurry of high-pitched, breathy giggles.

“We’re all fools. All of us. Me. Matsuda-kun. My former classmates. Kamukura-kun. Hinata-kun. Even the Future Foundation. Even Naegi-kun. Anyone—anyone who thinks despair can be destroyed or discarded so easily—they’re all such fools.”

“But you have to admit,” Servant said, smiling ruefully. “We would not be able to move forward with desire and ambitions without foolishness. It is in this foolishness that foolish hope can be found. And foolish hope—well, it can create some wonderful things.”

...Like Kamukura-kun. Like Hinata-kun.

Komaeda trembled more at the thought.

If it hadn’t been for such terrible foolishness, I never would have met either of you. And Matsuda-kun...

“Matsuda-kun was one of the most foolish people I knew,” Servant said, wrapping his arms around himself. “That is most certainly true.”

He gripped the pendent tight enough to hurt, before relaxing and rummaging through his bag for that picture. He unfolded it, touching Matsuda’s face gently, before holding it close.

“In spite of that foolishness,” he murmured. “Maybe because of it, I had adored Matsuda-kun so much. I had loved him so much. And...”

He could remember, now, two gazes, one red-eyed and one hazel-eyed, meeting his own.

“I loved Kamukura-kun and Hinata-kun, too, for how foolish they were. I had loved them all so...so much... And it’s because of all of their efforts that I’m even here now...”

Just thinking it now was overwhelming. So much so that the crashing thunder seemed all the more deafening. So much so that the flashing lightning seemed all the more blinding.

“Servant-san,” he gasped. “Servant-san, why... Why did you really show up? Why were you really with me all this time?”

Servant was quiet for a moment. And then, Servant neared him, chain swaying, and climbed onto the bed, reaching out to take his hand with both of his own. Even as it made Komaeda shudder horribly, even as it caused ice to run through his veins.

“Servant-san...” Komaeda pants, and the world begins to spin. “Servant-san... W... Why?”

“I suppose,” Servant murmured. “I wanted to see if I’d fall in love with my own foolishness. The way Matsuda-kun had. The way Kamukura-kun had. The way Hinata-kun had.”

Komaeda sniffled.

“D-Don’t even joke like that,” he mumbled, beginning to snivel. “That’s just gross. That’s just weird. Not just about them, but, I... I was thinking how weird and creepy it was that Hinata-kun was so hung up on that AI... But I’m even worse. Because Servant-san... Servant-san is just in my own head.”

Servant sighs, smiling sadly.

“Oh, Nagito-kun...”

In that small cottage, battered and braving the storm outside, it was in the circle of Servant’s embrace that was the coldest place Komaeda had ever been. And yet, he embraced Servant in return. Fiercely, desperately, that photograph fluttering to the floor.

“Nagito-kun...”

Servant cooed to him softly, petting his hair, squeezing him tightly.

“Nagito-kun... Nagito-kun...”

It was cold. So cold. And, yet.

Komaeda buried his face into Servant’s shoulder, brushing against the freezing cold metal of his collar.

“Nagito. Nagito, Nagito, Nagito.”

Despite the chill, Komaeda couldn’t help but relax. More and more, until he was lulled into his body slumping within Servant’s embrace. Even the thunder, even the lightning, even the storm outside this cabin felt more distant than anything.

Servant pulled back, just a little, but still held him close.

Servant’s lips brushed against his once, twice, and immediately, Komaeda’s world went completely and utterly dark.

--

When Komaeda wakes up, his head feels fuzzy and he’s still shivering in the cold air. The storm has long since stopped, and the candles have long since gone out. His clothes that he laid out were dry as were his eyes albeit caked over. He rubbed at them, groaning as his headache grew worse. He rifled through his bag and popped in a few pills dry to dissipate that.

“Urgh...” He stumbled a bit trying to gather his clothes back off the ground and pulling them back on. With one hand and with his head still throbbing and spinning as it were, the action was unspeakably tedious and resulted in him losing balance and falling, planting face-first into the wooden floor with a loud thud. “O-Oww.”

Komaeda trembled as he pushed himself up, feeling the reddened mark on his forehead. His headache worsened, unsurprisingly, to the point where he swayed just from sitting upright.

I might...have caught a slight cold. How unlucky.

Waking up in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, almost naked, feeling sick—that really was ridiculously terrible luck, he couldn’t help but think. Rubbing at his sore, throbbing forehead, he could only sigh.

“It hurts even to think...”

Still, I have to get dressed. It’s cold.

So he struggles his way back into his clothes. Somehow, he manages, and it’s then that he remembers the photo on the floor. He retrieves it, peering at it closely, before taking it with his mouth so that he can grip his pendant.

He folds up the photo once more and stores it in a place where it’d be safe.

“There we go.” With everything in order, he zips his bag back up and hoists it over his shoulder. “Time to get going.”

He still ended up stumbling, but thankfully caught himself on the door rather than smacked his face again.

“Close...” Though it still really hurts. “Have...to be careful.”

Hopefully the medicine will kick in soon.

Really, he could only hope for the best.

--

Thankfully, the pain faded a bit, but he just ended up exhausting more easily. Taking a break by the dried-up river, Komaeda could only sigh.

“This is difficult,” he murmured, rubbing at his temple. His head still felt stuffed with cotton. Cotton. Komaeda couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “If Matsuda-kun were still here, he’d say that was fitting.”

But he’s not here...and he’ll never tell me anything of the sort. He’ll never be able to tell me anything at all. Ever again.

Komaeda wondered, blankly, if he would ever miss that the way he missed other trivial things such as the scent of his mother’s perfume. His father’s study. A large, tender hand ruffling his hair.

Kamukura-kun’s hair billowing in the wind. Hinata-kun’s smile touched by sunshine.

Snapping up, he slapped each of his cheeks consecutively to snap himself out of it.

Of all the times to remember stuff like that—! He couldn’t help but fume at the audacity of it. Those two aren’t even dead yet! Those two...! That person. He couldn’t help but wonder. What are they even doing right now?

He leans back against the ruined, rotting remains of a tree, sighing.

If everyone is still on that island, then maybe nothing changed from how things were in the simulation. Missing that one person, of course.

Nanami Chiaki. There’s no point in dwelling on her, and yet he does.

Hinata-kun had really cared about her. Had Kamukura-kun cared, too?

It was like swallowing a lump and letting it settle in his stomach. And why? Why did thinking like that bother him?

That Nanami-san wasn’t even real. And the real Nanami-san...died years ago. It’s creepy to think that the program just made her into an AI. It’s really creepy. And cruel. Did Matsuda-kun design the program to do something like that? Or was that someone else’s plan? Why?

He could never be sure. He shouldn’t dwell on her. There’s no point. No point at all.

An AI recreation would never be a perfect replacement. And they would never be a person. They’re programmed to act a certain way, to perform specific tasks. To be ordered. It’s not the same. It would never be the same. And technology like that isn’t hopeful, it’s just...creepy.

But Hinata had been so torn up about that program. Had he missed something then?

Maybe... Maybe I had? But what am I supposed to do? Should I help build that Nanami-san a grave monument when I go back? Or maybe hold a funeral? Would that help Hinata-kun? Would that—

Huh?

Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, h u h?

Komaeda blinked.

Go back? Would I really go back and do something like that? For Hinata-kun’s sake? For Kamukura-kun’s sake?

He wrapped his arms around himself and begun to shudder.

Going back, going back—why would I ever want to do that? At worst, Kamukura-kun will drag me back once he finds me. But that’s only if Kamukura-kun is looking for me.

A pause in his thoughts. Still shivering, Komaeda blinked a few more times, shifting as his thoughts stirred.

Would Kamukura-kun look for me? Would Hinata-kun?

Why would they?

Because Hinata waited for him to wake up? Because Kamukura had saved him multiple times before? Because they both showed consideration for him that he hadn’t seen since Matsuda? When had he gotten so, so—so impudent?

I’m assuming either of them would want to look for me. I’m not worth that much trouble. That’s impossible to think. Utterly impossible.

Komaeda started to doze off again and hurriedly slapped himself awake.

My mind’s going all over the place. It’s...really dizzying.

It didn’t hurt anymore, but he did still feel out of it.

Hinata-kun... Kamukura-kun...

When he stood up, the world spun so much that he tripped. His body hits the dirt and it hurts just as the wooden floor boards had.

I want to see you... I want to see both of you...

--

Somehow, he managed to find himself in the outskirts of a nearby city. He still didn’t feel well. Body aching, headache resurfacing, everything spinning every now and then.

He steadied himself against the side of a building, stumbling along and wincing.

I want to see them, but... I can’t unless I go find them.

Still, he knows that’s almost impossible for him right now. After all, there’s somewhere else he wants to go before... Before he can write this journey off as a success.

It was getting dark out, making it harder to navigate. He ended up tripping over rubble and debris, but managed to catch himself even as his head throbbed.

Leaning against the cold wall, Komaeda sighed as he rubbed his forehead. It still hurt. He was likely bruised. But that was fine. Nothing he wasn’t used to, after all.

There are flickers of stars above.

Komaeda forced himself to keep on moving as more and more stars twinkled into existence.

Because the city lights are still busted, you can see them more clearly than before. That was the case with a lot of cities. Though, sometimes, the sky would still be too cloudy to see anything.

He might end up having to sleep outside tonight. Sleeping under the stars. What a romantic thought.

I might end up sicker. How unlucky.

But he should be fine, right? Bad luck begets good luck. He wonders what awaits him after all this. Deep down, he doesn’t want to think about it. He just wants to move on. He wants to get as much traveling in as he can.

After all, it’s a long way from here to...

Komaeda staggers, sharp pain shooting up his legs and spine, leaving him shuddering as he falls forward. He lays there, taking in deep, heavy breaths, nose stuffed and running.

It hurts... It really, really hurts... It hurts all over.

All the same, he scrambles, hand shaking as he tries to drag himself forward in spite of the pain.

I just... I’ve really overdone it. I need to find a place to sleep now. But is here really alright?

It hurt to think, but he still had a really bad feeling. He should try to pull himself ahead a little more. Just in case. Just in case. It’ll be fine either way but, he’d like to moderate things the best he’s physically able. He’d like to have some semblance of control over the situation.

Just some would be nice.

Light suddenly shined down on him, making him flinch.

“H-Hey! There’s someone over here!”

Ah. Good luck, or...?

“Just take it easy.” The voice was soothing, albeit a little rough for his tastes. The hand that shook his shoulder was careful. “Easy, easy.”

Komaeda whined softly, letting his eyes fall shut.

“S-Someone get a medic!!”

--

He wakes up later in a tent with a doctor tending to him carefully.

“Ah, ah,” they clicked their tongue at him warningly. “Don’t push yourself so soon. Finally awake, are you? You were asleep for quite a while. We didn’t expect to find any people here. This area is...pretty small, fairly remote.”

Komaeda stirs a bit, to the doctor’s stern glare. He sheepishly ducks his head in apology and lays there more obediently. He looks around. It’s small, it’s cramped. There’s an open first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol tucked away in the corner. For treating, for drinking? Komaeda couldn’t be sure.

“I was visiting my parents’ grave,” he said. “But the storm really was a stroke of bad luck.”

“You’re pretty lucky to have been found,” they said, almost brightly. “Our section was just passing through and got caught up as well. It was a really bad storm so we did some searching before moving on.”

Komaeda nodded. “I see.”

For a while, he’s quiet, wincing a little as the doctor dabs at his wounds.

“We’ll be delivering you to a safe place, soon,” they told him. “Was anyone with you?”

“Anyone...?” He blinks, registering the words and then averted his gaze. “No... I’ve been traveling along the entire time.”

Servant stood there, staring down at him. And then, with a rustle of his chain, Servant ran his thumb in a horizontal slash against his neck.

Huh?

“I see,” the doctor hums. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Um... Pretty far from here,” he answered. “Actually, I... I do have somewhere else to be. So while I appreciate your kindness, I have to get going.”

Servant grimaced.

“That’s too dangerous,” the doctor said sharply. “What if you came across one of those wretched bear units? You’d hardly be able to defend yourself. Is where you want to go that important?”

“It’s very important,” Komaeda insisted. “And don’t worry about me. I can manage on my own just fine. I’ve done so for close to my entire life, so...”

The doctor shoves him back harshly.

“Where do you need to go?”

“H...” Somehow, the truth spilled out. “Hope’s Peak. My... My friend was buried over there. After visiting my parents, I wanted...to visit him, too. I managed to get all the way over here just fine, so I’m not too worried about the trek there.”

They frown at him. Servant, too, is frowning.

“Hope’s Peak... What a wretched place to be buried. Do you not know all that happened there?”

“Of course I do,” Komaeda said, faltering. “It was broadcast all over. It was quite...quite horrible...” His gaze flickers to his left arm. “But that’s where my friend was buried and, aha, I can’t exactly move him, you know... That would take a lot of digging...”

No answer. Their eyes narrowed, the irises and pupils unnaturally dark.

Komaeda blinks up at them helplessly.

“Sensei...? Is something wrong...?”

The doctor closed their eyes and took a deep breath.

“I apologize. When they brought you to me, they had brought the bag you were carrying as well. I couldn’t help but be curious about who you were—so I looked through your things. And I found a picture. I recognized the uniforms. I recognized the other person. How could I not?” They hissed. “When it comes to the medical field, few names come up like Matsuda Yasuke.”

Servant stood so far away. And yet, even from here, a deep chill settled on Komaeda’s bones. Once again, Servant ran his thumb across his neck.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” they asked, softly, delicately, as if the words could shatter everything in a moment’s notice. “A remnant of despair.”

