#well. that summer felt like the happiest they had ever been so

[eggsplice]

By this time next year our country will be dead and rotted

Click for better quality btw

Plus screenies I thought looked cool

+no fireflies vers

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Flower Crowns

masterlist

pairing: harry potter x female reader

warnings: kissing, jily 2.0, fluff, flirty harry

summary: you were quite popular among the wizards and witches in the school, you had many admirers but none of them were like harry potter

a/n: harry would honestly be such a perfect boyfriend

song: i was made for lovin’ you - kiss

It was your sixth year at Hogwarts, today was your first day back after summer. Seated at the Slytherin table with some of your friends, you were in a conversation about what everyone did over the summer. 

As you were about to tell them about the trip you took, you hear a throat being cleared from behind you. You turn around as your friends look up and roll there eyes. 

“Hello, darling,” Harry grins while plopping himself on the bench with little room next to you.

“Potter,” you nod looking him over.

“How is it you’ve gotten even more beautiful over the summer,” he sighs dreamily. Your friends moved down the table more since they were tired of this routine. You look at them with betrayal as they just smile and shrug. 

“What is it you came over here for?” you dont know why you bother asking at this point, you already know whats coming. 

“Well, love, I came to ask you if you would go out with me this weekend,” he winks. You glace over his shoulder to see a Hermione sighing and a grinning Ron. 

“Sorry, Potter, but I’m going to have to decline your offer,” you said looking back at him. He’s use to you saying no, like how it has been for the past four years. He still trys all the time, he has never done anything with another person either. He is so set on you being for him that he is disgusted at the thought of being with anyone else that isn’t you. 

In the summer before second year, he went back home and told his parents about you. He would somehow have a way to bring you up everyday, while he blushing thinking about you. James would always grin at Lily while lifting his eyebrows up and down. She would roll her eyes as James starts to tell him about how to get you to take interest in him. 

Taking his dads advice, he would buy you little things at least twice a week, give you compliments every time he saw you, and many more things. 

One time during fourth year, he saw you walking around alone at the Quidditch World Cup. You were in a somewhat long silk green dress that complimented your body perfectly. You had some light makeup and your hair styled back.  He told the Weasleys and Hermione to go on and that he would joining them in a few minutes. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Harry greets you while letting his eyes roam all over you in adoration. You glance over at him, taking in his messy hair and him in general. You would be lying if you were to say that he was not attractive, anyone could see that. 

“Potter, how are you?” 

“I'm perfect after seeing you, you look stunning” he smiles.

You blushed and looked away trying to hide your light pink cheeks. Although he most definitely saw, he felt like the happiest person ever. This was the first time he was able to make you blush.

“Thank you, I suppose you don’t look bad yourself,” you tell him while the corners of your mouth lift up a bit. 

He could have fainted right there, he started to stutter as he wasn’t expecting that. 

“I best be off, Potter. My family is waiting for me, I’ll see you soon,” you wave at the blushing boy as you start walking back. 

“I- uhm- brilliant!” That day he went to back to the Weasley’s tent as he told them about what happened. They all teased him about his massive crush as was still in a daze. It was truly astonishing how one sentence from you could lead him to act like this. 

Another time was last year, fifth year, when you had gotten detention with Umbridge. You were walking back to the common room with tears stinging your eyes. Umbridge had you stay much longer than you thought because of your “innappropriote behavior”. Apparently, speaking the truth is innappropriote now. As you were turing you almost crashed into someone. You look up to see a worried Harry Potter looking down at you. 

“I’m sorry, Potter. Excuse me,” you excuse yourself trying to go around him. Before you can, he gently grabs your waist and turns you to face him again. 

“Hold on, darling. Why are you crying, did something happen?” 

You couldn’t hold in the pain anymore. You started crying while grabbing onto Harry. His arms quickly wrapped around your waist. 

“Shh, love. Tell me whats wrong,” he whispers while using one hand to play with your hair. 

“I- um- had detention, with Umbridge,” he looks confused so you take a step back an slowly hold your left arm out. 

He was still confused for a second before looking at your hand. He was fuming, he saved his anger for now and decided to comfort you right now. He also felt such sadness that anyone would hurt an angel like you. 

“She did this to you?” he asked while sounding like he was about to cry. You nod, with some tears still streaming down your face. Oh how we wished he was able to kiss them away. 

“Come on love, I’ll take you to Hermione… she is much better at healing spells than me,” he informs you while gently pulling you towards the Gryffindor common room.

It was pretty late, so the room was empty when you both arrived. Except for Ron and Hermione who were arguing on the couch. They never had anything against you, even though you were a Slytherin, you had never participating in any of the bullying that a lot of other Slytherins did. You even scolded Malfoy when he called Hermione a Mudblood. 

Since that day you became somewhat friends with the girl, ignoring the looks of disgust from others in your house. 

When the two gryffindors looked up and saw you crying with distraught Harry, their argument quickly ended as they rushed over to you both.

“What happened, y/n? Harry?” Hermione says worridly. 

You tell them what happened, and they were just as mad as Harry. They tried to get rid of the writing on your hand but it would not go away. So Hermione decided she would just take the pain away for now. You thanked her with a hug and said goodnight as her and Ron went to their rooms. 

You turned to Harry and noticed how close your faces were, you glanced down at at his lips almost leaning in when you heard a bang from the dormitory making you both jump. 

“I- uh- should get back. Thank you, Potter,” you smile, quickly giving him a peck on the cheek before rushing out and leaving you both a blushing mess. 

Harry was left standing there as he lifted his hand to his red cheeks where your lips were. “What a girl,” he mumbled walking up the stairs. 

Back to present times, Harry got back up from his seat and looked down to you. “I’ll suppose I’ll have to try again tommorow, pretty,” he grins walking back to his seat. 

You blush lightly before picking up your things to head to your first class. The professor ended up assigning seats, and to Harrys luck, he was partnered with you for the year. 

“It’s meant to be, love,” he says as he leans back into his seat. 

“You wish, Potter,” you smile at him. 

“Yes, I do wish,” he grins looking at your eyes. 

After a long day of beginning of the year speeches, you were finally able to plop onto your bed and sleep. You look over to your friend, Daphne Greengrass, she was one of the only tolerable Slytherins in your opinion. 

“It’s adorable how much Potter loves you,” she laughs laying in bed. 

“Pfft, don't be ridiculous Daphne. He doesn't love me,” you shake your head. 

“He looks at you like you’re the only person in the world,” she giggles.  

“Hm”

You decided to drop the conversation, you closed your eyes and fell asleep. Later the next day, you were in the forbidden forest. Around a year ago, you found a place with a pretty flower field that was closed off. You come here often, as far as you know, you’re the only one who knows about it. 

You started to weave a flower crown out of a few lovely flowers you picked. You finished it and put it on as you hear meows from behind you. You turn around a squeal as you pick up the kitten and started to play with her (you checked the gender). 

You were unaware of Harry who was on his was to you after using the Mauraders Map to find you. He finally found you and his heart melt as he saw you giggling with a meowing kitten that licked your face as you lay in the field. 

You heard walking and sat up only to find yourself looking at the boy who has been on your mind a lot recently. 

“Oh! Hi, Harry, I didn’t expect you to come here,” you say. 

“Harry?” he asks you, trying to suppress a smile.

“Thats your name, is it not?” you laugh. 

“I suppose it is. Mind if I sit?” you nod, as you sit together in silence that was unexpectedly comfortable. 

Harry couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

“I really do fancy you,” Harry mumbles.

You turn to look at him, “I know… maybe I fancy you a bit as well,” you say, bringing your fingers up to show a pinch. 

“Really?” Harry asks leaving closer to you. 

“Really,” you whisper as you move so close your lips are brushing. You look into see his eyes and notice how pretty they are. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against your mouth as he connects his to yours. You both close your eyes as you kiss back and reach your hands into his hair. For the first minute it was sweet, before it started to become more passionate. You bring your leg over his and straddle him without disconnecting your lips. It was pure bliss.

You tug his hair getting a groan from him as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for permission. You happily comply and open your mouth, letting him explore your mouth, and you his. You gently pull his hair back and kiss down his neck and jaw. You leave many butterfly kisses. In between the kisses he whispers some small compliments, making you smile against his neck. You find his sweet spot and lightly suck on it, making him whimper, and leaving a beautiful hickey.  He says some praises bring heat to your face. He kisses your cheeks, “I love making you blush,” he smiles. 

“Oh hush, Potter,” you get off his lap. He groans but you decide its better to stop now before things get more heated. 

“Is it alright if I make you a flower crown? I think it would look rather good on you,” you asks with a sheepish smile.

“Of course, love”

He lays his head on your lap as you make the crown, you finish after about four minutes. It was somewhat hard for you to focus when you could feel Harrys gaze on you, but you tried your best to ignore it. 

“Andddd… done!” Harry sits up and you place it on his head. 

“You look pretty,” you smile pecking his lips. A light pink coats his cheeks. He honesty has never been so happy, he adores you so much that you are 90% of what he talks about. It was such a pain for his friends to have to listen to his rants about your “angelic beauty,” as he puts it. 

“Thank you, angel,” he says. 

“I think we should head back now, dinner alreader started,” you say standing up, also taking the kitten with you. You both walk hand in hand, you grinning at the kitten asleep in your arms, and both of you forgetting about the flower crowns on your heads. You both keep up a good conversation throught the walk.

You stroll into the great hall with Harry as it goes silent. Then there was a chorus of gasps as they take in your guys hand held together, both of your somewhat messy hair, swollen lips, and the hickey on Harrys neck. You step away from him and you head towards your friends, you could hear most boys wolf whistling, some scowling at Harry. Many girls were also glaring at you out of jealousy. 

You look at the staff table and see Dumbledore wink at you, making you raise your eyebrows. You also see Snape hand over some galleons to McGonagall. 

“I’m happy for you, Harry,” Hermione smiles, glancing at Ron as she kicks his leg. 

“Oh- yeah! Good going, mate,” he smirks as he pats his back.

The next day Harry asked you if you would be his girlfriend. You nodded with a smile and gave him a soft kiss.

[chaiifluuf]

That's that me espresso! — c. nakahara

synopsis. chuuya struggles to fall asleep again after thinking about you and his unexpected dreams

content. fem!reader, fluff, suggestive in one part, chuuya is lovesick and he doesn’t know it <3

notes. i don’t know if i got his character right.. i tried my best tho ! and yes this is inspired by sabrina carpenter’s song espresso hehe (*´꒳`*)

chuuya doesn’t dream. 

or well he didn’t use to because tonight was the first time he had a dream in a really long time.

the fact it wasn’t a nightmare shocked him even further and out of all things he could’ve dreamed about, it was about you. why you? he isn’t sure himself. chuuya let out a silent sigh as he rubbed his face, trying to recall everything he saw because a part of him is still in disbelief that he had an actual dream.

the first thing he remembers is you wearing a summer dress while walking at the shore of a beach. the gentle waves crashing into your bare feet as you carried your flip flops in your hand. then you turned around and your face was beaming. chuuya swore you had the happiest smile he had ever seen on you. something seems to catch your attention when you look at him.

“chuuya, your hair is in your face!” you tell him with a light giggle. as soon as you mention that, he notices how his hair strands start to obscure his sight as the wind blows from behind him. you make your way towards him as if an idea popped into your mind. “wait, stay still,” you say and swiftly move behind him while chuuya couldn’t help but blink in confusion. “what?”

you don’t say anything in return but it doesn’t take him long before he realises what you’re doing as he can feel your fingers gather his hair into one place. you were making a ponytail for him. 

“there! now it won’t be bothering you,” you say once you are done, looking at him in satisfaction and glee. chuuya touches his head for a moment, not used to having it like that. it indeed felt nicer. he thanked you before the two of you start walking again.

“no problem. you look really good with a ponytail too…” you mumble the last part and chuuya almost misses it. he glances at you, about to say something and he’ll never know what because that was the moment he woke up.

chuuya believes there was probably more going on in the dream but this is as far as he remembers. he casts a look to the side, scanning over the clock that reads 2:56 am. there is more than enough time to get his much needed sleep. because it is a rare occurrence for him to not be exhausted from a usual workday, he’ll take any bit of rest he can get. 

with that in mind, chuuya shifts his body to the other side and closes his eyes, a soft exhale leaving his lips. it was just a silly dream and he will forget it soon enough anyway. although he still doesn’t quite understand why you were there. you were one of the closest people to him, he’ll admit that. you knew him better than most people and he has lost count at how many times you have made his day so much better. the two of you were good friends and that’s it. yeah, this is fine.

except it isn’t.

falling asleep turns out to be a much more difficult task than he anticipated. he isn’t even that tired anymore which did not help. chuuya’s mind is still stuck on his damned dream. he can’t help but picture again your radiant smile, how your hair blew in the wind, the way you stared at him and that pretty dress… he quickly shaked his head to snap out of it. he can’t believe himself. chuuya decides to get up and find something to distract himself since he couldn’t sleep now anyway.

he wished that would’ve been the one and only time he dreamed of you. this was the third time in the week that he hasn’t slept well. all of them had you in it and at this point chuuya thinks something is wrong with him. how does anyone dream about the same person so many times in such a short time? 

chuuya groans into his pillow as he suspects yet another badly slept night. of course you were on his mind once more. he is glad that these aren’t nightmares but at the same time he doesn’t know how to feel about these dreams either. he’s also shocked by just how vividly he remembers all of them. 

in the second dream, chuuya was at a restaurant with you. if he’s going to be honest then it felt like a date. the dimmed lights, the romantic atmosphere, a lit up candle placed on the middle of the table and two glasses filled halfway with red wine. he still remembers the simple yet elegant carmine dress you were wearing. your gaze was filled with so much warmth and adoration that he felt his heart falter. then you laughed at something he said and god your laughter seemed sweeter than the desserts the two of you were having.

the entire time his eyes were stuck on you as if you were the most breathtaking person he had ever come across. and you were. while the conversation was hazy to him, the scene of you intertwining your fingers with his was still clear in his mind. your rosy cheeks afterwards made you look even prettier. thinking about it alone made chuuya’s heart rate fasten.

the third dream however, the one he had tonight, was a different story. because with each time these dreams seem to get bolder and chuuya doesn’t know how to handle it. 

you were pushed against the bed with him hovering over you. he was kissing you and they weren’t some kind of gentle kisses either. more like they were filled with desire, need and many other strong emotions he couldn’t pinpoint. he pulled away for a moment, his lips still brushing against yours. your hair had gotten rather messy, your lipstick was smeared and it was obvious that you were breathless as he could feel your breath on his skin. 

“chuuya, please…” he couldn’t fight back the shiver that went down his spine when he heard your pleading voice. your arms were wrapped around his neck as you held him close. his lips slowly trail down from your lips and he can’t help but start sensually kissing your neck. chuuya relished the soft noises that left your lips.

“want you s’bad,” you murmured to his ear and chuuya swears his heart skipped a beat. were you even aware of the effect you had on him? “i’m right here, doll.” his tone was low and husky as one of his hands sneaked below your shirt, lifting it up as he traced your waist. he didn’t miss the subtle tremble of your body when his bare hand came in touch with your abdomen. god your skin was so soft and your flushed face was the most adorable sight. he grinned before going for your lips again and then—

chuuya can feel his face heat up as he realised what he was thinking. he buried his face into the pillow once again because that was just a little too intimate. and goddamn it, he feels like a schoolgirl who just talked to her crush for the first time.

why the fuck is this happening to him?

he hasn’t seen you in a while since both of you were busy with your missions lately. you did text him though, and even if he always didn’t have the time to respond, you liked talking to him about your day as well as your frustrations at times. chuuya didn’t mind and when he had a chance would type you back. with a lot of things going on, you and him were still in touch. so are his dreams supposed to be some kind of sign to see you again?

if only you knew how much you have driven him insane. he needs to do something, anything to get these dreams out of his head. a night with actually good rest does sound nice right now. however he won’t get that, not tonight at least. suddenly chuuya gets an idea. a stupid idea perhaps, but he believes he will only continue to suffer if he won’t do anything about it. he grabs his phone from the bedside table and opens the messages app.

Me 4:03 am

you up?

chuuya sighs, there is no going back now. he hopes you’re asleep but a small part of him wishes you would respond because he has no idea what to do at this point. five minutes later, he hears his phone vibrate.

Y/n 4:08 am

mhm, something wrong?

his eyes slightly widen in surprise. so you were awake. for a moment he thinks what to text back.

Me 4:09 am

not really, just can’t sleep

Y/n 4:09 am

what a coincidence haha

now that i think about it i still haven’t seen your motorcycle that you promised to show me one day

maybe wanna meet up? ^ ^

chuuya’s mind pauses because this might be exactly what he needs — to see you again. without thinking too much he starts typing.

Me 4:10 am

sure

i’ll come and pick you up

Y/n 4:11 am

YAYY 

i’ll see you then!! 

he can’t help but smile a little. a genuine smile that he hasn’t had in a while. he quickly changed his clothes, locked his apartment and began making his way to the garage. 

he might never admit it but even with you in his dreams, he still missed you. the real you.

fun fact: initially, i had put a winky face after the “i’ll come and pick you up” text but then decided against it bc i’m still not sure if he would do that LMAO

[brainddeadd]

https://www.tumblr.com/brainddeadd/764182191222751232/httpswwwtumblrcombrainddeadd7637705318278103

oooo i meant that for luke! i was inspired by jack x grumpy reader! and for the request i was saying jack and her having a good friendship and she close to him so the first time luke sees her smile it’s by jack and luke wants to see her smile again but because of him

The sound of laughter filled the air as you, Jack Hughes, and a few of your friends gathered in the backyard of Jack's family home, your first time visiting. It was one of those perfect summer evenings where the sun hung low, casting a warm golden glow over everything. You and Jack had been best friends for the past two years, your bond built on shared jokes, endless support, and the occasional mischief that always seemed to find its way into your lives.

Jack, the ever-energetic prankster, had just pulled off another one of his ridiculous antics. This time, he had set up a water balloon ambush, soaking several unsuspecting victims in a flash. You doubled over in laughter, your heart soaring as you watched the chaos unfold. Jack had an uncanny ability to bring out your happiest self, but there was something else blooming in your chest that evening, a warmth that felt different.

Across the yard, Luke Hughes, Jack's younger brother, leaned against the porch railing. He had come over to hang out but hadn’t participated in the chaos. Instead, he watched, his blue eyes locked onto you, captivated by the way you lit up in response to Jack's silly antics. The way your smile radiated joy was something he hadn't seen before, and it stirred something inside him—a desire to see that smile more often, and, more importantly, to be the reason behind it.

Luke had always admired you from a distance, appreciating your humor, kindness, and unwavering support of Jack. But tonight, witnessing you so genuinely happy made him realize he wanted to be the one to evoke that smile.

As the evening wore on and the laughter faded, Luke decided it was time to take action. He approached you as Jack rejoined the group, a playful smirk on his face.

“Hey, can I borrow you for a second?” he asked, his voice steady yet playful.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s up, Luke?”

“I have a challenge for you,” he said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re always laughing at Jack’s antics, but I bet I can make you smile even more.”

“Really?” you challenged, a grin tugging at your lips. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Luke grinned back, his confidence shining through. “Just you wait and see. Meet me over there in ten minutes.” He pointed toward a quiet corner of the yard, where the trees formed a secluded area.

Curiosity piqued, you nodded and made your way over after a few moments, watching as Luke prepared something behind the trees. When you reached the spot, you found him standing with a large canvas and paint supplies.

“Welcome to my art class,” he said dramatically, holding up a paintbrush like a microphone. “Today, you’ll be my muse.”

You laughed, realizing what he was up to. “You’re going to paint me?”

“Well, not exactly,” he replied with a playful wink. “More like I’m going to let you unleash your inner artist while I attempt to impress you.”

The two of you spent the next hour surrounded by laughter and paint splatters, Luke guiding you as you created a chaotic but colorful masterpiece. He joked, teased, and occasionally exaggerated his art skills, making you laugh harder than you had in a while.

As you stepped back to admire the splattered canvas, you glanced at Luke, whose eyes sparkled with excitement.

