#we have bought him watches but I think they sort of bother him sensorially

[maculategiraffe]

we were all getting ready to go to the winter wonderlights at the science center and someone had said "we need to hurry before they close" and the baby had heard that and gotten anxious and came rushing in to where my sister and I were sitting and talking and yelled "mommy! mac!* stop talking! we are gonna miss the winter wonderlights!"

and I said "you're right that we should stop talking and get up and put our coats on, but we are not going to miss the winter wonderlights. right now it is not quite six o'clock, and they don't close until eight o'clock. so that means we have more than two hours until they close. so let's go ahead and get ready to go, but don't worry that we're going to miss it, because we're not!"

and he was VERY focused on me as I said all this and then he said "how many minutes and seconds more than two hours do we have" and we calculated that as we put our coats on and you could tell it made him feel way better

*he usually calls me auntie mac but in moments of great urgency will leave off the title

[chocosvt]

connect!universe extra

⚬ pairing: cyborg!hansol x reader | future!au ⚬ word count: 6482 ⚬ warnings: alcohol consumption ⚬ genres: angst, heavy fluff, mutual pining, elements of a futuristic/dystopian society 

✧✎ synopsis: hansol is the first cyborg you’ve ever met. he seems human enough, but clearly a little damaged on the inside, and you wonder if he’s ever known what it’s like to be loved. 

✧✎ a/n: can you BELIEVE that this is only my second vern fic? he’s one of those members where i can think of multiple plotlines for him, but struggle in writing all. i’ve wanted to try a cyborg/futurey au since like three yrs ago lol, so i hope this came out well ,,,, 

You poked the plastic spoon further into the cold cup, trying to search for a small chunk of strawberry buried under the soft, vanilla peaks. In actuality, you already purged all the strawberries out from the ice cream; you were only pretending to look occupied so that you could escape the awkward aura of being next to this cyborg you met an hour ago, the two of you sat on a ridiculously uncomfortable curb outside a dessert parlor, beneath the midnight sky. It was an unorthodox situation. You wondered where your friends went.

From the tentative corner of your eye, you glanced at Hansol’s half-emptied cup of cookie dough ice cream. The parlor behind you had closed down, though the night street still flooded with a twinkling, neon spectacle, the additional hovercraft humming high above as they travelled along the aerial space-paths. You continued staring at Hansol’s cookie dough. If it had been Changkyun or Yoojung sitting next to you, then you would have already dipped in your spoon and tasted each other’s ice cream as tradition. It would be too weird to ask Hansol.

Scraping some vanilla ice cream onto your tongue, you swallowed thickly and decided to initiate conversation again, even if it was just prevaricated nonsense to beat the time.

“Is cookie dough your favourite flavour?” You questioned Hansol, though stared at the loose laces on your sneakers rather than him.  

Hansol started shaking his leg as he shrugged. “I like chocolate too. And cheesecake.”

“So you have a sweet tooth?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Okay – well that was officially the dying spark of another conversation. You were uncertain if he was anxious, shy, perhaps socially awkward, or maybe he was attempting to signal that he just didn’t like you. It was quite rare to encounter a cyborg. Ever since you could remember, they had an uncordial notion of being dangerous, sinister. They were meant to be contained in laboratories as a government order, so technologists could perform their invasive studies. You didn’t know if Hansol was an escapee or a discarded project, nor was it your place to ask.

The strawberry ice cream was beginning to melt into pink and white puddles the more you stirred. One last time, you attempted to maintain some sort of conversation with the cyborg.

“So where do you live? I’ve never seen you around before.”

That time, you made the effort to stare at him, a hazy and violet light bathing the sharp side of the boy’s face and igniting features you hadn’t noticed beforehand. His eyelashes were long, resembling gentle fern leaves, and he had a very strictly cut line defining his jaw. Through the coarse layers of his dark brown hair, you noted small, inked numbers were tattooed just in front of his ear, though you pretended you hadn’t been looking there when he faced you.

“I don’t have a place.” Hansol said nonchalantly, poking the spoon into his cookie dough. “I’m kind of a floater.”

Your eyes widened, though you couldn’t help it.

“Really? But you do have a job. You’ve never tried renting a motel room or something?”

He shook his head and shoved a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. From what Yoojung had told you, Hansol worked with her at her dad’s auto-repair business, prompting you to wonder if she knew the boy was homeless. Knowing he wasn’t surrounded by the comfort of a family had already caused a pulsing ache in your heart, and you felt somewhat obliged to help.

“Does Yoojung know?”

Hansol hesitated slightly, licking the sweet taste of the ice cream from his lips.

“No.” He finally answered in a torpid manner.

There was a stiff bit of silence, and then the boy was looking directly at you, his knee and elbow so close to yours that they kept bumping together. His eyes, which were usually as brown as a square of dark chocolate, were suddenly beaming in a shade of ice blue. You had never seen such a thing before, and yet you could sense the anxiety rippling from him in invisible waves.

“You aren’t going to tell her, right?”

Your throat felt incredibly dry as you shook your head, heightening your desire to stick a large spoonful of softening strawberry swirl in your mouth for some form of moisture.

“If you haven’t told her then I won’t either.” You replied, making sure to maintain eye contact.

Immediately, Hansol relaxed, the ice blue that glowed from his gaze slowly fading away until the familiar brown replaced it. Even though you assured Hansol his secret was safe, it didn’t thwart your disquieting feelings from echoing throughout your chest, though you attempted to swallow them with the pink dessert that just liquidized onto your tongue. You two continued eating in silence underneath the white stars, Changkyun and Yoojung still nowhere in sight.

“Y’know,” you began quietly, “we just met and all that… but I definitely wouldn’t mind if you stayed at my place for a few days. And I wouldn’t let Yoojung know a thing.”

For the first time that night, you saw the faint beginnings of a smile pull at the boy’s lips, and despite him staring straight at his sneakers you managed to catch a glimpse of rose light emanating from his eyes. He didn’t look at you until the pretty hue completely died away.

“I don’t want to bother you.” Hansol admitted, his gaze tracing your warm expression.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t. It’s just me and a powder puff cactus I bought last month.”

It took a couple of seconds or so, but the boy eventually nodded, and an immense relief toiled away the discomfort that earlier plagued your chest. The air no longer felt so awkward, in which you had been pointlessly scavenging for strawberry slices in your ice cream just to feign some degree of distraction. In fact, you made an offer you would have never anticipated when your night with the cyborg first began: you asked Hansol if he wanted to try your strawberry swirl.