They moved fluidly like water running through, seeping through the cracks. Their fingers wrapped around his neck. Distorting and twisting, Komaeda could only barely register how they squeezed and pushed.

He writhes, he chokes, they only pushed harder.

“Please die,” they whispered just as everything crumbled up.

I can’t!

The ground shuddered, throwing them off balance and giving Komaeda the opportunity to kick hard. It went by quickly. He scrambled away, but ended up slamming into the ground when his ankle was grasped. He heard another hiss, a harsh curse, and then was pinned down, earning him to struggle anew.

“N-No...! No!”

They covered his mouth, muffling the sounds, and forcing back would-be screams. And then, he remembered.

“Nagito. I shall save you one last time.”

Kamukura-kun.

He reaches out, and his fingers close around the neck of the bottle tucked away in the corner.

Kamukura-kun!

He swings with every bit of strength he has. The bottle shatters, and the doctor falls to the ground with a cold, hard, thud. Crimson pools and seeps from their head, and Komaeda flinches before shakily peeling himself away, holding the broken bottle closely. The mixed stench of blood and alcohol hang in the air.

Then there’s another tremor. The tent shudders. And then, the earth rocks and splits. Komaeda dives for his bag as he does. He can’t be sure if the screams he hears are from the others outside or his own.

--

There’s debris he has to dig his way out of, and it’s a struggle yanking his bag out as well, but unsurprisingly, he survives hardly more worse for wear.

Several others weren’t so lucky. Quite a few people are trapped and groaning, shaking. Someone is crying out as they try to dig out another person.

Komaeda blinks once, surveying the damage, the destruction, and then he immediately runs.

With everyone else as focused on this tragedy as it were, no one noticed nor called out to him.

--

He’s not sure for how long he ran and for how far. It was late out, incredibly dark, very difficult to see.

He ran until he couldn’t, falling to his knees and panting heavily. His face was damp with sweat, drool, and mucus. Maybe streaked with blood. He could practically taste it, after all. Iron with a bitter, acidic aftertaste.

Komaeda threw up. He hurled and heaved until his stomach was empty, trembling as he wiped away the saliva and the bile.

“That...was really, incredibly unlucky...” He swallows, laughing pitifully. “W-Wasn’t it, Servant-san?”

With how dark it was, he couldn’t even see Servant if he were able. Maybe it’s better that way. It’s a chilly night, the kind of chill that’s indisputably lonely. Shakily, Komaeda pushed himself up, sniffling as he did.

He walked on, shambling all the way.

His feet hurt, so he couldn’t walk for long. Still he walked until his legs shook so badly that he slid back to the ground. He leaned against the ruined remains of a wall, pulling his bag close. He zipped it open, pulling out a flashlight to flick on to make searching through it earlier.

He finds the picture easily, unfolding it to observe.

“Despair really is...such a wretched thing.” Komaeda sighs. “But it’s a burden I have to carry, just like I do with your memory, Matsuda-kun. It’s your fault. If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve forgotten everything by now.”

If I had...would I be happier? It’s still ironic to think. Matsuda-kun put so much work into the removal of memories, but he did everything he could so that I wouldn’t lose mine. So that they wouldn’t completely waste away.

Setting the picture aside, he went to grasp his pendant. But instead of gripping it, he merely brushed his fingertips over the cold, worn surface.

His neck would likely be bearing some hideous bruises. With how it hurt to swallow, it was likely swollen already. He turned back to the picture, taking in the tendrils of darkness wrapping around it. He adjusted the flashlight, but then the light began to flicker until it went out. Now it and him were left back in that total darkness.

The batteries. Those were the last ones I could find. That really is so, so unlucky.

Komaeda sighed again, leaning back and shoulders slumping.

If I am to be carefree, I suppose all I can do now is shut my eyes. What difference will it make? I’ll just close my eyes without worrying—about tomorrow and about the future.

Breathing really did hurt so much.

This really was a night of nightmarish despair, but...when morning comes... What will be there on horizon?

Light. Light begun to peek above the horizon. Komaeda perks up, blinking a few times drearily, and then registering footsteps and the world became brighter.

That’s right. Matsuda-kun, I’m sorry. Being carefree, being without worries; I’ve gotten to a point where that’s impossible. But no matter how much darkness I’m dragged through, light always awaits not too far beyond. Like bad luck and good luck. Like despair and hope.

Someone like him could only ever look forward. Because no matter what happened, no matter what came to pass, the end would never cease to elude him. And it really was—unbelievably terrible luck that he had to realize that!

It’s terrible! It’s absolutely terrible! So much time wasted! This really is just the worst luck! But, because it’s the worst luck that I’m going to be kept from that ending I desired for so long...

The footsteps stopped, and Komaeda turned, giving a smile.

I think that’s why I can accept this. Just accept you.

“Hinata-kun,” he said. “Kamukura-kun. Good morning.”

The person stills for a moment, but swallows and sighs.

“I finally found you, Nagito.” With that, they step forward and take his hand. “Come on.”

Komaeda could only giggle as he was pulled up. His legs gave in, but he was quickly held closely and steadily.

“Don’t run away anymore,” they murmured, holding him tightly and fiercely. It was warm. So wonderfully warm. “Neither of us—are ever going to let you run away again. And... We won’t run away either. We’re going to stay with each other and face the future, Nagito. I—I swear it.”

“I believe you mean it,” Komaeda replied quietly, embracing him in return. “I don’t think I’ll be able to escape from either of you again. Haha. Ahaha..”

He takes a deep breath, and sighs one last time.

“I’m yours and yours alone. Just kidding.”

--

Unsurprisingly, neither of them said much of anything as Komaeda’s wounds were treated. Hinata grimaced as he cleaned off his face, cleaned off the blood that wasn’t his. Kamukura stared intensely at his bruised neck to the point where it was rather embarrassing.

Still, they didn’t say anything, and Komaeda was a little grateful for that. He didn’t even complain when he was hoisted up. He just wrapped his arms around the other’s neck and clung to him. They took his bag for him.

So gallant!

Komaeda giggled as he was carried.

“Are you going to yell at me?” he asked. “How long were you searching?”

“Long enough to make myself scream,” was the response. Komaeda clicked his tongue.

“That sounds like Hinata-kun. What about Kamukura-kun?”

No response.

“Yeah,” Komaeda hums, nuzzling against him. “That sounds about right, too.”

A pause. Komaeda listened to that steady, drumming heartbeat.

“I don’t want to go back just yet,” he said after a while. “I wanted to visit Matsuda-kun’s grave. Can’t you take me?” He presses. “Do you remember? We’ve gone together several times before, Kamukura-kun. Please? Please can we go?”

Hinata stills for a moment, and he sighs.

“If I do that, will you promise to behave from now on?”

“What kind of question is that?” Komaeda asked. “I was going to try either way, but... Someone like me is just going to screw up, you know.”

“That you’ll try is the most important part,” Hinata said. And then, Kamukura took over. “Very well. We can go, Nagito.”

Komaeda beamed and kissed his cheek in gratitude.

“Thank you! At this rate I might just fall for you! Juuuust kidding!”

--

Servant-san, I have a few theories on why it was you showed up. But since you know all those already, I don’t see much point in relaying them. Still I can’t help but think about them all the same...

He kicked his feet as they rode the train together. He leaned his head against the other’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut. When his lashes lowered to a mere sliver, he thought he saw Servant sitting across from them.

But when his eyes flew wide open, there was no one there save for the setting sun outside the window.

“Something up, Nagito?”

“Oh, no, nothing.”

Was it really just a glitch in the system? Or was it purely psychological? Perhaps it was both? Perhaps there was a part of me that—just didn’t want to lose despair. Not because despair itself is worth anything, but because despair taught me a few things that I mustn’t forget.

Unsurprisingly, he was sure that Kamukura watched him sleep whenever the two of them took up shelter. Hinata, too, kept nearer than necessary. Their behavior was understandable, really.

They likely didn’t want him to run away again. And if that was the case, the least he can do was indulge.

But perhaps he indulged a little too much.

“If you won’t let me sleep on the floor then you should share the bed with me. It’s not at all fair that you sleep on the floor while someone like me...”

“I-I already said not to worry about it! Just drop it!”

“Hmph.” Komaeda rolled his eyes. “No. I won’t. Share the bed with me.”

“U-Urk!”

“Do it or I refuse to sleep.”

There are times when I try to imagine you. But am I really imagining you or imagining my old self? It’s hard to say—but that image is surprisingly faint. When I try to remember the world you know, it all seems so red and so fuzzy. In the end, I just don’t even bother anymore.

“I can cook something if you’re sick of rations, Nagito.”

“Eh, eh, really? What a luxury! This really does feel like a dream!”

“There should be some canned foods around here.” Hinata shifts through the shelves. “This place has been pretty thoroughly ransacked, but there are still stuff we can use.”

“Then let’s grab as much as we can!” Komaeda immediately swiped several cans into his bag. At that, Hinata scowled.

“Oi, oi, who do you think has to carry that?”

“I can carry it,” Komaeda said. “I’ve been carrying it. It’s no big deal, Hinata-kun.”

“I-I’m the one carrying it! And that’s that!”

“Ehhhhh?’

“That’s that!”

There are also times when I try to remember Matsuda-kun. And Kamukura-kun as he had looked. Right now, his appearance is stuck between that and Hinata-kun’s. Hinata hasn’t been cutting his hair, so it’s rather long. But it’s still not as long. What was I talking about again? Oh. Right. Memories.

“The sand feels much different here. It’s coarser, I think!”

“Nagito, are you quite done?”

Kamukura looked utterly unimpressed with him. Komaeda puffed his cheeks right back and shoved his feet deeper into the sand. It burned a little, but he could handle it just fine.

“It’s just a minor break,” he said. He pouts. “You don’t need to be such a grump about it, Kamukura-kun! If Hinata-kun were awake, he’d understand!”

“False,” Kamukura huffed. “Hinata Hajime would not understand. I would know.”

Komaeda’s frown only deepens.

“Nagito, you’re the one who wishes to go to Hope’s Peak,” Kamukura pointed out.

“Let me just walk along the beach a little longer,” Komaeda said, almost sharply before his tone softened. “Just for a little while longer.”

The moments I can recollect with Matsuda-kun can sometimes be strikingly clear. So much so that they feel more like dreams. And others, well, they’re not so clear. As for how that makes me feel—really it’s impossible to explain. I’m sure you understand.

Even in a broken, recovering world, the main building of Hope’s Peak Academy stood tall. Hinata shuddered upon staring at it, so Komaeda reached out and squeezed his arm.

“I can go on my own,” he said serenely. “I’ll come back swiftly. You don’t have to worry, Hinata-kun.”

“Like hell I don’t!” Hinata exclaimed harshly. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again, Nagito!”

Never can be such a long, long time.

“Then, are you alright?” Komaeda asked more seriously and intently. “If you’re going to be stubborn, then at least be honest, too.”

Hinata scowled, but nodded.

“I’m alright,” he said and began to tug Komaeda along. “Now come on. Let’s get this over with.”

All the same, they truly are burdens, aren’t they? Memories. And yet, all the same... I’ve decided that I have no choice but to live on and face the future, even as I stumble over memory upon memory. Even if I have to shove you away.

Flowers are still flourishing, but there remain weeds that need to be pulled. Kamukura and Hinata pull most of them, though Komaeda does manage to get his hands on a few.

“Matsuda-kun really has been blessed,” he chirps, humming as he burns the incense. “Matsuda-kun, it’s us.”

Hinata looks unbearably awkward at first, but Kamukura makes the smooth transition with a smoother kneeling before he clasps his hands to pray. Komaeda, too, prays.

“Matsuda-kun...much has happened. You wouldn’t believe it, actually. Um, I’m going to try and keep it concise.” Komaeda swallows. “It’ll be like—like the reports I used to give when we were in school together? Remember?”

He hardly did, but that didn’t matter.

For now, Komaeda just talked. And talked. And talked.

Servant-san, if I commit to this, I’m going to have to leave you behind. You understand that, don’t you? I’m sorry. But, you know, even though this is only wishful thinking, I’m hoping that with all my heart that I can send you to the same place Matsuda-kun is.

He talked so much that he ended up parched and needing to drink some water. Kamukura had forced an open water bottle into his hand, putting it lightly.

He takes a swing, and sighs.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it, how much things changed in such a small amount of time...” Komaeda hesitates for a moment, biting his lip. “I wonder how you would react. What you’d think. Such things are worthless to ponder, but I still find myself...”

Komaeda trails off. Hazel and crimson both glance towards him, and he shivers.

“I miss you...very much, Matsuda-kun. You were...my first friend and my first love. You—you can’t imagine just how dear that makes you to me.” He can’t help but laugh, softly and ruefully. “Even if my brain starts to rot again and I end up forgetting you after all, those feelings and this significance won’t ever change. And that’s—that’s what I wanted to say most of all, Matsuda-kun. This is...likely farewell, after all. I do hope you’re resting well, wherever you are.”

With all that said and done, he takes a deep breath and turns to Kamukura and Hinata, smiling more genuinely and nodding encouragingly.

“You both have things you wish to tell Matsuda-kun, too, don’t you?” he asked. “You should go ahead and tell him.”

“...”

There was only a quiet nod in return.

All the same, I... Thank you.

--

“Nagito,” Hinata reprimanded though he can imagine Kamukura with the same look of disapproval. “What are you still doing up?”

Komaeda blinked, shivered a bit from the sudden breeze, and turned back up to the stars with a smile.

“I was just thinking...” He leans against the railing, folding his arms and lying his head down. “Looking at the stars while out at sea is romantic. The only thing I’m missing is a cigarette, ehehe.”

“You shouldn’t smoke,” Hinata huffed, gripping the railing. “It’s bad for you.”