“See? I told you I could make you smile,” he said, grinning widely.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the happiness radiating from you as you felt a connection growing deeper between you two. “You did. I think you might have a future as an artist.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Nah, I’ll stick to hockey. But if it means getting to see your smile again, I’ll keep trying.”

In that moment, surrounded by laughter and colorful chaos, you realized Luke wasn’t just Jack’s brother anymore; he was someone you wanted to share more smiles with, someone who would make your heart race in ways you hadn’t expected.

And as you looked at the paint-smeared canvas and back at him, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps this was just the beginning of a new adventure.

[evermoresversion]

Idk if you're already planning this but part 2 to driver license? If it was meant to be a 1 part type of thing, don't worry about it! You are just so good at writing cliffhangers lol

WANT YOU BACK, CONRAD FISHER.

PAIRING Conrad Fisher x Fem!Reader

TW/TAGS Angst, self sabotage, fluff at the end. There may be grammatical and spelling errors since English is not my first language.

SUMMARY Conrad was going through a difficult time so he decided it was best for the two of you to break up. Although after time he realizes that the best thing for both of you is to be together, so he takes you back.

SONG Want You Back by 5 Seconds Of Summer.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | CONRAD'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | PART ONE

Love. A beautiful and dangerous feeling, it can make you the happiest person as well as it can make you feel the most miserable.

Some people say that when you love something, you fight for it. But letting go is also loving.

So that's what Conrad did.

He thought and thought of a solution for your relationship with him. How he could let you into his soul and share what he was feeling when he found out about his mother's cancer, but he didn't want to share his pain. He didn't want you to feel like him.

Not after what you've had to go through after your father died of cancer too.

So he kept it all to himself.

What ended up exploding everything was that his silence made you interpret something else.

That he didn't love you anymore.

But damn, Conrad loved you, of course he did. How could he not?

You had been with him for a long time, despite everything, and that was why it was difficult to let you go, he didn't want to, but it would be more painful for both of you if he prolonged it any longer.

"So, that's it? You just decided you don't want anything to do with me, huh?" You let out a wry laugh, tears running down your cheeks. You cleaned them more aggressively than you intended and Conrad swore he felt his heart break in his chest.

He suddenly felt that the collar of his shirt was tighter than normal.

Sensing that a panic attack was coming, he couldn't say anything else. Although he wanted to, he couldn't.

"Ours is over." He managed to murmur without being able to look at you and you stifled a sob, nodding without looking at him neither. You finally left without saying another word.

The moment you left the house, Conrad felt like he could die right there.

But deep down, he knew that was for the best, even if you came to hate him.

But if it was the best, then why couldn't he stop thinking about you? Why did he keep stopping in front of your door but not knocking? Why did his body long to exist next to yours?

He sighed and sat on the seashore, thinking about what he could do.

He wanted you back.

"I was so stupid." He threw a rock into the sea.

But he won't make a move, not if it meant you could get hurt more.

Months passed and Conrad did not make another move.

Although when he saw you laughing with Jeremiah at a party, spending time with the girls, Conrad had the need to run to you and hug you so as not to let go of you ever again.

But that never happened.

Until one night when he was sitting in the living room of the summer house he decided it was time.

Then he heard the sound of a car engine shutting off near the sidewalk.

"Y/n." He muttered as he looked out the window and went straight to open the door of the house.

Your gaze collided with his and he could see all the damage he had caused in you by walking away.

Minutes that seemed eternal passed until you got out of the car and met him in the middle of the sidewalk.

His jaw was tense, holding back the urge to kiss you or hug you or both.

When he made to caress your cheek you threw yourself into his arms, forgetting everything that had happened before that moment.

And Conrad finally felt like he could breathe.

He hid his face in your hair, loving to finally have you in his arms once again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

You didn't say anything at that moment but you let yourself be carried away by the heat of his body against yours.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2023.

[wosoragebaiter69]

together forever

hayley raso x fem!reader

request: here

A/N: I got my new goalie gloves today 😜

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“Come on, the beach will be fun. Aussie beaches are like the best in the world! And it’s summer. Get up.” My girlfriend says.

“Hayley, we’ve been everyday this week.” I sigh sinking into the couch.

“Yeah but we haven’t been there on sunset. Sunsets on the beach are a different kind here.” She ends up giving puppy dog eyes which she knows I can’t say no to. In all our years of dating she still manages to make me crumple.

“Fine, it better be worth it.” Her smile grows wider and she jumps up and down. To which, I can only laugh at.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” I grab my phone and a towel, before following her outside and we begin the walk to the beach.

The walk consists of small talk, Hayley seems slightly nervous but I can’t imagine why. Maybe she doesn’t think I’ll like it? Time can only tell. I place her hand in mine in hopes that whatever she’s worried about will go away when she sees the sunset.

Once we arrive, I place the towel down and immediately gape at the sight in front of me. The sky is lit up in all sorts of warm colours. The sun only a third of the way set as it casts an orange glow around it. Yellow and red fill other parts of the sky, making the whole area look like it’s out of a painting. The water contrasts perfectly against the horizon, where large ships can be seen but barely.

“Haiz.. I don’t know what to say. This is… beautiful. Why wasn’t I shown this earlier?” I look at her, still in awe about our surroundings.

All she does is smile.

“I needed to wait for a special moment. Now sit. Sunset doesn’t last too long. Maybe take a picture? Even though we both know nothing compares to real life.” I nod at her words wondering what the special moment could mean.

I turn my gaze back out to the water, watching some distant surfers riding waves and getting taken out, there’s not many other people though.

“I can feel you staring babe.” I break our peaceful silence.

“I know.” Does it sound weird that I can hear her grin? Confused, I turn to look at her but my mouth drops at what she’s holding. Before I can say anything she starts.

“We’ve been dating for 3 years, which have been the best of my life, no one can make me feel the way you do. I’ve had relationships, but you’re the one that has felt the most right. If I’m not with you, I wonder what you’re doing subconsciously. Which is why I’ve decided I want you to be mine forever. So, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N will you make me the happiest woman ever, and marry me?”

Throughout the speech my eyes well up, I can’t believe this is happening. When she finally says the question, there’s only one answer to be said.

“Yes, with every ounce of myself yes!” I cry out, she takes the ring out of the box placing it on the left ring finger.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” I say before thinking about it.

“I was about to say the exact same thing.” She takes my hand and kisses it. “The best sunset in the world, with the best girl in the world.” I blush uncontrollably, not even trying to hide it.

“Are we going to tell the fans? When they find out they’re gonna go crazy.” I exclaim, it’s only last week her national teammate Ellie got engaged.

“Yes we can if that’s what you want. Now?” I nod smiling. I take the photo, making sure to include the jaw dropping sunset. Hayley’s arms are wrapped around my waist, her head resting on my shoulder kissing my neck softly. While I show the ring in all its glory, she probably went broke.

I take to instagram, including her on the post with the caption ‘I’ve got the best fiancé a girl could have, and you all have another thing to go crazy about.” I hit post laughing with the one I get to call mine, and we sit until twilight. Nothing else needs to exist if I’ve got her.

[petalsofyouth]

limerence; and it goes both ways | ran haitani x reader

tw: unestablished relationship, smoking, mentions of usage of weed, sexual activity (it's not really detailed, but it is, haha) /i think that's it, but i probably missed something as i usually do, so please do tell me if you think i forgot something/

wc: 28 128

author's note: ran was supposed to be extremely toxic in this, but he isn't. we'll meet the version of ran i initially intend in another story. oh, and they all are in universities, so it's uni au, no usual gangs activities.

i.

Aoki Ogura is perfect, or so Ran thinks.

She says her first name is spelled with kanji that mean 'a little love,' and her last name means 'tiny' and 'blue.' She giggles as she says it, staring with her beautiful eyes at Ran. She might like him, and he might like her too.

Or even more.

Ran thinks he is in love with the girl in front of him, and it doesn't really matter that he has only seen her twice in his life: once when Rindou was picking him up from rehearsals for dinner and Ran happened to tag along, and today, for the second time, at someone's party in Kamakura.

He doesn't dare to say it aloud yet, but he already calls it fate. Ran is quick to assume.

He chats up this pretty, perfect girl, leaning down to her so she can hear him over 'Cherry Girl' by Black Cherry, which is playing too loudly for Ran's taste. But today he won't complain and whine about it as he usually would've, because this works exactly in his favor, creating the much-desired proximity between his body and Aoki's. They are really really close.

Her body is nice too. She's wearing a white summer dress that hugs her shoulders and waist so tightly that Ran doesn't need much imagination to have her undressed before him. Besides, he knows that Aoki is a dance major. A nice body is a given. He has hooked up with girls from the dance department before. He has never been disappointed once.

Right now, though, he feels like the happiest person at this party in the house that is too small for so many people. His chest is burning, and a smile blooms by itself. Aoki is telling him about her white cat, and Ran, who has never before been very enthusiastic about animals, nods at her, agreeing that cats are the best pets to have.

By the end of their conversation, Ran forgets that he always wanted to have a dog and that his favorite color was never blue, but white and purple.

ii.

Rindou doesn't share his brother's enthusiasm about Aoki.

He doesn't think she's cute, beautiful, or even talented. He has spoken to her before numerous times, and the only thing he remembers is the deep irritation he felt as she spoke in that high-pitched voice of hers that every J-idol claims to have. If she weren't your friend - of a sort - he would never entertain her with his company.

But you are classmates, and you are Rindou's best friend, and he loves you too much to ruin your somewhat good relationship with Aoki.

So when he spots his brother's face with the softest expression he has ever had while he talks to Aoki, Rindou is beyond disgusted. Blame it on alcohol or real physical disturbance from the unfolding scene, but Rindou gets nauseous and, closing his mouth with his hand, retreats to the back of the house in the direction of the beach. All the toilets are occupied anyway.

It's not long after he is done, and the rusty taste fills his mouth, that you appear with a bottle of sparkling water and mints in the pocket of your leather pants. He can see the outline of the box there, and he shoots you a half-smile, knowing well that you stole those from the cupboard in the hall of Ryou's house.

"Are you good?" you ask, squatting down near him. You pass him a bottle of water and watch him as he drinks it to the end.

"Yeah. I am okay," he hums appreciatively and takes a candy from the box. They aren't minty. They are strawberry flavoured. He likes these. "Thank you. You are a real-life angel."

You don't reply. Just nod at him and peer in front of you at the vast darkness where the sea and the sky are one black hole; your eyes are the same.

The music from the house is distant, and it feels as if you and Rindou are somewhere far away from this place, only the two of you in your own little world where no one and nothing can touch you. However, this is not true, and Ran is the one to prove it. If there's someone more worthy of this role for shattering illusions than Ran, Rindou doesn't know them yet.

"I've told you not to mix weed and alcohol," Ran sighs, standing behind you both. He doesn't sit down or come closer, and yet his presence is suffocating.

You turn your head, disappointment written all over your face, and Rindou wonders why it is that you are disappointed. Is it because instead of words of consolation, Ran is quick to assume? Or maybe because you just don't want him here? Or perhaps it's for your own reason that you hide deep in your chest, unknown to him?

You and Ran aren't really friends, but you aren't on bad terms either, nor could your relationship be called neutral. It is whatever it is - the mess, the chaos, and the calm understanding.

"We weren't smoking, Ran." Your lower lip quivers, and your eyes are squinted. Finally, you are disgusted with him, but out of habit, you call him by his name. There's something Rindou knows you won't admit, but you like Ran's name a lot. Otherwise, why would you say it so often? "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be entertaining your bimbos?"

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your red-haired celebrity?" Ran shoots back, taking a step closer in your direction, and if he wants to be intimidating, it doesn't work on you.

"First of all, Haru's hair is pink. Secondly, he isn't even here. And lastly, are you colourblind, by any chance, Ran? That would explain this atrocious outfit…"

The sentence is never finished because Ran yanks you by the elbow and pinches your arm. Hard. You yelp and barely stand on your wobbly legs that hurt from squatting for too long. Ran steadies you, helping you not to fall down on your ass as he holds each of your arms in his hands. Your eyes meet. Yours furious and his calm but curious.

You open your mouth to say something, probably unpleasant, but Rindou cuts in. "Stop pinching her."

"Okay. I am sorry." Ran still holds you by your arms, his hands warming your cold skin where he touches you. When you scoff and attempt to break free, he doesn't let go. He tugs you closer. "I really am. See."

Fatigue from emptying his stomach only a few minutes earlier returns when Rindou stands up. His vision goes blurry for a second. The world spins around him, and the music and you and Ran are a beautiful smudged carousel. He grounds himself, breathing in and out. In and out. More than anything, he doesn't want to puke again.

But when the world clears, and he sees Ran rubbing soothing gentle circles on the place on your arm where he pinched you, he wishes he puked. It's even worse looking at him being tender with you than dumbstruck by Aoki. With you, it's gut-wrenching.

"You know, Ran, I prefer it more when you are rude to me than whatever this was," you exclaim, but if you were angry before, you aren't now. You break free from him and come to Rindou's side. You take a good look at his face and cupping it, brush long blonde hair away from his eyes, spreading them all the way to the back of his head. "Do you want to go eat something? Maybe ramen? Hm? No. Actually, you should eat ochazuke now, and then we'll get you that vitamin thing from 7-Eleven. Okay? So you won't have a hangover tomorrow."

Rindou is not that drunk. He only had two cans of beer and a shot of vodka. But he doesn't argue with you. After all, he is used to you babying him from time to time. He hated it at first, but hate is nothing more than love that you can't untangle just yet. He nods at you and steals a box of strawberry candies from your pocket, popping one into his mouth. They are indeed nice.

As you leave the party, your arms linked, Ran follows behind you both. He wasn't invited to your little late dinner or early breakfast, but he assumes he is coming because he is the one with the car.

Well, if anything, Ran is quick to assume. iii.

Inside the diner, it's warm, and the air is rich with the smell of delicious food.

You sit beside Rindou on red cushions and watch him eat ochazuke with unagi and nori. Ran is sitting across from you, his plate of shoyu ramen untouched. He's waiting for it to cool down a bit. He claims that hot food never sits well in his stomach. For one reason or another, you don't believe it's true; it's probably another white lie.

In your opinion, Ran is woven with lies—innocent and not. As long as those lies don't harm you, you're fine with them.

The diner you're in is the usual one you always stop by after Ryou's parties. It's small, cheap, and the food is always fresh and tasty. It's in Kanagawa, near Shirahataike Park. If Ran weren't with you and Rindou didn't throw up earlier, you would've asked Rindou to go there and lie down on the grass near the pond, maybe smoke one or two of your specially reserved "Seven Stars" until dawn found you there and it got too cold. He, of course, would have agreed. He always does. It's more of a habit now. A little custom that's only yours.

Out of the blue, Ran asks, "On what days does the dance department practice?"

With a spoon between your lips, you frown. You shoot a quick glance at Rindou and catch how quickly his eyes harden, his mouth becoming a thin line. Oh, so Rindou knows the reason for the question, and while you might not, you have your suspicions.

"So? Who's your next victim, Ran?" you ask and put the spoon down in the bowl with the thick brown broth. You and Ran ordered the same.

"Why victim?" His eyes widen in surprise, and he looks quite comical.

You tilt your head to the side and laugh. Rindou near you is smiling too, but for a different reason than you suppose. "Just tell me who you want to hook up with, and maybe I'll give you her number."

"Actually, you know what? I can just ask myself."

"You sure can," you reply, shrugging your shoulders and in the next minute, you forget all about Ran's question as you turn to Rindou and ask him if he finished that music assignment he was working on. You say that today you talked to Ryou, and he had almost finished his.

The conversation between you and Rindou flows as effortlessly as ever. You discuss your classes, assignments, and even gossip about your mutual friends and people you don't even know the names of. You laugh a lot, and a couple of times, you get too serious, needing a pause before picking up the conversation again. You enjoy these two hours spent at the diner more than you enjoyed the party itself.

When the sky is flushed with pink and blue, you decide to call it a night. Rindou excuses himself to the restroom, and you find yourself with Ran standing on the porch of the ramen shop. It's raining a little, but the air is fresh, smelling of grass and soil. It smells like new beginnings and the meaning of life. You catch yourself thinking that for the first time in a long while, you're truly happy.

Sometimes, life is worth it all.

"Do you like the color blue?"

"What?" You stop swaying on your tiptoes and tuck your hands into the pockets of your jacket. It's mid-April, but still a bit chilly. "Do I like the color blue?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

"Depends on the shade of blue. It can be the happiest or the saddest color in the world. I need to know which shade of blue you mean, Ran." You contemplate it for a moment and then shake your head, quickly adding, "No. I don't think I actually like any color at all. Maybe just white and black."

"Aren't those two colors too?"

Your lips curve into a smile, and you look down at your tabi boots, thrifted from a vintage shop in Nakano. The shop owner told you, it once was his wife’s boots and she got them in Belgium in 1994. It was her favourite pair of shoes, but she died recently and he can’t bring himself to keep them around. He said that he wanted these stupid tabi boots to continue living on and bring happiness to other people even if his own wife was beyond the point of any human emotion.

"No, they aren't, really," you whisper, more to yourself than to Ran. "It's the absence of color that I like. It's like none of them exist."

The rain continues to pour until the afternoon, and then it suddenly stops, as if it was never there.

iv.

Ran had never longed for a girl before.

The feeling is new, and it is unpleasant. He doesn't understand why he keeps thinking about her and why he wants to hear her voice again. The fact that he couldn't remember what they were talking about at the party doesn't matter. Ran never remembers conversations he had with girls. He only remembers Aoki's plump, pink lips and her sweet, pretty eyes.

He needs to see her now. Today.

But unfortunately for him, he doesn't study at your university, and tagging along with Rindou to pick you up after your classes might be suspicious. Besides, Aoki might not even be there.

He doesn't want to ask you about Aoki either. It's stupid, really. He has asked you about multiple girls from your class before, but right now, he feels that asking about precious Aoki might spoil everything. Ran wants everything to be perfect because he thinks he was in love.

Having you as a connection to Aoki is like having no connection at all.

So, he tries the only remedy he knows—sex. And when that only blows off steam for a couple of days, a week at best, he does something he has never done before: he studies.

That's how you found him one day as you stop by their apartment to pick Rindou up so you can have your lunch together. Ran guesses he looks ridiculous in his grey sweatpants and old, loose T-shirt, surrounded by piles of books and handouts. Otherwise, why would you smile at him?

"Didn't know you were such a fan of studying, Ran," you say, dragging his name out and he rolls his eyes at you. If you want to mock him, you need to try harder. "Why don't you join us for lunch? Have you eaten already?"

"Not interested," he replies, not tearing his eyes away from the handouts with case-study before him.

"Oh, really? Too bad. I thought you might want to see Aoki Ogura again."

As Ran lifts his eyes to take a look at your face, to see if you were being serious or messing with him, you aren't there anymore. He catches a glimpse of your back disappearing through Rindou's door and hears his brother cursing at you for scaring him.

You close the door as you get in.

v.

Of course, Ran tails for the lunch with you, and of course, it annoys Rindou.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy hanging out with his brother—he pretty much does, and yet, he prefers having his own circle of friends to himself. You and Haruchiyo were his sacred zone. Only his to enjoy and spend time together with.

With Ran and Aiko and Aiko’s new boyfriend Takeshi, lunch gets awkward. Not because Ran is upset or mad or anything of the sort, but because Aoki gets flustered when she sees Ran and despite bragging to you before that she is so in love with Takeshi - you have told that to Rindou over another lunch on another Sunday - she sits between you and Haruchiyo, leaving Rindou to sit next to her stupid boyfriend.

"How did you two get together?" Ran asks Aoki, his voice dripping with sweetness. He chews on a yellow plastic straw that smells of fresh orange juice. "The last time we saw each other, you were single, or am I wrong?"

Aoki giggles, and her doll-like face turns pink. "We met at the party a week after Ryou's. I thought you would have come. That's why I went."

"Me?" Ran raises his eyebrows and takes a big sip of juice from the glass, ignoring the forgotten straw on the marble table. "Why would I?"