“Okay,” he obliged, “wanna taste some cookie explosion?”

You switched cups and scooped some of his cookie dough ice cream. There weren’t any cookie chunks left amongst the chocolate-vanilla mixture, and you wanted to laugh upon thinking that he must have been doing the same as you.

“You’re walking home with him? Are you sure…? Are you sure that’s like, a good idea?”

Your face quickly warped into an expression of bewilderment as you stood across from Changkyun, who was clearly apprehensive to have Hansol walk you home. That was the fake story you told your friends, and you had expected it to pass with flying colours, though you came to a roadblock due to your ex-boyfriend seeming petulant. Yoojung was close with Hansol therefore she depicted no air of disagreement. She gave Changkyun a steely side-eye and partly stepped on his foot.

Folding your arms over your chest, you cocked your head. “What are you implying, Changkyun?”

The young man dug his hands into the deep pockets of his coat and gave a casual shrug, his gaze following a distant hovercraft that whirred quietly in the skies above.

“I’m just saying that—”

“He’s saying I’m not safe.” Hansol cut in, though not with any contempt or bitterness. “I understand. Not the first time I’ve heard it.”

The rebut locked onto your tongue was instantly forgotten, to which you glanced at Hansol with a soft sympathy. He was awfully calm, not upset, not angry, just calm.

Yoojung groaned loudly, throwing her head back. “Oh, for crying out loud. Changkyun, he’s not some lump of artificial intelligence that got thrown together by a mad scientist and now he’s out to obliterate mankind. He’s a good kid with some bionics in his arm. Get over it, would you?”

A scarlet colour mottled in the apples of Changkyun’s cheeks and he dragged a hand through his slick black hair, disrupting its style. You looked to Yoojung appreciatively, who was already beginning to wind her arm around Changkyun’s elbow so that you could be on your separate ways. It was an hour past midnight, a thick drowsiness resting just behind your eyelids, blurring the purple-blue neon lights. A part of you still loved Changkyun, yet the other often festered in uncertainty.

“Goodnight guys.” Yoojung said with a tired smile.

“Night.” You and Hansol murmured in unison.

When Changkyun remained silent, Yoojung stepped on his foot again with her red sneaker.

“G-Goodnight.” He was forced to mumble. Changkyun then looked at you, nodding at the slim cellphone tucked in your hand. “Text me when you get home.”

“Okay.” You replied in a small, plain voice, chewing on your bottom lip while watching them walk away down the street together.

The guilt was bubbling like a disastrous magma beneath your skin, continuously growing hotter as you introduced Hansol to the couch in your living room. Changkyun certainly didn’t represent your own morality, and you were still a little overwhelmed that he would make such a piteous remark, especially to Hansol’s face. Maybe it came from a place of care, affection, perhaps even jealousy. The person who made that comment wasn’t the Changkyun you knew, the Changkyun you loved, and you felt obliged to apologize on his behalf, despite knowing it should come him rather than you.

Hansol sat down on the couch while observing curiously around the room. You couldn’t help but think he was adorable, and you wondered if Yoojung was telling the truth about the bionics in his arm. For his eyes to adapt sensory colours, you knew he must have a chip implant too.

“Sorry, no extra clothes.” You told Hansol after handing him a fleece blanket and a pillow.

As he fluffed the pillow out against the arm of the couch, you sat down on the coffee table.

“I just want to apologize… For what Changkyun said. He’s not that type of person, I think he made a comment like that because it’s still a bit weird between us, and he wasn’t using his head.”

Hansol’s indifferent countenance made it difficult for you to read if he was truly offended. He seemed like the easygoing type, one who doesn’t ruminate or tend toward conflict.

“Yoojung kind of filled me in about you guys,” he admitted, shaking his knee, “Changkyun still worries about you. I get it.”

You stared into the clasped hands on your lap, noting that you’d been unconsciously playing with the gems on your bracelet. It seemed like you both had your nervous ticks.

“Breakups are weird,” you sighed, “I don’t know if we should have stayed friends.”

Out of the blue your body grew rigid, and you wished to retract the words back into your mouth. Your relationship dilemmas weren’t something that should be pushed onto Hansol, a boy you just met, especially a matter so individualistic and personal. Rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, you let out a sleepy laugh, shaking your head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that – It’s getting too late for my brain I guess.”

Hansol shrugged. “It’s fine. I should tell you I have to get up early tomorrow, for work.”

Conveniently, the auto-repair shop was within walking distance. You were happy that Hansol had been able to find employment, that Yoojung’s dad was kind enough to hire a cyborg, even when they were ultimately spurned for being metal projects and safety hazards.

You stopped tugging on your bracelet and looked at Hansol fondly. “Mr. Choi is so nice, right? He fixed my electro-board when I was little.”

Hansol sprouted in a timid smile. “He’s great. He’s the one who always fixes the circuit panel in my arm when it bugs. I couldn’t control it if it weren’t for him.”

Undeniably you were curious about what sort of bionics had been installed in Hansol’s body. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence to meet a cyborg, though you frequently heard tales about the different technology the laboratories were practicing. Androids were also in maintenance; however, they were a very clandestine operation, and people were known to disappear completely if they leaked information from inside the core. Still, it only fuelled your intrigue.

“Let me guess,” Hansol said, “you want to see my arm, don’t you?”

“Um…” Heat pricked into your cheeks and you failed to meet the boy’s knowing glance. “Only if you want to show me.” You responded bashfully.

“I don’t care,” Hansol huffed while he pulled his hoodie above his head, letting the fabric drop into a ball beside him on the couch, “you’re nice about it.”

Hansol placed the underside of his arm atop his leg, revealing that underneath the thin, synthetic layer of skin, there were bright circuit pathways glowing in different colours. You could see small signals blipping through them, passing onto other networks which travelled up his muscle until they disappeared under his shirt sleeve. Never had you witnessed anything so mesmerizing, so unparalleled, and you stared at Hansol’s arm in a childlike wonder.

Leaning forward slightly, you murmured, “how hard it is? Can I touch?”

“Yeah.” Hansol replied, regarding you with a gentle smile as your fingers pressed down cautiously on his forearm.

His skin was soft, warm, just like ordinary flesh, but then you immediately felt the metal bionic installed beneath and you became somewhat frightened of pressing too hard. There was one particular circuit that started at his wrist, which glowed in a pale lavender hue. You saw a tiny current fire from its sensory orb, and gently, with your fingertip, you traced the signal overtop Hansol’s skin until it faded away at the crease of his elbow. You sat back in awe and smiled.

