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nekohime19 · 3 months ago

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Hear behind the lie # 63 : Lady Wan

It's time to finally meet another one of the four celestial monkey! Lady Wan!

Wukong secured Sock over his shoulder, making sure she was comfortably settled, before hopping after the servant's retreating shadow. He landed in a narrow passage enveloped in darkness. The only source of light was the servant’s oil lamp, the flame was barely able to illuminate their surroundings. Not that Wukong needed light, his eyes were sharp enough to cut through the shadows. The rest of the team hopped after him. Once they were all inside the secret passage, the servant closed off the hole.

“So any reasons Lady Wan suddenly wants to see us?” Asked the great sage. He wasn't against the Jeweler seeking them, it spared them a lot of time, but it was still a very sudden invitation. Wukong sensed they were being pulled in a greater scheme.

“Lady Wan will explain everything once you see her.” Replied the servant, face devoid of any betraying feelings. Wukong let the subject go. Evidently he wouldn't be able to discover anything from such a tight lipped mouth.

The servant guided them in the narrow passage. The walls were old, dug in the earth itself, it was a crude work. Clearly the ones who dug didn't worry about aesthetics. Wukong wondered if the Sunfires were even aware of the underground maze dug beneath their beloved manor. Probably not if Lady Wan’s servant was able to use them so freely. It wasn't that surprising… Hidden passages such as these were jealousy guarded secrets, passed along from parents to children, it only took one negligent generation not mentioning it for it to be forgotten. The servant stopped and opened another hole, light poured in the passage. They were ushered out of the passage by the servant, pushed in a dim-lighted study.

The study was large. It was devoid of any lavishness, in fact it was quite austere, all furniture were sharp and somber, exuding a sense of danger. Scrolls were sprawled all over the place, each filled with intricate texts difficult to decipher. There were no windows. The study was illuminated by various lamps hung all around the place.

“I see they accepted my invitation.” The one who spoke was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, a grey-furred monkey dressed in white. Wukong assumed that must be Lady Wan. Her voice was soft, yet it held an inexplicable sharpness, like a dagger hidden in cotton. Wukong met a lot of monkeys in his life, but he never saw one as sharp as her. Frankly speaking, she looked like a blade. Her chin was pointed and her face's lines cut steep. Her eyes were as clear as ice, beautiful yet cold. Her mane was pulled in a tight half-up bun, held together by a silver pin. The lower half of her mane cascaded on her shoulders like rivers of snow. She had no jewelery expect for the pin, a pity for someone called the Jeweler.

A man was at her side. He stood behind her seat with his hands clasped in his back. If Lady Wan was like the first snow of winter, this man looked like the first sprouts of spring. He was small and plump, dressed in light green robes. He was wearing a weasle mask, again, the people of this city either hid themselves in their veils or behind their masks.

Lady Wan gestured to the seats before her desk, the team tentatively settled there. At least, contrary to the Sunfires leaders, this time they had enough seats for everyone. Wukong put Sock on his lap and scratched behind her ears, the lil lady pawed at his thighs in happiness. Lady Wan’s servant bowed to her mistress before settling further back in the study, laying in the shadows.

“I heard you were looking for me.” Hummed the grey-furred monkey, she waved her snow-white fan around, hiding her mouth behind the frosty paper. Her eyes were curved, not unlike those of a cat playing with its prey.

“We are looking for the Jeweler.” Blurted out Tang, Wukong commanded him for his bravery, it wasn't easy to speak before a women as intimidating as their host, if she could be called that.

“And that would be me.” Chuckled Lady Wan, her joyful attitude didn't reassure Wukong, not one bit.

“One of our friend needs healing.” Chimed MK, eyes burning with hope. Lady Wan hummed, unsurprised.

“What kind of healing?”

“Necromancy.” Clarified Wukong, he wasn't willing to reveal further, but seeing the glint passing in their host's eyes, he didn't need to. Lady Wan put one finger over her chin, pensive.

“That is indeed very serious and difficult to cure but not impossible. I can look into your friend's state.” The whole team breathed a sigh of relief, as if a great burden was taken off their shoulders.

“At what cost?” Asked the great sage, he wasn't naive enough to believe she was willing to help without any benefits. Lady Wan smiled at his question, something predatory. She snapped her fan shut and put it down.