“Mm, I know...” Quietening, Komaeda rubbed at his neck. “If I didn’t know how horrible it feels to struggle to breathe, then I probably wouldn’t care. But I do know. So smoking is out of the question after all. What bad luck.”

“That’s hardly bad luck,” Hinata said, rolling his eyes. But after a while, his expression falters. “That person...who tried to hurt you... You didn’t deserve that, Nagito.”

Komaeda snorted.

“They treated my injuries even when they suspected if not knew the truth... They were very kind in that regard.” And I killed them. By my own hand. “It happens. Don’t worry about me. With how much I’ve been through—that was just...just one bout of despair.”

Hinata squeezed his shoulder. And then, Kamukura spoke up.

“You are stronger than you think, Nagito.”

Komaeda blinked up at him. Suddenly, they seemed rather sheepish, averting both their gazes and swallowing. Smiling slowly, Komaeda reached out and entwined his fingers with theirs.

“It’s pretty late,” he said. “I think I’ll be going to bed.”

They nodded. Komaeda tugged, just a little.

“...you’re going to join me, right?” he asks, almost slyly. “Otherwise, how are you going to keep an eye on me?”

The stiffen and—there is color that pools in those cheeks. With the stars as a backdrop, it’s an utterly enchanting sight. He wants to engrave this moment on his heart forever.

He bites his tongue so as to not risk ruining the moment and merely tugs once more. His hand is squeezed in return.

“...let’s go, Nagito.”

Komaeda feels his own face tingle with pleasant, rosy warmth.

“Okay.”

--

They swipe their thumb over his neck, kissing the bruises softly.

“Later,” is the promise, and Komaeda can only swallow and arch his back.

They were both so gentle with him. But both surprisingly clumsy as well. Strange yet so, so endearing.

Each kiss had tasted of salt and spice, both similar and different to the kisses shared with both of them before.

All he knows for sure is that they’re just as warm as he both remembered and dreamed.

--

It’s surprisingly cloudy when they return to Jabberwock. But when he first sees the islands, he freezes up. Hinata squeezes his hand.

“Easy, easy.” Komaeda flinched, but then Hinata started petting his hand, kissing along his knuckles. “It’s going to be okay, Nagito.”

Komaeda swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before nodding.

“If you say so, then I suppose I should believe you.”

And he left it at that.

The ship’s horn was blaring as it neared Jabberwock. Komaeda pressed close to Hinata, practically clinging to him for balance when a wave crashed into the boat.

“Sorry, that startled me,” he mumbled, pulling away. Hinata, rather flustered, just rubbed at the nape of his neck while avoiding Komaeda’s own elusive gaze.

“D-Don’t worry about it.”

And so he didn’t. Instead he refocused on Jabberwock.

It wasn’t much longer before it was time to disembark the ship and reenter the islands. Hinata still took his hand, and Komaeda kept his head down as they walked off.

Then, he heard the rustling of the chains. He hurriedly jerked back, and there was Servant. Servant gave him a cheerful smile as always, waving him off, mouthing words of good luck. Words that Komaeda could not hear.

“Nagito...?” Hinata pulls him back, both by hand and with his voice. “Nagito, what’s up? Did you see something?”

Blinking a few times, Komaeda notes that the rustling chain he hears is actually that of the ship’s attached to the anchor. And that Servant is nowhere to be seen. He sucks in his breath and shakes his head.

“No, nothing.” He mulls over those words, and then he laughs them off. “I might just be a little out of it. Sorry, Hinata-kun.”

“You don’t need to apologize...”

All the same, they keep on moving, with Komaeda pressing ever closer to Hinata, as if Hinata would keep him steady every step of the way. He needed that for now. Just for now.

--

There wasn’t much fanfare about his return. But there was more than he had expected that there would be.

“Don’t EVER fucking do that again, alright, Komaeda-san?!” Sonia scolded him harshly. “Something very dangerous could have happened! Please! Be more careful!”

“Yeah, you could’ve given this entire island a goddamn heartattack with that stunt,” Kuzuryuu grumbled. “What if that jackass in charge of the Future Foundation heard about that?! We’d all be in serious danger.”

“That Naegi would’ve been in hot water, too,” Koizumi murmured.

“Hinata seriously freaked out,” Souda said. “Even that other guy seemed affected.”

“Y-You don’t need to tell him that!” Hinata exclaimed.

“If we got in hot water because of you, I’ll tear off all your nails,” Saionji hissed. “Don’t do this shit ever again, got it, Komaeda?”

“Were those bruises from some kinky play?!” Mioda gasped.

“T-They look pretty...serious...” Tsumiki leaned in too close for comfort.

And Komaeda had enough.

“Can you all just...give me space?” They all blinked at him, quieting for a moment, and he raised his voice. “I’m tired. I just want to go to my cabin and sleep. All of your chattering is giving me a serious headache.”

“Hmph!” Tanaka seemed less than impressed. “You say that after casting a dark cloud upon this domain! The audacity—!”

“I mean it,” Komaeda hissed. “If you all have complaints than write them down so that I can read them later. Just crowding me is going to make me sick. I’m seriously going to throw up.”

They all backed away at that, all save for Hinata who only sighed.

“Yeah, guys, it’s... It’s been a long day,” he said, and pulled Komaeda close. “We can talk about this later but for now—Nagito seriously does need his rest.”

Saionji made a sound of disgust. Souda raised an eyebrow, but Kuzuryuu elbowed him before he could say anything. Sonia turned to the others with a stern look, and with that, Hinata ushered him away. Even as he felt various stares on his back, none of them were following, at least.

That, Komaeda could almost be relieved about.

“...I need more time,” he said, almost quietly, almost as though it were a secret. “I need more time before I... I can comfortably be around any of them. I’m sorry, Hinata-kun, but... I really was so close to vomiting with them all so close... And that wasn’t even all of them.”

Unsurprisingly, a few hadn’t come to greet them, but—there had still been more than enough of them.

“I can’t do those morning meetups,” he whispered. “I just—I don’t have the stomach or the sensibilities for it just yet.”

Surprisingly, Hinata gives an understanding nod.

“Alright. Then I’ll tell them to back off for a bit. If they bother you, let me know, alright?”

“What are you, a babysitter?” Komaeda couldn’t help but snort. “Well, that likely is one of your talents.”

Hinata rolled his eyes, but his smile was one of good-natured humor.

“Here you are,” he said, opening the door to his cabin for him. “I guess I’ll be seeing you?” Then, more seriously, he added. “We’re going to be keeping a keener eye on things.”

“It’s okay, I won’t run away anymore.” Komaeda licked his lips before leaning in and kissing his cheek. “I’ll see you, Hinata-kun.” And then, a kiss on his other cheek. “And you, Kamukura-kun.”

Kamukura touched his cheek and sighed softly.

“We shall see you, Nagito.”

With that, he kissed Komaeda’s forehead before going on his way. Komaeda waved them off until they were out of sight, and then he shut the door.

--

Things fell into a—not entirely comfortable, but tolerable routine for the time being.

He mostly stays indoors, be it reading or resting. Sometimes he goes outside for walks. When he does, the others keep a closer eye on him. Which is just what he deserves, so he doesn’t mind.

Hinata tends to wave him over daily. Sometimes, Hinata brings food and they eat together either in the shade or on the beach.

There are times when he gets overwhelmed enough to shut himself inside all day. Hinata checks on him, but it’s brief and just to make sure he’s still alive and as well as he could be. On days like these, he squeezes his pendant.

Those days are among the more difficult, but all the same, tomorrow always comes. Like the tides at sea, things start to settle for at least a little while.

It’s spring on Jabberwock but as always, it feels like summer. There’s a strange, detached sense of nostalgia from that. But all the same, he enjoys another quiet, peaceful day.

And then, Hinata approaches him, seeming rather anxious.

“Nagito, um... How are things?”

It’s suspicious. But for now, Komaeda plays along as though nothing’s amiss.

“Things are fine,” he said. “Slow and boring, but fine. Frustratingly lackluster at times, but...” He picks at his nails. Hinata’s gaze flickers. “It’s to be expected. I’ve been thinking... I’d like to take up gardening. Some of the others have—and it looks pleasant. But...”

He gestures almost helplessly with his half-arm.

“I would just get in the way...like this.”

Hinata blinked, and then, “Y-You do struggle a lot. With that. Right?”

“It’d be worse if I still had her hand attached,” Komaeda answered smoothly. “I suppose I should thank Kamukura-kun for that.”

Hinata flinched, but Kamukura’s calm expression smoothed over.

“What about you?” Komaeda asked, changing the subject and smiling at them plainly. “Has anything happened?”

“A few things,” was the answer. “But nothing you need concern over for now.”

For now...?

“I... We have a gift.”

A gift?

Thoughtlessly, Komaeda touched his pendant.

“Ah, um... F-For...?”

“Your birthday,” Kamukura said simply. “It is today, is it not?”

Komaeda got horribly flustered.

“Y-Yes, but I didn’t expect anyone to worry over that! A-Ahaha, I mean, I thought they’d all focus on Koizumi-san, since her day’s earlier and she’s... Well, she’s far more helpful than I am,” he mumbled. “Just you remembering makes me happy. You don’t need to give me a gift, unless...” He couldn’t help but blush more darkly. “I-Is it...something like...?”

“It is tangible,” Kamukura said, but lowered his tone. “Of course, we can do that as well.”

Komaeda squirmed, chewing on his lower lip.

“Tangible, huh...” Slowly, carefully, Kamukura reaches out and tenderly touches his face. Komaeda’s smile breaks a little. “Is it like a bookmark? Maybe...a book? Or did you handcraft it?”

“It was made by hand, yes. Though we also received some assistance from the others. Nagito...” Kamukura takes his hand and tugs. “It’s at the hotel. Please come with us to go get it.”

“You’re not trying to lead me into a trap, are you?” Komaeda asked softly and sardonically. “Because I’d fall for it if it’s you.”

“It is nothing of the sort.” Kamukura looked almost unimpressed at the thought, so Komaeda laughed. “Nagito, be serious. Let us go.”

“Okay! Okay... Ehehehe...”

Aah, my heart won’t stop hammering.

--

A few of the others were there. But only a few. That way, it wasn’t terribly overwhelming.

“Ehhh, so that guy dragged you out here, huh?” Souda asked. “Well I just...wanted to see the look on your face personally. And to give my soul friend some support.”

“I am here well...as a show of support,” Kuzuryuu said, waving his hand and elbowing Souda, earning a yelp.

“I just wanted to take your picture,” Koizumi said. She was fidgeting quite awkwardly a bit with her camera. “Since it is a special moment, and... You told me happy birthday with a smile, so... It’s only fair I return the kindness.”

Komaeda laughs, waving it off with his nub.  “Oh, Koizumi-san, that’s so much kinder!”

She shakes her head but before they can argue, Hinata clears his throat.

“I, um... The gift’s right there... On the table.”

Mioda strums before gesturing to said gift on the table while Sonia cheerily clapped along. Komaeda perks up, and blinks.

The gift, it’s—

It’s wrapped up artfully. The wrapping in question is white and—covered top to bottom in signatures.

“Ibuki’s signature is the biggest!” Mioda exclaimed, strumming again. “Because this is a BIIIIG celebration for Nagito-chan! Ticket sales have already doubled in price! The lottery’s a huge hit!”

“My signature is the second biggest,” Sonia chirps. “It is a proud tradition, after all! A big fat merry birthday to you, Komaeda-san!”

“Sonia-san, such an angel...oof!” Souda groaned at the next jab courtesy of Kuzuryuu before forcing a laugh and waving his hand. “A-Anyway, uh... Yeah, we... We all signed it. Even that guy, right?”

“I did,” Kamukura said easily. Souda shuddered a bit but hurriedly pushed onward.

“S-So just... Just think of this as a gift from all of us, and...er, an apology...” Souda scowls, rubbing at the nape of his neck. “We were, uh, pretty jerkish to you... I mean you’re still a weirdo, but...!”

“But nothing!” Kuzuryuu hissed. “What the idiot means is that it’s our fault you got dragged into that crazy bitch’s bullshit. If you hadn’t been our classmate...you might’ve been able to escape...the whole despair thing.” He shrugs. “You were the one person who didn’t fully buy into it, Komaeda. Even if we had problems in the past, well, it’d only be fair to respect that now. And...to apologize. For everything.”

“Yes, what Kuzuryuu-san has said.” Sonia nods solemnly. Koizumi rubs at her arm, her expression dark. Even Mioda, too, seemed rather somber. “We are not asking for forgiveness, of course, but... We wish better for our future. We cannot take full credit for the gift, however. Hinata-san and Kamukura-san worked the hardest on it.”

“Then,” Komaeda said. “You aren’t just apologizing to ease your own sense of guilt?”

There wasn’t an answer. Souda scowled, but he ultimately bit his tongue to stay quiet. Komaeda looked towards Hinata, Kamukura, but quickly turns back to the gift.

“I suppose I might as well open it,” he said. “Even if what’s in here isn’t something I deserve—receiving a birthday present is still nice. It’s been years since last time.”

Matsuda-kun... I still don’t know if I can ever accept these people...or myself, but...

He peels the paper off gently, taking the upmost care to not tear the wrapping. He looks over all the signatures, and swallows. The gift is surprisingly heavy.

I can’t pretend...this act of kindness doesn’t move me.

It’s a case. He opens it, and, it’s as if a pin drops.

I can’t deny how happy this really does make me, even when it still hurts so much.

“We’ll have to attach it,” Hinata murmurs. “And after that, it’ll work great. It’s been fine-tuned to hell and back. Does... Does it at least look alright?”

Komaeda’s breath hitched on a sob as the tears welled up.