"Probably because I was invited, but I didn't end up going. I heard that party was a huge flop. What happened?" Already tired of the meaningless and obviously flirtatious exchange, Rindou cuts in, shifting Aoki's attention from Ran to him.

The girl sighs and, before replying, cuts a small piece of her vanilla cheesecake and puts it in her mouth, chewing. Pretentious little bitch. "You probably don't know them, but Shota from the second-year oil painting class got into a fight with Rintaro from the first-year dance class. They say Shota's girl cheated on him. Wasn't much of a fight, though."

"Bullshit. I know Rintaro pretty well, and he never laid a finger on that girl."

"Oh, really? I heard they made a tape with her."

"Like a sex tape?"

"Yes. I haven't seen it, but they say it was..."

"Cut the bullshit, Ogura." Haruchiyo is too loud as he defends his friend for the second time. A couple seated nearby turns their heads toward your table, intrigued by the sudden commotion. "It wasn't him in the video."

"You talk like you're familiar with his dick," the smirk on Takeshi’s full lips is not meant to be perceived as a mocking one, Rindou really wants to think it’s not, but before he or either anyone else reacts, you laugh and your laugh is cruel and cold.

"If Haru says it wasn't Rintaro, then it wasn't Rintaro. Why the dick comment?"

"Just joking. Right, baby?" Takeshi shoots a toothy smile at Aoki, who sheepishly nods. Rindou wishes you hadn't invited her to lunch. It should've been just you, him, and Haruchiyo. "But I still find it strange that he's so sure it wasn't him in the video. It was just a guy's dick sliding in and out."

"I've never seen the video."

"So you believe whatever he says?" “Oh, God. It’s annoying.” You whine. You lick your lips and stare straight at Takeshi who is right in front of you. Your eyes are black and endless, bottomless, reminiscent of that party where Rindou threw up, where Ran saw Aoki for the second time, and where this mess began. “So, say, your friend comes to you and says he didn’t do it, but everyone else says he did it. Who do you believe? Your friend or them?

Takeshi doesn't hesitate in his response. "A lot of people can't be wrong, right?"

A small little cloud of air escapes your mouth, and your body that has been strained like a tightrope, is now limp in the chair. You look tired. Rindou wants to ask if you're okay, but he refrains. Besides, you start speaking again, this time not looking at Takeshi but at the blue summer sky above you. "Nah. I think they can be wrong. If Rindou or Haru tell me they didn't do it, that's all I need to know. No one can convince me they did it if they say they didn't. So if Haru says it wasn't Rintaro, then it wasn't fucking Rintaro in the video."

For the rest of the lunch, you don't speak much, and Rindou is concerned. He doesn't like it when you get quiet, as it usually means you're sad. More than anything in this world, Rindou hates it when you crawl inside the small room in your heart and lock the door from the inside. It’s the one place he can never reach.

He will never be there for you. Sure, you love each other, but there are places in you that he won’t ever have an access to. He is not the only one who notices the change in your mood. There’s Haruchiyo who brings you into conversation every chance he gets and smiles at you so brightly you totally find it annoying and then there’s Ran, who hasn't taken his eyes off you, since your little quarrel with Takeshi. It's a Ran, Rindou has never seen before - calm, defenceless, and so very curious. He too isn’t participating in the conversation as much as he was before. Only occasionally when he is directly addressed to would he say something, but other than that he remains silent, vigilant over you. It's as if he's afraid that if he looks away, even for a second, you might slip away from him. The sun is close enough to jump behind the horizon to wake up another part of the world when you stand up from the table. The chair screeches against the pavement as you drag it. The sound is jarring, but the entire street is bathed in gentle golden glow, and to Rindou, you look the most beautiful in this moment, even with sadness resting inside you.

"I think I'll head out. I wanted to practice for the showcase," you say, picking up your bag from the floor. Before Rindou or Haruchiyo can say anything, you wave at them. "No need to walk with me. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Neither of them protests. Both know it won't lead to anything. They give you space when you need it. Around midnight both of them will call you anyway to check if you are still at the campus studio, and if you are, they'll come to pick you up and take you home.  They'll both call you around midnight to check if you're still at the campus studio, and if you are, they'll come to pick you up and take you home.

So you bid everyone farewell, leave money on the table, and head on your way.

As Rindou watches you walk down the street, he wishes he could fall in love with you and you with him. Then, everything would be simple, and you wouldn't be sad, and tears wouldn't mar your pretty face.

But this dream will remain just that—a dream, a mere thought in his mind that will never fully bloom.

His little sacred wish.

vi.

No one is at the university, and it's not surprising. It's Sunday, and it's almost summer. Everyone has better things to do.

Even you. You could have stayed with your friends and then invited yourself over to Haru's place and watched a movie with him or maybe read a book in solemn silence, eating homemade sandwiches without cheese. There is never any cheese at his house since he is intolerant, but it doesn't bother you. Not even a little.

Or, you could have gone with Rindou to the cinema and stayed over at his apartment. He would let you take his bed and then complain about a backache the next morning. He'd promise to make Ran buy a more comfortable couch, but the next time you'll visit, it will still be that white sofa they bought at a discount from some local shop in Roppongi. You'll point it out - you always do - and Rindou will say that it's actually quite okay and he just wanted to get your attention. You'll pinch him then.

And, of course, the three of you could've crashed at your place or gone together to the studio where you would've taught them some choreography. Haruchiyo would give up first; he is really stiff when it comes to dancing. But Rindou would surprisingly be good, and you would praise him, making him really happy about it.

But you made your choice, and now you are all alone in the studio, and the sun has already set. You dwell a little bit on what made you so upset earlier, but these thoughts - ugly worms - crack open old, forgotten scars, and they bleed. You don't know how to stop them, so you blast music at full volume and dance.

Dance is your sanity, your method of salvation, and your coping strategy. You dance and dance, and you don't stop until it hurts to breathe, and only then do you collapse onto the floor. The hundreds of you in the ceiling-to-floor mirrors do the same. They smile at you and they were smiling as you were dancing, and you suppose you did too, but unfortunately you can’t remember it, and therefore, it never happened.

The door cracks open while you're lying on the floor. You don't turn around to see who it is. Somehow, you know it's him.

It's Ran.

"Is purin daifuku your favorite, or did I mess up, and you won't let me stay?"

Food as a bargain is a bit outdated. For Ran it’s even quite a bit lame. You don't buy it, not for a single second. Because Ran himself is a white lie, a spider web of confusion [in which he pulls you in].

The heavy iron door doesn't make a sound as he shuts it behind him, and you gently close your eyes. Your eyelids fall as they would if you had fallen asleep in your tiny rented apartment in Nippori. It's an act of surrender, almost as if you're giving him the reins, but you doubt he understands it, and so it's alright.

The bags in his hands rustle, and you catch a slight smell of tuna. What has he brought? And why? The second question is the most important, so that's what you ask.

"What do you want? Aoki won't come today or ever. She doesn't practice much."

"Who said I came for her?" Ran counters, and you hear him settling down next to you. You hear the bag being ripped open and try to predict his moves. It's a silly game, but you let yourself indulge in it. You imagine him taking out the food and sitting in a lotus pose to your left. Does he glance at you? Only briefly. There's nothing new or exciting for him to see.

You'll never know if you're right in your guessing game, and you're not very interested. There's no prize to it, anyway.

"You didn't?"

"No. I came to see you."

You sigh, and his indirect lie makes you take a deep breath before opening your eyes and rolling your head to the side, so you can have a good look at him. "Don't lie to me, Ran. There's no point. Just tell me what you want."

He stops whatever he was doing, and his face, so uncharacteristically gentle in this moment, shows surprise. "What would I want from you? There's literally nothing I need from you. I just came here to see you. That's all."

His words are both hurtful and pleasant. Ran Haitani is a duality of a man. He is both white and black. The absence and richness in one body.

You sigh again, this time more disappointed, and leaning your body on your palms, you sit in the same pose as Ran. He still looks at you, his gaze unwavering and searching. A question seems to be on the tip of his tongue, but his lips pressed into a thin line keep it at bay. Only when you look down, your mouth falling open, your eyes widening in awe, does he continue the task of taking the food out of the bag.

"You clearly want something. It's my favorite food. Everything here is what I like."

"So you do like purin daifuku?"

"I do." You nod, reaching out for the bag of caramel corn chips. The flavour is almond caramel, your favourite. "Did Rindou tell you to come here?"

"No. He doesn't even know I came to see you. He's staying over at Akashi's today." He takes out a pair of wooden chopsticks and shoves them your way. A plate of the finest sashimi sits between the two of you. "Stop acting like that. You make me regret coming here. Doesn't my brother spoil you?"

"It's Rindou. Of course, he does." You fall silent as you break the glued-together chopsticks into two pieces. Ran does the same. "It's just different when you do it. Until last year, I thought you didn't even know my name."

"You're being stupid, you know? Of course, I always knew your name." He shakes his head and laughs, and the insult he directed at you a moment ago doesn't feel like an insult at all. Just a little teasing, nothing more. And that’s why you don’t bite back.

Silence envelops you as you eat. No one comes to the studio, and you hear nothing other than the sound of you and Ran chewing. He doesn't speak much, only praising the food he brought and mentioning that he got the sashimi from his favourite restaurant in Roppongi. He promises to tell Rindou to take you there, and he promises to come along. You tell him that you hope he's good with promises because the sashimi is really good, and you wouldn't mind having it again.

But when, after some time, you ask him again why he's here, he merely hums and ignores the question.

"Aoki asked me about you a few weeks ago. We don't share many classes, and we aren't friends, but she knows Rindou is my best friend. So she asked me about you when she saw me." It's another silly guessing game. This time, you try to pinpoint the reason for him being there with you, and if it's not about Aoki, then you're lost. Gladly, there won't be any retributions; just as there won't be any prizes. "She told me she spoke to you at Ryou's party and that she thought you might have liked her, so she asked me to link you two because she liked you too. I told her she should come for lunch with us. She never mentioned she had a boyfriend, though. And then..."

"I liked what you said to him back at the cafe."

"Didn't you hear what I just said, Ran?"

"I did. Did you hear what I said?" On his lips is a playful smile, but his eyes are relaxed and drowsy, and he is looking at you as if seeing you for the very first time. It might be it, but you won’t ask why he saw you only now and he won’t ever say it.

"Yeah, I did. We need to clean everything up here and get going. It's probably around ten now."

He agrees, and together you collect the trash and leftover food. The unfinished snacks and greasy chopsticks go into the paper bag with the restaurant's name on it. For some reason, you fixate on it, trying to commit the name to memory, repeating it over and over in your head.

Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi. Fukuzushi.

Retreating into your thoughts won't help you, just as it never had before, and certainly not now, not with Ran, who can access every sacred part of you.

You can't hide from him. He'll find you.

"Can I come to your place? I don't want to go home to an empty apartment just yet. It's completely fine if you say no. I'll understand."

"Don't be silly, Ran. Why not? I'd be bored at home alone too."

You're always before him.

vii.

It's his first time in your apartment, yet it feels like he's been here before.

Even though he knows very well that he hasn't.

There's no recollection of your old worn-out black leather couch, mahogany table, or the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that stands half-empty, most of the books lying on the floor near it instead of being placed on the shelves. He can't remember the two bar stools near the kitchen island, and he definitely shouldn't recognise your bedroom, the only separate room in your apartment.

And yet, he does.

The sound of water splashing across the tiles doesn't drown out your singing, and as Ran traces his fingers across every single object in your house, he listens to your voice, which somehow feels familiar to him too. Maybe it's what they call deja-vu, or perhaps it's a sense of belonging. It's peculiar and it's strange, and too difficult for him to comprehend, so he locks it in the back of his mind.

While waiting for you to come out from the shower, he occupies himself with a book that was lying on the kitchen island. It has a bookmark inside - a polaroid picture of his brother's smiling face. Rindou is being hugged from behind by you, your body looming over him. Your head is tilted down, so he can't make out your expression, but he has a hunch you were both smiling. You always smile around Rindou.

Ran has always wondered why the two of you aren't dating. He asks you just that as you're making cherry tea for both of you in the kitchen.

Before answering, you roll your eyes at him. "We don't see each other in that way. I mean… No. I can imagine dating him, but I don't see it leading us anywhere. I love Rindou too much to risk losing him, and I don't really love him in that romantic way. You know what I mean."

Love is a foreign concept to Ran, and even now that he thinks he might be in love with Aoki, he doesn't believe he understands what you mean. To him, love is love. It either exists in you or it doesn’t. You either feel it for someone or you don't. With all these ways and methods, you're just overcomplicating something that shouldn't be difficult in the first place. "What about Haru then?"

"Haru?" You place a white mug with tea in front of him. It smells really good - sweet and pleasant, somehow just like you. "We kissed once, but we were really drunk, and it was a bet. It didn't feel like anything. I doubt Haru even remembers it."

"Have you kissed Rindou then too?"

"No." As if deeply offended, you frown at Ran, then hop onto a bar stool and look to your right at the dark window, its reflection showing the compact room you're in. He might be imagining things, but he swears you're looking at him through the reflection. "I would never. Anyway, don't you want to know what else Aoki said to me about you?"

Ran licks his lips, not responding immediately. He watches you, observing your gaze fixed on the room's reflection, and takes a sip of the tea. The tea is hot and a big gulp he takes burns his throat. "This tea is delicious. Where did you get it from?" When you turn your head, and he meets your eyes - empty, sad, and meaningful - it startles him. He adds, "No, I don't want to talk about her at all."

"I'm sorry. I thought you might want to know what else she said to me." You tilt your head, offering him a smile. In this moment, you remind him of something he once lost. It's a huge relief knowing he won't ever need to search for it again. "You can stay the night if you want. You look really sleepy, Ran. It probably won't be safe for you to drive."

"Can I take a shower then?"

"Yes, and I probably have some of Rindou's sweats lying around. You can sleep in them if you'd like."

Ran chuckles, standing up. The tea is nearly finished, and his throat, still tingling from the burn, makes him aware of its warmth. "Do you have a lot of Rindou's clothes here?"

"A couple of sweatpants, t-shirts, and his contact lenses."

He nods, more to himself than to you, making a mental note  to ask his brother why he doesn't date you.

You seem like a really nice girl.

The sky is black when Ran wakes up in your bed, his arms and legs tangled in your sheets. Your scent, sweet and fresh, envelops him, and he takes a deep breath, letting the air stay in his lungs for as long as he can. He prefers his own bed with its silky appearance and soft mattress, but yours isn’t half as bad. He doesn’t regret staying.

You aren't beside him as you promised you'd be in a few hours after reading your book. You said you didn't mind sharing the same bed. You said you and Rindou always shared the bed when necessary.

You said, you said, you said.

To him, it doesn't matter much where you'd sleep – in your bed or on that monstrosity of a sofa. What matters, and stings, is that you said you would come, and you still aren't here. His eyes barely open as he shifts and turns to the right, spotting a small patch of light coming from the living room [which isn't just a living room but also a kitchen and a hallway].

Peeling the creamy comforter off himself, Ran yawns and gets up. His body, still warm from sleep, stiffens immediately when met with the cool air. The window in the room is open, and he swears under his breath, not recalling whether it was him who didn't close it or you who opened it after he fell asleep.

His feet on the wooden floor, he takes one step and then another, and soon you are before him. You stir a bit, as if annoyed by his presence, your fingers clutching the book tighter as if afraid it might be snatched away from you. Your sudden hostility doesn't deter him, and he rubs his eyes as he mumbles, his voice deep and groggy, "What time is it?"

The night is deep and dark when he notices your glossy eyes and wet cheeks. The reflection on the window, one he got used to, isn't there anymore. Only an eternal void, an absence of everything. You once told him you like black and white because they aren't really colours, because it was like they don’t even exist. He didn't retort back then, but now he knows better than that.

Black and white are the brightest, and you exist in them.

"What's wrong?" Ran suppresses another yawn. Sleep still lingers on the tip of his tongue, in the corners of his mind.

As expected, you don't say anything. You're like a statue of melted ugly wax, yet to Ran, you're incredibly beautiful.

He needs to know what upset you. [So it won’t ever again].

"Is the book sad?" he asks, sitting on the floor next to your bare legs.

"No, it's not," you whisper, closing your eyes. More tears escape, and Ran catches them with his outstretched palm. Your quivering lips and salty cheeks make you look too innocent between his hands. "I think I made it sad."

"You made it sad? How?"

"Because it's a nice book about people living their lives and being happy. But all I could think about was how mundane and ordinary it was, and I couldn't understand why they were so happy. Then I thought that I, too, lead the same life. It's a never-ending cycle of the same things." A sob tears away from your chest and comes alive. Ran's heart breaks a little. He doesn't know why. He doesn't have time to ponder why. "Ran. Am I thinking too much into it?"

"I don't think so. No." He shakes his head and, with the last wipe of his fingers across your cheeks, stands up. "Not really. But I don't think your life is all that ordinary."

"You don't think so?" You sound expectant and hopeful. His heart cracks a bit more.

"I don't think so." Gently, he takes the book from you and slips his hand into yours. Your hand is cold. "You're studying to be a professional dancer, Rin is your best friend, and that 'red guy' is almost a celebrity. And now you're going to sleep in the same bed with your best friend's brother. Now, tell me, how is this an ordinary life?"

This makes you laugh. The ice is melting, and the darkness recedes.

Soon, it will be dawn.

He helps you stand up, holding you by your hands, and together you return to the bedroom. He lets you take the side of the bed closest to the wall. You hesitate for a moment, but then you slip under the creamy blanket, your head and body disappearing beneath it. Now it's his turn to laugh. You remind him of Rindou. He used to do the same thing when he was little, back when they were poor and lived in their old apartment, sharing a bed because that and the broken table was all they had.

The memory itself isn't bad, but it's sad, and the nostalgia it carries isn't to Ran's taste. Your sheets still hold his warmth, providing a welcoming feeling. He tugs at the comforter and lifts it off you. "Don't hide. Wanna see you."

"Do you often sleep with girls?" Your cheeks are tear stained and they shine under the forgotten light of the lamp still on in the living room.

Ran turns, lying on his side to face you. Your hot breath grazes his mouth, carrying scents of cherry tea and summer and something salty. "Are you asking about sleeping as in sex, or sleeping as in just sharing a bed?"

"Sleeping as in just sharing a bed. Like what we're doing now."

He doesn't notice you reaching out to undo his braids and when he finally does, he stops breathing, taken aback by the unexpected yet pleasant sensation. He lets you continue, because, contrary to what he might expect, it feels good – almost caring – like someone finally cared enough to untie his long hair so his head wouldn't hurt in the morning.

"You'll be the first," he breathes out, his eyes half-closed as he watches your fingers dance through his hair. If not for the complete silence that reigns in your apartment, you probably wouldn't hear his words at all.

But he's mistaken, and you prove him wrong. "In moments like this, doesn't it feel like we're the only people in the world? Like it's just us and this apartment, and nothing more?"

"It does." He easily agrees.

You hum in response and he can sense that you are far far away from him, already hopping on to your next thought, pondering over something that he doesn’t understand or maybe doesn’t want to. He wants to bring you back to him, so he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his nose grazing your sensitive skin, and your goosebumps become his. He smiles, leaving traces of his happiness – ordinary or not – on you, and you return to the real world, freed from the constraints of your mind.

"Good night, Ran. I'll make us breakfast in the morning."

"And I'll take you out for coffee after breakfast."

"Thank you."

He wants to ask what for, but the sky will soon turn blue and he doesn’t want that. He wants this night to carry on forever.

With his arms around your waist, he falls asleep.

viii.

"Hey, Rin, I've got a question, but promise me you won't get mad."

The black sports bag sitting on the unmade bed contains sneakers, two t-shirts, sweats, and a large white towel. In fifteen minutes, he should be out of the house to catch the bus to the gym and meet up with Kakucho on time. Missing the bus would mean being half an hour late. Kakucho, of course, will wait for him, but then later today he promised you he’ll take you out for ice-cream.

Unlike Kakucho, however, you wouldn't wait, and to pick you up from the dance studio on campus without delay, he couldn't afford to miss the bus that would take him to the gym.

Ten more minutes. He needs to put on his shoes.

"So?"