“I am sure you're already aware, but in two days I am to be wedded to Jaw-long, the son of the current sole leader of the Sunfires.” The man standing behind her shifted uncomfortably at the words “sole leader”, as if it bothered him to even think about it. Lady Wan didn’t pay him any attention and resumed : “It'll be a grand event, with food and wine flowing in abundance. All of the clan's important figureheads will be there. And they'll be distracted. I need your strength to help me stage a coup that day.” Her words froze them all momentarily. She revealed this as if it was as mundane as taking a stroll outside. Wukong didn’t expect to be pulled into politics when he first came here, even less staging a rebellion in the midst of a wedding. He needed clarification before accepting to partake in this sort of scheme.

Lady Wan reclined on her chair as if what she proposed wasn't that shocking, she opened her fan and waved it lightly, clearly she didn't intend to speak more than this. The man behind her cleared his throat and tentatively explained the situation :

“You see, the Sunfires were originally two different clans : the Blooms and the Goldhands. They joined hands to face the puppeteers and since then had been united under one banner. Since its founding, there have always been two leaders ruling the Sunfires. One coming from the Blooms the other coming from the Goldhands. But recently, Fang, the Goldhands descendant, killed her co-leader… She disguised it as an accident, saying a fire broke out and none made it… I wouldn't have made it without Lady Wan…”

“I used the underground maze to save him. I was too late to save the Blooms leader, but I could save his general.” Hummed Lady Wan, Wukong was quite surprised to learn this plump guy was a general… but well people always said to not make judgments based on appearances.

Wukong remained silent, truthfully he wouldn't mind helping them in their makeshift rebellion if it meant giving Macaque a chance to heal. But this was no light decision. They needed to talk about it seriously.

“Can we take time to think of this?” Asked the great sage. Lady Wan squinted at him, as if examining him.

“I will give you the night. My servant will seek you again by morning, I expect an answer then.” Proposed the gray-furred monkey, the team nodded. They were guided out of the study by the servant, regaining their room via the hidden passage.

Wukong scratched under Sock's chin, this was going to be a long night.

***

Lady Wan watched them go with piercing eyes, her smile dropped out of her face the moment they were gone. She knew that even with the Blooms support, it would be difficult to defeat the Goldhands, having the Great sage equal to Heaven in their ranks would assure their victory. Perhaps it was fate that led them to her door. She wasn't one to let this chance slip by her.

“Do you think they'll agree?” Asked General Fei, he readjusted his weasel mask, not wanting to let one inch of his skin be seen. Lady Wan pitied him, him and all those subjected to the Burned-Skin Disease. It wasn't easy to live with it. To see your body charred for life. Even the most meager ray of light caused them pain. But as much as she pitied them, she couldn't heal them.

This kind of magical corruption wasn't her domain of expertise. She could soothe their pain, but not root out their sickness. Until now, she managed to fool them with niceties and temporary solutions, but she knew it wouldn't last. It would be easier if she could just slip away and run far from this mess. But her nibling was out there. And she knew that if she escaped, the Sunfires would hunt Xiaobo down.

And besides, she had her own thirst for vengeance. No matter how nice she was. No matter if she wasn't one for swords and blood. No matter if she prefered crafts and scrolls. There were things even she couldn't forgive.

“A living-dead isn't easy to heal.” Hummed Lady Wan. “They're in a time race, I don't think they have any other choice.”

General Fei didn't seem reassured. He sighed and messed with his sleeves. “I hope you're right.”

“I'm always right.” Snorted Lady Wan. She fanned herself, hoping to discard the pungent smell of ash. She hated it. “You remember our deal, General?”

“I won't touch the kid, I promise.” Sighed General Fei. Lady Wan hummed. She hoped he was honest. It was all she could do to assure her nibling safety. She helped them stage the coup and in turn they would let her go, and never touch a single fluff of Xiaobo's head. A fair bargain.

Lady Wan nodded, satisfied. She sent the General away with a flick of the wrist. This was her chambers after all, it wouldn't do them any good if the Blooms General was discovered before the coup. General Fei bowed to her and left via the passage. Now alone, Lady Wan sighed and rubbed her forehead. All this scheming tired her. All these people tired her. She wasn't one to interact this much with the outside world to begin with. She didn't like people. In fact, only a select few held her affection.

Someone knocked on her door. Lady Wan sighed, she knew who it was, the guy always came at the same hour. She regained her poise and washed away her tiredness. Slowly, she opened the door. She was greeted by a familiar fox mask. Jaw-long waved at her, he barged in her chamber without any qualm and collapsed on her sofa. Lady Wan hid her disgust behind her fan.