“H-He’s crying?!?!”

“Waaaaaah! Nagito-chan is crying!”

“Oh no, don’t cry, too, Ibuki-chan!”

“Give him space!”

“I-Idiots—don’t crowd him!”

Tears splattered onto the cool metal of the arm, and then, Komaeda couldn’t help but burst into a laugh, and smiled so widely that it hurt far more than the pang in his heart.

“It looks wonderful! Thank you!”

His picture gets snapped, but he doesn’t focus on that, he just focuses on Hinata. On Kamukura. And the smile that they give him.

That, too, squeezes his heart just as the sight of the hand had.

Matsuda-kun... Servant-san... I’m really, truly happy.

--

It required an operation, but that went without a hitch with Kamukura handling everything. He still felt a little woozy afterwards, but that didn’t stop Nidai from rambunctiously ruffling his hair nor Owari from insisting on an arm wrestling match. Thankfully, Sonia had firmly put a stop to that.

Togami—ah, no, not Togami, that’s right—had placed a hand on his shoulder. Komaeda smiled anxiously in return. Mioda had been quick to make faces so that he could laugh more easily.

Sometimes, he’d get overwhelmed again. Exhausted. Tsumiki, even if the two of them still had difficulty meeting one another’s eyes, was always quick to user the others out when she noticed. He...appreciated that, at least.

“W...Wait...”

Pekoyama pauses, as does Hinata. Komaeda gives an apologetic smile to Pekoyama and gestures towards Hinata. Pekoyama nods and leaves with the rest.

Hinata approaches him and reaches out, taking his new, mechanical hand.

“I’m glad it worked,” he murmured. “I’m so glad it did... I was really, really worried it wouldn’t.”

Komaeda’s smile fades.

“Hinata-kun... Kamukura-kun, too... Can I ask...why you did all this? Why it mattered so much?”

“B-Because...” Kamukura didn’t immediately cut in to save him the embarrassment, so Hinata was left stuttering on. “Because... You’re important to us, Nagito. Very. You...”

“I’m kind of a wreck and a mess, you know,” Komaeda pointed out not unkindly. “It’s strange to think you don’t just act out of pity.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and then, they took his other hand, and lead them both to the scars hidden by those dark strands. The hair wasn’t as short as it used to be, the spikes were longer, shaggier, and... It was clear Hinata wanted to grow his bangs out so that these scars were all the more hidden.

Komaeda brushes his fingers against them, both mechanic and organic. Hinata lets out a soft, rueful laugh. Even on Kamukura’s face, it looked a little twisted.

“You’re not the pitiful one here, Nagito. We swear it.”

Komaeda ruffles his hair, humming.

“Well,” he said. “I don’t find either of you nearly as pitiful as I used to. I actually admire you both a little, but...don’t take this to mean I’m not still wary. I adore you both with all my heart, and I love you a lot... But...”

“Yeah,” they laugh again. It’s calmer than before. “Understood. That’s just how you are, Nagito.”

Komaeda blinks and then he leans in, pressing his lips to the crown of scars.

“I’m glad...that I was born,” he said. He pulls back, touches his pendant, and then he squeezes both of their hands. “I-I’m actually really glad I was born. For all the despair, for all the hope, for all the disappointment, the excitement... I... I’m happy that this was how it all turned out.”

His hands were squeezed in return, and then, they leaned in, brushing their lips against his hesitantly. Once. Twice.

“N-No... Not when I’m still all wired up and woozy...”

“A-Ack! Sorry!”

“It’s okay... Just stay close.” He wrapped his arms around the other tightly. “Thank you.”

He’s held in return, the other takes a careful intake of breath, and then they sigh, petting his hair and kissing his temple.

“I’m glad you were born, too, Nagito. I... We both are. W-We... We’re happy... We both love you...very...very much.”

Komaeda shivered, and just hearing those words—were more than he could swallow. All the same, he nodded and observed his new hand, how it caught sunlight and seemed to shimmer.

With a hand like this, he really did feel like he could reach out and grasp that shining future.

Be steady, my heart. I—I’m sure that everything will be just fine.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

After taking him into custody at the C.R.A.D.L.E. Facility, it became clear that former X-Men: Blue member turned Dark X-Men Jimmy Hudson was suffering from some kind of mental manipulation. It took a meeting with his ex-girlfriend and former teammate Jean Grey to start the process of setting things right, further solidifying that there was a telepath working against the Island.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE MINI IC

JEAN: It had taken her a while. Jean knew that was wrong, but there were a thousand excuses she could have given as to why she had been dragging her feet. Things between her and Jimmy had ended on a strange note, to say the least. Life had turned, for the lack of a better word, into a complete and utter clusterfuck. She had Phoenixed out, died, resurrected as an amnesiac, nearly become a living sacrifice and somehow rallied to defeat the cosmic entity that had taken her older self out for a decade. Good job, Jean. Way to somehow make the end of the world about you but still manage to scrape your way back. Throughout the mess, there was someone Jean thought would be there holding her hand. She had loved Scott for a long time. For almost as long as she had met him, actually, even if she had hated him too. Scott and Jean had made a promise to each other as teammates, best friends and eventually something more. There had been a lingering fear the first time she had given herself to him fully - the first time she gave herself to anyone -  but intimate relations hadn’t been what had pulled them apart. That was the future they had walked into. So, no. It wasn’t Scott holding her hand. It had been Jimmy. Jimmy, who had been nothing but sweet, supportive and kind. Jean had been desperate to reclaim a sense of self after she had clawed her way from her grave and Jimmy had been sucked into the vortex. She had chosen to sleep with him. She had chosen to be with him. She had chosen to offer a weak ‘thank you’ and run off hand in hand with Scott when he told her that he loved her. It wasn’t entirely uncalled for, Jean had reasoned with herself. It was understandable. They were in danger of being forced back into the past they had been stolen from. Jimmy wouldn’t fit in her life if she had none of her own to speak of. So, she planned to try and get in touch but first they were on the run and then they were attempting some reckless scheme that somehow worked. Fresh out of a pod with a literal new lease on life, Jean had kissed Scott and told herself she’d find Jimmy later. Even when she heard he wasn’t on Krakoa she kept telling herself that she’d find him or at least his mind, but she was a hypocrite. She couldn’t go around with Scott like they were the golden freaking couple of the X-Men when she knew she was being inconsiderate and potentially a little cruel. Maybe she deserved to go on ice. A collar around the throat got her down initially, the cooler at the C.R.A.D.L.E. Facility Center doing the rest. Scott had tried to explain it some as he wrapped her in a blanket to help her thaw out. Power dampers, inhibitor collars and a tube below freezing to keep the mind slow and easier to sedate. She hadn’t come to until after they got to Krakoa, snuggled up in her bed twenty-one days after they had initially arrested her. Being restrained and unconscious for a month was a kind of discomfort she was unfortunately becoming familiar with. What was unfamiliar was the news that Jimmy had been there. Jimmy, her missing ( technically ) ex-boyfriend who had apparently been more than a little angry. Feral, if Scott was to be believed. Laura had apparently been going through some stuff of her own and nearly ripped him to shreds but he was alive, healing and being held in Krakoa. Awesome. After taking time to get her head straight and get her telepathy working without a migraine she finally decided to show her face. There were promises made that if he somehow got out she’d call for help because Scott would come instantly, but Jean didn’t want it to come to that. She had helped Laura escape her trigger scent telepathically. Hopefully this would’t be as intense as that. Pushing the door closed with the heel of her boot, it felt a little too formal to be in her uniform but it was too late to go change now. “We were really worried about you, you know.” If she had pockets her hands would have been in them, so instead she just wiped her palms on her pants. “I know I need to apologize, but first I have to ask: what the hell happened to you?”

JIMMY: It was easier to Hate. It was easier to maim, attack, kill, punish. Kept him away from his thoughts. Kept him from laying in a crying mess on the floor. A scared boy that was ripped away from his family too soon and had his world torn apart as he just stood by watching. It took him ages to take his own destiny by the throat and not just run in fear as an outlaw, but more importantly it took one person to push him there. To make him a man worth respecting. Turn the no good troublemaking under achiever known as Jimmy Hudson into something worth being, someone who helped found a nation, found love, and destroy those who would seek to destroy his people; Kitty Pryde. But Jean couldn't just be satisfied with taking his home, dashing their hopes, destroying Rogue's best friend, and killing his friends and family, no, she had to take Kitty too. She was the person who made him into a good man, into Wolverine. Jean only destroyed his life at every turn and it seemed like she wouldn't be done until he was dead. He had to be strapped into a seat. They knew better than to just keep him in a cage. Knew a Wolverine couldn't be contained. He managed a few near escapes between ripping bands and nearly gnawing off his own limbs to escape but they caught on to quick and stopped him. How the General of Utopia had fallen. As her sickening stench burned his nostrils he looked to the red headed devil in front of him. His teeth instinctually became coated in metal, claws piercing through his flesh as he lurched forward in his seat. "Don't even try putting on that bullshit act." He snarled as his claws slowly receded into his body. "You know exactly what happened to me. Who you took from me."

JEAN: When you’re a telepath they teach about boundaries. Sometimes you can look into minds, sometimes you can’t. It’s a weird set of rules that are hard to explain to people who don’t know what it’s like to have the ever present temptation of knowing more than what someone may be saying. Jimmy’s presence was a wave of anger. Jean had expected some, but not the dark cloud that was being emitted. “I know I was a dick, but my act isn’t bullshit.” She tried to keep the hurt from flickering in her voice. “But you and I are on very different pages.” Walking towards him, Jean’s eyes flashed for only a moment to get a glance inside his mind. Blood. Pain. Loss. And rage. So, so much rage. Eyes snapping open, Jean hissed and lightly brushed her temple. Head tilting to the side, a strong sense of unease rose up in her. “Who do you think I am?”

JIMMY: Feeling her touch in his mind he was disgusted. His skull encasing itself in metal to try and force her out as he used the techniques Kitty taught him to keep telepaths out. What disturbed it most of all was that if only for a moment he felt some comfort from the touch of her mind. "Keep your dirty mind the fuck away from me, Jean." He spat out. His hands clenched so tight his nails cut into his flesh as drops of crimson slowly dripped to the floor. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, but don't think for a damn second that you can make me forget all that you've done to us." His tone lost its extreme aggression but it was cold and concise. The way he looked at her, studied her, wasn't as if they were once friends but as if he was studying a target. Looking for the right chance to kill them. He survived her Phoenix once and he could do it again.

JEAN: “Okay, asshole.” Now, she was angry. Both hands landed on her hips as she stared him down. “We had sex, you told me you loved me and I ran off with my ex-boyfriend. I’m selfish but my mind is’t dirty and you need to cool it. Someone did something to you.” She rolled her shoulders back. “But you didn’t quit on me when I forgot who I was and the Hellfire Club tried to use me. I love you. Maybe not like you loved me, but we’ll work this out.”

JIMMY: Jimmy scoffed. He remembered having sex with her, in her floating towers of Tian. He hated every second of it. He wanted to claw his own eyes out for even seeing her like that. However it was the price he had to pay for bringing Tian down and it was worth it. "Oh would you just shut the fuck up?" he replied as he leaned forward in the seat putting strain on his bindings. "No one could ever love a rotten, traitorous, murderous bitch like you. Only friends you ever had were either scared of you or manipulated by you and I'd rather have you tear me apart with your space canary right now than pretend that we were ever close."

JEAN: Stay calm, Jean. Clench your fists and don’t let your hair float around your face. She didn’t default to crying. Jean had never been one to automatically go there. Usually she got mad before there were tears. Right now she was fuming. “You shut the fuck up.” His chair telepathically bumped backwards slightly. “Believe it or not, people love me for some weird reason. I don’t get it either.” Hank, Scott, Jimmy. Logan in the future. People were drawn to Jean but she didn’t get it. She just hurt everyone no matter what version of her it was. “I have friends, and I have people who love me so I’m not going to let you break me down. I’m also not the Phoenix anymore, which you knew when you had a functioning brain cell. There’s no Phoenix period. It’s gone.” The energy she let curl around her fist as an example was pink, no red or gold sparks in sight. “You want me to tear you apart, Jimmy? Fine. I’ll tear you apart if it fixes whatever’s wrong with you.”

JIMMY: "You've done it before? What's stoppin' ya now? Tired of getting your ass kicked after I heal up?" The sound of grinding metal filled the air as his jaw clenched. She was an extremist who needed to be put down. "Look, I don't know what kind of fucking game you're trying to play here but I don't care what you do to me. Just now that you'll get it back tenfold when I get the chance. Then once you're lobotomized I'll get Kitty back and we'll start over. President Osborn did what Rogers couldn't. He decriminalized being a mutant. Everyone's going to leave you once they know the worlds becoming a safer place and they don't have to cling to a tyrant for safety."

JEAN: “Done it before? We’re clearly living in very different worlds and I’m pretty sure mine is the real one. Let’s back up from threatening to kill each other and sort this out.” Jean moved to sit in the chair opposite him. At that moment it was a terrible time to have empathic powers. “The only Rogers we have is Steve and Cap died a year ago. President Norman got me and other mutants arrested because we’re under twenty-one. Right now we’re on Krakoa, where you’ve lived a year. It’s a sovereign mutant nation. They brought me here from the past and I can tell you the world is a lot more accepting than it used to be. We don’t even have one set leader. And Kate?” Jean cocked her head to the side. “Kitty. She goes by Kate. Red Queen of the Hellfire Club and Emma Frost’s prodigy. No offense, dude, but she’s never paid you any mind. She’s off drinking a little too much and being a bad ass. She hasn’t gone anywhere and I can prove it if you’ll let me help you.”