In the doorway to his room, leaning against the doorframe, stands Ran. He's not wearing a t-shirt, and his hair is disheveled, with a sleepy look on his annoyingly handsome face. He probably just woke up.

"What do you want?" Rindou doesn't mean to be rude, but he's in a rush, and Ran has a tendency to take his sweet time with everything.

"I told you. I have a question for you."

"Yeah? I'm listening."

Rindou zips up the bag and strides over to his brother, heading straight for the door. He grabs a pair of blue Adidas and sits on the floor to put them on. Ran follows closely behind him.

"It's about your best friend."

"What about her?" The bus, the gym, and Kakucho are forgotten. Rindou tenses up. Everything that comes out of Ran's mouth is tainted. He stares at the laces on his sneakers, hands momentarily frozen. "What do you want to know?" “Do you like her?” “Why?” Finally, Rindou raises his head up. Ran towers over him. Hands locked on his chest. Not an ounce of usual laziness in his curious waiting eyes.

"Just curious. You seem close, and she's a really nice girl. Why haven't you two started dating?"

Five more minutes. If he’d be late, you’ll mask your sadness by your anger, and the world will turn bitter.

The best option right now would be to lie to Ran. To say, I'm sorry, I'll be late. We'll talk about it later. To come up with some nonsensical excuse and make him believe it. To protect you.

Rindou does nothing of that. He sees his brother's expectant face and takes a deep breath, knowing that he'll tell the truth. He holds out his hand, and Ran reaches out to him, allowing Rindou to steady himself, pulling him to his feet.

"I wish I liked her, but I love her. And love is never simple, is it? We're better off as friends. I care about her too much to risk spoiling our friendship."

"Oh, I see." An appreciative, contented hum escapes Ran's thin lips. "Maybe you're just… Anyway, forget I asked anything. Are you going to the gym? Tell Kaku I said hello."

Maybe you just... what? But Rindou doesn't ask. He nods, waves at his brother, and with his gym bag in hand, rushes out of the house. Down the stairs and onto the street.

He watches the bus pass by a few meters away from the bus stop.

ix.

The cigarette between your fingers carries the scent of tobacco and vanilla.

You hate smoking and yet you bring the cigarette to your lips and inhale the bitter sweetness into your lungs. It awakens your cloudy mind and burns your body from the inside. You are a room full of pale smoke and hate it all you want, there’s nothing you can really do about this nasty habit of yours.

You hate dancing too and yet you dance every single day. That’s the irony of it all, you think. Being doomed to doing what you hate for the rest of your life. Making it your legacy and descending into the abyss of eternity with it.

You despise dancing at parties, yet you find yourself dancing every single day anyway. The irony isn't lost on you. Being trapped in doing something you detest for the rest of your life. Making it your legacy and descending into the abyss of eternity with it.

The music has turned down, but your head still throbs with every thought. It's painful, but this particular hurt feels borderline nice and relaxing. Almost like returning home after a long day of dance practice – utterly exhausted, yet content. You hum along to the rhythm, shifting in the corner of a bright red velvet sofa. You can't recall whose house you're in right now; it was one of Haruchiyo's friends, but he has too many for you to remember them all.

"Care to explain why the eldest Haitani can't take his eyes off you today?" Talk of the devil, and he is sure to appear. Even though Haruchiyo is more like an angel. With his sweet pink hair and easy smile, he settles on the back of the sofa, leaning against you. His voice sounds as soothing as a cat's purr. "Girls are furious with you. Overheard a few of them calling you names."

You don’t need to turn around and see his bloodshot eyes to know that he is high. Rindou, who's not in sight, is probably stoned as well. They often smoke together, and if you hadn't been late today, you might have joined them. But you're not, and it leaves you feeling incredibly sad. You hate being sober when they are not.

"Don't be silly, Haru." You extinguish the cigarette in a handcrafted clay ashtray, the color an unappealing cheap purple. Oddly, you want to take it home.

"I'm not being silly!" He whines, making an irrational turn before finally settling on the sofa next to you. Under his weight it sinks down. Suddenly, the apartment feels aged. "He's been staring at you since you arrived, and I actually spotted you two on campus the other day. What's happening between you?"

"Nothing. What could be happening between me and Ran?"

In the adjacent room – the kitchen – a bottle crashes to the ground and shatters, followed by a cacophony of loud noises. A few girls scream, their high-pitched voices drowning out the electronic music. Haruchiyo pays no attention to this minor disturbance. He slips his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers, and rests his head on your shoulder. Despite his inebriation from weed and alcohol, he smells pleasant.

"Dunno. I just wanted to warn ya to be careful, and Rin's been suspicious too.  Says Ran’s been weird about you lately."

"Oh."

People come and go, and you follow them with weary eyes, attempting to deduce how much they've had to drink or their field of study based on their attire. A silly little game to distract yourself.

You want to go home, but you can't bring yourself to leave.

"He's just hung out at my place a few times. Maybe more. And we've been hanging out, spending some time alone together. Just the two of us." You finally admit, and when Haruchiyo doesn't stop playing with your fingers, nor does he falter, you know he won't judge you.

He is your safe haven.

"Did you fuck?"

"Oh my god, Haru! No." You exclaim, and he erupts in laughter. His joyful chuckles spread happiness throughout your being.

"Rin's older brother is quite the catch. I wouldn't blame you if you did fuck him. If I were you, I definitely would've." Haruchiyo yelps when you pinch him, but then he grabs the hand you attacked him with and edges closer to you. His gray eyes soften as they meet yours. "I won't tell Rin. Don't worry."

Moments like this make you forget all the hatred, and you come to appreciate cigarettes, smoking, dancing, plum cakes, ironies, hot days, and the bitter aftermath. Most of all, you love Haru and his gentle nature. You kiss him on the nose, a small peck, an offering of lost affection. His face lights up with smiles, his cheeks flushed with either alcohol, humidity, or simply your presence.

"You're the best, Haru," you whisper to him, and he nods in response. He never accepts compliments easily. Then you add, "Let's go find Rindou. I miss him."

In the end, you don't get up from the sofa, and it's Rindou who eventually discovers you both in each other's arms.

x.

The air in the small ramen shop near Waseda University is heavy with the scent of pork broth, and Ran wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"Don't make such a face. This place has the best ramen in Shinjuku."  The machine with different water stained stickers makes a loud noise and the automat lady says something incomprehensible. Shion turns around and with a happy face shoves tickets into Ran’s chest. "I’ve gotta go take a leak or I’m pissing myself right here.”

Before Shion disappears behind a grey curtain that Ran thinks was originally white, he turns back briefly. "Kakucho should be here in about five minutes. Let him know I've already paid."

Generosity isn't exactly Shion's strong suit, but today he'd received a perfect score on one of his projects and wanted to celebrate with his favourite ramen and favourite people – or so he claimed. Ran doubted this particular ramen shop was truly Shion's favourite, but since he had said it was the best in Shinjuku and Ran was too tired to drive somewhere else, they'd settled on staying nearby. As for the sentiment, it probably wasn't genuine either.

The interior isn't crowded. A few waitresses – pretty young girls around Ran's age – and an elderly man engrossed in his newspaper occupy the space. There's a half-empty glass on his table with cloudy yellow liquid; obviously sake. Ran ponders whether he's ever drunk this early in the day, but he can't recall such a memory. He's chosen to keep a clear mind since he and Rindou have been on their own.

You never know what might happen next. And that's something Ran dislikes about life. He prefers to be in control, but with how things flow you can never be. Nothing depends solely on you.

So when the door opens, and you enter the ramen shop with Kakucho and a short girl who strongly resembles your best friend – yours and Rindou's red-haired companion – Ran's throat tightens. Conflicting emotions surge within him. On one hand, he's genuinely thrilled to see you here. When you both woke up in your apartment this morning – where he had stayed the night, once again – he hadn't had the time to take you out for coffee, and this deviation from your usual post-sleepover routine had left an aching void in his chest. [Rindou would probably say he's being overly dramatic, but fortunately, Rindou will never be privy to this particular struggle.] On the other hand, he wishes you weren't here, in this damned cramped space, where everything smells a little bit too much.

He can already envision loving stares Shion will cast upon you, and he hates it so much he wishes you'd disappear. And he wants you to stay. He wants you to consciously choose a seat next to him and he wants you to talk only to him and don’t spare a glance for anyone else.

He wants you.

The revelation dawns on him suddenly, and his eyes widen. He's surprised, and there's sadness and anger swirling within him. His heart is tender, though, as you lift your head and grace him with a small smile. He nearly forgets where he is.

"You didn't tell me Ran was here. You said we were coming to see your friends." If not for the playful undertone in your voice, someone might think you were chastising Kakucho.

"You two know each other?"

You scoff, offering Ran an amused glance. "Of course we do."

"How would she know you but not me? I should be the one surprised that you two know each other."

An unexpected edge tinges Kakucho, and he frowns, subsiding. The girl beside him bites her lip, a reproachful look in her eyes, and mumbles something Ran thankfully can't hear. But you, you smile broadly and settle into the seat next to him [just as he wanted you to]. You toss your bag at your feet and place your hand on his thigh. "I actually agree with Ran. It'd be strange for me to know you and not him. Do you know how much Rindou complains to me about him?"

Your teasing stings, and Ran rolls his eyes, playfully pinching you on the soft skin near your thumb. You squint, gritting your teeth, and he quickly presses his fingers over the irritated area, soothing the discomfort he caused. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be so harsh."

"You're insufferable. If I'd known you were here, I would've turned down Kakucho's invitation to come."

This hurts. Even as a joke it does and Ran releases your hand with a flick. "You're such a liar, ba…" A sudden cough interrupts him from adding a pet name and he frowns, turning his head to its source. It turns out to be the short blonde girl – the one he momentarily forgot was present.

"Akashi Senju," she says, offering him a small hand. "I'm her friend and Haruchiyo's sister."

"Senju also studies at Waseda, just like you. She's a first-year student," you add, grinning at your friend. "Anyway, aren't you hungry? You said you were starving."

The second you stand from your chair, Ran's mood darkens. He stares at your back, noting that you've changed since the morning, now wearing different jeans. He prefers the ones you had on earlier. These are a bit too low-rise for his taste, and the color doesn't sit right with him either. Did you practice at the studio and change into a new outfit? Or perhaps you came back home after your morning class and specifically changed for your meeting with Akashi?

"Don't bother asking me anything. I'm not in the mood," Ran says, noticing Kakucho's smug expression. "Oh, and Shion has paid for your ramen. Don't order anything."

"I wasn't planning to."

To what Kakucho is referring is a mystery Ran won’t entertain himself solving. For now, he has another thing to settle and that thing is his own melting heart.

He knocks on your door that same evening after dropping you out just hours before. The ride home from the ramen shop was silent for most part and your home was the first stop. He didn’t say goodbye as you silently closed the door wishing to see everyone soon again. And he didn't allow himself a pleasure of a biting remark – one that had been simmering on his tongue since Shion let out an unnecessary whistle upon meeting you – to slip and pierce through his friend. 

Both boys and the Akashi girl had asked to be dropped off at Nakano Station, which was relatively close to your apartment. Ran hadn't argued and hadn't offered anything in response. He is a mess and all he needs to calm down is you and your annoyingly good cherry tea. You made it every single time he was over.

So when he knocks on your door carrying two bags with a chicken logo – from a small restaurant he spotted on his way back that claimed to serve the best karaage – and a box full of glazed donuts from an American coffeehouse chain, he hopes you'll allow him another cup of tea.

"I knew you'd come," you say, stepping aside to let him in. "What did you bring? Oh! I love that place! Give me that, and go sit down. I'll grab the plates and everything."

But he doesn't sit. He follows you into the kitchen, observing as you tear into the bags, too impatient to untie knots. He smiles at your little quirks and habits. By now, he believes he knows you well. All the small details, bumps and preferences that are arranged in such a way, they make you. You are a thousand myriads of memories, of happiness and of never ending dark night and he wants to conquer every single one.

He wants you.

When you reach for two plates, he steps closer and wraps his arms around you, his hands over yours, he guides them to your chest. In this close proximity, he can smell the lingering fragrance of your shower gel and soap on your skin. He traces his lips over the damp skin of your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear.

"Were you planning on going out today?" he asks, not moving a single centimetre away. "You smell so good."

"No. I told you I knew you'd drop by, so I took a shower earlier. You always look so bored when I leave you alone while I'm showering."

He smiles into your skin and playfully nips it, licking the pain away immediately. He wants you, and he wants you to know it. He wants everyone else to know that you're wanted by him too. A purple mark blooms on your skin, and you tremble, your hands gripping his arms.

"Why are you so good to me? For me," he leans his head on yours and kisses the crown of your head, pulling you even closer to him. 

"Ran."

"Tell me."

You wait a second. Two. Three. More. Your breath quickens and he feels your heart pounding against his own, and he closes his eyes in an attempt to steady himself, to find some stability amidst the chaos that is you.

Somehow, he senses that whatever you're about to say won't be pleasant, which is perhaps why he doesn't rush you or urge you to continue. Instead, he litters your head and neck with kisses, communicating his love.

"You don't really like me, Ran, do you? You like Aoki."

Your  fingers are entwined with his, and he can't recall who initiated it. You or him.

"Bullshit. I barely remember her most days until you bring her up. Just what did she tell you? We never had anything going on."

"Maybe. But you don't like me. You like her, and that's why we shouldn't."

His kisses come to a halt. He gently turns you around to face him, searching your face. You don't appear sad or disappointed or disheartened. Maybe a little flustered and your eyes shine a different way. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

"Bullshit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're a terrible liar, Ran."

He scoffs. "I'm not. I am a good liar, but I am not lying to you when I say I want you. I need you. You are the one for me." "Then can we agree on one thing, Ran?" You take the hair ties out of his braids, your fingers deftly working to undo them.

"Anything you want."

"If we do this, can we agree not to kiss? At least until you figure out how you truly feel about me."

"That's ridiculous. What else? Should I take you from behind so we don't have to see each other's faces?" He is irritated, but not mad. Yet.

"Don't be crude. No, I just don't want to kiss you when you have feelings for someone else. I don't want to get too attached. I don’t kiss people without feelings." Your hands run through his hair, and he melts into the sensation. You're his solace, his sanctuary. He can't understand how you fail to see that.

"Please, Ran. It's more for me than for you, and I'm sorry."

He sighs, his thumb brushing over your lips. He had been looking forward to kissing you. Ran loves to kiss. But patience is often rewarded, right? Or something along those lines. It doesn't matter.

One day, he's sure he'll get to kiss you. He knows it.

"It's stupid, but alright. I'll kiss you when I'm certain I love you," he says, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your forehead. "I don't understand why I can't kiss you now, though, but anything for you. If it will make you feel better then okay.”

I'll do anything for you.

Damp beige sheets are scattered in the corner of the room near the door. The entire space is filled with the scent of sex and the nighttime city, and Ran never wants to leave. He feels at home.

His grey t-shirt you are wearing stands out on the clean black sheets you spread out a little before. You're lying on the bed with your limbs stretched out, your body still sensitive and trembling. The pose reminds him of starfish, and he bites back a laugh, his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Ran!" You roll your head to the side, propping yourself up and adjusting the pillow on the headboard to make yourself comfortable. You do the same for him, and his heart swells, yet again, for what feels like the millionth time and beyond this evening. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No. Why would I?" He places two bowls of karaage and rice – one for each of you – on the bed and slides under the blanket. Your bare thigh brushes against his hip. He isn’t wearing much. Just his boxers. And if he isn’t mistaken you too aren’t wearing anything except for his t-shirt.

“Don't know. You were just all smiles when I turned my head.”

He doesn’t grace you with a response, because just for this once he wants you to find the answer yourself. He wants you to read it in the depths of his eyes, in the creases that form beneath them, and in the glow of his lips. Lips you didn't get to kiss today. The chicken and rice are cold, but the food is still good and he has been starving ever since he got up from the bed and took you to the shower. You had been hazy and sensitive, his cum on your thighs and belly, and when the water was hitting your body it seemed like it was hurting you more than bringing you relief. He asked you if it was true, but you just nudged him closer, holding him close with your arms tightly wrapped around his waist. He'd carefully washed you clean.

"What's on your mind, Ran?" you ask, your chopsticks poised between your fingers. "Oh, wait, don't tell me. Let me guess."

As you contemplate your guess, your eyes scrutinize his face, and he notices  every small change it makes.. How your lips quiver after you lick them clean. How your eyes narrow as you attempt to focus on him. How you fidget with the wooden chopsticks, transferring them from one hand to the other. How you look flushed and innocent and so incredibly young and beautiful. How you now forever have him as a part of you. 

You sigh, your shoulders rising and falling gently. Your bowl is only half-empty, and he guesses that you probably aren’t the type to get hungry after sex. "Are you thinking about sex? Or maybe Rindou? Oh, no, wait! Maybe you're craving that dessert you love. What was it called? Rindou once made me get it for you because he said you were mad at him and it was the only thing that could save his life."

"How do Rin, sex, and my favorite dessert all fit together?" Ran sets his now-empty bowl aside and takes yours, which you kindly offer him to finish. "It doesn't really make sense."

"Your expression. You looked like you were thinking about something you really eally love."

So fucking innocently curious. So naively observant. So so so. Ran tries to grab what arises in his chest and what burns his throat, but he can’t, so he swallows and reaches out for you instead. Nestled in his arms, you fit perfectly, and he nuzzles his nose in your neck, which now carries the scent of him. He's never shared this level of intimacy with the girls he's been with before, but with you, it's different. With you, he can sense his imprints all over your body, just as he knows you've marked yourself onto him.

"Could you make me some of that cherry tea in the morning?" he murmurs into your skin. He senses a slight flinch as you're tickled, and to make amends, he places a soft little kiss there.

Your embrace tightens around him. "Were you thinking about my cherry tea?"

"Well, if you put it that way... yeah, I guess I was. Will you make it for me when we wake up?"

In this moment, in your bed, bodies entwined under warm blankets, Ran lies to you for the first time. And you both understand he's doing so. You both know he wasn't really thinking about cherry tea, but rather you.

And yet, no matter how terrifying it is, you comply, you choose to believe him and say, "Yeah, I will. Of course I will."

xi.

Rindou has a suspicion you are hiding something from him and he is determined to find out what. He is all in for secrets and mysteries, but not from you. When it comes to you he is greedy and he wants to know everything. So if you get hurt he will know whom to punch and what words to say to make the wound they inflicted upon you sting less.

Rindou, who has always been protected by Ran, loves to be protective of you. It’s a self-assigned role of a big brother he never was to anyone that he cherishes too much. But no matter how many times he has hinted - too bluntly - for you to pour your heart out to him, you simply don’t say what he wants to hear. He gets desperate and when one day he is high with Sanzu in his apartment, he asks him if he noticed it too. Your strange behaviour and how lately you’ve been smelling different. Like something too familiar and close to him.

In his typical manner, Sanzu laughs it off. He promises Rindou that there’s nothing to worry about, cause if you’d wanted to tell them you would’ve. And if not, then you will tell them later. You all are best friends and you will be so until the end of your days. A little trust, Rin, never hurt anybody.

There’s nothing left for him, but to agree, and yet the smell on your skin stays and in the next days all Rindou can is to get familiar with it since now it’s part of you.

The rumours that you slept with a college professor for the main stage in the showcase spreads around not so long after.

Rindou punches a guy who he overhears saying it in the cafeteria and almost gets detention for breaking university’s principles. But it doesn’t stop him from beating that guy up again. This time he is smarter. He does it outside of the school.

Knuckles bloody and torn he feels alive.

He isn’t that much surprised when he finds out it was Aoki who started this nasty lie about you.

After all, you’ve always been rivals.

“That was stupid, Rin.” You murmur sitting on the floor of their apartment. His hand rests in yours, a warm dead weight. The cotton ball soaked with vodka - they didn’t have any first aid kit at home - glides across his scraped skin. Despite you speaking gently, your movements are precise and harsh. You obviously are a bit mad or maybe sad and worried. “You know I don’t care what they say.” The alcohol stings his skin more than your words. He closes his eyes. “But I do. I can’t just brush it off if they call my best friend a whore right to my face.” 