“Ah, like always, you're beautiful.” Hummed Jaw-long.

“And you're disgraceful.” Curtly replied Lady Wan. Her tongue wasn't as colorful as her nibling’s but it was definitely as sharp. She wasn't the type to hide her distaste of someone. Jaw-long chuckled and brushed her insult away. He was used to it.

“Can you believe we're going to be married in only two days? ” Chuckled the fox, he rose from the sofa and approached her, he tried to take one piece of her fur in his fingers but she slapped his hand away with her fan.

“Keep your filthy hands away from me.”

“Fierce as always.” Hummed Jaw-long as he rubbed his fingers. “No matter, you'll be mine soon enough.” He left her with those words. He couldn't stay long outside of his mother's view.

Lady Wan huffed. It was unbefitting of her to even be engaged to someone like him. He was an arrogant brat who believed he had the world in his palms. In truth, he wasn't even the one in power, his mother was. Thinking of them was enough to fill her with rage…and guilt.

She knew that what happened to Xiaobo's mother wasn't entirely her fault but still she couldn't help but feel responsible. She shouldn't have left her… She shouldn't have argued with her. It was painful. She could have done better. She could have been better…But now Xiaomei was gone. Her child was but a little lamb wandering in the desert and she was stuck here. Forced to talk with the one who killed her sworn sister.

Lady Wan took a deep breath. She couldn't let herself be swallowed by her own emotions. Vengeance demanded precision. It demanded a heart of steel. She wasn't there to protect Xiaomei, but she would be damned if anything happened to her sister's child. She would make them pay and assure her nibling safety at the same time. She didn't have any knowledge on war. She wasn't a fighter. But she knew enough of human nature to plot ahead.

Jaw-long once told her what he liked about her was her beauty… Well Lady Wan believed she would be the prettiest when she'll pierce his chest with a dagger.

Dawn came soon enough, and with it her servant brought back the Monkie kids answer, as they called themselves. They agreed to her proposition. Lady Wan smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief.

"This is going to be a fine wedding." She hummed happily.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

#shadowpeach #lmk #lego monkie kid #sun wukong #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach fanfic #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #heart behind the lie

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olliewrites-stuff · 2 months ago

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An age old question. [1]

“It’s foolish and shortsighted to think that everyone in this world is either a wolf or a sheep. What if I’m a hippo?” Marcus queried from his lounged position atop the limp, faux-leather beanbag on the floor. One could never quite tell which of his incessant questions were genuine or just for a laugh.

Wije sighed. It was a sound of long and exasperated suffering at the hands of his closest friend. With a few practised, nonverbal hand gestures and several pointed glares, he managed to regain his class’ attention.

“An astute observation from my star pupil. Many questions and contradictions can arise from attempts to generalise the entire human population into two anthropomorphised categories,” Wije drawled. “Had the said star pupil shut his gob and continued to listen, he would have heard me make that point and extend it further.”

He made sure to send a friendly wink to his friend to communicate goodwill as his students giggled. Marcus took the verbal jab like a champ… for about 3 seconds. Suddenly, he held a hand against his heart and swooned dramatically,

“Oh you slay me with your unkind words, Teach!” he wailed. After a quick peek upwards to ensure the class’ attention was now on him, he pulled his face into a mourning mask. “I make a profound observation and you make fun of me! What a wolf move! Much too vicious for a hippo such as myself!” he warbled.

Wije rolled his eyes as the final bell rang. He resolutely ignored Marcus’ shit-eating grin as he regained the class’ attention again and reminded them of homework expectations for the weekend. The English teacher dismissed the students and trudged to tower over his still-seated friend as the teenagers filed out of the door.

“Remind me why you’re in my classroom?” he grumbled. Marcus merely extended his arms behind his head as he stretched out his back.

“Well, you invited me in as a guest judge for their debates in Week 6. I wouldn’t have noticed that my free period clashed with this class every Friday afternoon if you hadn’t pointed it out to me,” Marcus teased. “Plus, your kids can’t get enough of me! Who am I to deny my adoring fans of absolutely brilliant English commentary from their beloved performing arts teacher?”

Wije once again rolled his eyes. Unfortunately, this particular eye roll seemed to catch Marcus’ attention. The brunette scoffed indignantly in response, “Oi! Don’t you eye roll me! You’re just jealous that I’m their favourite teacher!”