JIMMY: "More fucking mind games?" Jimmy groaned only growing agitated. "Yeah. President Steve Rogers, formerly known as Captain America. He died a year ago and now President Osborn is filling in. Stop trying to mess with me." He just ignored her as she went on about Krakoa. He could care less about where they were. The only place he ever felt was his home was Utopia, which Jean helped kill alongside Thaddeus Ross. But when she spoke about Kitty it hit different. His face drooped for a moment as his stomach sunk. His breathing grew heavy for a moment as he remembered dancing in the starlight of Utopia. One of the moments he felt most at peace. "You keep her name out of your mouth..."

JEAN: “Steve Rogers was never president, he was only ever Captain America. These mind games aren’t exactly fun, so even if you don’t believe me know that I’m not playing.” ...And there it was. Kitty, an apparent soft spot. It made Jean feel weird to consider her former professor being intimate with her only ex. “Kate Pryde is my friend. She’s a mentor. The older version of me mentored her. Jean would know what to do right now.”  The last part was muttered under her breath. “You’ve insulted me, spread lies about the world and clearly hate me but I’m sorry to tell you that you’re wrong on almost all accounts. None of those things have happened. Not here, at least. You and I met when you joined my old team, X-Men: Blue.”  She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands. “And you liked me. I know you did. Scott did too. He and I were together, but things changed. We went to war with the Avengers and you were there for me.” As she spoke telepathic thoughts floated between the two. Nothing forceful, only the ghosts of memories and hints of images that had come and gone. “You loved me. Maybe I didn’t deserve it, but you did. I’ve seen a side of you that I think is real and this isn’t it.”

JIMMY: None of this was making sense. Kitty was just about the same age as Jean. Maybe a year or two younger, but she was only a year older than him. She'd be what, 24 now? And now she's talking about another Jean? He didn't argue as much this time, he inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in her pheromones and listening to her heart. She didn't seem to be lying. "I've never heard of X-Men: Blue." He thought back to her. "I met you when you showed up at my school. News was out that I was a mutant and you promised to take me away so I could make a difference and so I wouldn't be arrested for being a mutant. Then you used me." The last phrase had some emphasis on it. "The only Scott I can think of is Scott Summers and he died when I was just gettin' my learners permit." He hesitated to respond to the comment of loving her. "The only woman I've ever loved is Pryde. You're confused."

JEAN: Maybe they were getting somewhere. “We’re a makeshift team. Hank McCoy didn’t like the world or how Scott and Emma were running around trying to start this group called Nation-X so he pulled the original X-Men from the  past. Me, Hank, Bobby, Warren and Scott. It’s why I’m twenty-one ( as of last month, so happy birthday to me ) and my older self is thirty-one. Blue was just a good place to stick us, and Kate took a chance. She didn’t try and force us to go back to the past. You didn’t want us to either. We were staying on Madripoor.” Jean bit her lip and straightened up, gnawing for a second. “If anyone was in trouble it would be us. We were never meant to be here. I couldn’t save you from arrest, but I could be your friend. My team has always been a family even if we got scattered. And Scott... You’re right. I did accidentally use you but definitely not in the way you’re referring. I’m kinda a lot, like, all the time. Sometimes it’s not my fault, but you were better to me than I deserved. You say you only loved Kate, but that’s not entirely true.” This time, Jean floated a memory with intention. It wasn’t meant to be entirely invasive but for one moment the image of them and that night appeared. Following it was the day Jean and the group had ran. She let the I love you be heard and her silence, her nauseating guilt over not saying it back to show it was real. “I’m confused a lot, but not here.”

JIMMY: "Bobby?" The words escaped him with some surprised. He owed him his life. He stood by Kitty and Jimmy when the Sentinels raided the south west and the mutants were forced to hide in tunnels. He hadn't seen him since but that man would always be a friend to Jimmy. "Okay... Sounds crazy... But I can smell that you're not lying." None of what she was saying rang any bells for him but the moment she sent the memory over he began getting flashes from the past. More of that night and the day of his arrest were filling in. Something in his mind was resisting and inflicting pain on him as he groaned, and his fangs recoated themselves in metal. "I...!" He groaned as his claws then proceeded to pierce through his skin. "Remember that night...!" he said through gritted teeth as the memories of burning from cosmic fire and the peace he felt with Jean that night.

JEAN: “Bobby. One of my best friends for as long as, well, as long as I can remember.” Jean perked up slightly, the exhaustion from having someone she cared about verbally berate her waning momentarily. “I guess that’s better than smelling my shampoo.” The chuckle awkwardly left her mouth. “I promise, Jimmy. I’m being honest. I should have found you a long time ago.” As he began to act distressed, Jean stood and slowly moved forward before hesitantly reaching out to see if he’d let her touch his hand. “Please, let me help you. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll unhook you. I’ll do what I can but if you sense I’m lying or doing something I shouldn’t you can do what you want. You’re my friend and I don’t want to see any friend suffer.” That was in addition to her own guilt that if maybe she had reached out sooner she could have found hm before someone got in his head.

JIMMY: "Don't...!" He said as he forced his chair to fall back and away from Jean. He was unpredictable right now, operating off of instinct. If this was true he didn't want to accidentally kill her. "Madripoor..." he groaned. "There was a festival... We stayed with Magneto..."

JEAN: “I trusted Erik. I trusted him before anyone else did, and so I convinced everyone to stay with him. Work with him. Lorna supervised sometimes. Bloodstorm joined, but she died. I was waiting to tell you.” When he moved Jean made no further motions to come any closer. “I didn’t think you’d stay with us. I mean, no one was sure how to treat us. That’s why they wanted to send us back. The last time I saw you, you and Laura were helping us escape. So, thank you. But Laura, do you remember her? She subdued you at the Facilities. She’s Logan’s daughter. Which, means you’re siblings. Kind of. No one has been themselves. They arrested us because of Osborn’s Laws. It’s where we found you.”

JIMMY:  "Logan..." He said with a heavy breath as he connected two and two. "James Howlett... My birth father... He's dead..." What she was saying made sense. Laura had a similar scent to himself and that could easily explain it. Osborn didn't lock them up because they were terrorists? What was going on? He thought to himself as a new wave of pain washed over him. "You... You found me in the Yukon... I was confused... Alone..."

JEAN: “Alive.” She corrected him gently. “Alive and almost made a baby with me. Older me, that is. Long story. We’ll go over it another time.” As he remembered he grew more anxious and Jean could feel it popping out of him. Thoughts were like bubbles she tried to avoid, but she continued to try and pass as many his way as possible. Not to rewrite, but to help remember. “Right. And you may be confused now, Jimmy, but you’re not alone. We’re going to work this out together.”

JIMMY: "Is... Is Rogue alive?" He called out in pain as he remembered her sacrifice herself for the rest of them during the convergence. All the pain she felt, how alone she always was. She deserved so much better. He twitched, his binds reaching their limits as memories of fighting alongside X-Men Blue came rushing in his head merging with his memories of skulking through the Deserts with Psylocke, Black Tom, and Storm. It was all getting so confusing for him. "I don't know what happened here and what happened at home, Jean." He said almost pleading, his voice being reminiscent of her Jimmy. "What about my other siblings?" He asked. "Did I kill Pietro?"

JEAN: “Rogue’s alive. Anna-Marie and Remy got engaged but they broke up. Gambit’s with Polaris but he and Rogue are still working with Betsy.” Hearing him distressed was nearly too much and Jean moved forward without thinking. “Pietro’s dead. At least, in this reality. We have one from Earth-616  and he’s a real prick. He and Erik don’t get along. Wanda’s fine. Better than fine, actually. She helped me end the Phoenix. Her Pietro is the one who died a long time ago fighting Ultron. Jimmy,” Jean ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not Emma or my older self but you have to let me help you. Someone did something, but I think I can take them.”

JIMMY:  Wanda was alive too? His world was so full of death that nearly every person Jean had named had long since been dead. Memories of the two of them began coming in more readily. All the little moments, all the times he sacrificed for her. "I... I trust you..." He said looking to her as he was forced to mix and relive his life in his own universe to his life from this universe.

JEAN: “I’m really glad to hear you say that.” Jean exhaled gratefully. This time she did touch him. Her telekinesis unhooked the bindings in a flurry of pink, a way she could try and  show him that she wasn’t going to hurt him. “I’ve been training with Jean.” She reassured him. That being said, the memories still hit her like a ton of bricks to the face. There were the memories she was familiar with and the ones she weren’t. For the half she had been privy to it was strange to see herself from the other side but the others were so full of tragedy and sorry. Those made tears run in salty rivets down her cheeks but she kept her eyes closed and kept working. One here, one there. It wouldn’t solve the issue of who he was but differentiating reality would be a good start. When she got near the end she saw it. Him. Mesmero. He had be there, in his mind, twisting it around. His psychic imprint cut through Jean’s own mind before she could wipe it away, the burn radiating through her mind. And then, she was done. The surgery - so to speak - was done. Her older self would have been faster, more efficient. Jean was just proud to have done it at all. As she left her hands fall from  the temple her body sagged to the side, tailbone colliding painfully with the ground as her chest heaved. “Fuck him.”

JIMMY: Jimmy laid there near motionless on the floor with shaky breath. Things were much more clear to him now but being forced to go through both of his lives took a lot out of him. For the first time since he could remember he wanted to cry, but his tears dried up long ago. It wasn't until now that everything hit him. Jean didn't love him but he still felt love for her. Kitty was gone. Dead with his entire reality and everyone he loved from it. One lover laid on the floor not far from him and the other was shattered and spread across the multiverse. He was heartbroken. Stabbing his claws into the floor out of sheer frustration. "Thanks Jean..." Was all he could manage. Still not able to look at her. "I owe you one..."

JEAN: While he took a moment she had drawn her knees up towards her chest, head buried on the green and black fabric of her pants. Jean loved Jimmy. It was complicated and it wasn’t to the extent that he had for her, but it was there. Right then, however, she was just tired. “You don’t need to thank me.” Her voice was muffled. “What Mesmero did was inexcusable. I’m just  really, really glad you didn’t  murder me while I was drugged up at C.R.A.D.L.E.” Lifting her head, she peeked over her arms at him. “Let’s just call it even. I’ve got a lot to apologize for.” Her eyes flitted downwards. “And I’m sorry.  About Kitty and Rogue and everyone else. I didn’t know. And I feel like I need to apologize for her. The one that hurt you. Me. We’re known for being power crazed and terrible, so I’m sorry.”

JIMMY: Hearing their names made his eyes feel like they were about to swell before he swallowed hard and forced down his emotions. They were gone. He needed to accept that. "He's going to die." Jimmy replied in a very matter of fact way, unusual to the Jimmy she was used to. This was the man he was before the convergence speaking. He rose from his floor and wandered to the unused cot in the room before sitting on the edge of it. "He's a traitor to our species and it's time for him to go down." In this world Jimmy hadn't killed anyone, but back home he had lost track. There was a lot he had to do for the sake of Utopia that he took no pride in. As far as he was concerned he wasn't a good guy. Just a weapon that could be used for good. "You're not her. Apology accepted." He added before rotating on the cot and laying down. "I'm not ready to see everyone. I'm going to stay down here for a while."

JEAN: “Something happened to Emma. Someone tampered with her mind. We weren’t sure if it was Madelyne, but I’ll tell them to look into Mesmero. You may have some competition.” His tone didn’t scare her, per se, but she didn’t like it. It was understandable but not preferable. Jimmy had grown a lot since they had met and now it seemed as if he was someone else entirely. He was someone else, in some ways. Jean nodded at his declaration but she knew she’d see it in her dreams: another Jean going mad. Pulling herself to her feet and wiping off her pants, green eyes tracked his motion. “You know where I am. Now that we’re allowed to stay we have a habitat settlement. Sometimes I go to the Summers habitat to help Jean with the baby, but I don’t stay there. If you need me, just think. I’ll be able to pickup your thoughts.” Jean took a few steps towards the door. “Jimmy, I’m really glad to see you again.”

JIMMY:  "As long as he's gone I don't care who does it." He responded, just wanting to be alone. He didn't want to come off as rude but it was hard not to in this moment. He was just so tired. "Understood. I'll reach out to you if I need to." He said knowing full well he had little to know intention of actually trying to reach out to her. Rolling onto his side to look at her he nodded with a half smile. "Glad to see you too, Jean. Take care of yourself." He responded before rolling over to his opposite side and facing the wall.

JEAN: With one last small smile Jean tugged the door open and slid into the sunlight. She’d explain what happened, what she had seen. They’d look for Mesmero and hold him accountable. And after a while, Jean would check in again. Give him a moment to grieve. Something was up on Krakoa and they’d need to figure it out.

[khrsecretvalentine]

this is for basketmaniac and i made it a horror story because…its halloween so there is some descriptin of gore but hopefully not…enough to make it uncomfortable :0

i hope u like it omg its…long sorry about that heaknfagf

—-

This shouldn’t have happened. This was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

It was supposed to be simple he was going to join with the other Arcobaleno at a maze. They were going to map out the maze for the family and plant traps and do whatever they could to make it hazardous. None of them should have been gone for more than a few minutes.

Reborn was the last to go down of course. It was rumoured that he was the strongest of the seven. It was almost unspoken that he could clear the maze himself. But….soon Skull wasn’t heard from anymore. He had stopped answering Mammon’s calls and Colonnello soon found out why.

He was chained, lying in a pool of vomit, blood, and saliva. His eyes moving rapidly underneath his eyelids assuring he was alive but his breathing was shallow. He was taking shallow  and fast breaths but then stop only to start again. His arms and legs shook and jerk as he laid there and soon his head fell back, leaving the various gashes obvious to everyone. He was bleeding out slowly but surely and there was nothing Colonnello could do.