“He didn’t see you,” you observe, quickly glancing at him, before returning to your task. 

“What a pity.” “Will he live?” you tear the gauze in two and wrap it around Rindou’s knuckles tying in with a pretty bow. He thinks it’s a bit excessive and he doesn’t really need something to cover up the wound, but he lets you tend to him. He likes it a bit too much to deny it. 

The water in the bathroom stops running and for a second it’s eerily quiet in the apartment. The only noise comes from honking cars - might be someone parking for too long - and people loudly laughing right under their building - might be a student couple that rents a flat above Haitani’s. Life never stops even when it stills for you. The world is wheeling around and around and around.

"What's with the hospital? What happened?" Veiled by his thoughts Rindou doesn’t notice his brother coming out of the bathroom. With Ran beside you looking at his hands, the world speeds up; Rindou subconsciousness suffers. “Hey, Rin! What happened?”

Without your permission he can’t tell the truth. He won’t dare to spill that ugly rumour about you and he won’t - everything inside him riot against this nasty lie - even say it outloud if you don’t want him to. Even to his brother. 

Rindou’s loyalty is his doom. “Rindou fought the guy who he caught saying I slept with mister Okamoto for the main role in the showcase.” There’s not a hinge of bitterness or resentment in you as you answer Ran’s question. 

Rindou wants to smack you.  He wants you to be more serious about yourself. He hates that you aren’t and he is surprised when Ran is. 

“Why would someone say that about you?” 

“Jealousy, I guess. It’s going to be the second year I am the lead.” You stand up from the floor and take the open bottle of vodka along with the remaining gauze and cotton balls to the kitchen. “Honestly, Ran, it’s just a stupid rumour. Why even bother? People are gonna talk anyway.”

“No. If we’ll make them, they won’t,” Ran retorts, going after you and Rindou can’t help, but turn around and peek out from the corner to get a better view. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I am being serious. Don’t let them come at you for something you didn’t do.”

“Yeah. You worked hard to be the lead. Don’t let them take it away from you.”

The simple truth is the hardest to swallow, and you almost crumble under its pressure. It's obvious to Rindou that you didn't like what the wind was carrying around the university's halls. Maybe it really didn't bother you that much, but it still soured your sweet success. He wished he could've helped before blood needed to be spilled. Because now, Rindou isn't sure if his warmth and care can make you feel better. What is left for you is to wrap his hands in gauzes and share the warmth of your existence.

And so he raises to his feet, to catch you one more time, to not let tears stain your cheeks and your heart.

“Oh, no, no.” It’s Ran. He reaches for your face and cups your cheeks between his palms, his big fingers erasing fat tears from your skin. He coos at you, eyes searching for you. “You know what? I don’t want to see you cry, and I bet Rin doesn’t want to see you cry either. But it’s okay if you want to. I won’t stop you. So cry all you want, and then I’ll take you to that restaurant I told you about. Alright? I am going to blow dry my hair, and we are good to go. Okay?”

Frozen, near the kitchen countertop stands Rindou. He takes his glasses off and wipes them with the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t dare to look at you, and besides, he isn’t even sure if he will see you. Your presence isn’t for him, and maybe it never was. Maybe he was never that important in your life; only a connecting chain to something bigger than him.

He can’t find you.

“I am sorry,” you whisper when Ran is gone to his room and your eyes are almost dry.

Rindou frowns. There’s no reason for you to apologize to him, and yet he leans into you, his forehead burrowing at your shoulder. “Whatever you say or do is okay. Remember? We accept each other as we are. You don’t have to pretend to be someone else around me.”

“I love you, Rindou.” Again, it’s a whisper, a small meaningful promise. “I love you so so much.”

“I know.” He laughs, suddenly uncomfortable and very shy. That new foreign smell of yours hits his nose and Rindou inhales it fully, filling his lungs with it and a realisation comes at him so simple, he thinks he knew it from the beginning. The shock he imagined he would go through isn’t here. Nothing is. Just acceptance and your detachedness in which he loses himself. You smell like his brother. Like Ran. You’ve been for a while. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you closer. His hands don't hurt him anymore. 

xii.

His fingers are warm on the gentle skin of your hips, and every little caress feels like millions of kisses planted straight to your heart.

Girls in your university and mutual friends through Rindou who slept with Ran had the tendency to discuss him in bed, and besides claiming that he always knew what he was doing and how he should do it, they always mentioned him being exceptionally rough. He never stayed at your place for a night, never brought you to his apartment in Roppongi (everyone assumed it was their mutual agreement with Rindou), and never slept with the same girl twice. Never. Never. Never. There were too many rules and details for you to remember. Laying under him on his bed in his room you would swear they all were liars.

Running your fingers through his long hair and combing them behind his ears so they won’t tickle you falling onto your face, you moan from the burning pleasure that never left you from the moment Ran declared he wanted you.

Slow, but powerful rolls of his hips catch you off guard - they always do - and you tug at his hair a bit too harshly. His face comes closer to yours and your naked chest touches his, he brushes against your hard nipples, and with pure curiosity and pleasure watches you close your eyes, back detaching your body from the damp sheets. It’s like you want to be closer to him. Like you run into his arms; into him.

[He accepts you.] He welcomes you.

The exposed marked skin of your neck comes into his vision and he leans down to kiss you there. Mark it again. Purple on purple. More purple. You and him are the same colour. 

His breathy whispers burn like holy oil. Something sacred that was never meant to be shared with anyone else. “So good for me, baby. Always good. It’s you. Only you for me. Right, baby? I am yours. Oh God, I am yours, baby.”

More confessions. More promises. More spilled love.

With you Ran is always tender. He always eats you out - despite you not wanting to, since you say it’s like a kiss, too intimate - and he always stretches you before he puts his cock inside you so it won’t hurt you. He always listens to your needs, without you voicing them out even once. And after you are done you both eat and talk and laugh, and then go at it again. 

After the fifth time you are sure that Ran Haitani never fucked you, but made love to you. And it was not in the tempo or poses he had you in or where you had sex or if he initiated it or you or how many times you both finished or many other stupid reasons. No. It was in his touches, his words, his smiles, his laughs, his gestures, his eyes and how soft they were right after or sometimes in the moment.

It was in his being and how you both felt around each other. 

Today, when Ran cums, your lower part warm with it, he crushes you with his body. You stroke his toned shoulders and back. It’s not just his hair that gets your attention. It’s every part of his body. You love to please him too. His breath is hot against your ear shell, and you squirm, grazing your nails against his tattooed skin. He winces, but laughs, detaching himself from you.

“I am so spent,” he confesses, yawning and you giggle at this natural confirmation from his body. “Do you wanna take a nap? We can order something later or go out. I wouldn’t mind having shabu-shabu. Whatcha think?”

You bite your lip, pretending to consider his offer, when in reality you already know you’ll agree and now you are just taking him in. Ran is very beautiful. Womanly pretty.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good."

Before Ran rolls to his side, he kisses you in the corner of your lips and then up your face to your brows. Never on your lips. Because you asked and he promised. Genuine content smile brightens up your drown in pleasure face.

"You know," he muses, "I like your red-haired friend more now."

You laugh, immediately understanding what he meant by that and as if the sound of your laugh is an alarm for his need to be close to you, Ran shifts closer to you, bringing you too, flash against his naked body. Skin to skin.

"His hair is pink, and his name is Haruchiyo. But you always say his hair is red. It's kind of funny," you murmur, closing your eyes. Your body is too sensitive for you to move much without feeling the never ending hunger for Ran, but you still do and you gasp, your palms gripping onto his shoulders. 

He smirks and lets you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck. You kiss him there.

"Yeah, Haruchiyo. Next time, I'll pay him myself to take Rin to Hakone. For a whole week. Anyway, let's sleep. I want to make you feel good again when we wake up. Do you want me to wake you up with my fingers or my mouth? You seem like you need it. You are so fucking sensitive everytime we have sex. It’s like I am your first and you never had decent co…”

"Rude, Haitani," you slap his back. Gently. "So rude."

Silence settles over the room and your breaths even out. You think he has fallen asleep. His chest rising up and down. His body is warm and solid and heavy next to yours. Your fingers continue their dance across his nape.

"But you still like me, right? Rude or not?" He asks, his voice a bit clearer than before, and you know that he has been thinking about this all this time.

Without a delay or hesitation, you speak. "Yes, I do. Rude or not."

Again, he doesn’t reply back and after an unknown amount of lost time, you understand that he indeed has fallen asleep. You follow him right after, thinking that maybe his question was more serious than you initially thought it was.

xiii.

The plans for Rindou’s surprise birthday party were made in advance in the kitchen of your apartment.

For the first time in four years that you’ve become a part of Rindou’s life, Ran lets you both - you and Haruchiyo - to play a part in the arranging of the birthday party for his brother. He does it because of you, of course. Another reason is knowing that Rindou will be very pleased and happy. Unlike Ran, Rindou likes surprises. It was your idea to veil every little preparation, location and guest list with exciting secrecy. Both boys [under an insane amount of pressure] promised you to not even speak of the upcoming birthday to Rindou. Let alone spill any details or hints about the party. 

Just a few days before it Haruchiyo however sitting in the cafeteria accidentally mentioned to Rindou that the colour of banana milk reminded him of kitchen countertops in the house Ran rented for the surprise party. He was saying it with a huge smile on his face that quickly faded when he realised what he said. You - who obviously had a huge soft stop for Haruchiyo - didn’t even get mad at him. You all laughed it off and Rindou asked no questions, appreciating your efforts. 

"Can you believe it?" Happy Birthday Rindou garland shimmers in your hands. You tape the second end of it to the wall and lean back, looking at it, trying to see if it’s even. It’s the fifth time now and Ran slowly loses his patience. He doubts Rindou would notice if it declines for one degree. “I thought you would be the one who would uncover us.”

The ladder echoes a clunking sound as you come down. You fall right into Ran’s arms who were steading it for you the whole time, hands gripping the metal so you didn’t fall. He is surprised. “Me? Why? You know I am actually good at keeping secrets.”

“I know you are.” Hands on your chest, you squint at the wall, overlooking the garland. Your expression is hard and serious and no matter how much Ran tries to decipher it he can’t. Silently, he prays you won’t readjust it yet again. He is getting tired and he still needs to fill the fridge with beers and what else alcohol he bought. There were also snacks and fairy lights to be taken care of. At least, all the vases and unnecessary fragile decorations were already sitting in the storage. 

“Does it look good?” Ran asks, hopefully. “To me it seems fine. From where I stand. But it seemed fine the second time too. Maybe you just should draw a huge line with a pencil on the wall so you could see where you should hang it. Or you know what? Rindou will be fine without garland. He’ll live. It’s not like he knows we were gonna hang it.”

The silence on your end is scaring him. Is this stupid garland really so uneven? He steps in front of you and scrutinizes the wall. Everything is perfect. The colorful "Happy Birthday Rindou" written on the beige wall looks fine; the tape is not visible and every letter is as neat as it could be. When the silence stretches, he groans and grabs hold of the ladder. The metal is warm under his palms from how long he has been holding it.

“Ran.” He feels your lovely hands and you pressed to him before he registers you calling his name. All frustration and tiredness are exterminated from him, thrown out of the window the second you open your mouth.

"Mhm?"

The softness of your body melts into his existence and he cranes his neck at the angle where he can see you.

Your eyes are already waiting for him and he is met with so much tenderness and endearment and fondness he resists the urge to kiss you and it’s the worst fight he’s ever been into.

His body is bruised and ugly. He is losing.

“The garland is fine.”

“Is it?” The sudden eagerness in his voice makes you giggle. He giggles with you. “I expect the same garland for my birthday. You’ve got to put Rin through the same shit as me.”

“Do you want us to rent you a house too?”

He hums, thinking of an answer. His fingers slip between yours. “Yeah. Two floors, and I want the backyard facing the ocean. A pool is a must, too. Oh! And the guest list? I’ll make it myself. Rin would invite people I dislike just to annoy me.”

“Deal.” A wet touch of your lips encourages shivers. His eyelids tremble as he closes his eyes, losing himself in your affection. You press another kiss under his ear and then on his jaw, only to move to his cheeks, and then to the corner of his lips.

His only instinct is to follow you, lean into you, reach out to you and for a second his lips are on yours, but you move away and he curses. Turning around, Ran pushes you towards the huge oak table and you comply, jumping on it. Your legs are spread for him and yet you push him away when he grabs the hem of your shirt. 

Your palm on his chest he hopes you can feel how his heart reacts to you. And as if you do - or maybe it’s something else, Ran hopes it’s something else, something sweet and precious where you can’t deny him - your open palm turns into fist and you bring him closer. You pepper his face with small kisses and it’s embarrassing for him to think how happy he gets, how you can ask of him anything now and he will do it. Be it steading the ladder for you or bringing you hot gazing stars from outer space. 

“You are so lovely, Ran.” 

Oh God. 

“Anything for you. Lovely, gentle, harsh, rude… yours. However, you'll want me.”

There’s a known firefly in your eyes and he holds your face. At this point you are just staring at each other, searching for answers or commuting without words. Or maybe both. “Yeah. I like it all. Remember? I’ve told you before.” “Say it again, then. I like hearing it.” And you do. I like you. I like you. I accept you, Ran. I like you. I like you. I like you. 

Pink looks pretty on you and Ran knows it. 

You sway with his younger brother in the middle of the huge living room of the rented house for which Ran paid a bit too much [but you were so adamant it was perfect and Rindou would absolutely love it so he couldn’t say no] and laugh. Your head thrown back, you hold hands with Rindou as he swirls you around, careful to not let go of you. 

You are the centre of this party and Ran’s attention. 

The beer in his cup is still cold and he sips on it watching you having the time of your life celebrating the existence of his little brother. The fact that you so dearly love and care for Rindou touches Ran’s heart more than it should, but it does and it warms the world around him. He tries to remember if someone from his own friends has this much love for him as you do for Rindou and suddenly he can’t name a single one. It’s a moment of loneliness and fear. Ran can deal with both, because he will always have Rin and Rin will always have you. So it’s fine. Everything is fine and the party goes smoothly just like you planned it. There’s enough food and alcohol and people who are here are the ones Rindou is happy to see. All his previous birthdays - and Ran’s too - they celebrated at clubs. Tones of booz, weed and girls never made Rindou smile as brightly as he did through the whole evening and well into the night. There was something alluring in intimacy that Ran never felt or noticed before and that he waited all his life to learn through you. 

So he drinks a bit more and watches you dance in your pink croco trousers and he knows you look unbelievably good. So good all he wants now is to get you in his car and drive you far far far away where no one could take you from him. For good measure he’ll lock you in the house [of his heart]. The keys will be thrown away with eyes closed so even he wouldn’t know where to look for them. No escape from this dream land of his. Forever imprisoned the two of you. 

It gets hard to breathe as if Ran is the one to dance and laugh. Leaving his unfinished beer on the table, Ran goes outside. He catches Kakucho’s questioning gaze on him, but mouths a simple ‘i am fine’ and then he is all alone again.

It’s chilly outside. The night sky is clouded and no stars can be seen from the porch. Two houses down there’s another party. Music travels this short distance, but as if there’s an invisible divider, it stops exactly in the middle and never touches their own music. Ran can clearly hear both songs and this alone creates a peculiar sense of detachment. It’s like he is here and then it’s like he never was and never would be.  Much to his displeasure it’s not you who finds him there. He didn’t even know he was waiting for you until viscous regret filled his lungs and the disappointment rested in his chest. He might have been scowling because the girl before him looked, if not scared, confused for sure. 

“Don’t say you don’t remember me.” The girl is beautiful, and Ran thinks he saw her at your university. She steps closer and brings her face right to his, her brown eyes waiting for recognition, but when even proximity doesn’t ring a bell, she pouts. “What they say about you is right. You never called me back.”

Oh. That’s why she looked familiar. Ran has slept with her. He gives her a dead stare, not in the mood to make a joke out of it. He turns his back on her. “Well, I never call anyone back. It’s always a one-time thing.”

He expects the girl to be offended or for the poison of humiliation to spread through her veins, but obviously, none of it happens. Instead, she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and leans on the wooden rails, overlooking the empty night street. “It’s stupid, but I thought I might be good enough for you to change your mind,” the girl giggles. She lights a cigarette for herself and doesn’t offer one to Ran. “But you don’t even remember me. You don’t, do you?”

“No. I don’t.” There’s no point in lying, and Ran doesn’t care if he hurts her. She’s been hurt before and she will be after this insignificant encounter.

“Do you wanna fuck now?” The answer is immediate and it’s the same as before. “No. I don’t.” 

“Not with me?” Lit cigarette between her fingers stands out on a stormy night sky. 

“No. Not with you.” 

The cloud of smoke escapes the girl's mouth and Ran stares at it for a bit, trying to remember how it tasted when he kissed her. But he can’t. It’s not her mouth that he sees, but an empty place. It’s scary. 

You and your crucifying rule that broke his bones everytime he was with you made kisses mean a lot and dissolved those that he shared before into drivel. They didn’t mean anything. 

Ran never remembered his first kiss. 

He guesses it happened when he was thirteen with a girl that was much older. It probably was a bet. 

The butt of the cigarette with dark stains from the girl’s lipstick is pressed against the wooden floor. The light dies. “You look awfully sick with love, Ran Haitani. It does suit you, though. Your eyes look more alive. Usually, they were like you just murdered someone. It’s scary.”

Fat raindrops hit the pavement and soon the world around is speaking. Ran can’t tell what it’s trying to say, but his heart tells him it is a premonition. A little prophecy, because what is born meaningless has a tendency to die as the most important thing. 

But of course, there are exceptions. 

There are memories, people and webs that were and always would have the dearest place in Ran’s heart. There is you and there was Aoki Ogura and now next to him is the girl he had slept with once and doesn’t even remember. There is the smell of rain and a few seconds ago there was a lit cigarette, the fire of it now dead. It’s a birthday party of his little brother, his only family, and it’s a day when Ran realises some things aren’t our choices, but are chosen for us. 

No matter how much we want, we can't change them, because just for once it didn’t happen because of us, but because of who we are.  The rain intensifies. Chills creep under Ran’s thin grey blouse. Are your pink trousers and white tee keeping you warm enough? He desperately needs to know. Now. 

“What’s your name?” Ran is at the door. His hand lies on the handle.

The girl raises her hands in the air, gasping. She pretends to be offended. In reality, she isn’t. There’s not a tinge of sadness in her. “It’s Hatsu Ikazuchi.”

The beginning of thunder. How fortunate. How coincidentally amusing and pretty. Life is full of wonders. The door behind Ran softly closes. Rain and storms stay on the other side.

xiv.

The second Rindou accidentally learns about the party, he knows it was your idea. 

When he steps out of the car and sees the prettiest house he knows it was you who chose it. The small hidden alley where it stands and green pots with pink flowers are definitely what made the cut for you. And then, when he enters the house and everyone screams happy birthday Rindou, and he shushes them so he can greet every single person there, he knows it was you who decided who should be invited.

It’s the same with the cake that you bring out to the living room singing-whispering his favourite song, instead of the classical happy birthday one. He knows it was you who ordered it and decided on the fillings. You hold it before him, a huge happy smile on your pretty face, and he closes his eyes to make a wish before he blows off the candles. Ran stands behind you, his chin on your shoulder watching his brother, but Rindou barely notices this unusual proximity. He only sees the fairy lights and decorations.

He knows it was all your doings too.

He is happy and he is loved and he drowns in your love the whole evening and well into the night.

He only loses you right after the clock strikes two when Haruchiyo finds him and urges him to smoke. They share a joint on the second floor in the bathroom. And even in the state Rindou is in now, he thinks about you. How you’d be mad if you were to find them smoking in this enclosed space without a window. How you’d scold them like you always do and say that weed smells disgusting. How you’d still slide down the door and sit on cold tiles with them, breathing smoke from it into your lungs, intoxicating yourself to the maximum. You’d laugh and smile looking at them both, your best friends, and in those moments everything in the world would be right. 