The English teacher bit back a grin as he maintained a droll tone, “Yeah, okay. Sure. Not like you’re gate-crashing my class or anything.”

Another indignant screech.

“I do not gate-crash!” Marcus defended. “I improve! I enhance! I was practically begged - if not explicitly invited - by your students to attend!’

Wije’s disbelief extended all throughout Marcus’ following scramble to turn his beanbag around. His all-knowing smirk lasted up until Marcus pointed proudly to a hand-drawn sign attached to the back of the beanbag that the noirrette had not noticed before.

‘Mr Day’s Throne. VIP Access 24/7’

“Are you - How - How long has that been there?!” Wije shrieked in amazement. What the fuck? The scratchy handwriting narrowed the culprit down to one of about five of his students, but it was certainly from a student and not Marcus. Wije attempted to swipe the paper from the brunet’s hands, but the performing arts teacher held it out of reach.

“Uh uh uh,” Marcus tutted. “You can’t just ignore or crumple up a VIP, 24/7 access pass. Imagine the riots if my adoring fans found out that this sacred signage had been dismissed…”

Wije glanced quickly out the doorway and surrounding hallways to ensure they were clear before turning to face Marcus, “You little fucker! You’ve weasled your way into the good graces of my kids!” Turning to hide his pout, Wije continued, “Keep going like this, and you’ll be asked to teach this class. They’d take you over me in a heartbeat… Then you’ll be in deep shit. You’ll have to actually read a book to the end.” His laugh was weak, even to his ears.

“Hey,” Marcus’ call was soft. “Firstly, I can read, thank you very much. I’ll have you know that I read the entirety of Pygmalion when I was in Year 11, and I still regularly read far too much fanfiction on nights I can’t sleep, so, there! Also, stop it with that ‘everyone hates me’, ‘my kids will leave me for you’ shit. Your students adore your class, dude. I’d say you’d have to be blind to miss it, but even Evan can tell how much you value your class, so that point’s moot.”

The English teacher smiled softly and turned around. Meeting his friend’s worried gaze again, he apologised, “I’m sorry to bring the mood down. I don’t mean to.” He cut off Marcus’ inhaled breath, “And I know I don’t have to apologise. You know me well. Too well, I think sometimes. I just - I’m probably just tired. Ignore me.”

The pair sat in content silence for a handful of long moments, becoming attuned with the hum of the air conditioner and the muffled waves of conversation filtering in from outside the classroom windows. Marcus was the one to break the contemplative silence with a chuckle, “You’re definitely appreciated by your students. Really appreciated by some… You’ve got a fanclub forming in the back row.”

Wije groaned, “Ugh, don’t tell me… Ronnie?”

“Spot on,” Marcus taunted. “She’s got the perfect angle to stare goo-goo eyes at you all lesson without you noticing. I don’t think she took a single on-task note for the entire period.”

“Urgh,” Wije repeated. “Gross. Fuck, I’ll need to record that and update her folks… She needs to grow out of that, ASAP. Did I tell you that she gave me a handwritten, and handmade, note on Valentine’s day?”

This seemed to pique Marcus’ interest. Oddly concerned eyebrows furrowed in the English teacher’s direction, “Oh?” Wije noted that his friend’s voice was strange; thin, almost.

He sighed and leant against the front side of his desk. “Yeah. Nothing too bad, but I still found it odd that I got it. I flagged it with leadership, so we’ve been monitoring the situation. She’s about one subtle unwelcome advance away from being moved from my class. I’m just glad I flagged it early and have her parents informed - apparently this isn’t new behaviour, but they’re grateful that I’m so active in recording it and alerting them.”

Marcus released a long sigh, “That sucks, man. Hopefully she will grow out of it soon. It can’t be easy being on alert all the time like that.”

The English teacher slumped further, “It’s the future part that gets to me, really. If she’s already ignoring academic reprimands and rules to seek this unhealthy one-sided relationship, what does that mean for her future? If she doesn’t grow up and learn how to identify healthy and realistic relationships, where is that going to leave her in 20 years? This is probably the thing that terrifies me most about teaching highschool - after us, we release them into the outside world. The outside world is fucking ruthless, and sometimes I feel like we’re sending our unprepared kids into their early deaths - or at the very least, a lifetime of being miserable… They deserve better than that.”