It was almost a relief to be able to say that Skull was dying. He wasn’t mafia. He was a stunt man. He knew the ropes of how to do shows and jump enormous gaps but not how to be stealthy or to be a good henchman. It was hard to watch the man stumble around this new world he wasn’t meant to be exposed to. It was a reason Reborn hated him so much. He was something to take care of and make sure he didn’t die so they could get paid and move on until the next job. Reborn is the number one hitman. He wouldn’t wait around for anyone  to do their job.

He was the first one to celebrate with a sharp, “Fucking finally. It shouldn’t take us long now, we’re almost done.”

Colonnello made a sound but didn’t retaliate. It wasn’t the time for a fight like that.

So he moved on. He walked away and down the hall to the next part. The maze was set up in different sections. The first one was where Skull was found. The second section was harder to get to but Colonello would help Lal finish what she was doing. She was military and brought the weapons to prove it. He had been sent to check on Skull.

“Make sure he’s not slacking off”, as she put it. He was happy to comply with his commanding officer and raced off.

But as he climbed through the grate opening, he was hit with an intense stench of…unpleasantries . He wasn’t sure what. But the smell made him start to gag the closer he came and soon he was dizzy, swaying to the side and fighting to find where he was going. He had studied the path on a map with Lal so he wouldn’t get lost. But soon he was sprawled on the ground, the room going in and out of focus, his insides squirming. Faintly, he heard something crawling towards him and felt a hand on his chest.

It must’ve been Lal. Relief flowed through him because she was better at chemical warfare, she had been in it before, but when he moved his head to focus on her, he realized that this was not Lal. This was not who he had come to love.

It was grotesque with hoarse, clicking breaths.  Its breathing made him dizzier and he could feel his head swim even more. It was the same smell he had encountered entering the chamber but intensified.

He felt the thing crawl onto him, weighing onto his hips and pushing his head back as he tried to struggle. His head bounced off the floor as he tried to strain against the body. Something slithered up his shirt. He felt nails digging into his flesh, dragging down his chest but stopping and restarting in the same path. His chest heaved in an effort to throw the thing off and soon he focused his eyes onto a lump of bloodstained clothes that looked like Lal’s. They were torn with…..with bones sticking out and there was blood….there was so much blood.

He tried not to think about it. He couldn’t think about it now. All he had to do was get out of this thing’s grasp so he could escape to get help and warn people. This maze was something else. There was more to it then just the group setting traps.

But the thing pulled away, sitting up and pinning his legs in a vise grip. It stabbed its hand into his chest repeatedly, different spots each time. It was hitting his abdomen, his chest, his ribs. He coughed, spitting at the thing, but it didn’t care.

Someone was calling out to him but he couldn’t hear who. He couldn’t see. He wouldn’t hurt anymore if he just….closed his eyes for a second.

Something tore into his chest and his eyes flew wide open in fear because god that one hurt so much more.

Colonnello was the second one down. He had struggled much more than the others. The gas in the air was his downfall though. There was no struggling against airborne belladonna. It was lovely to watch them all slowly, but surely, succumb to their environment.

The Arcobaleno were a plague, they thought. Yes….it’d be better to have them down and out now. Before they caused too much havoc in the world.

Who would be the next to go was the question. Reborn was more than powerful enough to escape if he was left with someone like Fon to fight with. Fon knew how to work  the entire group compatibly enough to accomplish anything. He was the calm before the storm. Yet…He wouldn’t be the most fun to watch, Reborn would. He’d be the finale.

Next would be Viper….They were a special case. They were greedy but with enough self preservation to leave the minute it was too risky. Greed was the only thing keeping them there as they were the one being paid the most. In secret of course. The rest of the team would object heavily to seeing Viper paid so much more. They wouldn’t work with each other until they’d gotten the same amount. It was an irritating cycle so it was an unspoken agreement that Viper be paid more but they never bragged about it.

Viper was in the next spot now in the maze. They  were  in perfect position to be attacked. But…there was a time for everything. Viper wasn’t done setting up their traps. They were making their illusions with grandiose and a sense of style. Multiple spots where you would see bodies, dead and rotting, trying to claw at you. Blood thick in the air and all over the four walls. In other spots there was big emphasis on your own personal fears. If you were disgusted in the least by insects of all kinds, you’d see them coming out of the walls, straight at you, crawling up your leg. Soon you’d be buried under the immense weight of insects with no reprieve. Or maybe you were scared of water. It would break down the wall, flooding the cavern until you were barely able to breathe, clawing and gasping at the walls to stay above as more water pours in through a hole you can’t see. There was something for everybody that would be going through this maze.

Viper was on the list. Disguised under another name so they’d implant their own fears into the room without knowing it.

“This isn’t happening, this isn’t right.” Viper screamed at nothing.

There was blood….so much blood. They couldn’t breathe the air was so thick and soon they were on their knees, gagging onto the ground.

Behind them, there was the clicking sound. A click-click-click with every breath it took in and rattling as it breathed out. It watched the pain Viper went through. They hated blood. It smelled terrible and disgusting. Yet they had made such an intense, mind-breaking illusion.

Viper scraped towards the exit, their body straining and their fingernails breaking. But the door knob wouldn’t turn. No matter how much they yanked and slammed their shoulder into the door, it was no use. They slid down against the door, barely able to breathe anymore.

That was when it struck. There’d be no struggling now. Viper was half dead and had nothing left in them. It pounced and ripped into their leg first. There was a scream and soon it was flying across the room, Viper formed illusions to fend it off. But there was nothing it feared .

It was an unfeeling thing that didn’t feel pain. Viper sucked in a breath and it hitched. Even after they had used a powerful illusion….one that was powerful enough to knock Reborn up a little…it didn’t even flinch. It lurched back from Viper kicking at it but started crawling forwards again. It scuttled, its mouth clicking harder than ever.

It was excited.

They were suffocating. It was whatever was in the air. It filled their lungs and made their head swim as they tried to regroup, just think of something they could do.

It was on top of Viper now. It scuttled onto their chest, breathing into their neck as if it was surveying how close they were to dying. In almost no time, it had lashed out and bit into Viper’s neck, sucking and gurgling like a toddler.

‘Hmm…Viper lasted longer…’, they thought. They stared at the monitor idly, scratching at their face. Verde should be next then. Keep up with the V names.

He wasn’t in the maze though. Verde was providing support from outside. He was in his own little bubble, reading off the screen like lightning. He was trying to reconnect to Skull, Colonnello, Lal, and now Viper. All of them wouldn’t answer. There was only static. The only thing to be heard was the growling, clicking sound of the thing breathing that attacked them all.

He was tapping away on his laptop, eyes glued to the code darting around on the screen. He was attempting to find any frequency that the devices were connected to, even the faintest radio transmission.

Verde didn’t see it coming. He was too focused and he wasn’t a strong fighter in the least. Soon, he was caught by the torso, pinned by another person.

“Who the-”, he tried to say . He kicked and squirmed but before long he was dead too. That silencer did the job as the person stood up.

They would have to get their hands dirty if the plan were to work, it seemed. Verde was now the last shred of contact for Reborn and Fon.

It was a pity because those two were going to be the most fun. They had met up though. After the others had failed to answer, they knew something was wrong and abandoned their jobs. There really should be a penalty for doing that…they’ll make sure there is for next time.

“The exit changed with Viper’s fucking illusions.” Reborn growled.

The two were crouched in a small alcove within the maze. Their backs together with the two watching either ends.

“Verde is gone as well. We have no more support from outside.” Fon added.

“The basic layout is the same. I left casings the path I took from the entrance but if we head back the same way….who knows what’ll be in store for us.” Reborn rubbed at his neck, staring straight ahead at the path. “If you can make it to the top of the walls, there might be a chance we can make our way through.”

“It’s better if that were a last resort. There could be a number of things waiting for whoever climbs to the top.”

Reborn grunted in agreement before he hauled himself to his feet. They were both exhausted from sprinting around the maze, trying to find out if there was an exit. The entire thing was rough clay. The only light coming from incandescent lights hanging from a chain. It only added to the atmosphere . It was dead silent in the maze now. Before, there had been distant talk between Lal and ColonelloColonnello. You could hear them bickering miles away. When that disappeared, it was idle chatter with Verde about where to advance in the maze. Out of the blue, they had been assigned new parts of the maze to do and needed to be told how to get to them.

It was dead silent now. You could hear their breaths echo around the room.

They stomped towards another part of the maze. As far as they could tell, nobody had been there yet so it might be safe to use as a spot to regroup. Both of them had phones they could use to call in favours from other families.

Reborn pulled his phone out, feeling his chest constricting more and more as he breathed. There wasn’t any service, as he thought. There was no way he could call authorities. He was wanted on three different ‘most wanted’ lists.

There were numerous families he could call on but he wasn’t sure how close they were. They weren’t allowed to see where they were going. It wasn’t that odd as most mafia families make it a bit hard to find most of their bases. The easiest to call would be Vongola first. This was one of their allied families and if the family found out one of their military officers was down there enduring torture, it would prompt them to arrive quickly

“How much you want to bet there’s wi-fi here.” Reborn joked.

“Any money I bet, I will win.”

“Jokes on you, it’s free and open. Verde made my phone virus proof too so suck it.”

He called Vongola the Ninth. There was no beating around the bush with Iemitsu. He needed his phone traced before they could keep going. Fon was on his phone, speaking in rapid fire mandarin to his boss, from the sound of it.

The phone was answered within three rings and he was greeted by a cheery, “Hello there, Reborn!”

“Trace my phone.” He said snappishly, skipping pleasantries. “A job went bad. Find me and help me.”

“We’ll get right on that. Are all the arcobaleno there?”

“Fon and I are all that’s left.”

There was a stunned moment of silence on the other end before Nono shifted in his chair. “I see”, he said. “Very well then, this is extremely serious. Please keep us updated on anything major.”

“I will, thank you.”

There was a clicking in the shadows that caught Fon’s attention. They had both been watching the entrance but Reborn didn’t seem bothered by it. He continued checking his phone. Fon squinted his eyes, trying to make out what it could be.

It crawled along the floor, hissing and spitting with that same ticking sound. Every time it breathed in, it clicked like a card inside a bike wheel. Fon had no clue what it was. The light was too dim to make anything out.

“What are you looking at”, Reborn demanded.

“Do you not see it?”

“The thing on the floor? It’s an illusion. Viper was making all kinds to go throughout the maze, not just their room.”

“It doesn’t….look like an illusion, Reborn. There’s something….about it. It’s alive.”

“I’ll believe it if it manages to hurt you.”

It was almost as if Reborn’s words were taken as a challenge. . It launched itself towards Fon, aiming for his throat. Fon dodged, sliding his foot back to steady his stance. When it lunged again, Fon went for pressure points, locking the joints in place. It wasn’t affected as it attempted to snap at Fon’s hands that were closest to its mouth.

“A little help would be appreciated!” Fon said through clenched teeth.

Reborn sighed before pulling out a handgun. Barely even glancing , he shot the thing right between its eyes. It fell back, growling and twitching before it rolled back onto its feet, the bullet wound had disappeared . Reborn narrowed his eyes, aiming again at the joints. It was barely fazed as it returned to its feet in no time.

“How should we,” Reborn exclaimed, “approach this!”

“It’s like Skull’s regeneration. How did you get around it fighting him?”

“It was slower than this.”

“Could somebody have been able to recreate it?”

Reborn didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure. But if they could, they would have to experiment on humans.  It was an unwritten rule most mafia families not to do inhumane experimentation. This one definitely met the criteria.

The two fended the thing off for what felt like hours. Every time said thing was hit, it would get right back up as if nothing had happened thirty seconds earlier .

Fon was down and out. He had been for a while, was barely going by the time Reborn fell. The thing was inhuman. No matter what they did to lure it into a trap, it got right back up. They were close to the room Reborn set up. He had a duffle bag full of weapons and ammunition he had set up as traps with wires as well as motion sensors.

One of the traps misfired and hit Fon as he was trying to get out of the way so there was a clear shot but ended up hitting his leg. He had a high pain tolerance but as he staggered and fell. It became a perfect shot for the thing to attack Fon. It was clawing his torso before Reborn could shoot it.

He let his guard down. He was trying to get that thing off of Fon, to give him some chance at survival . He shot it towards a motion sensor trap but his shot missed. The failed one in a million shot allowed the thing to come crashing into him, knocking him to the ground.

He was being scratched at and bit, tossed around in his daze. When he was able to regain his breath, he slammed his forearm into the things mouth, forcing it off him. He used the leverage from his arm to bash the thing against the wall. Head wounds took the longest to regenerate. If it was destroyed he’d have some time to at least escape . He’d have to leave Fon to his own devices. He just hoped the thing wouldn’t pounce on him if he moved. The situation was do or die at this point.

Faintly , he heard multiple sets of feet sprinting near the far west end of the maze. Somebody was there to help or harm. He didn’t know which one it was going to be.

He stumbled away from the mess he made. Hoping the thing wouldn’t regenerate at all. For good measure, he stomped along its limbs and chest, buying whatever time he could get. He was going to bleed out at this rate. The maze was large but there were also the trap rooms that the seven had set up.

He was trying his hardest to remain standing. He needed to put distance between that thing and himself so he could even have a chance at surviving. If his phone could be traced to where he was in the maze that was  even better. He wasn’t counting on any branch family to think like that though. So he needed to find a safer spot to stay hidden and hope they could find him.

It wasn’t much use planning. Reborn fell in a crumpled heap, coughing and gagging, minutes later. He couldn’t breathe. His limbs felt like lead. His head swam as the light above him flickered in and out. The thing could very well have poison in its nails. All he could do was position his arm above his heart to prevent it from bleeding out.