“That’s amazing. They’re like veins.”

“Yeah, I thought that too.” He agreed.

The boy’s eyes were ignited in a sweet, bubblegum pink. You could only assume that pink had something to do with being flustered, or maybe a fast heartbeat. When you giggled, his cheeks flushed rosy like a cherub’s and Hansol stared straight down into his lap.

“I love how your eyes change colour,” you reassured him delicately, “you shouldn’t hide it.”

Hansol thanked you in a quiet voice, to which you could sense that he was nonetheless embarrassed.

“How does Yoojung’s dad get access to the panel?” You asked, changing the subject.

“I have to open it for him, like this.”

You jolted backward on the coffee table when a translucent, blue screen suddenly projected from the boy’s eyes. It was lined with unintelligible runes and peculiar symbols you had never seen before, some of which flickered by so quickly you didn’t get the opportunity to differentiate them. Somehow, Hansol was navigating his way through the code by controlling a box that highlighted certain text. Upon selecting the correct sequence, there was a tiny beep.

A rectangular section of Hansol’s forearm was outlined in red. Like a safe door, it automatically swung open, uncovering a dense and intricate network of wiring, panels, and metallic instruments that made you feel anxious just looking at them. You couldn’t fathom something so complex was resting beneath Hansol’s synthetic flesh, even as you stared into the thick of it. He didn’t keep the panel exposed for long, and in the next minute Hansol’s arm was restored.

It felt like someone had just crushed your brain between their hands.

“What do people say when you show them that?” You chuckled.

Hansol grabbed the fleece blanket and started pulling it over his lap. He paused for a second, biting his bottom lip.

“I’ve never shown anyone else, apart from you and Mr. Choi.”

However, he didn’t seem interested in delving further on what just happened. Instead, Hansol thanked you for letting him stay for a few days, then wished you goodnight as he got comfortable on the couch. Once you were tucked into bed, you grabbed your phone off its doc station and started texting Changkyun to announce that you made it home safely. Afterward, you slowly dozed off with a strange feeling in your chest and tummy, sort of like butterflies.  

Except they weren’t because of Changkyun.

With Yoojung’s arm wound firmly around your lower back, she helped walk you to the front porch, ensuring that your ankle wouldn’t suddenly capsize as she prevented you from haphazardly stumbling in your drunken haze. It was Changkyun’s birthday, and to celebrate, a large congregation had swarmed the downtown club, marking a night that was already beginning to fizzle from your memory. Yoojung never drank alcohol. She had always been the one at your side to nurture any incoming hangovers, though she wouldn’t be available for the weekend.

Instead, she had a Maglev train to catch bright and early the next morning. Her parents lived apart, and for the whole month she’d be away at her mother’s house.

Yoojung grabbed the spare key you kept under a flowerpot to unlock the door.

“Text me tomorrow.” She advised. “Tell me if you’ve puked your guts out or not.”

“G’night, sexy.” Your words spilt out in a jumble. You still felt like you were floating.

Pressing your hand against the wall, you fumbled to remove your shoes. You deserted your jacket in a clump that sat on the foyer floor and proceeded to stagger into the living room. Hansol occupied the couch, scribbling in his notebook. In the beginning, the boy was only supposed to stay for a few days. Two weeks had passed and he was still with you. For some reason, you didn’t possess the heart to see him go, and while you knew he felt guilty extending his welcome, you believed his presence was becoming an integral part of your life.

Changkyun had invited him to the club, though Hansol politely declined, instead wishing him a happy birthday over the phone. Whenever the boy wasn’t working at the auto-repair garage, he was extremely attached to a black, faux leather notebook with sallow-stained pages. You never asked what he wrote about, thinking it might be something like a personal journal. Upon seeing you at the threshold to the room, Hansol bloomed into his usual faint grin. There was still a thorough concoction of liquor in your blood and a black raspberry flavour burned your throat.

You wobbled toward the couch, mumbling in your garbled vernacular about how elated you were to see him after such a tiresome and long night.

Collapsing next to him, you rubbed tightly into your eyes and started humming.

“Need me to get you anything?” Hansol offered kindly.

Cracking one eye open, you glanced at the boy before bursting into intoxicated giggling.

“Oh, nonono, dn’worry about it. M’fine, Hansol. So, so, so fine.”

“You’re smashed. You should get some rest.” He suggested the most logical option, staring at you slumped deep into the cushions from over his shoulder.

But then you sat up, stretching your arms high into the air until you felt the muscles shake. Your hand fell on the boy’s shoulder, and you looked through your clouded gaze into the beautiful, rich earth of Hansol’s eyes. He tensed ever so slightly at being in such a new proximity to you, probably smelling the tangy alcohol straight from your clothing.

Placing your forehead on his shoulder, you slurred, “y’know, you’re r-right. I need to sleep.”

“I can help walk you to your ro—”

Hansol’s suggestion was merely cut in half as you raised your head from his shoulder, pressing your mouth to his in a soft, short kiss. He blinked like a clueless fawn, eyes rounded and glistering, unable to formulate a single thought let alone a sentence. If your veins weren’t engorged with fiery alcohol, then you certainly wouldn’t have kissed him, but in that heart-fluttering and completely sense-devoid moment, you didn’t have your rationality to guide you. His eyes quickly warmed to their adorable rose tint as you rested your head on his lap.

“Dn’wanna go to my room. M’gonna sleep here.” You purred, nuzzling into his thigh.

The boy completely froze. He didn’t know what course of action to take. Settling his notepad and pen on the arm of the couch, he saw you were already falling asleep.

“You’re so comfy…” you sighed, sensing the blackness pull you deeper. 

Hansol gulped tensely, “y-you really don’t want your bed?”

“No.” Your brow slanted, and you glanced up at the boy with a misty, intoxicated film in your eyes, your cheek smudged rather cutely against his firm thigh. “Just want to lay here, w’you. Please, Sollie? Do you not want me?”

Hansol’s gaze had never shone such a vivid shade of pink. 

“N-No, I do— I mean! I-I don’t mind,” he tripped over his words and ran a nervous hand through his hair, “you can stay there. It’s fine.”

You chuckled in a tipsy, bubbly adoration upon watching Hansol falter. “Y’re soso cute.”

“Do you want the blanket?” He quickly worked to change the subject. “So you don’t get too cold.”

“Yes please.” You hummed, your eyes fluttering shut while the boy grabbed the fleece blanket from the back of the couch.