High as kite - because it’s a special birthday joint, claims Haruchiyo - from half of the cigarette and drunk on God knows how many beers and two cocktails with an unknowing mix of alcohol in each, Rindou stumbles down the stairs. Haruchiyo follows suit. With mouths dry as parchment they go into the kitchen where they gulp down two bottles of water, one and a half litre each. 

The thirst subsides and they giggle, finding the situation funny. The party carries on and so does the fun. Behind the veil of smoke and fog and fun everything [and everyone] seems brighter - happier - than they really are. Weed is better than alcohol, but both of it mixed together is a devastating cocktail of unknown feelings and emotions, so bright and positive, Rindou wants to stay in this superficial land forever. 

But the effect will wear out with time and nothing but sadness and regret will stay. And when Rindou will wake up in the morning, he will be grumpy and untalkative and borderline aggressive, angry thoughts swarming inside his pounding head. He might throw up or he might not and when this state too will pass, for there is nothing permanent, he will wonder if sadness and hostility is all he has. This eats Rindou alive. 

But there is still time till this terrifying clarity. 

For now everything is blurry. And he is happy. He allows himself to be. 

A very gracious birthday present. 

Together, with Haruchiyo they find you in the company of Senju, Ran and his friends. In the midst of loud music and the smell of alcohol, your small circle gives the impression of a cold calm island, warm to its habitants and cold to intruders. There’s an effortless conversation that flows between you all. He has no idea what it is you are talking about, but it must be something very interesting to each of you, because your eyes sparkle and everyone speaks almost at the same time, contributing to the discussion. 

A deep gut feeling of being unwanted washes over him and Rindou’s body is sticky, clothes too close to skin. Blood pumps loudly in his head and for a second or two all he hears is a stretching white noise. It calls out for him, forms a message, something so important and crucial, but it disappears before Rindou can decipher the meaning behind its static nature. And then, his brain overwhelmed and tired, his being happy and loved, he thinks that maybe some things aren’t worth reading into. Maybe it all happens just because and maybe nothing has any sacred meaning. 

Maybe living in the absence of all is easier and maybe that’s what Rindou chooses in the moment Senju spots them and waves her hand urging them to join your company.  

“My favorite birthday boy!” You exclaim, stretching your hands toward him. He accepts your invitation and dives into your arms, stumbling over his unstable feet. He falls face down onto the sofa, and Senju, who had been sitting next to you, groans and moves to the floor. But she doesn’t say anything to him because today is his birthday, and he is allowed a little more than he usually is.

“Am I really your favourite?” Rindou asks, his tongue loose from the effects of alcohol. His head rests on your shoulder, and he tilts his head to take a good look at you. You are a bit drunk yourself. Your eyes are only half-opened, and you look undeniably sexy and warm. “Tell me the truth.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to think, and he whines at you, causing you to laugh. He is happy with himself because of that. He is even happier when you ruffle his hair and whisper to him, "You are. Even when you reek of weed and beer." You lick your lips before you continue, a bit more serious than before. "Even if you find yourself a pretty girl and dump me because she's going to be jealous of us."

"No one's gonna date us with you in the picture, baby. Honestly?" Haruchiyo chimes in. He sits on the floor next to Kakucho, opposite you. Only when you and Rindou turn your heads his way, your attention fully on him, does he continue speaking. "Even I feel jealous of you, and I'm a part of our threesome."

The interrogation on Rindou’s behalf falls short at that and you slump into scolding Haruchiyo for his poor choice of words to describe your friendship. You argue, as you usually do, because obviously to Haruchiyo the threesome sounds okay and he even claims he heard someone at university refer to your trio using it and he in fact is not the one who came up with it. At that you gasp and a sound too similar to a sad wolf howl comes out of your throat. 

"Actually, you know what I always wanted to ask?" Interrupts Shion. He is taking the first long drag from his cigarette. The smell of smoke that hits Rindou’s nostrils almost immediately indicates that they are cherry-flavored. It's quite a strange choice on Shion's side, if you were to ask Rindou. "How did you all meet? You are super close. I’ve been looking at you today, and if Ran hadn’t told me before that you are seeing someone, I would’ve thought you are dating our birthday boy."

All attention has you as the centre and for a split moment Rindou is sober. All haze and blurriness swept away leaving the palace for stunning clarity. But he feels how tense your limp body gets and he sees his brother who sits at your feet with your left leg thrown over his shoulder, laying his head on your thigh. Ran smirks as he waits for your answer, but he knows his brother the best, so the sweet tender expectancy doesn’t go unnoticed. Nor does the gentle caressing of his fingers around your ankle. 

“We actually met through Haru, who I knew because I am friends with Senju. We went to the same high school.”

Shion nods. He brings a bottle of sui-umeshu to his lips and, not taking his eyes away from you, takes a large sip. When he is done, the sweet liquor swallowed, he asks you, "Why is your boyfriend not here?"

"He isn't my boyfriend yet. We are still figuring it all out," you retort. You tilt your head to the side and playfully smile at Shion. "And just why are you so interested in him?"

“I am not interested in him. I am interested in you.” 

"Oh," the smile is gone from your face and you stare at Shion as if you are seeing him for the very first time. "Thank you."

The rest of the night is spent almost quietly. You dance some more. You drink and Haruchiyo smokes again. This time with Senju on the damp porch. The rain that Rindou never acknowledged has stopped. The air now is cold and crispy. It finally feels like winter is just around the corner. 

The golden light of sunrise adorns the living room, building an illusion of it being way more spacious and bigger than it really is. Rindou can barely stand on his own feet. He so desperately needs to go to bed and sleep until it’s well after noon. And yet, he comes to a halt when he hears your quiet laughing and Ran’s murmuring. Through the buzzing in his head he can’t hear what you are talking about, and even if he wants to eavesdrop, he won’t. He respects you and he respects his brother. He respects his loving touches and he respects your choice. So, he goes straight into the kitchen and the first thing he sees is not your blood splashed across your white t-shirt in bright stains, but Ran’s gentle moves when he wipes your face. Come to think of it, his brother was always like that around you. Curious and tender even in anger. The softness doesn’t evaporate from Ran when he looks up and sees his brother standing in the arc that connects the living room and kitchen. 

"Did you get the nosebleed again?" The house is silent, so Rindou’s voice echoes through it like a bell in the middle of a field.

Somehow, Rindou imagines it’s sunny there in that field of his despite dark heavy clouds hanging low in the sky. It’s going to rain, but before it will, there will be a thunderstorm. This time Rindou is going to be there to see it. 

“Yeah. Don’t worry though. I am just tired. That’s all.” 

Contradiction arises in him and guilt fills his throat to the brim. He can’t say anything so he just stares at the white wet towel  in Ran’s hands. Its twisted tip all red and pulpy. Behind you, on the beige plain wall, is a garland. It says “Happy Birthday Rindou”. He wants to take it home with him and put it under his bed, in his heart, to store it there forever as a reminder that someone cares for him. [Always will]. 

There are so many words and confessions he desires to share with you, but instead, he says, “I am going to sleep. Can we go for yakitori when I wake up? I just know I am gonna be starving.”

“Nankotsu or tebasaki?” Suddenly excited, you turn your head toward him.

“Both?” “Fuck, I love you so much, Rindou! You are the best!” “I know. I know. I love me too.” 

“Okay you all enough with love. Let’s take your makeup off too, while I am at it. Now, look at me.” Without anything to say Rindou leaves. He goes upstairs and without taking a shower goes straight to his makeshift bed for today. He is sharing a room with Kakucho who is already asleep. His light snores break the solemnity of the room.

Undressed, in his boxers, Rindou comes up to the window that overlooks the neighbour's patio. Classic Japanese garden stares back at Rindou and he tries hard to remember when was the last time he saw one. He can’t. It’s a bit sad. He finds himself liking the moss, the rocks and those pretty wooden lanterns. Beauty is simple; he appreciates it. 

At last, he closes the window, shutting curtains tight. Today was a good day. He felt loved and needed and cared for. 

Rindou wishes every day was like this one, but then wouldn’t its significance be lost on him? Life is a contradiction and Rindou loves it too. Just for today he allows himself to. 

xv.

Flowers bloom inside you when Ran’s hips meet yours and you moan into his shoulder, your teeth drawing blood from his skin there. 

Arms limp around his neck, your body violently quivers and he, too vulnerable and high on his own orgasm, spreads his palms across your naked back, running them up and down. Mouth hungry on your skin he leaves open sloppy kisses across your neck. It does little to calm you down. It does nothing at all to subside the hunger and emotions you have for him in this moment [and always]. 

"Shit, I bit you. I am sorry," you say, your breath still hitched. You run a finger across the mark, wiping the blood that stains Ran’s perfectly smooth skin. "Didn't want anyone to hear us. Does it hurt?"

Tilting his head to the side, his palms on the small of your back, Ran inspects the damage. He winces, and in your blissfully tired state, you don’t pay attention to how fake that wince sounds or how unnaturally he grimaces when you touch the wound again. "It…"

He doesn’t have a chance to finish, because you run your fingers around the mark and bring your lips closer to it, pecking the red irritated skin there in an attempt to soothe the pain. Ran freezes. All jokes and teasing he intended to voice die. 

He dies with them.

“Ran are you okay? Does it hurt that much? I kissed it because I thought it might lessen the pain. I probably only irritated it more. I am sorry. Let me go take a look if they have band aids in the bathroom.” You are still sitting on his lap with him inside of you and your legs still tremble, but now only lightly and you think you can stand up and walk the short distance to the en-suite bathroom. But when you lift yourself off him, Ran grips your hips so harshly you yelp. 

You are confused. Lines on your forehead you look at him with a question in your eyes. Did you do something wrong? Was he repulsed by your spontaneous biting? Love is about questions and you drown in them. It’s fortunate that Ran holds you just where you should be held. “Don’t go. It doesn’t hurt at all. I haven’t even noticed you bit me until you said. I was just teasing you.” 

In the silence that follows, each of you think of some distant places that never correlate with each other and yet even there you are together. In the comfortable familiarity and warmth of his body you doze off. Ran’s huge tattoo fades away with every drop of your eyelids; little butterflies landing on ink orchids. You swear you can smell their faint flowery aroma, but that simply can’t be true. 

A lot of things can’t be true and yet you choose to believe in them. 

"A girl today asked me to have sex with her, and I refused," Ran says after a while.

Sleepy, you place your chin on his chest, locking a gaze with him. Ran does have the prettiest eyes, you think. But instead, you ask him, "Was it Ikazuchi?"

His blonde brows coming together, he tries really hard to remember. So hard a deep wrinkle appears on his forehead. You raise your head and smoothe it, waiting for it to disappear. You don’t like seeing him troubled and now he looks like that whole encounter was unpleasant for him. 

"I can’t remember," he says honestly, catching your hand when it wipes at his eyebrows. He brings it to his mouth and kisses your knuckles.

"Oh, it was her. I know," you giggle, a stray ray of bleak mid-autumn sun pecking at your face, causing you to squint as you squirm on top of Ran. He whines, and you press a hand over his mouth, whispering, "Ran, don’t do that! You’ll wake someone up."

You see him roll his eyes, and then it’s you who is screaming, because he holds you by your waist and flips you over, so that you are under him. "So much for 'Ran, don’t!'" He mimics your voice and intonation a bit too perfectly, and then he stops, and you can only imagine what makes him shut up. But he stares at you, his half-closed eyes forever young and full of longing. You can only guess what’s going on in his mind.

Bathed in morning sun and your love Ran looks exceptionally beautiful. 

“What is it?” 

There’s no hesitation in his reply. "You are pretty."

And there’s no hesitation when he brushes his lips against yours. His breath is warm and sweet and he is your new source of air, because altogether you stop to breathe and it’s him who inhales life in you. Like a little lamb before sacrifice you stare at him with wide eyes. So full of questions. So full of don’t you remember I told you not to kiss me before you feel something for me. If you ever feel something for me. 

It’s a plea. It’s an incantation. It’s his chance; his doom and forgiveness. 

“I should’ve done it before,” he mumbles. Lips on lips. He has been inside you a few moments ago and numerous times before that, but you swear he has never been this close. “Should’ve kissed you when I’ve seen you cry that day. Should’ve kissed you when you undid my hair before we went to sleep that very first night. Should’ve fucking known I liked you all this time.”

Salty sad tears draw pretty patterns on your face and you choke on sobs, too overwhelmed, too shocked and so desperately confused. All the thinking process in you comes to a halt - blame it on your tipsiness, tiredness or early hours of the morning - and you shake your head, hands reaching out to Ran, clutching onto him. 

You are contradicting yourself and you know that. But you can’t think what’s more disappointing: that you are uncontrollable or that you don’t believe that Ran likes you. He is made of white lies. Always have been and yet you choose want need to trust him. 

In the clouds of white sheets and duvets he rolls to his side and brings you closer. With one swift strong motion he throws your leg over his hip so even air can’t come between your bodies. He wipes at your face and the uncharacteristic patience and understanding he shows you, are enough for you to peck his lips. He smiles against them, into the kiss, and it’s sincere. 

“Don’t want you to cry,” he whispers. “Especially over me. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Hand on your waist, Ran nuzzles up to you, his nose brushing over yours and you surrender. 

You fall to pieces. 

“Only wanted to say how I feel. Would’ve done it before if it wasn’t so hard to understand. Why when it’s real it’s so hard to realise you are in love with someone?” 

Leaning your forehead on his, you sniffle, but you aren’t sad anymore and you don’t cry. It’s a light grey feeling that envelopes you and if it means that this is what Ran Haitani’s love feels like you are okay with it. You accept it. 

"It wasn’t hard for me," you say, and Ran reclines back, taking you in, his head and heart full of you.

“What?” “I said it wasn’t hard for me to understand how I feel about you.” He grins then and he looks so boyish, so happy, so content your heart explodes, its broken fragments piercing through his chest to fill up cracks in him where nothing could before. 

This time, when Ran kisses you, his fingers caressing your jaw, you respond to him. It’s shy and testing at first, but soon it gets sloppy and it’s wet and messy and lots of tongue. It’s so so so good you don’t need him to get you ready and you don’t need a lot of time to come undone again. 

Again and again and again. 

xvi.

It’s been weeks since Rindou’s birthday party and by the mouth pressed into thin line and grumpy hooded eyes that Rindou only has with Ran, he can tell that his brother has a lot of questions that burn him on the inside. 

However Rindou doesn’t ask them and Ran would never feed his brother’s pride by responding to them before he was even interrogated. That it’s going to be an interrogation he doesn’t doubt for a split second. Glares and muttering Rindou provides Ran every time they are in the same room are enough to guess. It’s late November when Rindou finally snaps. 

Ran is putting on his black boots he bought a few days ago in Harajuku after getting his hair done when the burning sensation on the back of his head intensifies. It’s a little after eight and he is worried he is going to be late to pick you up from the practice. Earlier today, you agreed to meet at nine thirty. If Rindou holds him for more than three minutes he won’t be there on time and while Ran is always late he hates to be late to you. 

Dressed in all black - black hakama, black button up and black socks - Rindou reminds Ran of a kid who pretends he is into fashion, but can only mix and match black clothes and even that isn't given since Ran can clearly see that Rindou’s hakama is slightly darker than his t-shirt. He bites a smile, averting his eyes from Rindou so he won’t notice the playfulness that spills from him. Of course, Rindou does notice. 

Of course, he groans and Ran can only imagine what names his little brother has called him inside his head. 

"What don’t you like about my outfit this time?” Rindou spreads his hands across his freshly ironed clothes and places them on his hips. He looks down at himself, but Ran is sure that no matter how much he tries, he'll never understand. Finally, he raises his now angry eyes and looks at the smiling Ran. “Is it my pants?”

“No.” 

“Then what is it? I can tell you think there’s something wrong with it.” 

Orange sun paints their apartment in a pretty peach colour. It licks at Rindou’s blonde hair and he is even more handsome than he usually is. Ran looks at him, while he stands before him frustrated, angry and lost, and in this moment he knows he won’t ever forgive himself if he wrongs his younger brother. He doesn’t remember when Rindou became so big and how his shoulders are even broader than Ran’s are and he for sure missed a moment when Rindou started dating, but he will never forget this particular moment. 

When Rindou is twenty and sunset kisses his existence. 

“The hakama colour doesn’t match with the button up.” 

“Oh.” Rindou's fingers circle around the collar of the blouse, and now he isn’t just lost, angry, and frustrated, but also self-conscious and lonely.

As an older brother Ran has - always had and always will - many responsibilities. To provide, to keep safe, to care and to love. To spare from the misery of unknowingness. Never to betray. 

And that’s why, this time, Ran gives in. He kneels down to tie his left boot and answers a question that wasn’t asked but was thought. “Yes, I am going to see her, and then I’ll take her to eat whatever she wants today. We might take a walk right after dinner or go straight to 7-Eleven and buy her favorite pudding and that stupid pizza-flavored snack she likes so much. I’ve grown to like it too by now. It isn’t too bad. Anyway, when we are inside her apartment, I’ll start kissing her the second I close the door behind us, and we’ll probably take it to the shower, and after the shower, to her bed. If she doesn’t fall asleep immediately, we’ll eat, and in the morning…”

“Does she let you eat on her bed?” 

Done with his laces, Ran raises up, he blinks at his brother, and a shit-eating grin spreads on his face. “Well, yes, she does. Always. Why?”

“Really?!” Under the circled tinted glasses, Rindou blinks a couple of times. “She gave me and Haruchiyo a lecture about how we can’t eat in bed. How are you supposed to sleep with crumbs under your asses? You absolutely shouldn’t eat in bed. Especially you, Rindou. You always spill the sauce.”

The imitation of your voice is pretty accurate. Down to the intonation and pauses you do when you are speaking and Ran can’t help, but laugh. His brother does know you well. It’s a pang in his heart. He can’t translate it into words. 

“I guess she just likes you more than us,” concludes Rindou. He adjusts his glasses and points at the pile of shoes by the door, leaving no room for Ran to contradict. Rindou blurts out almost immediately, “YSL or Yamamoto boots? What do you think?”

They settle on the Japanese designer, because Ran claims the European vibe doesn’t really suit Rindou. He also doesn’t change the button-up and it’s been more than three minutes. 

The sky is a deep blue, borderline black, when they enter Itabashi area. The roads are unusually empty for this time of the day and a few stars appear each time it darkens one shade more. Today the world is very beautiful and Ran hopes on his way back it still will be so you can see it yourself too. These floating lights, rich colours and street lamps with their alien light. 

“I don’t think she likes me more, Rin,” Ran's voice breaks the absolute silence that reigns within the car. The engine of Ran’s Honda continues its song, undisturbed and infinite. “Our significance for her is different. And not on the scale of lesser to greater.”

Beside him in the passenger seat, Rindou stretches, his palms hitting the roof of the car. “Honestly? I could kinda tell you were always into each other. All this bickering, sneak glances, accidental touches. And you never once forgot her birthday in three years. Don’t know why I was so surprised she started to smell like you in the summer.”

“Smell like me?” Despite them being on the road Ran turns his head to the left and stares at his brother. “What does it even mean?” To that Rindou never responds. He shrugs as if he never said what he just said and Ran’s curiosity remains a hungry fox. 

In less than twenty minutes they’ll reach you. They both wonder if you will wait for them outside and if not, who of them should come pick you up from the studio. 

“Can we stay at our place today? We can invite Haru, Kaku and maybe Senju over? Would be nice to watch something and eat. I think the DVD rental next to us should be still open.” 

Loneliness, myriads of sparkling little fireflies, illuminate the space between Ran and Rindou, and Ran bumps his brother on the shoulder with his fist, playfully but not too strongly. He communicates to him, "I am always here. I always will be." Then he suggests, “Of course. Shoot them a message. Say the food is on us, but if they want to drink something, they should bring it themselves.”

A huge toothy smile appears on Rindou’s face and that’s how Ran knows his brother understands that love is never divided between people. It’s shared and fed in equal amounts. Just differently. 

“Oh. And mention that if anyone is to crash at our place they might be ready to hear a few whimpers here and there.” 

With his eyes already on the phone, fingers typing away messages to their friends, Rindou raises his head and gives his brother a disgusted look. "What?"

“Your friend is awfully loud in bed. That’s what I am saying.” 