He was fading fast. God, there was too much happening. What was that thing. It wasn’t an illusion. It felt different and he could tell when they were illusions. It had to be experimentation. There wasn’t any way around it. Those things …they weren’t natural.

Dimly, he heard yelling and felt hands on his chest, legs, arms. He tried to say not to touch him but instead released a garbled, wet cough.

There was something warm on his chest now. Though he could barely feel it. Everything else was far too cold. Nothing would make a difference.

from @transreborn to @basketmaniac

[myaekingheart]

71. Angel Eyes

Don't you try to hide with those angel eyes If you let me inside, I won't hold back this time Such a deep disguise, the devil's right inside More than paralyzed, oh it's the chase you like I don't care how many times it takes to get through to you This is a force that not even God can stop You're fucking mine -Angel Eyes, New Years Day

               Darkness encompassed a long corridor. The sound of heels on pavement echoed as a succubus approached, reaching into the holster on her thigh for a tube of dark red lipstick. She reapplied the pigment to her full lips as she approached a disconcerting figure, and it was clear he was not happy.

               “I seem to have failed in recruiting the Natsuki girl” he said. “There is only one thing left to do.”

               “I understand” the woman spoke. “I will not fail you, Lord Danzo.” She slipped some cash into his hand, winked, and then strutted back down the hallway with a sinister smile. Danzo watched the way her hips swayed as she went, the curve of her ass, the length of her legs. She was well aware of the consequences should she come back emptyhanded.

               Word of Kakashi and Rei’s breakup spread quickly, much to their dismay. Rei truthfully wanted nothing to do with it. Her heart was so heavy and fragile, every mention of it sent her spiraling again. She kept to herself mostly, having isolated herself from everyone in her life. Rather, she fell into a steady routine of eat-sleep-work, though there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping and she couldn’t find the motivation to eat. The weight shed quickly until she hardly even recognized her reflection.

               Kakashi was just as sick of hearing it himself. It was like everywhere he went, people were bringing it up. He just wanted them to shut up and get over it already. So they had broken up. So his heart was shattered. So the entire map of his ideal future had been torn to shreds. The longer everyone else dwelled on it, the worse he was going to feel. Rei was right. She did need to learn how to live without him and by that same token, he needed to learn how to live without her. She was an adult now. She no longer needed him looming over every aspect of her life making sure she was safe. She could take care of herself. Kakashi had no idea what to do with all of the free time.

               Seriously, he had absolutely no idea what to do. On his day off, he wandered Konoha aimlessly, taking great strides to consciously avoid Kaminoki at all costs. He somehow found his way to Ichiraku and figured he might as well dip in for a bowl while he was there. He ordered a standard tonkotsu ramen and chatted idly with Teuchi while he waited. Just as he received his food, however, the banners behind him fluttered and suddenly a hand landed gently on his shoulder.

               Startled, Kakashi immediately whipped around to apprehend whoever had approached him only to be met with Tenshi’s fiery gaze. “Someone’s paranoid” she commented with a devilish smirk. Kakashi sighed and released her, settling back into his seat. Tenshi straightened out her skirt and fixed her ponytail, adding, “What did you think I was going to do? Kill you?” She laughed as she seated herself beside him, ordering a plate of edamame on account of “watching [her] figure.”

               Kakashi really didn’t have the energy to make conversation with her, but he couldn’t help but notice just how hard she was trying here. She ate her edamame delicately, ensuring she did not ruin her lipstick, and sat with her legs crossed and back arched in order to perfectly accentuate her long legs and voluptuous breasts. And then she said the one thing Kakashi was so damn sick and tired of hearing.

               “So, I heard you and Rei broke up. That’s really too bad” she pouted, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. Kakashi tightened his grip on his chopsticks. Just like every other time, the mere subject of it made his chest burn and ache. He opened his mouth to retaliate, about ready to lose it, when Tenshi interrupted. She sighed and pasted a relieved smile on her face as she added, “But it’s probably for the best! If you ask me, I think you were doomed from the start.”

               Kakashi was far too confused and intrigued to be offended. “Wait, what?” he asked. “How so?”

               “Oh, you know!” Tenshi said, swatting at the air as if it was obvious. When she realized that it was, in fact, not obvious, she straightened her skirt and said matter-of-factly, “Rei is the kind of person who has to have everything her way. She’s stuffy and short-tempered and honestly kind of plain. You could do so much better!” It wasn’t exactly the kind of explanation Kakashi wanted to hear, and really only made him that much more frustrated about the whole thing, but again Tenshi interrupted before he could make any charged remarks. “Speaking of which, are you seeing anyone now?”

               “No…” Kakashi replied slowly. Why would he? He and Rei only just broke up. He couldn’t start a new relationship even if he wanted to, and he did not want to. A part of him honestly still hoped that this was all a big mistake, and that any minute Rei would come racing after him with arms outstretched crying and begging him to come back to her. Besides, she had said she still loved him. He couldn’t understand why that still wasn’t enough.

               Tenshi squealed, immediately snapping Kakashi from his daydreams. “Then it’s a date, then!” she shouted.

               Kakashi blinked. Did he miss something? What did he say while he was mentally clocked out? He cocked a brow, uttering a dumbfounded, “Wait, what?”

               Rolling her eyes and laughing, Tenshi socked him lightly on the arm and replied, “You know! If you’re not seeing anyone currently, then there’s no reason you can’t have dinner with me!”

               “Tenshi, I don’t really think—” he started, but he was too late. She was already rambling about plans he never agreed to.

               “We’ll have dinner at Yakiniku Q and then we can go back to your place and light some candles and put on some music! The sexy kind, none of that trash your ex liked” she said. “Make sure you get a bottle of wine, something sweet—if you get something bitter, I’ll have the taste stuck in my mouth for the rest of the night and then when we make out, it’s going to taste terrible—and show up at my door at 6pm sharp! If you arrive late, I’m going to have to assume you stood me up and I will be very unhappy!”

               For a moment, Kakashi swore he could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He sighed and finally interrupted her, saying, “I never said I would go on a date with you.”

               Tenshi froze and looked at him with hungry eyes. “You didn’t need to” she said. “I’ve already made the plans. It’s going to happen. Just accept it, Kakashi. You won’t know what you’re missing out on. Unless you want to hurt me?”

               This was all too much. At this point, Kakashi was tired of the conversation. He really didn’t feel like arguing. He didn’t have the energy. “Alright, fine” he sighed. “I will go on one date with you.”

               A satisfied smile spread across Tenshi’s dark lips. “Then it’s a date” she said, standing and caressing his cheek. “Don’t forget: 6pm sharp, bring the wine. And you don’t mind paying for my little snack, do you?” Kakashi’s eyes trailed to the edamame, hardly eaten, but before he could protest, she was already gone.

               Teuchi chuckled as he wiped dry one of the freshly cleaned bowls. “She really is something else” he said. Kakashi sighed and turned back to his ramen, by now already cold. Defeated, he left the money on the counter and stepped back out into the sunlight, wondering how the hell he got himself into these sorts of things. He just couldn’t wrap his brain around it.

               Sekkachi could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had caught everything as she passed by Ichiraku on her way home from a sparring match with Guy. As angry as she was with Rei, this defied grudges. She never expected Kakashi to be the type of person to rebound so quickly, especially after everything they had been through. Something didn’t seem right about this. She needed to speak with Rei.

               “If you’re here to kill me, then please, by all means” the redhead said as she opened the door.

               Sekkachi rolled her eyes and pushed her way inside, muttering, “Fuck off with that cynical bullshit.” Rei blinked as she watched her old comrade, surveying her manic pacing and clenched jaw.

               “So if you’re not here to kill me, then why are you here?” Rei asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

               “My god, shut up with that death shit already!” Sekkachi fumed. “It’s bad enough Naru is gone, I don’t need you to bite the dust either.” For a moment, Rei’s face turned red and she was overwhelmed with a sudden onset of regret. Perhaps she had completely misconstrued Sekkachi’s feelings, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. At least if she had wanted her dead, Rei’s own self-hatred would feel validated—not that that was a healthy goal to aim for in the first place. Whatever. That wasn’t important right now. Sekkachi sucked in a deep breath and then said, “I saw something today that I think you deserve to know about. It’s about Kakashi.”

               Rei’s heart leapt into her throat and all the color drained from her face. “I don’t want to know” she shook her head.

               “No, this is important” Sekkachi protested. “I have a bad feeling about this. When I was passing by Ichiraku earlier, I overheard Kakashi setting a date with that psycho bitch in the ANBU, Tenshi. I know how badly she’s lusted after him all these years, but something about this rubs me the wrong way. I don’t trust her slimy ass one bit.”

               For a moment, Rei couldn’t breathe. Kakashi was going out with Tenshi? They had only been broken up for about three weeks. He seemed so heartbroken back then, it didn’t make any sense. Unless he never really loved her to begin with. That was the only reasonable explanation Rei could come to, and the thought of it made her feel even sicker. She gritted her teeth, replying, “Well, Kakashi isn’t any of my concern anymore. If he wants to go around fucking girls like her, then so be it. I don’t care.”

               “How can you possibly say that with a clean conscience?” Sekkachi asked, rolling her eyes. “After four years of dating, and knowing each other six times as long, and all you can say is ‘I don’t care’? What a load of bullshit.”

               Groaning, Rei surged forward and opened the window. She could feel the sweat beading on her brow; it was too stuffy in here to have this conversation. Her and Kakashi were over, done, and that was the end of it. She didn’t have the strength to argue this right now. “None of that matters anymore” she muttered.

               “Okay, fine” Sekkachi said, raising her hands in surrender. She approached the window and stood beside Rei, leaning against the sill. “Let’s drop the relationship history and look at this from a purely objective standpoint. Do you trust Tenshi even in the slightest to not pull some shady bullshit? For all we know, she could give him an STI or some shit. You don’t know how many people she’s been with.”

               “Kakashi is a grown man” Rei replied. “I trust that he knows what he’s doing. If he makes a mistake, that’s on him.

               Sekkachi rolled her eyes. “This isn’t about making a mistake, Rei” she insisted. “I seriously have a bad feeling about this. I think Kakashi might be in some serious danger. It’s a gut instinct.”

               “Yes, because we all know how functional your gut is” Rei scoffed.

               That was the last straw. Sucking her teeth, Sekkachi recoiled with her arms raised in surrender. “Alright, fine. Let him get hurt then. But don’t come crying to me because I warned you” she said. Then she turned on her heels, grumbling under her breath, and left.

               The minute she was alone, Rei’s knees buckled and she fell to the floor hyperventilating. God, what had she done? She squeezed her eyes shut tight, and all she could see was Tenshi and Kakashi together, his hands exploring her body, her tongue in his mouth. It all made her sick.

               And yet at the same time, she needed to stand resolute. She still held firm with her decision. She had spent her entire life obsessing over Kakashi, trying to make him proud, and she needed the distance. She couldn’t afford to lose anyone else close to her. She needed to learn how to live on her own. She despised the idea of Kakashi being with someone else, but apparently it was either one or the other. If she wanted to be alone, she had to drill it into her head that that didn’t mean Kakashi felt the same way. He had every right to move on, even if she didn’t want him to (which she would fully admit was selfish and she absolutely hated herself for it.)

               The nearer they came to their date, the more Kakashi began to think that perhaps this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He hadn’t particularly liked Tenshi much in the past, always coming off self-absorbed and deceitful, but she had positive qualities, too. She was a take-charge woman always confident in herself and her decisions. She knew what she wanted and she went after it without a single ounce of hesitation. Quite frankly, it was rather admirable. The more he thought about it, too, the more Kakashi realized that much of his judgment toward her was based on surface qualities. There was much he didn’t know about her and, consequently, much she did not actually divulge about herself. Perhaps if he was to get to know her better, there would be a spark, a glimmer of magic, and this could turn into something extremely beneficial. At least that’s what he told himself. He refused to think about Rei.

               Sekkachi wiped her brow as she shuffled out of the bathroom, hand to her stomach, and flopped into bed. Of course, as her luck would have it, just when she laid down, there was a knock at the door. “Come back later!” she shouted, throwing a pillow toward the peephole.

               Another knock. “Sekkachi, come on! It’s me!” a voice shouted, and she knew immediately it was Rei.

               “What do you want? I’m busy” Sekkachi replied.

               Rei pressed her forehead against the door and sighed. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. It took her a minute to muster her strength, and then she finally said it. “I’ve changed my mind.”

               Kakashi buttoned and unbuttoned the top collar button on his shirt five, ten, fifteen times before ultimately deciding to keep it closed. This was the first time he had been on a first date in a long while, and he was shocked to find he was so nervous. But then again, Tenshi was also very particular. He didn’t want to show up only for her to berate a decision he had made and force him to change it under her direction. Or perhaps he was just being too paranoid. He redirected his line of thought, insisting he give her the benefit of the doubt. He glanced at his reflection one more time and assured himself Tonight will be great.

               It was a good thing Kakashi never removed his mask because he was certain the sight of her would’ve given him a nosebleed. While Tenshi was always on the more revealing side, this was a whole new level. Her chestnut hair had been relieved of its usual ponytail and instead fell over one shoulder in cascading waves. Her makeup perfectly accentuated her already very attractive features, a shimmery neutral on her lids and a dark red pout. Her dress was skintight and red, showing ample cleavage, with a slit up the side reaching all the way to her hip. For a moment, Kakashi feared that if she so much as sneezed, the entire outfit would fall apart.