The material was light yet warm as it was draped gently over your body, prompting you to curl into a ball with Hansol’s thigh pretending to be your pillow. You slurred a polite goodnight, feeling the boy’s gaze roam freely across your face. One of the last things you recalled hearing was a goodnight whispered back to you, though it was very quiet, sincere, alongside the scribbling of Hansol’s pen in his black notebook.

You dreamt that he was writing about you.

“Are you really sure? I feel like I can’t… It’s been a month already.”

Hansol wouldn’t stop fretting about his stay at your house, how he felt undeserving to be living with you, that it was eating him up inside knowing he was taking away a degree of your privacy. He was so inclined to confess his concerns that he hardly touched his warm cinnamon toast or slices of bacon, and you could hear the rapid motion of his leg shaking underneath the table. It hurt to see him like this. Neither Yoojung or Changkyun knew he was living with you, but if you truly wanted the boy to stay, then you would need to be completely candor and voice the reality.

Scaping the last bits of oatmeal from your bowl, you shook your head.

“This is working out, isn’t it? You’re so much safer with me. And I love your company.”

The boy leaned back in his chair, shoulders slumped with uncertainty and his eyes seeming distracted by antagonizing thoughts. You couldn’t help but think that Hansol wasn’t used to someone caring about him in the manner that you did.

“It would be awesome if you stayed.” You made another attempt to mitigate his worries. “The only thing is we would have to tell Yoojung and Changkyun.”

Hansol looked at you, the morning light that pierced through the cloth curtains igniting a golden flare in his eyes, and powdering his long lashes. Your cheeks started prickling just from staring at him. You always wanted to tell Hansol how beautiful he was, but you were too shy.

“I know.” He sighed, reaching for his glass of apple juice.

“Yoojung probably won’t care,” you knew that was a fact, “I’m not sure about Changkyun, though.”

Hansol would leave for work at the auto-repair within the next fifteen minutes, while you made plans the night before to help Changkyun shop for his new apartment. You weren’t exactly sure where you stood with Changkyun, or the direction your heart leaned toward. Whenever you were alone with him, he became the most endearing, sweetest version of himself – a complete charmer, engendering you to laugh so ridiculously hard that you’d choke on your own saliva or playing such a smooth move you’d feel your pulse quicken. He utterly confused your emotions.

To make the matter more conflicting, you still hadn’t forgotten your drunk kiss with Hansol.

He played the incident off casually, in a frivolous nature that helped erode the viscid layers of poignancy you were swathed in the next morning. Almost every night you thought about the kiss, addicted to the butterflies and the cottony feeling that would overwhelm your stomach.

“I should get going now.” You announced, slipping your jacket off the back of the chair.

A small, fainthearted grin appeared on Hansol’s mouth.

Underneath the table, you set your hand on the boy’s jumping knee. He instantly cemented, looking to you with still-water eyes.

“I just want you to know that I’m really glad you’re here. Seriously. You make my life better.”

Your heart was rippling like a kite caught between a harsh wind. After giving the boy’s knee a gentle squeeze, you rose from the table, left your bowl and utensils in the sink, and texted Changkyun to meet you at the hovercraft port next to Grand Station. Small, pearled tears were slipping down your cheeks as you kept a brisk pace along the sidewalk, though you hastily wiped them away with the sleeve of your jacket, pretending they had never fallen.

You were starting to think you were in love with Hansol.

A menacing and wrathful thunderstorm had developed overtop the city throughout the day, the cinder clouds completely swallowing any sunlight as they thickened and grew rotund with water vapour. The bullet rain didn’t start falling until the evening, and the booming reverberations of the thunder made it seem as though the sky was splitting itself apart. Your mother used to say it was the angels bowling, and it thundered each time they hit a strike.

Around ten-thirty at night, you grabbed a quick glass of water from the kitchen and wandered into the living room, wanting to see Hansol before you went to bed. However, he didn’t pay any attention to you. He was looking out the rain-splattered windows and into the darkness, where the thunder still roared barbarously. When you sat next to him on the couch, he sensed how the cushions slightly dipped, the boy jerking in surprise upon noting your presence.

Taking a drink of water, you mumbled a muffled “are you okay?” while eyeing him skeptically over the rim.

He shivered, brushing his own arm. “I dunno, I hate thunderstorms.”

Suddenly, there was a harsh, almost deafening crack that echoed from the sky. The lights flickered for a transient moment until the aftershock faded away.

“S-See what I mean?” Hansol stuttered, his eyes glowing in a lambent, soft-tinged blue.

Your heart immediately pined for him, and you experienced an urge to tuck him away in your pocket so he couldn’t be harmed. After setting your water glass on the coffee table, you offered a tenacious solace that made your palms dot with moisture.

“If you want, you can sleep with me in my bed—I mean! not like, sleep with me, but just—we’re both sleeping and nothing else, is what I’m trying to say…”

You internally wilted and admonished yourself for making the request so painfully awkward. To your relief, Hansol chuckled innocuously at you.

“I didn’t think you meant it like that,” he admitted, his eyes flitting from blue to an orchid pink, “If it’s okay, then I’ll do it.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him. “It’s completely okay.”

At first, neither of you could fall asleep, instead staring blankly at the shadows of the popcorn ceiling while raindrops pelted against the glass. You two attempted keeping as much space as possible between you, for even the slightest brush of your leg or arm rendered you both to instantly recoil and spew apologies. At a little past eleven o’clock, your eyes were fluttering open in response to a particular sound. It was Hansol’s leg again, shaking beneath the covers.

Turning your cheek into the pillow, you faced him with aid from your alarm clock light.

“Your leg is going like crazy. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Hansol looked at you, gulping tautly.

“My leg does this all the time. I-I can’t help it. It’s harder to control the bionics there.”

“You have bionics in your leg too?”

“Yeah, mostly in my knee, some in my shin.” His expression was apologetic. “I’m sorry, you can’t sleep because of it, right?”

Hansol held his breath when you grabbed his hand beneath the covers.

“I don’t care.” You promised him, calmly stroking the ridges of his knuckles.

A few moments passed where you simply observed the dark slopes and outlines belonging to each other’s faces, your breaths slowly beginning to synchronize as the raindrops softened against the window. Tentatively, you touched the side of Hansol’s cheek, your thumb running just below the warm, silk skin of his eye, treating him akin to a fragile art piece. You could sense the rigidity within him dissipate like mist, especially as he moved closer to you, pushing his head into your chest. An intense fluttering sensation immediately consumed your lower-tummy.