Marcus was eerily quiet. Wije, knowing his friend thoroughly, thus knowing that he sometimes needed extra time to process before responding, decided to use the silence to begin packing his bag for the end of the day. When his friend spoke again, his tone was determined, “Your students are lucky to have you, you know?”

The English teacher tried to brush the comment off, but Marcus was relentless, “No, Wije, you need to hear this. Your students are lucky to have you. You’re a fantastic teacher. They’re lucky to have an educator that cares about their wellbeing so deeply - who sees them as humans and not just bodies in seats. You actually give a fuck about their futures. You make them feel smart while ensuring they stay humble and just. Your students are so fucking lucky to be taught by you. And if they can’t recognise it now, they will when they’re older and think back on the educator who got them back in a time when they didn’t yet know themselves. They’re so fucking lucky to have you.”

Then, whispered so quietly Wije almost missed it, “I’m lucky to have you. In whatever way I can.”

Wije observed, rather than felt, his head swing sharply to face Marcus’. What…?

The brunet quickly laughed it off unconvincingly and powered forward, “I MEAN..” Marcus cleared his throat. “I mean, sure, I know that students can be quite vocal with their adoration of me. I consistently hype them up and egg them on, after all. I’m as openly queer as I can professionally be - I mean, my classroom theme is ‘rainbow’, for fuck’s sake! In high school! The students that admire me, admire me to my face and sing my praises - when safe - behind my back. But I also know that my openness intimidates some students. The sheltered, prejudiced, closeted, and those with toxic conceptions of masculinity and gender can find me intimidating or challenging.”

Marcus’ eyes were closed as he talked. Wije stared openly at the operatic plot that played itself out silently in his friend’s facial features.

“That’s something I acknowledge and take in stride. I don’t push my defensive macho boys to take non-explicitly-masculine roles if they don’t want to. I call out homophobia in my classroom in the same way I call out racism - we define slurs, how they’ve been used to hurt groups of people in the past, and how we can be better than that. I use my deep, macho voice in parent-teacher meetings to dispel doubts and communicate my masculinity. I participate in sports day to dispel the athletics-allergic gay myth. These things are also slightly fueled by internalised homophobia, but, hey, no-one's perfect. Like you, I’m hyper-aware of my actions and how third-parties, including conservative third-parties, could misconstrue my professional and safe interactions with students… And it’s fucking exhausting.” Marcus sighed. “It’s so fucking exhausting, and that’s all while excluding the students I concede defeat to reaching.”

Before Wije could jump to his dear friend’s defence, Marcus cut him off, “Sure, I’ve got my strengths as a teacher. I do a fucking great job bringing performing arts culture to this school, but I’ll forever admire how you manage to meet all of your kids’ needs, wherever they’re at. I’d sit here on my throne and watch your classes all day, if you'd let me.”

A soft blush flushed the performing arts teacher’s cheeks, “You’re in your element, here. Anyone who walks in here knows that learning is happening. You assign essay homework tasks, but - and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this before - your kids all attempt them. I see them in the library, or my classroom if they’re feeling particularly brave, having a fucking go at analysing the goddamn themes of 'The Wave' or 'Chinese Cinderella'. The same kids I have to drag through script writing or performance analysis! What they create for you may not be good - may not even hit the criteria - but, god, do they try. And that’s the one thing we can’t teach: effort.”

The silence that enveloped the pair this time was tense. Wije, flushed with embarrassment from the praise; Marcus flushed with embarrassment from oversharing, and fear of having overstepped.

It was Marcus who broke the tension moments later, much to Wije’s initial relief. He did so with an unsubtle throat clearing and abrupt conversation diversion.

“So, uh” the brunet stammered, “Did you, um, get any other deliveries on Valentine’s Day?”

Wije’s confusion was a harsh contrast to his earlier emotions. Why was Marcus bringing this up again?

“What? From students?” he queried slowly. “No, thank god.”

Finally making eye contact with his friend as the other’s head rose, Wije was surprised to register frustration in Marcus’ expression.

“Thankfully no student ones,” Marcus concurred. Then, “Any other ones, though?” he questioned in a carefully-light tone.

Wije was completely lost. “What?” he asked, absolutely befuddled. It was Friday afternoon after a full teaching week; this was not the time for mind games and needing to read between the lines.

When he finally responded, Marcus’ voice was uncharacteristically tentative.

“Like, maybe a - um - a nondescript card in a pale yellow envelope?” Marcus whispered, his eyes glaring holes into the floor as his hands fidgeted restlessly.