               She smiled at him seductively, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, before taking his hand and together they walked off to have dinner. He studied her every move as she ate, taking delicate bites and tiny sips. Everything seemed so dainty and calculated. It was a stark contrast to Rei’s slurping and scarfing, and in a way made Kakashi almost self-conscious about his own etiquette. She kept her eyes locked on him as she watched him cook a slice of meat and then bring it onto his plate. Her staring only further increased Kakashi’s anxiety.

               “Is something the matter?” he asked.

               A tender smile touched Tenshi’s lips as she minutely shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m just wondering how you manage to do anything with that mask on” she said.

               Kakashi shrugged. “Just a habit, I guess” he replied. He had been wearing it so long, he was more than accustomed to working with it.

               “Don’t you ever get tired of it, though?” she asked. “Don’t you ever just get so frustrated with it that you just want to, you know, rip it off?”

               “Not really” Kakashi replied. Just as he was about to take a bite of his food, their waiter returned and refilled their glasses with the wine Tenshi insisted Kakashi bring. By the time he was gone, Kakashi had finished his meal. Tenshi stared back at him with a brow cocked and amused smile. He truly was a man of mystery, wasn’t he?

               After dinner, they strolled through Konoha’s dusk just chatting and getting to know one another. Surprisingly, Kakashi was actually really enjoying himself. He learned that Tenshi was of the Taketori clan, who had close ties with the Hyuga, and that she had three sisters—one older and two younger—who all had histories in entertainment. She was a distant relative of Yukie Fujikaze, the actress who had a leading role in the film adaptation of Makeout Paradise.

               Kakashi unlocked his front door and motioned for Tenshi to step inside. Before following her, however, he glanced down the hallway and grimaced. There was a strange feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. As crazy as it seemed, he somehow felt as if he was being watched.

               Sekkachi rolled her eyes as she scaled a tree, staring up at her comrade straddling a branch. “I never should’ve told you about this” she muttered.

               “Well, you did, so it’s only fair you help me” Rei whispered. She tried to angle herself just right for the perfect view into Kakashi’s apartment. Did this make her a psycho ex-girlfriend? Probably. But Sekkachi’s words really weaseled their way into her head. If Kakashi was in danger and she did nothing, she would never live it down and not so much because she still loved him but because national safety was her duty. And if it turned out that Kakashi wasn’t in danger after all? Well, then Sekkachi would be getting an earful. Rei almost hoped something bad was about to happen just to make this whole hell-venture worthwhile.

               Huffing, Sekkachi pulled herself up onto the adjacent branch and brushed her bangs back. “I really need to just keep my big mouth shut from now on” she muttered, only to be immediately shushed afterward by Rei.

               Together, they watched as Kakashi and Tenshi settled into his apartment. “It’s not much, but it gets the job done” Kakashi replied.

               Tenshi made her way to his desk, thumbing through the top drawer. Kakashi opened his mouth to protest, not exactly comfortable with her rifling through his things, but relaxed when she pulled out a CD of instrumentals and popped it into the CD player collecting dust on the windowsill. Her lacquered nail hit play and a soft symphony of romantic jazz filled the room. A sly smile touched her lips as she then reached out to close the curtains, saying something about a little privacy.

               Rei clenched her fists at her sides and nearly shouted in protest, but Sekkachi reached over and clapped a hand over her mouth, nearly falling off her perch in the process. “Do you want to blow our cover, you idiot?” she whispered angrily. “I thought you were an expert in this sort of shit!”

               Rolling her eyes, Rei shoved Sekkachi’s hand away and muttered back, “Oh, shut up, as if you’re any better!”

               A sly smile touched Tenshi’s lips as she strutted nearer, wrapping her arms around Kakashi’s neck and whispering, “Why don’t we get a little comfortable?” She adeptly undid his top collar button and met his eyes with passion and determination.  

               Kakashi’s cheeks burned bright red, and he chuckled nervously. His hand touched her shoulder, skated down her forearm, then gently distanced her from himself. “It’s, uh, a little warm in here” he said quietly, then made his way to the window. In an instant, the curtains skated back and the window creaked open. Clearing his throat, he then added, “There’s no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy the night sky, anyway.” The stars were especially bright tonight and the moon was full. A light breeze flowed into the room, mildly chilly but refreshing all the same.

               Tenshi was evidently vexed for a split second before she made peace with the undoing of her action. She could work with this. She didn’t need the privacy herself, anyway—it was only a courtesy to Kakashi, but clearly he cared not for it, either. Funny coming from the man always covering his face, she thought. Anyone else would’ve considered this frustrating and wishy-washy, but in a way all of this actually only turned Tenshi on even more. “You don’t have any reservations about yourself, I see. I like that” she commented. She flicked her dark hair over her shoulder then and reached around to unfasten the clasp at the back of her dress. The satin slid down her hips effortlessly and she kicked it to the side, revelaing a lacy black bra and panties. Kakashi nearly lost his damn mind. This was too much. He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t just dreaming himself into Makeout Paradise. Every moment played like a romance novel.

               Sekkachi chewed her bottom lip as she glanced to Rei, her jade eyes locked on the scene. She clenched the branch she sat upon tightly, filled with suspense. “You know, we don’t have to do this if you—” Sekkachi started, but Rei quickly shut her up with a frantic wave of her hand. She never took her eyes off of Kakashi.  

               Tenshi stalked forward with a devilish smirk on her face. “Now, this isn’t fair, is it?” she hissed, unbuttoning Kakashi’s shirt the rest of the way. She worked the buttons slowly, tauntingly, and Kakashi bit his lip beneath his mask in anticipation. And then his shirt was off and she ran her hands down his toned chest, clearly satisfied with what she was working with. She hooked one hand into the waist of his pants and reached her other up to cup his cheek, then ran her thumb over his scar. He winced at the touch, not because it hurt but rather because the memory stung. It was a sensitive subject to say the least. Seeing his discomfort, Tenshi pouted and then asked, “I wonder what that sharingan can do in bed. I want to see all the tricks.”

               Before he knew it, Tenshi was pinning him to the mattress and tugging his pants off while her lips worked tirelessly against his neck. Rei’s entire body went cold, pressing a hand over her mouth as if she was about to be sick. “Oh god, I can’t do this” she murmured. “This was a mistake, we never should’ve come here. Fuck!”

               Rei didn’t even give Sekkachi a chance to respond before beginning her descent. The blue-haired kunoichi pursed her lips as she took one last glance at the scene before them, a tinge of sadness striking her own chest. She had never expected things to escalate so quickly, but now that they had it was almost as if she could visibly see Rei’s heart breaking. She sighed and turned to begin her own descent, but then suddenly something caught her eye. She reached down and grabbed Rei’s arm hard, tugging her back upwards.

               “Sekkachi, what the fuck are you--? Stop, I don’t want to do this anymore” she begged but Sekkachi wouldn’t hear of it.  

               “Shut up a second and look” she insisted, pointing through the window. Tenshi ran her hands through Kakashi’s hair, her lips hooked to his neck like a vampire. In between sucking, she would release her clamped jaw to run her tongue up the sensitive flesh, and that was when Rei saw it. A black marking, multiple thick lines, printed on her tongue.

               “Oh…oh god” Rei murmured. Danzo. Sekkachi was right. Kakashi was in deep, deep danger.

               Shaking her head, Sekkachi whipped a kunai from her thigh holster. “We have to stop this” she insisted.

               “Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Rei whispered frantically, placing a hand atop Sekkachi’s. “We can’t just barge right in there, we’ll blow our cover and then they’ll know we’ve been spying on them this entire time!”

               “We have no other choice” Sekkachi protested. “If we don’t swoop in there right now, your boyfriend is going to lose an eye.”

               “H-he’s not my boyfriend…” Rei reminded her quietly.

               Sekkachi huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever. We don’t have fucking time for this! We have to go! Now.”

               Tenshi chuckled softly to herself, straddling Kakashi’s hips. A hand skated up to cup his cheek tenderly. “You really do have such beautiful eyes” she whispered, caressing his cheek with her thumb. And then, with outrageous speed, her thumb and forefinger launched toward his sharingan with the full intent of ripping it from the socket. Before she could dig her lacquered nails in, however, something unseen gripped her wrist and held her back. “What the fuck?!” she shrieked, whipping around, but no one was there. And then, suddenly, a blunt object flew from the other side of the room and smacked her in the head, effectively knocking her off Kakashi. Stunned, he leapt to his feet and tried to catch his breath, reaching for the kunai on his nightstand. Sekakchi swung in through the window and slicked her bangs back with a proud smile.

               “I always wanted to play Whack-a-Slut” she jested confidently. On the other end of the room, Rei suddenly materialized standing over Tenshi. She drew a kunai from her holster, spun it around her index finger, and then pressed it to Tenshi’s throat hard. Kakashi was completely dumbfounded.

               “You disgusting--!” Tenshi shrieked, but Rei cut her off with a deep, primal growl.

               “Don’t you even speak to me!” Rei insisted. “Or else it’ll be the last thing you ever say, understood?”

               Tenshi simply laughed manically and rolled her eyes. “You think I’m afraid of you? You’re nothing!” she insisted.

               “You should be!” Rei shouted. “Now shut the fuck up before I slice your vocal cords to shreds!”

               The brunette grimaced—now she was really getting angry. “You’re testing my patience” she insisted.

               “Well good, because I’ve already run out of mine” Rei replied back. “How dare you take advantage of someone for your own fucked up gains.”

               “I did nothing wrong” Tenshi spat back. “I just think you can’t handle the thought of your precious Kakashi having moved on to better things.”

               Kakashi clenched his jaw. He had no idea what was going on, but he didn’t like the looks of this one bit. And all the while he couldn’t stop looking at Rei—primal, protective, fierce.  

               “My history with Kakashi is none of your concern” Rei fired back. “And don’t you dare play dumb with me, I know exactly what you’re after.”

               “You don’t know a damn thing” Tenshi protested.

               “Well, I know enough!” Rei shouted back. Before she could say anything more, Tenshi used all her strength to fling Rei off of her and begin her attack. Refusing to let her comrade fight alone, Sekkachi leapt into the fray with weapons at the ready, which only further encouraged Kakashi to join the brawl. If only he knew what exactly was going on. And wasn’t in his underwear.

               “Yo, Hatake!” Sekkachi called from across the room, launching a swing at Tenshi, who ducked. “I’d say you should sit this one out! Unless you want to risk never having kids!”

               Kakashi’s face turned bright red and he recoiled a moment, searching the floor for his pants. The thought of three women fighting in his apartment really made him uncomfortable. He ought to be fighting alongside them. It wasn’t fair to them to be down for the count when he was perfectly capable.

               And then it was all over. Tenshi lunged at Rei, a manic look in her eyes, only for Rei to duck and roll out of the way, slamming into the wall right beside Kakashi. Meanwhile, Sekkachi swung a leg around to knock Tenshi off balance, then pinned her to the floor on her stomach and pulled her hands back to bind her wrists with the standard chain she kept in her back pouch. “Playtime’s over, bitch” Sekkachi muttered in Tenshi’s ear, tightening the chains hard. Tenshi yelped and squirmed, complaining that they were too tight, which only led Sekkachi to knee her in the back in an attempt to shut her up.

               Kakashi reached down and lifted Rei to her feet, her face pale and sweaty and her breathing labored. “You okay?” he asked. Rei nodded and smoothed out her clothes, attempting to seem as unaffected as possible. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes.

               “What now?” Rei asked, turning her attention to Sekkachi.

               The blue-haired kunoichi reached inside her pouch, popped a small blue pill in her mouth, then leaned down to hoist Sekkachi over her shoulder as she said, “Well I am going to go take out the trash. You can stay here and clean that nasty wound off your forehead. Sound good?” She was out the door before Rei could even answer, and then she and Kakashi were officially alone.

               A long, torturous moment stretched where neither of them said a single word. There was so much tension hanging in the air, so many questions. Finally, it was Kakashi who broke the silence. “That cut on your forehead looks really bad” he said quietly, and Rei was suddenly made aware of a throbbing pain near her temple. She touched her forehead, wincing, and then looked thoughtfully to the blood on her fingertips. Kakashi was about to reach out to her when she walked away toward the small mirror on his desk to check the size and depth of the wound. He hesitated a moment, then opened the drawer in his nightstand to retrieve a small first aid kit.

               Rei felt awkward and uncomfortable as he wiped away the blood and began patching her up. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to feel his touch or accept his charity. She still stood by what she had said before, that she needed to learn how to live without him. That included taking care of her own injuries, even if deep down she knew Kakashi would do a much more thorough job then she ever could.

               “You didn’t have to do this, you know…” she murmured once he was finished, watching him put away his things in her periphery.

               “Neither did you” he said without looking at her. She winced and shifted a little further away from him, terrified of what was to come next. “And why did you?”

               There was the million dollar question. And why, exactly, did she? She wasn’t sure if she knew the answer herself now. Was it truly because she had a duty to protect Konoha and all who lived within it? Was it because she wanted petty revenge on Tenshi? Or was it because she knew she was still so in love with Kakashi? But you don’t barge in to save the man you broke up with. That’s abnormal. That’s insane. That’s love. But she didn’t want to feel tethered anymore, she didn’t want to feel as if she needed him, as if she was incomplete without him, as if nothing in the world was right if he wasn’t there to make it so. She had spent far too many years of her life dwelling on him, but no matter what she couldn’t turn a blind eye when he was in need of help. And that, she supposed, was the real answer to the question here: she acted on instinct, answering the call of a primal urge inside of her to respond to him.

               Kakashi didn’t need her to give him an answer. He had changed his mind the minute the question spilled from his lips. He didn’t think anything she had to say would make him feel any better, anyway. Instead, he simply sat beside her and gazed out the window, the two of them watching as the sun rose up to start another day.