“Will you please hold me?” He mumbled in his husky, tired voice, his ear settled right over your thumping heart. “I always sleep better when I think about you holding me.”

“O-Of course.” You stuttered, rather taken aback.

That was the first time he had ever been so forward with you.

You fleshed your fingers deep through the boy’s brown locks, feeling the thick, velvet-like strands wrap around each digit and tickle your skin. Continuing to softly coax down his scalp, you brushed against a hard, plastic slit near the back of his nape, and realized it must be the area where Hansol’s sensory chip had originally been inserted. His leg was no longer shaking, and you felt the rhythmic pattern of his breaths against your chest. In the darkness, you could properly see the small circuits that dimly glowed beneath his eye and ran across his cheek.

Under your breath you murmured, “you’re so pretty.”

Almost immediately, the circuits lit up in a deep shade of fuchsia, and you could just see the boy’s mouth twitch coyly. Your entire body, head to toe, flushed with warmth as Hansol only turned his face further into your chest, attempting to hide the sappy blush staining his cheeks. He was inexplicably more than just pretty, Hansol was precious, and you wished to keep him pressed against your side so that the cruel world may never wrap its hands around him.

About a week later, you met with Yoojung at the internet coffeeshop. She had recently returned from her stay at the opposite side of the city with her mother. You two picked a window seat at the front house, using the translucent screen in front of you to select your orders. As soon as you were finished, the screen blipped off, revealing the bustling city street.

“Changkyun wanted to come too,” Yoojung said, fiddling with a sugar packet, “but his aerospace class is going on a tour of the Sky Hub… He won’t stop talking about you, y’know?”

You cringed slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by Yoojung.

She couldn’t repress her laughter. “What’s that about? You hate him now?”

“I don’t hate him.” You also grabbed a sugar packet and started pushing around the granules inside, using it as an excuse not to face her directly. “It’s weird being only friends.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Yoojung frowned.

“I thought that was what I wanted. I feel like… I kept him as a friend because I was too afraid to lose him completely. But now…” You heaved a sigh and chewed pensively into your bottom lip.

“You’ve moved on.” Yoojung acknowledged. “But with who?”

Taking in a breath to relax your pulse, you looked at Yoojung seriously and admitted: “Hansol.”

“Hansol?” Her jaw almost fell off the bone. “What the hell! How come you never told me you were in love with the hot cyborg? When did this happen?”

There was a silver disc on the far side of the table that automatically slid open, and a tray pushed up that contained Yoojung’s coffee and your honey tea. Once you took the tray, the silver disc closed.

“Like two months ago,” you confessed, handing Yoojung her coffee mug and the small pitcher of cream, “he’s living with me.”

“I had no idea.” She sounded in complete awe. “But now that I think of it, you two always seemed to connect really well.”

You felt an unbridled smile pull at the corners of your mouth, but tried not to make your giddiness too obvious.   

“Can you please not tell Changkyun? If he finds out, I want it to be through me.”

“I won’t say anything.” Yoojung promised, drawing a cross over her chest with her finger.

After you spent a few minutes blowing at your tea, you swallowed coarsely and asked Yoojung about a matter that had always allured your curiosity.

“What are those numbers by Hansol’s ear? I’ve never asked him.”

“I don’t know really,” Yoojung replied, shrugging, “my dad said it’s like a barcode that they use in laboratories.”

“Do you think Hansol was an experiment of some sort?”

Yoojung poured a dash of cream into her coffee and stirred it. “Most likely. I think that’s why he writes in that notebook all the time. My dad told me that the laboratories are evil. They do cruel experiments, and a lot of the cyborgs need a mental escape. Apparently, they’re allowed to write or paint. Ever since my dad found Hansol, he’s had that notebook.”

Her expression turned sorrowful and the contours of her face filled with gloom. “I don’t think Hansol is used to being treated like a human. Just because he has bionic parts, that doesn’t mean he’s emotionless, like some android. He can walk and breathe and laugh, like any of us.”

You stared into the golden, swirling colours of your tea and nodded solemnly.

“He can love too,” Yoojung hummed, “he just needs to be shown it first.”

Ivory rays of moonlight followed you home, until you slipped through the door and quietly clicked it shut. You hadn’t expected to stay out so long with Yoojung, though you weren’t entirely surprised considering her month-long absence.

Hansol was sitting on the couch, the lamp aglow on the side table as he scribbled into that faux, black leather notebook, a few stray locks of hair tickling his eyes. Your expression couldn’t help but split into one of firm ardour and love, a contented smile decorating your mouth while you opened the fridge to look for a quick snack. 

You pulled out a container of sliced strawberries, washed your hands, and ate nearly half the sweet summer fruit. After wiping off your fingers with a paper towel, you sat next to Hansol on the couch and rested your chin on his shoulder. His writing was crooked, rather messy, and you couldn’t quite read anything from the paper, though you held a moment of silence, continuing to watch him make his scribbles. Eventually you set a hand on his bicep, squeezing gently and feeling the hard, metal component beneath.

“Did you have a nice day, Sollie?” You asked him, mindlessly stroking his arm.

He turned his head slightly and caught your curious eye. Never had you yearned to kiss someone else so badly, and you were forced to squash the notion that moving your head just an inch forward would have your lips to his.

“It was fine.” Hansol replied, his gaze tenderly studying your face. “You?”

“I saw Yoojung today, so we caught up on some things...” tracing circles against his strong arm, you added shyly, “I thought about you a lot too.”

The edges of Hansol’s lips fluttered into a smile. “Yeah? Nice.”

“What are you writing about?” You hummed, simultaneously reaching into a pocket on your jacket, pulling out a lip balm.

Hansol chuckled, “you can’t read it?”

You pressed the smooth end of the stick against your lips and shook your head.

“No,” you scoffed lightheartedly in response, staring into the boy’s brown eyes, “not saying you have bad hand writing. It’s just… a little indiscernible.”

He examined the paper again, and his countenance became timid, even a mixture of anxious.

“Good.” Hansol huffed, his leg starting to shake.

“Why good? C’mon, I want to know at least the topic.” You shoved away your fruity lip balm with a large pout.

“If you don’t have a clue now then you’ll never have one.” Hansol teased.

Scratching your arm, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Is it about me?”

Hansol didn’t say anything, he just pressed his lips together in a small, sheepish smile while that familiar rose tint flickered in his eyes. He nodded, then set his book and pen on the side table.

“Do you think that’s weird?”

“What?” You questioned him. “That you write about me? I don’t think it’s weird.”