Painfully slowly, the pieces in Wije’s mind began to fit together. Did Marcus really…? That would mean that he was the one who… How long had…?

As Wije completed his mental puzzle with the speed and agility of an arthritic great grandmother, Marcus began to implode. The English teacher was too slow to respond to his friend’s shut down before the emotional shutters he hadn’t seen since their middle-school days separated Marcus from him.

The performing arts teacher curled himself inwards, making himself impossibly smaller. A ludicrous feat for a 6’2” man, yet one he pulled off with a tragic grace.

“Never mind,” Marcus mumbled. “It was stupid. Sorry to bring it up.”

Wije watched his friend wallow in self-hatred and regret for approximately ten heart-wrenching seconds before he could kick his vocal cords back into working order,

“It wasn’t stupid,” he began. Wije watched Marcus’ shoulders tense and freeze, as if waiting on the precipice of despair for a shred of doubted hope.

“I - the whole thing sort of fell on the wayside after I had to begin the reporting process for Ronnie, but I still read it, I -” floundering for words that persistently escaped him, Wije decided to use his actions. Without warning, he turned on his heel to rifle through his backpack determinedly.

He muttered to himself as he searched main and side pockets, unzipped zippers, ripped open velcro, until he stood again - triumphantly clutching the (now tattered) yellow envelope in his right hand.

“I have it!” Wije declared proudly, “I still - I still have it. I read it a few times. I just - it was so mysterious! I mean, ‘signed Your Secret Admirer’ really? I couldn’t tell if it was a prank or not. I - I hoped it wasn’t, because the actual contents of the note seemed heartfelt, but I couldn’t dismiss the possibility of a prank and I just - I didn’t have time to investigate this!”

Marcus was listening now, at least. He still hadn’t rid the kicked-puppy expression from his face, but he wasn’t as crumpled as before. Filled with slightly more confidence, Wije continued,

“In the rare moments this term that I’ve allowed myself to exist as a human being and not a ‘teacher,’ I’ve returned to this card time and time again. I haven’t known why, really…” Then, with all the confidence of a first-year theatre major, Wije added, “Until now…”

At this, Marcus’ head whipped up. His deep brown irises drilled into Wije’s own emerald ones. This… This was a life-changing conversation. The kind of one that had usually been held in the dead of night at their countless sleepovers growing up; the soul-bearing sharing of secrets backwards and forwards that had guest-starred in their friendship through puberty and beyond.

This conversation, though? This one was different. This involved both of them. Both of them… together? Maybe? This wasn’t just a ‘coming out.’ It wasn’t a confession about loss of virginity, and how ugly human penises truly are, like that from Marcus at age 13. It wasn’t a suicide plan, like that from Wije at age 14. It wasn’t a relay of brutal self harm, like that from Marcus at age 15. It wasn’t a confession about grief or mourning for a person known only to them, while their families didn't know that friend even existed, like that from Wije at age 17.

Even for childhood friends, this was unchartered territory.

Deciding to be the one to break the silence, for once in their long friendship, Wije ventured forward, “I didn’t know it was you,” he confessed. “But I’m actually - I’m actually glad, to be completely honest. I’ve always said you’ve known me better than myself.”

Strangely, Marcus had not perked up further. Instead, alarmingly, he appeared to lose his structural form and slump forward.

“Yeah,” came his hollow response. “I’ve always known you better than yourself. What are friends for?” Marcus’ tone was bitter. Defeated.

It simply would not do.

Wije crossed the short distance between the pair, crouching to meet Marcus’ seated level. He guided the brunet’s head up gently by elevating his chin with his left hand. He ignored the nervous trembling from both parties.

“Did you,” Wije whispered, “Did you mean it? All of it?”

Marcus’ reply was whispered at the same volume, yet seemed to boom around the four surrounding classroom drywalls. “Every word. However it ends, I need you to know I meant, and mean, every single word.”

What more was there to say? Nothing that could be put into words, at least.

Wije allowed a grin to overtake his face as he clasped Marcus’ face gently between his two hands and leaned in for the first kiss of many.

There weren't ‘fireworks’ or ‘toe curling.’ No choruses of angels were heard. It didn't cause a monumental shift in either man's world view;

Instead, it simply felt like coming home.

#olliewrites #ollie writes #short story #story #original story #fiction #lgbtq relationships #lgbtqia #relationship #friendship #friends to lovers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #lgbtq #my writing #teacher #teaching

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