“Gross. Stop the car.” Ran laughs and when he catches Rindou’s smiling, shaking his head in a what-a-bastard way, he laughs some more. The firefly of loneliness is dead by now.

More cars pass them on the highway and nothing feels real. 

xvii.

The park near their house is not that grand as the park you always stop by after Ryou’s parties, but it has a small square playground and that’s all you need. 

Three bags with snacks and cup noodles are forgotten on the bench. Half of the goods lay scattered on the ground, but neither you or Rindou pay much attention to it. You probably haven’t even noticed it yet. Too busy laughing and enjoying yourself. 

It was - of course - your idea to stop by and play. Just for a little, you said, tugging Rindou by the sleeve of his black puffer. Inside the park it’s dark. The lit lamps here and there are the bonbori ones and while they already aren’t the brightest, the shadows of trees absorb whatever lights they illuminate. If Rindou wasn’t Rindou he would find this place creepy. The desertness of it due to the hour only intensifies the feeling. 

But you are happy before him as you sit on the swings swaying back and forth. You laugh loudly and when he drugs you by your waist to the roundabout you scream at him to set you free so loud people in houses nearby might think he wants to murder you. None calls the police though or comes outside so in your wail they might have heard merriness, the same Rindou did. They probably think it’s teenagers in love fooling around.

But you are not teenagers and you aren’t in love.  And that’s what you tell Rindou when you push him into the huge metal circle with holes in it. He does his best to imagine what child game this surrealistic installation serves, but nothing comes to mind. 

"Rindou, I am sorry," your whisper echoes inside the metal walls like an arrow. "I should have told you from the beginning."

"It's alright," he murmurs back instantly. It should be the other way around, you comforting him, but it is not.

"I just think I really, really, really love Ran, and that's why I couldn't tell you."

The confession sits heavy on both of you and the tension made of substantial marine ropes hangs around your necks. In the dark Rindou can’t see you, but he can imagine you playing with your fingers or biting your cheek. Too full of emotions and pregnant with spilled secrets. He knows you too well and you know him well too, so when he outstretches his arm and his hand falls into your, you both giggle. 

“Like I feel bad for not telling you, but I couldn’t help it. He is your brother. I was too shy to tell you. I still am.” 

"You aren't making any sense," he puffs, suddenly sounding a bit angry or maybe tired. Perhaps both. "One second you are declaring you love my brother, and then you say you are bashful about it. It doesn't make any sense." Your hold around his fingers tightens, and he throws his head back, leaning against the cold metal. It would be good to feel its bitter licks against his naked skin, to sober up, jolt back to you, away from his illusions and disappointments. But then, he thinks, even if you threw him into cold Antarctic waters, with your gentle hand in his, he could never be cold. That's why he softly adds, "And I've already told you. It's alright. No matter how I feel about it."

"And how do you feel about it, Rindou?" Instead of sounding bitter or disappointed or angry, you sound mellow and kind. You sound like everything you shouldn't. "I want to know."

When he speaks, it's not what you wanted to hear, but that's all he could say to you now. Or ever. "Ran is my brother, and if something happens, it's him I am going to choose. I want you to know that."

The last sentence is a regretful hum. Barely audible, but still evident. He clutches his eyes shut and holds his breath. What he said to you hurts him badly enough to have them closed forever and he supposes it’s painful for you too. He hopes it doesn’t hurt you as much as it does him. And he is glad it’s really dark in here so you can’t see his shattered heart. 

In an ideal world you’d run away from him or at least be angry. You really should be. He gave you all the reasons too. He desperately wishes for your fury so it eases his turmoils - so he can be mad at you too -  but it never comes. Instead, you fall in his arms and wrap your hands around his shoulders. You breathe him in and smile into his neck. This world, this version of you and him, and everything you are are too far from ideal.  He loves it too.  He loves you. 

“I know that. And I know that you know that it’s okay. I’ll never blame you for choosing Ran and I’ll never leave your side. It’s not even a choice, Rindou. He is literally your brother. Your other half and your only family.” 

“You feel like family too.” 

The walk back to their apartment is mostly silent. Hand in hand, you stroll through the dark alleys of Roppongi that you both know so well, each of you thinking about each other. But thoughts can’t hurt anymore. Not after that small significant moment in the kids playground. Rindou can’t exactly pinpoint what happened, but something did. Was it what you said? Was it what he said? Or perhaps it’s the hug or clasped hands that took the weight from his heart away and glued its torn pieces back together. 

And by the time you are actually inside the apartment, when everyone is already there and waiting for you, Rindou is calm and the part that constantly worried and kept him high on his toes is gone, he doesn’t even remember what it was like to live with it. It’s like he is another person, reborn and better. Still the same Rindou just maybe a tiny bit freer and the sparks in his eyes are shining with new light, new colour, not the absence of it. 

So, when you enter the apartment and you take your shoes off and Ran who meets you by the door notices blood stains on your white socks [a never ending battle between new shoes and dancers] and he scolds you for not telling him earlier that your feet hurt while scooping you away, Rindou doesn’t worry. Nor for your feet. Nor for the ease with which you follow his older brother to the bathroom. Instead, he joins Haruchiyo and Senju who are already there in the living room. Together, they sort out the food you got in the 7-Eleven. For the most part, it’s silent, the TV is off and the door to the bathroom remains open. Rindou can’t see you and neither can Haru or Senju, but they hear you just fine. They hear the water running down and how patiently Ran instructs you to put your feet with socks on in the warm water. He then explains you how they mother and later he himself used to do the same to Rindou when he was little and his new pair of shoes would hurt him so bad, blisters became bloody mess that stuck to fabric of his socks and unless you wanted little Rindou to scream and cry and tear the skin and meat off him, you’d need to soak his feet in the warm water. This way it won’t hurt at all and Ran, assures you, he never wants you to hurt at all. 

In the middle of this conversation Ran also points out that when Rindou was really small he always had socks with Super Mario print on them and if they were ruined for good, he would cry so hard, you’d think someone had died. To that Rindou rolls his eyes and Haru openly laughs, mouthing a silent really? And when Rindou nods, Haru laughs some more and shakes his head in pure amusement. If he or Senju catch on to something they don’t show it or maybe they knew all along, reading into sudden tenderness between you and Ran quicker than Rindou had. At this point, it’s all in the past. He doesn’t care. 

The indifference remains when Ran makes you take a shower and dresses you in his clothes. His brother stays the same and you despite looking too adorable in Ran’s old loose black t-shirt, too are the same you were before. You still bite your cheek and you still sit between Rindou and Haruchiyo, leaning your head against Haru’s shoulder. 

And yet, the stoic callousness Rindou has been experiencing through the whole evening, evaporates when Ran finds you sitting on the floor by the ceiling to floor window. The white letters that form actors and crew names flow inside the screen of their Panasonic Viera and the light in the room hasn’t been turned on yet. The boxes of instant ramen are left on the floor around the sofa and armchair. The air still smells like chicken and miso. Next to him Haru stretches in his place and yawns. Rindou is too exhausted - mentally and physically equally - but he doesn’t want to go to sleep yet. Today was different, but pleasant all the same. He doesn’t want this day to end. That’s why when Shion, who came along with Kakucho just after you were done with your shower, starts his usual post-movie banter about the hidden philosophy behind the story you just watched, Rindou happily joins, effortlessly lurking into the conversation. It’s then, in the middle of the heated argument that Rindou tries to justify his judging of the poor choice that the main character made in favour of her lover other than her career that he finally takes in consideration the vacant place to his left. He wanted to ask you what you think, what would’ve you done if you were to choose between your dream job and your boyfriend. 

But you aren’t beside him and Rindou hadn’t noticed when you disappeared or why. 

The confusion on his face must be evident because Kakucho who sits opposite him grins and with his chin points at something behind Rindou’s back. He doesn’t really need to turn his head and see for himself what’s going on. Kakucho’s happy mischievous eyes tell him all there’s to know. 

But he does turn and he does see you and Ran talking in low voices in front of the dark night and myriads of small lights of someone else’s lives. The whole room falls silent then and in this short pause Rindou remembers how you once told him that those windows are your favourite place to be in their apartment. 

It’s like you are alone in this wild wild world, but never lonely. Just how many people live in Tokyo. Isn’t it crazy we are part of them? Do you think they think about us too sometimes? 

You must be telling Ran exactly the same thing or something along those lines you shared with Rindou years ago. His eyes shift into two slits and he smiles at you. Softly. Fondly. Lovingly. His hand rises to your face, caressing it gently, thumbs ghosting over your jaw. The closing credits end and the TV blazes with white colour so bright it lights up the whole living room and bits of kitchen. But no one seems to care. Everyone watches Ran leaning into you and planting a kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and familiar. It holds something sacred that no one in the room even after witnessing it would understand. It’s beyond everyone. 

"You mean to tell me that when I asked for her number and Ran told me she’s seeing someone, that someone was him?" Fully confused, a cloud settles over Shion’s scrunched face. "What a fucking bastard. He should have just told me she was his."

At that, Kakucho laughs and shoves his elbow between Shion’s ribs, then winks at Rindou whose cheeks are now burning red. “Some things aren’t that easy to voice, Shi. Especially when it comes to love. It’s not like Ran would’ve come up to us for love advice. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Shion hums in agreement, still seemingly perplexed at the sudden revelation. It’s not clear whether he even understood Kakucho’s comment.

“And besides, you'd be a moron to think that Ran wasn’t seeing someone,” Kakucho adds, resting his head against the back of the love seat armchair. He closes his sly eyes and bites his lower lip to hide a smile.

“Why is that?” Shion asks, obviously believing that "the moron" comment was directed at him. He turns his head to the left, looking at Kakucho, who cracks his right eye open. The playful smirk is still on Kakucho's lips.

“Because when that little bimbo girl that Ran was going crazy about made a move on him in the club, he rejected her.”

“Which girl? When?” It's clear that Shion doesn't remember the incident, and neither do Rindou, Haruchiyo, or Senju. They all eagerly wait for Kakucho's explanation, but he remains silent.

The tease that he is, he only opens his mouth after finishing his can of Coca-Cola.

“I don’t remember her name, but I think it was written with the kanji for 'blue.' She kept mentioning it to Ran. Like, 'Don’t you think it’s pretty? Don’t you like it? You said you liked it before,'” it's evident that reminiscing about this is quite painful for Kakucho, and Rindou genuinely pities him. He hates Ran's fickleness. He hates Aoki Ogura even more, even if she was never one of the girls he slept with.

That it’s her Kakucho is  speaking about Rindou has no doubts whatsoever. 

“Oh, well. It’s not like Ran had ever liked a decent girl. They were always so fucking annoying. Remember the one that barged into the classroom for him to talk things out?” 

Down the memory lane they go, and Rindou barely listens to them anymore. There’s nothing new for him to hear. He too became a victim of Ran’s romantic encounters. [If you can call them as such, because besides sleeping once and never again, Ran and those girls had literally nothing going on]. 

“Our baby isn’t annoying,” eyes lidded from tiredness Haruchiyo whines, invisibly tugging Rindou by the hair out from his thoughts. Kakucho and Shion too turn at him, slight surprise on their face and Haruchiyo groans seemingly disturbed that he would need to elaborate. “My baby isn’t annoying or something. She is the best and Ran actually really really really likes her. So don’t say he never liked a decent girl, cause my baby is the best and Ran loves her very much.” 

The trip in Haruchiyo words is intentional and that’s how everyone knows he is being sincere. No one argues and Rindou pats his shoulder, agreeing. 

You are the very best. 

And, yes, his brother likes you a lot. Loves, even. 

xviii.

This January is awfully rainy and Haruchiyo thinks it fucking sucks. 

Not because of the dampness and the cold, but because he can’t light a cigarette outside on the campus and instead needs to smoke in the clamped smelly toilets. Observing the rain, he actually likes it since he’s been a little kid, from the circled window adds little to the pleasure of inhaling the fog into his lungs. 

At this point he might as well give up on smoking. 

In slow deliberate motions he pulls the pack out of his trousers and cracks it open counting the cigarettes. He places a bet that if it’s more than seven he won’t give up and if it’s less than that then maybe his smoker habit will end now. 

Eleven cigarettes look back at him and he smiles, kisses the pack and slips it back into the pocket. 

Today is his lucky day. 

“Knew I’d find you in here.” Across the bathroom scrawls a harsh slap of the door and Rindou barges in. His blonde hair disheveled and wet from the rain. He doesn’t need to tell him that he’s been outside a mere second ago. There’s a grave coldness from his damp coat and his heart. Haruchiyo squints his eyes and decides, almost certain, that you two haven’t talked yet. 

“I assume you haven’t talked yet,” as always straightforward Haruchiyo doesn’t wait for Rindou to bring up the topic. 

He dives in without a single pint of hesitation. He cocks his head and laughs when Rindou shakes his head an affirmative ‘no’. 

In between those two weeks you haven’t spoken with one another, it seems like nothing much really changed. When it comes to you Rindou still loses his ability to speak coherently. He still lowers his head down and looks at the floor. This time he also steals a cigarette from Haruchiyo’s “Hope”. The irony in seeing Rindou clutching to a literal hope in his hands would be funny, if this irony wasn’t a suffocating pool of your tears and sour expression.  

So he doesn’t laugh. Haruchiyo suffocates. 

For just a little while he needs to talk about something else and that’s why he recites to Rindou who now sits on the low windowsill about the bet he had earlier with the cigarettes. Any other day, they would laugh at it so hard and Rindou would tease him so badly, the back of their throats would hurt them from saying too much and talking too loudly. But not now. 

Now Rindou just cracks a smirk and crashes the cigarette between his fingers. The white paper snapping in two. 

Then, he is back to you. [Like always.]

“Is she alright?” Is all he asks. 

Any other day Haruchiyo would tease him, but not today. Not now when his best friend is grayer than the clouds outside in the sky. 

“Caught her crying yesterday while she was making us tonkatsu. Said she’s fine and it’s just onion.” 

“There wasn’t any onion?” 

“Bingo,” Haruchiyo puts the cigarette out, pressing its flame against the white wall. There’s quite a few fading black spots of the same size around the surface indicating he’s been here before. 

“I miss her,” the confession slips out of Rindou’s mouth effortlessly and easily, but the dead weight in his chest doesn’t lessen. It hurts all the same. “I can’t talk to her though. I mean I am totally on Ran’s side. How could she believe her out of all people? I swear if that little bitch told me she fucked Ran I would’ve never believer her.” 

And that’s a lie and they both know it. 

“She haven’t told her she fucked Ran. She’s been whispering about it with Misa when my baby was there practising. She made sure she heard that and then she added he called her little love while he was balls deep inside her. Of course it hurt. Fictional or not.” 

Rindou sighs, banging his head against the window, drops of rain chaotically sliding down. “No doubt, but Ran told me nothing of the sort happened. Besides, he hasn't seen Aoki in a while. Ran might be Ran, but this is not a thing he would do.” “Then, he should’ve explained himself properly,” Haruchiyo retorts, his smart eyes peering into Rindou. “One text and no visits screams to me as a lack of interest.” “He is just too prideful and it’s not like it’s easy on him too. All he does is sleep, eating and beating the shit out of me. Yesterday he snapped because I put soya sauce in the fridge and apparently you don’t store it there. There’s a cupboard for it,” the mocking comes out perfectly and Haruchiyo cracks a smile. He spots a light purple colour he hasn’t noticed before on Rindou's cheek and presses his lip into the thin line. Smile evaporating from his face. Again, it’s gloomy. “You know, Haru, I might try to talk to her on the day of the showcase. I am quite positive Ran might come around by then too. We can go celebrate it at Shabuan then. Yeah. That’s what we do.” Your showcase is five days from now and Haruchiyo doubts much will change and yet he hopes. And so he nods, gathers his things from the floor and hugging Rindou by the shoulders leads him to the dining hall. After smoking he is always hungry. 

Just a day before your grand performance Haruchiyo stops by your apartment and spends the night. 

All you do is talk and it’s light and enjoyable and for the first time this month his heart stings a pretty pain. And that’s why, desping knowing, it’s wrong and the time is not right [but when is it right?] he mentions that Rindou is coming tomorrow to see you. 

The brief glint of joy that lights up your eyes doesn’t escape him. But it’s there for a mere second and then you are you again. Without Rindou or Ran in your life. 

“Tell him to stay in the back then. He would distract me with his stupid face and I want everything to go smoothly tomorrow,” he knows you are only half joking and he makes a point to actually hold Rindou at the back. But then it won’t do any good, because you’ll stumble upon him in the crowd anyway. You two could never escape each other and Haruchiyo feels slightly jealous. Then, you add, in a whisper. “It might be my last year at the university after all.” 

It’s a slip up on your side because your eyes go wide and you stare at him and then hurriedly you sprint to the bathroom and stay there for seventeen minutes and when you come out you say you are going to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day after all. 

Patient and sweet, Haruchiyo nods and takes a step forward, lurching you into a big hug. He kisses the crown of your head and feels you tremble in his arms. You might think he is someone else, but he is not, and he leans back, looking at you with a genuine kind smile that screams at you you are home and whatever you do I’m right here. 

He knows he doesn’t need to say anything and yet he does. “Whatever you do or say it’s right to me. If you want to drop out then be it. If you want to switch majors or change universities be it. Mhm? Now, go rest and do your best tomorrow. I'll be right there and so will be Rin.” 

You nod at him and disappear to your bedroom. Back in time, you would always share the bed, but today there’s a pillow and a blanket on the sofa and it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been with Ran and yet you still have his claim over you. 

Hands on his tummy Haruchiyo lies on your sofa. Green plant with wide leaves tickles his feet and he stands up to move it aside. He wonders if even one night Ran spent on his couch and he laughs to himself at this absurd thought. 

Of course not. Ran’s place is by your side. Body is made of muscles, flesh and skin, Haruchiyo thinks, blood and bones. Hair and nails. 

But not yours. 

Yours is made of Ran touches and his presence. His sweet words and loving stares. 

It probably eats you alive on the nights when he is not with you. On those days you are restless and tired and lonely and your body is burning and your mind is tortured. On those days you think, you think, you think and there’s no end to it. No salvation and no easiness. No ice pressed to the wound. Nothing. Just you and black absence of Ran and what he is. 

Today is such a day and it hurts you and Haruchiyo drowns in your pain as nothing more exists in your small apartment in Nippori. 

On the day of the showcase it’s snowing. The world is white and very beautiful. 

Despite it being awfully cold Haruchiyo is only wearing a thin leather jacket Senju got him for his eighteenth birthday years ago. It’s his favourite. Under it is a thick navy sweater. This too is a gift, but from you. A spontaneous one. You said to him you got it because it reminded you of him. How and why you associated it with him is a mystery. He never asked you. But he likes it no less than the leather jacket. 

He is wearing them both today. 

When Rindou comes in, cheeks red from cold and hair messy from running down the hall, he is afraid he missed your performance. 

“The road was so fucking slippery and Ran wasn’t home so I used my Kawasaki to get here,” Rindou explains in a hushed whisper. 

“Does Ran know today is the showcase day?” 

Before replying, Rindou rolls his eyes. The question is a bit stupid, Haruchiyo agrees. Ran knows everything about you. “Of course he does. And I told him about the dinner too, but he hasn’t said a thing back which is a good sign. He might actually come. I was hoping he would be here already, but I guess you haven’t seen him.” 

Haruchiyo shakes his head. He hasn’t seen Ran here and when he parked his own Kawasaki - a model just below Rindou’s -  he didn't see Ran’s car everywhere. Not that he looked specifically for it so it might be that he just hadn’t noticed it. 

The conversation between them is cut short, because you appear on the stage. There’s no music yet. Just a red draped curtain behind you and a circle of light in which you stand. All eyes are on you, but it seems like no one notices the slight shaking of your right hand that is raised in the air. Nor do they see your wobbly legs. 

The music plays and you start to dance. This time, unlike last year, you don’t have a costume on. It’s your usual practising attire that you wear. A leotard and shorts. And Haruchiyo wonders if it’s meant to be that way. He squints his eyes and tries to convey what your dance is about, but he can’t understand a thing. It confuses him because never before did that ever happen. 