You expected him to appear more relieved, but Hansol’s face only filled with new shadows of uncertainty and doubt. He peered into his lap again, and you could see a very prominent circuit on his neck fire a multitude of luminous, twinkling signals. Something clearly wasn’t right with him; something was still causing him pain. Carefully, your fingers grazed Hansol’s sharp jaw, turning his head so that he could look at you forwardly. You swept away the tresses that were touching his long lashes, a deep concern shifting the once chipper nature to your face.

“What’s wrong, Hansol?” Your brow furrowed, knuckles stroking softly along his jawline. “You can tell me anything.”

“W-Would—,” he stumbled, and you saw how his irises faded into a beautiful aurora of ice blue, “would you love me more if I weren’t who I am?”

Immediately you tensed, and your eyes widened. Your hand fell from the boy’s jaw while a thorough shock bottomed out in your gut. Hansol looked at you so purely, so intimately.

“Because I’m in love with you,” his gritty voice trembled slightly, becoming as thin as the paper attached to his notebook, “and I can’t stop thinking about you, or writing about you. When you touch me, I feel the sensors in my body light up like crazy, and when you say my name, I replay it over and over again in my head. I’ve never felt this way before. But… I’m not like Changkyun, or Yoojung, or you. I can never be human in the way that you all are. ”

You shook your head, the inside of your mouth feeling horrendously parched and your heart aching tight against your ribs. Pulling the boy’s hand into your lap, you interlaced your fingers.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded, a surge of hot, liquid salt lining your eyes, “those bionics in your body don’t take away from the fact you can feel real emotion. I don’t care if you had circuits in every part of you, or none of you. You still have a heart that feels pain, and love, a brain that helps you rationalize your emotions and thoughts. That alone makes you human enough, Hansol. I’ll love you no matter what.”

His cheeks were rubescent, eyes developing a thin film of teary gloss.

“Do you promise?” He croaked between a small sniffle.

You cupped his face in your enveloping palms and pressed a deep, calming kiss to his mouth.

“I promise.” You assured him, resting your forehead against his. “I love you, Hansol.”

The boy was unmarred by hesitance. Delicately, he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck to gently push your lips against his, slightly angling his head so that he could better coordinate with your movement. The kiss was slow, but blooming with passion, and you felt the heat pool in the pit of your lower tummy as Hansol started guiding you to lay on your back. Your lips never separated, and the contact only grew more fervent upon tasting the mild fruit of your own chapstick from Hansol’s pink mouth. While your fingers tangled through his dark brown hair, pulling softly at the strong roots, his hands crept underneath your t-shirt.

He squeezed tenderly along your waist, the rough callouses gorged into his large palms turning your insides to a warm puddle. As the boy pressed open-mouth kisses beneath your jaw, one hand reached for his bicep, feeling the hard metal underneath upon digging in your fingertips. By the time Hansol reached the crook of your shoulder, he was panting faintly, to which you let the boy adjust his weight as he wriggled himself against your side, sleepy and overwhelmed with how the night unfolded. 

He nuzzled into your neck and tucked an arm around your stomach, attempting to keep you as close as possible, like you could disappear into thin air.

“Goodnight, Sol.” You murmured, gently scratching the top of his head.

His breath tickled the sensitive flesh of your neck, his rough voice already heavy with remnants of his incoming slumber as he repeated the phrase back to you. Just before you shut your eyes, your lips kissed the barcode tattooed to the sweet spot just in front of his ear.

I’ll love you no matter what.

✧✎ a/n: :-) hope u liked it! hearing ur thoughts is always appreciated!! i was actually supposed to post seokmin’s prince!au next, but that one is like 12k and since my mingyu purge fic was also really long, i just wanted to write smth short and sweet in between. maybe some of u would not consider 6k “short” lol but to me who physically CANNOT shorten my writing this is actually an improvement! anywho, i like writing hansol as a BIG SOFTIE!!!!

[eldritchsurveys]

420 (ayyyy).

Hello :) Do you like to use a lot of smiley faces online? >> Not a lot, but I do use some.

Which instant messaging service do you use, if any? >> Discord. Tumblr also has an IM feature, but it’s not very good IMO. I hate that tiny little window.

What are your opinions on Justin Bieber? >> I don’t have any opinions on him. He rarely crosses my radar.

On December 21st 2012, if the world starts to go down, what will you do? >> I don’t remember what I was doing. I was in Colorado at that time, and that’s really all I remember.

Do you Facebook creep / Myspace stalk? >> No.

Is there a celebrity you're obsessed with? Who? >> Not really. There are celebrities I like looking at and ones I like watching in movies and such, but I’m not obsessed, just interested.

Do you look at yourself in any reflective surface you pass? >> Usually.

What theme is your calendar? >> I don’t use calendars. 

Is there anyone famous born on your birthday? Who? >> Most certainly, but I don’t know who.

Do you have a background on your cell phone? Of what? >> My lock screen is this Gunship album cover because it looks so fucking cool, and my home screen is a shot of Quentin Oliver Lee as the Phantom of the Opera.

Have you ever watched the clock tick a full minute? >> Yeah.

Is there anyone you know who kind of looks like you? >> No.

Do you wish you had a twin? If you do, do you wish you didn't? >> No.

Which lollipop flavor is your favorite? >> ---

Do you still enjoy coloring with crayons? >> I never enjoyed colouring with crayons.

If someone came up and randomly hugged you, what would you do? >> Flip my shit and probably hurt them.

Are we really getting lazier with all the technology advances these days? >> Possibly. But I can’t be bothered to care about that.

What was the last movie you saw in 3D? >> Probably a Marvel movie, I don’t remember now.

1-ply 2-ply or 3-ply bathroom tissue? Or does it matter? >> 2-ply seems sufficient. I hate the really soft stuff (it leaves particles behind, for one, and it’s bad for the plumbing, for another) but 1-ply is a little too spartan.

Have you ever tried out products at a kiosk at the mall when they ask you? >> No. I avoid those kiosks with the ruthlessness of someone who’s lived in a big city and knows how to avoid canvassers and panhandlers and everyone else who wants my attention (and money).

Do you ever wish you got more actual letters in the mail? >> I don’t really care. If I wanted to get letters that badly, I’d find a penpal and start sending some.

Have you ever knocked/rang the doorbell, then ran? >> No.

Do you take the bus often? >> Not often, because I don’t go out often, but I usually take it whenever I go out by myself.

Do you like serious people or ones with a sense of humor? >> I like people who can do both.

When you read a happy scene in a book, do you find yourself smiling? >> I mean, sometimes, probably.

Have you ever went to the movie theatres by yourself? >> I often do.

Is one of your main reasons for going to the beach to check people out? >> No.

What food do you absolutely despise? >> Bananas.

What is your favorite genre of music? >> I don’t have one.

Do you shave? >> No. I trim occasionally, but that’s all.

What is your opinion on the Twilight saga? >> I think people should feel free to enjoy it without being ridiculed by people with superiority complexes. Also, lay off the fucking author already.

Which celebrity will you always think is good looking? >> I don’t know, tastes are always liable to change.

Do you use twitter? Do you twitstalk a lot of celebrities? >> No.

Have you ever taped your fingers together? Doesn't it feel weird? >> No.

Do you like the squishy feeling of clay or mud beneath your feet? >> No.

What is one habit you wish you could cut? >> Picking at my lips. I’ve tried so hard to stop but nothing works.

When was the last time you used the bathroom? >> About an hour ago.

Do you have an accent? >> To someone, I’m sure.

Do you clean your house? >> I clean part of it.

How many tabs do you have open right now? >> Four.

Is wearing a lot of makeup being pretty or cakefaced? >> ...

Do you care about the Olympics? >> I don’t.

Do you ever wear headphones but then don't listen to anything? >> Yeah, when I’m using them to block out environmental noise.

Do you have a Youtube account? >> I have a Google account, which automatically is a Youtube account.

Do you know anyone who collects pins? >> No.

Do you enjoy taking pictures? >> Not as a hobby.

Do you ever video chat with people? >> No.

Have you ever tried Chatroulette or Omegle? >> I think I tried them once, but it didn’t interest me.

Are you a sports fan? If so, what sport(s)? >> No.

When did you stop trick-or-treating? Or do you still go? >> I’ve never done it.

Can you bake a good cake from scratch? >> I’ve never tried.

Can you bowl? Good? >> No.

Do you wish your life was like a movie sometimes? >> No, because that really wouldn’t make any sense.

Do you just smile or make silly faces/poses in pictures? >> Most of the time I don’t do anything, unless I specifically feel like making some sort of pose.

Do/did you ever like the books you have/had to read in high school? >> I only liked one -- Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Do you live in a small town or a big city? >> I’m not sure what Grand Rapids qualifies as. It definitely ain’t a big city, though.

What is your cell phone carrier? >> Boost Mobile.

Do you have any stuffed toys? >> Yeah, a lot of them.

What was your favorite childhood toy? Do you still have it? >> I don’t think I had one.

What song fits your mood right now? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever had a pet fish? >> No.

What internet browser are you using? >> Chrome.

Do you have a lot of bookmarks (internet)? >> Not a lot, but I have a good number.

Are you doing anything fun this weekend? >> I don’t know yet. Probably not.

Do you have any big plans for the upcoming summer? >> Winter is what’s upcoming, and no.

What did you do last New Years Eve? >> I don’t remember.

Plaid, stripes, checkers, or polka dots? >> Plaid.

Do you join a lot of fanpages on Facebook? >> No.

Can you curl your tongue? How about in a clover shape? >> No.

Is there any TV show that you get extremely excited about? >> Yeah, a few. I’m excited about The Good Place and Superstore coming back for their fall seasons.

What kind of lotion do you use? >> Aveeno.

Have you ever squeezed a zit and popped its nastiness everywhere? >> No, I hate the very idea of zit-popping.

Have you ever bit your cheek, and then bit it again in the same place? >> Yes, and god it’s awful.

Have you ever had a bath with a sibling/cousin when you were little? >> ---

Would you rather not eat or not sleep for 24 hours? >> Not sleep.

Do you ever actually take cold showers during the summer? >> No.

When was the last time you played on a playground? >> I don’t remember. At least a few years ago.

Do you like the really spinny rides at amusement parks? >> Not really.

What's your opinion on facial hair? >> I don’t have an opinion about that.

Have you ever gambled at a casino? >> No. I’m pretty sure just stepping inside a casino would send me into instant sensory overload.

What's your favorite thing to shop for? >> ---

Duz it bothar U wen Pplz tYPe Lyyk th!s ?!!one?!!?? >> People don’t really type like that anymore, so.

Do you know someone really thin who eats a lot (and doesn't puke it up)? >> No...?

Do you make a wish at 11:11? >> No.

What was the last present you bought for someone? >> I bought a couple of small things at Vault of Midnight (a comics/games store) that I thought would be good as stocking stuffers. I have a hard time with stocking stuffers so I figured I’d start early and collect things over time.

Aren't pad and tampon commercials just ridiculous? >> Most commercials are ridiculous, honestly.

Do you use a wallet or just put money in your pockets? >> I use a little zip pouch as a wallet.

Do you like your ID picture (whichever ID you have)? >> Not really, but it’s not a big deal.

Do you do online gaming? >> Yeah.

What was the last thing you put in your mouth? >> A toothbrush.

Who were the last people you hung out with? >> Some people from the West Michigan Geeks meetup group.

On a scale of 1-10, how attractive do you think you are? Honestly? >> No.

Do you think you have a good sense of humor? >> I mean, it works great for me.

Lmfao, Lmao, Rofl, Rotfl, Lol, Haha, Hehe, other? >> I use lmao a lot.

Have you ever tried to count grains of sand in your hand? >> No.

What does your ideal partner look like? >> ---

Do you ever have to write your name on food to keep it from getting eaten? >> No.

Do you have a friend you still hang with even though they're annoying? >> No.

What is one thing you've always wanted to do? >> *shrug*

[electricbluebutterflies]

forget.

“She asks for peace and instead she gets HIM.”

Or, I wanted to write angsty mid-s2-ish Kabby smut so here we are. Bit canon-divergent in no specific direction and obviously NSFW.

She goes to the water when she gets the chance. There are hundreds of things she ought to be doing at this given moment, but that’s never stopped Abby from following her heart and right now that heart is saying she needs to breathe. Just for an hour, maybe two if she gets distracted in a nice sort of way, certainly not enough time for the entire encampment to catch fire in her absence. And hell, if she’s wrong, enough people have a vague idea where she is and...

Oh, she doesn’t care about them right now. She doesn’t care. She’s overwhelmed, she hates being in charge, and she wants to forget for a little while. Even the more sacrificial part of her soul can justify that.

She stops a couple yards from the edge of the lake and begins to slowly shed her clothing, taking inventory of her bits and pieces as she does so. There’s a tear on the left sleeve of her jacket that she ought to mend - perhaps she’ll do that next time she hits breaking point, curl up with needle and thread and be a damned person instead of this escape - and a few bruises on her legs that she doesn’t remember getting. Her skin feels loose in places, and she knows that even with resources as they are she’s not eating as much as she ought to because half the time she genuinely forgets. Sleep gets the same respect from her lately, and she’s almost amazed that she’s even on her feet right now. No, perhaps that’s too strong a word for her current state... she is, after all, having a minor breakdown in private to keep from a major one in public, but...

Abby has never feared her emotions before, but lately she just wants to numb them. Stop feeling, stop caring. Stop feeling the pressure to be a perfect mother, an honorable leader, a person capable of herding several hundred people around without any major disaster. Stop wondering when the stars will stop taking from her. Just stop. Not permanently or anything, but for a little while, long enough to heal.

Her fingers involuntarily ghost over the scars on her lower back. Hadn’t that been enough sign of her not-enough-ness? Her blood bought healing, but at such cost. Just thinking of that day sends an echo of pain pulsing though her body, a sensation she fears she will never forget. Unlike those she loves, Abby does not have a martyr’s desires. She wants, so desperately, to live. She wants...

She unties her hair, lets the piece of cord fall atop her clothing, and walks forward into the lake. In water, peace. In water, untouchable.

She half expects these little adventures will get her bitten and killed by some sort of water serpent, like what almost happened to that poor Blake girl - poor kid, maybe the only of their kind with even worse luck than herself - but Abby doesn’t feel so much as a harmless fish as she pushes off the bottom of the water and floats on her back. Teaching herself to swim has been a little bit trial and error, but there’s a primal human instinct for it and floating is the most natural thing in the world to her. Worst case scenario, this part of the water is only waist deep, so she’ll be able to save herself if she gets distracted or-

In the distance, footsteps. Peace broken as she remembers that she is alone, female, and unarmed. (Not to mention undressed, but that feels like a lesser concern.) She drops down fluidly, sinks neck-deep in the water, waits. Probably nothing. Probably just a mutant raccoon or some other strange wildlife. She’ll be fine. She’ll be-

No. Human, coming towards her, and familiar as a figure starts to emerge through the trees. No, even worse. About the last person she wants to deal with right now, because so help her they’ve known each other since childhood and no matter how hard she tries she can’t remember a single interaction that hasn’t given her a headache. Dammit. She asks for peace and instead she gets him.

“Where did you go?” Marcus growls. He’s within arm’s distance of her clothing pile, scanning the area for any sign of life. Not worried, exactly, but getting close and Abby feels almost proud of herself for inspiring that and yet-

“Out here,” she calls, not making herself any more visible.

He shakes his head, the perpetual look of frustration blossoming all over him. “At least tell someone next time.”

“I did. Just no one you bothered to ask.”

He grants the point and, without any verbal explanation, sits down on the ground next to her pile. A few slight shifts of position for maximum comfort and oh, there is something strangely natural about the sight of him there, middle-aged lion protecting a woman he doesn’t even like half the time. If Abby were braver, or perhaps a little more lucid, she’d say something about that. As it is...

“Join me?”

Apparently, two words is all it takes to make Marcus’s face turn a beautiful shade of pink beneath his scruff. “What?”

“Water’s much more comfortable than open air,” Abby shrugs, shifting herself so her shoulders break through the surface. “I promise I won’t splash you.”

“That’s not what worries me,” he mutters. “But if you insist...”

She stares as he strips down. She can’t help it. She’s seen more than her share of naked bodies over the years, each with their own form of beauty, but she’s especially captivated by this one. The shape of him is pleasing, she thinks, perhaps not yet enough scars on his skin but there’s still life to be lived and that will come in time.  And okay, fine, she wonders what a soldier’s calluses would feel like brushed against her skin. She wonders, not for the first time, what it would take to break him apart and taste the wreckage. Perhaps, she thinks, it would be enough.

First, though, first she gets the pleasure of watching one of the strongest people she knows have an overwhelming experience. She’d expected otherwise, figured poor Marcus would’ve had to charge into the water chasing something by now, but apparently not and she giggles as he reacts to cold water on skin. Comparatively comfortable, perhaps, but still a hell of a sensory experience for the uninitiated and-

”You’re enjoying this too much,” he growls. He’s almost hip-deep by now, could reach out and touch her if he wanted to but doesn’t because of... heavens, could be any number or combination of reasons, damned if she knows but-

“Not too much at all,” she counters, rising to her full height. Abby’s aware she’s tiny by comparison, but she doesn’t care as she twirls around so her back is facing him and pushes her hair out of the way so her scars are fully visible. “That was still worse.”

He closes the distance and brushes his fingertips across her marks, gentle as can be under the circumstances. “I was wrong. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Depends. Do you mean it?”

“More than anything.”

“Prove it.”

She’s not sure what to expect, but she’s pleasantly surprised as he pulls her back against him and cautiously wraps his arm around her waist. “Tell me when to stop,” he murmurs as his other hand begins to climb her inner thigh.

“This doesn’t mean anything at all.” As if saying it will make it true.

“First thing you haven’t complicated.”

Abby shifts her body just so, satisfied with the response against her lower back. “Make me forget.”

He traces patterns efficiently yet with an adaptive gentleness that pleasantly surprises her. No teasing or unnecessary foreplay, just a finger on her clit applying pressure just so. And no unnecessary words either, and she’s thankful for that. Means better odds this will help her go numb. Means-

She’s thankful for his arm around her as the world goes suddenly very bright, and when she comes back down all is exactly as she left it and she’s thankful for that to. For that, she repays the kindness by twirling around and pulling him down for a kiss and-

“Still means nothing,” she breathes against his lips.

She rests her head against his chest and feels... perhaps more than she wants to, but not so much the overwhelming weight of the world. A flicker of light taking human form opposite her, stroking her back and allowing her to claim whatever pieces of him she needs.

“I like when we forget we hate each other,” Marcus breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Abby’s head.

“I’ve never hated you,” she counters. “You annoy me more than anyone else I’ve ever met, but it’s nothing personal.”

”Damn. And here I thought you’d intentionally spent the last twenty years making my life a living hell.”

“You did most of that to yourself. All I really needed to do was point it out.”

“Not anymore. As long as I can remember your screams... I will do better.”

“I know.”

Abby closes her eyes and, for a heartbeat, she forgets and it is enough.