Haruchiyo blinks and turns to Rindou. [He believes Rindou always understood you better. Which isn’t true at all. He just tries harder.]

“What the fuck is going on?” Is all he says. 

“She’s hurting. Physically. Something is hurting her, but… It’s her feet. Shit! Haru, we need to stop it. She’s hurting herself.” 

The broken clock inside Haruchiyo clicks and all the gears fall into their right place. For once he gets it. The strange outfit, the mannerism, the simplicity of it all and the absence of everything. The blood on your feet and wet stains you leave after yourself. 

In the second row someone is sick. The small girlish voice shouts something that couldn't be heard under the weight of your performance. No one can tear their eyes away from you and even Rindou who was so eager to help you stays frozen to the place. 

Cruelty and violence are always marvelling. It’s in their ugly beauty that people find themselves. 

It ends as quickly as it started. 

The girl from the second row marshes through the open door to the safety of the halls and Haruchiyo recognizes in her Aoki Ogura. He notices her crying red face, but does nothing to stop her. There’s guilt evident in her scared eyes and Haruchiyo hopes she suffocates in it. The last thing he hears from her is her throwing up somewhere down the corridor. He wonders if she’s embarrassed. For what she did to you and for the pool of acid that somebody will clear up for her lately. 

The light is on and the music is off when you take your dance shoes off and shake them in the air. The broken glass and razors waterfall to the floor and you smile widely. Almost insanely. Your mouth quivers as if you want to say something, but at last you don’t. You place your shoes soaked with blood in the middle of the stage and bow. Then you leave. Then Rindou takes off and latches himself onto the dean of the Univercity. His beige coat covers them both as he strikes the old man in the face. Once. Twice. Thrice. No one is stopping him. 

Everyone is still staring at your shoes. 

The night is dark and the snow is still falling when Haruchiyo finds you splayed out on the asphalt in the middle of the parking lot. 

For a mere moment he stops and he feels like the whole world stops too. It’s silent as he paints the image of you laying on the ground with a thin white veil hugging your body that reminds him too much of cerements. 

The image is sorrowful and it’s beautiful. Like you, this night and bloody snow. 

Your wounds are still open and bleeding. 

“What on Earth were you thinking?” As always Haruchiyo isn’t harsh or reprimanding you.

He isn’t Rindou to scold you for your stupidities and he isn’t Ran to worry about you more than he needs to just because you are you. Haruchiyo loves you in a special way where he doesn’t try much, but gives you everything anyway. 

“I just wanted them to see what I am,” you utter, cracking your eyes open. “Just wanted them to know I am enough. No glass or razors can stop me.” There’s something else you aren’t saying, but Haruchiyo knows what it is already. He kneels down to you and a smile on his face matches yours. Tired, but triumphant. 

“Art is a beautiful form of expression, isn’t it?” The question is rhetoric and he isn’t expecting you to answer him so he takes a deep breath and takes your hand in his. A mere reassurance and everything beyond it. “Now, let’s get you to the hospital. Gotta make sure you are okay.” ‘Thank you, Haru.” 

“Anytime, love.” The night is dark and beautiful and full of light that shines right through you and those you care about. 

Since early childhood Haruchiyo hated hospitals. 

He hated the lethargic smell, the richness of white colour everywhere and apologetic gazes of the stuff. Blunt himself he couldn’t stand the half-said truth and insincere apologies. He avoided hospitals like plague. And maybe if Rindou wasn’t so occupied with getting his anger out on the dean, he wouldn’t have taken you there himself, instead handing this task to Rindou. 

But here he is. An hour later with you submitted and Rindou in the emergency care getting his broken nose checked. Doctors said he might need a cast. Haruchiyo can barely picture Rindou with a white cast across his face, but he laughs nonetheless. He doubts it will cut the girls off Rindou though. The last time he got into a fight - on your behalf again - and had bruises all over his face, every single girl at university had fallen in love with him. Thus, if they weren’t in love with him before. 

Haitani curse. 

So, Haruchiyo really really really doubts the cast will scare anyone. 

More time passes and then Rindou joins him in the waiting area. Without cast, but with a plaster across his handsome face. Haruchiyo grins at the sight and Rindou elbows him between his ribs. Not hard. Playfully. 

All the anger gone from his being. 

As they wait for the news on your condition they stay silent. Each thinking of you, but probably in very different contexts. It’s only fair as you were never the same for them. Stagnancy and constancy were never your forte. You are the best at evolving, moving and… dancing. 

The doctor leads them both to your appointed room. He is a handsome male in his early thirties and he is very to the point when he says that you will be okay and that they cleaned your wounds and bandaged them and that you will need to do the same procedure for at least two weeks until you are fully healed. Some cuts were too deep, he mentions, if they weren’t it wouldn’t take so long. He mentions that you also needed stitches on your left sole, but it’s too nothing to worry about and you don’t need to get them taken off at the hospital, they will dissolve with time. 

He tells all that under three minutes that it takes him to guide boys to your room. He opens the door and hastily adds that today you will need to stay here, but tomorrow you can probably go home. Probably. If the blood that they drew from you is good and there’s no infections. 

The chances for that are low. Don’t worry. And with that he is gone. 

On the huge medical bed with both your bandaged feet poking out of the thick duvet you look almost comical. Haruchiyo wants to say just that, but notices how your eyes widen and mouth hangs open and then your arms are open, inviting Rindou for a hug. In his hold you cry. 

“I am so sorry,” you repeat again and again. 

It’s a loud mantra, a plea, and Haruchiyo isn’t that sure it’s intended solely to Rindou.

“You shouldn’t be. It’s okay. I am glad you are okay. I am so fucking glad you are fine.” But Rindou can’t peel himself off you and Haruchiyo understands why. He understands why your fingers are in his blonde hair and why your tears salten his cheek; why you can’t pull yourself away from his comfort.  

He doesn’t interrupt. He lets you soak in Rindou and lets Rindou enjoy the feeling of your warm skin. The sight is quite usual to him - you and Rindou, and Haruchiyo to have always been very touchy among each other - but there’s something new, something raw and therefore incredibly sincere between your bodies that attracts his attention. 

He feels like he is intruding so he turns away and walks to the window. The snow is still falling and the night is quite dark, but in the parking lot he can see Ran’s white Honda that stands proudly under the light of the streetlamp and his mouth stretches into a knowing smile. Haruchiyo closes his eyes thinking that what were the odds of your windows facing the fucking parking lot.

Life, it seems, is full of sweet coincidences and their outcomes.

“Honestly, I was half expecting my brother to get expelled at one point, but you, love? Never.” 

Ran’s voice is sweet with just a tinge of mocking to it. Only he can speak like that. Haruchiyo is a firm believer no one in the whole world can insult you and charm you at the same time as well as Ran can. 

And then it’s you and Haruchiyo doesn’t need to turn around and open his eyes to see how you slowly pull away from Rindou. How you close off for a second, eyes going wide as if you witnessed the most vile horror. How your lips tremble and how your whole body melts. How you pick yourself up and notice the soft gaze that Ran reserves only for those he loves. How he looks at you and no one else. 

How you understand once again what it means and how you fall into Ran again. How you love him and how he loves you. 

Love is yet a foreign concept to Haruchiyo and he hates hospitals, but he thinks he understands. 

He doesn’t need to see to feel it all. 

“I was dropping out anyway,” you confess. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Purin daifuku, those pizza chips, Pocky and soda.” 

“You didn’t bring anything for us?” If Rindou tries to hide the fact that he is a bit offended, he does it poorly. 

“No, I didn’t. You can’t stay here for the night anyway.” Ran says in his usual calm tone. Then he addresses you. “I asked if I could take you home today, but they told me we need to wait for the results till morning. Stupid if you’d ask me. But I’ll keep you company. You both can go now.” 

Under different circumstances Haruchiyo would have argued with Ran. Just for the sake of it. But right now, when he turns around and sees Ran sitting on your bed, his long hair down, head resting against yours as he holds both of your hands in his, all the words die in his throat. 

But not Rindou’s. His best friend seems agitated. “What do you mean? Why can’t we stay and you can?” “Only close family and such can stay with a patient overnight. If I were you I wouldn’t be worried about that, but about an ugly bruise that’s gonna appear on your face tomorrow. You better go home and apply that Kobayashi cream we have. Works like a miracle.” 

“Since when are you her close family?” Deliberately Rindou ignores Ran’s warnings, latching onto what he wants to know. “Okay. Let’s go, Rin.” Haruchiyo grabs Rindou by his elbow and pulls him towards the door. “We’ll see you both tomorrow.”

When Haruchiyo closes the door behind him he catches the last glimpse of you and Ran. For a split moment that will forever float between those walls of the patient room, he sees Ran leaning closer to you. He watches as his fingers brush across your jaw and your breath hitch. Ran smiles at you and his smile is so gentle, so loving, so comforting and reassuring. Haruchiyo understands why you were hurting so much when Ran wasn’t with you. He finally understands the longing. 

And yet, the smile is nothing compared to the way he looks at you. The pure raw affection he reserves just for you, that was never and will never be spent on anybody else, excludes Haruchiyo fastly and sharply. He is not needed there. No one is. 

He closes the door and sighs. Maybe hospitals aren't that awful after all. 

The thin paper doesn’t do much to prevent their asses from freezing. It was Rindou’s idea - a bad one - to lay down a thick layer of newspaper he spotted in the reception room on the parapet so they could sit on it and share a cigarette before deciding what to do next. Now it got all soggy from the snow and brought more wetness. It was like sitting in a dirty puddle. 

But the view from here was quite serene and a cigarette pleasantly burnt their throats so none of them moved. Before them was a highway and each passing car passed so fast from where they were it looked like it flew in the air. Their tires high in the sky, the lights guiding beacons. It reminded Haruchiyo of a sci-fi movie Takeomi once rented at a DVD store near their old flat. Title and plot of it was completely forgotten, but finding himself in a similar scenery brought back the unusual feeling of childish excitement. Something new was before them and Haruchiyo couldn’t wait for it. 

“Don’t you feel a bit sad?” Asked Rindou breaking the silence. 

Haruchiyo expected this question and even though he was thinking of the perfect answer for it for a while nothing right came to his head. Maybe there’s questions and problems that will never be solved and maybe that’s okay. Maybe not everything needs to be perfectly in order. 

“Don’t we always feel a bit sad?” The cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth Haruchiyo turned around and looked at his best friend. “Wouldn’t it be a boring plain world if we were happy all the time?” Rindou shrugs. Between the snowflakes and lights from the hospital windows he looks exceptionally beautiful. “I wouldn’t mind being happy all the time.”

“You only think so, Rin. And anyway it’s not like she’s gone. She’s still our best friend and will always be this. You were stupid to not talk to her. Now that you finally made up I can finally tell you that.” 

Haruchiyo laughs. His laugh is dry, but sincere. The bark he produces would suit a gangster way more than it suits him now, but maybe under the layer of time and all possible varieties that is our life somewhere out there he is one. 

Everything is possible and nothing is sure. 

“And don’t you think Ran always kinda liked her? I thought that it might be because she’s your best friend that he is attentive to her, but now that I am thinking about it I am not really sure.” 

Rindou takes off his fogged up glasses and reaches Haruchiyo to wipe them with the sweater you bought. He sighs. “Well, yeah. I mean Ran isn't a douchebag to other girls, but he was extra nice with her. I wonder when he understood it. She told me they spent a lot of time together during summer. So it probably happened then.”

“Probably.” Not that it matters now, Haruchiyo wants to add, but doesn’t. Instead, he asks. “What are you gonna do now that you got expelled?” 

“I am going to run a nightclub. Make my fucking dream come true. Ran said we have enough money to rent a decent place in Roppongi. In a couple of years if everything goes alright we can buy it and make it truly ours. What do you think she’s gonna do?” The wind blows south and snow stops falling. Everything seems still. Somewhere behind in the building is you and Ran. Probably talking or kissing. It doesn’t matter since you have each other. And Haruchiyo has Rindou. And to be honest, you are never truly alone. There’s always someone with you or within you. Present now or in the past. 

Wickedly Haruchiyo smiles and stands up from the parapet. His pants are thoroughly soaked, but he is warm. Despite everything, today is a good day. “Don’t you know? She’s gonna look out for the kid her and Ran made a couple of months ago.” Haruchiyo watches Rindou’s face fall and he laughs, licking his lips. “I am kidding. Or not really. Saw a test in her bathroom when I stayed over and she mentioned dropping out to me. Said she was sick of dancing. Don’t make such a face, Rin!” Haruchiyo laughs again and again and then Rindou laughs too. “We can think about this in the morning… Now don’t you want to eat something? I am fucking starving.” “Ramen or soba?” “Soba.” “Well, soba it is then. Let’s go.” Their motorcycles roar a long time after they are gone, but the smell of youth they carried never fades away. 

It stays forever. 

[differenteagletragedy]

Baxter thought that going back to Golden Grove after so many years away might have been a good experience. Healing, in a way. He at least believed that he wouldn't feel like a walking open wound like he did when he'd left.

But, like so many times before, he was wrong.

Being back in his old hometown left him with a particular kind of ache, one that he was hardly expecting. He'd wanted to reclaim it in a way, walk you down the streets he use to ride his bike on when he was a kid, show you everything -- only his happiest memories. But every single place looked dark now without the hazy happy light of youth to blur it into something better.

He thought that when he saw the old convenience store that he'd think of the boys club, picking out snacks with Qiu and Ren, sustenance for adventures. He'd always reminisced on his own, it had always been a sad thing, but he wanted to desperately for it to turn happy with you. Instead, he pictured the last time he and his old friends came there together, how distant things felt and how hard he tried to hold onto them, how frustrated he was that he just couldn't seem to do it.

Moments like that kept happening -- you wanted to see his dance studio, see the place where that passion was born, but driving by hurt so much that Baxter made an excuse as to why you couldn't stop. When the car passed by the diner, you suggested the two of you pop in for lunch, and his hands clenched the steering wheel so hard they hurt.

After a few times, he stopped making excuses. Not because he was adapting, but because you stopped asking.

That night in the hotel, he felt so incredibly on edge in a way that he hadn't in a long time. He thought he'd been gone from this place long enough to have put all his old hurts behind him, or that at least he'd buried them down deep enough that they wouldn't pop up again, but he was wrong. Being back here, being reminded of how broken he'd been here, was a nightmare. He was scared.

And when he got scared, he pushed people away.

"It's ok," you told him softly, kneeling on the bed behind him as he sat on the edge, wrapping your arms around him. "It's ok to be sad."

Baxter wanted nothing more in that moment than to be the kind of person who could easily accept that kindness, but in Golden Grove, he'd morphed back into that pitiful little boy he was then -- cold, distant, pushing the best parts of himself down so they didn't get hurt. He pried your arms off of his shoulders and let them drop.

You were sweet -- you were always too sweet to him. You put your hands back on his shoulders, gave him a kiss on the cheek, tried to console him. Every tender touch drove home the thought -- the fact -- that he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve you.

He stood, walking to the window. From there, he could see so much of the town. The backdrop to his beginnings, the place where he'd grown and been taught how worthless he was. He still remembered the whispered remarks he heard about himself, the dirty looks, every one of them well-earned.

Golden Grove felt like a black hole then, one that was quickly swallowing him up. He knew he wouldn't be there forever, it would be just a few short days until he was back in sunny California, but at that moment, he didn't feel like this feeling would ever leave him.

So he left you.

Baxter heard himself distantly telling you his thoughts -- a carefully calm version of them, anyway. It was reminiscent of the way he'd broken up with you years ago after the summer you spent together in Sunset Bird, with him assuring you that you wouldn't miss him, not really, and that he wouldn't bother you again. He blocked out your tears as best he could, and your pleas for him to just stop and talk about things. He'd already made up his mind.

It was easy enough, logistically, he thought. You didn't live together, and you didn't even live in Prism Vista -- it was a long distance relationship you'd formed since Jude and Scott's wedding, and he could make that distance work in his favor now. And before he ran the risk of letting himself be swayed by you, he started putting the distance in place right away by grabbing his bag, still unpacked, and leaving the room.

He wouldn't make this mistake again, he thought to himself. Because that's what you'd been, a mistake, he was sure of it. A beautiful, warm, life-changing mistake that he'd never make again.

You'd be all right, Baxter knew that. You'd find someone soon enough, someone who could give you everything he couldn't.

And as for him, he wouldn't be foolish enough to love someone again. Not ever.

[tubatwo]

haircuts - huening kai

summary: kai comes back with a haircut and you think he looks cuter than ever

pairing: gn reader x huening kai

genre: fluff; 0.9k words

a/n: guys feel free to leave concepts in my ask box! extra inspo would be nice :) or if you want to chat or gush about a member i’m here!!

it’s been a while since you’ve seen kai, and saying that you feel nervous would simply be an understatement. he went out of town to spend time with family for the summer, and it was your first time experiencing weeks without him. you were happy that he was having a nice time, but being away from him for so long felt like the worst possible torture.

‎ ‎

‎ ‎

after checking yourself in the mirror for probably the fifth time, you hear a pattern of knocks and immediately run to open the door. “hi, babe!” kai looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. his usual hoodie switched for a soft cardigan, a cap on his head, and in one hand he’s holding a bouquet of flowers. “hi, baby! here, come inside.” you plant a kiss on his cheek and open the door wider to let him in. “I missed you so much.” you hug each other for a while before eventually letting go. “I missed you too, ning.”

“are the flowers okay?” he asks while fidgeting slightly. “beomgyu told me I should’ve hired a marching band, but that’s a bit um…” you giggle and shake your head while searching the kitchen for a vase, “no, they’re perfect baby, thank you.”

after the flowers were put up, you turn around to see kai sitting patiently on the couch. that’s when you noticed that he had taken his cap off and something was different about him. you gasp and cover your mouth, “did you cut your hair?!” kai nods sheepishly as you walk over to him. his arms wrap around your waist and he looks up at you with anxious eyes. “d-do you like it?” he asks. you immediately coo and caress his head softly. “the question is, do you like it?” you ask in return. he blinks at you a couple of times before you continue, “because I think you look absolutely adorable.”

since your relationship is still fresh, you’ve only seen kai with a few styles of hair. it wasn’t the first time seeing it straight, but the shorter length was definitely a surprise. you didn’t think it was possible for him to get any more cuter, and it was a bonus that you knew he had been desperately wanting to cut it for a while.

kai whines and buries his head into you before looking up at you again. “I really like it, and it makes me feel relieved that you like it too.” he admits.

“I like whatever makes you the happiest, ning.” you tell him with a smile. he smiles at this, but after a few seconds he asks, “what would be your favorite haircut on me, though?” you think for a second, trying to come up with an answer besides the cliche how could I choose? you knew that he wanted a genuine answer this time. after all, it was your first time seeing him after such a huge change. however, you also tried to come up with a gentle response that wouldn’t make him feel bad in any way. “well, I do love your usual fluffy hair,” you begin, “especially when you had the mullet that one time!”

he nods and nibbles slightly on his lip. “but… this is my first time seeing you with short hair and…” you trail off. you hold his face in your hands and place sweet kisses on his lips between each word.

“you,” kiss “look,” kiss “so,” kiss “handsome.” you finish with a mwah.

inside, kai is dying. he’s absolutely losing his mind. he spent the entire walk over there worried about what you would think, and now your compliments are making him melt. he feels happy and relieved, but also extremely shy.

his arms are still wrapped around you, and he buries his face into you again, letting out another soft whine. “what’s gotten into you?” he mumbles. “you’re killing me over here, y’know…” you giggle and lean down to place a kiss on the top of his head. “we finally have time to ourselves,” you explain, “so, that means I’m going to be as mushy as possible.”

kai laughs at this and a mischievous look fills his eyes, aegyo mode suddenly activating. “sooo… does this mean I can finally call you my jellybean?” a look of playful disgust takes over your face as he does his signature wiggle, and you both burst into laughter. “we can work on the whole nickname thing in the future, okay?” you say while still trying to catch your breath.

after you both quiet down, you give kai a more serious look. “no but i’m serious, even though I love you in everything, I think this is my favorite style on you now,” you explain, “I can already see the happiness radiating from you.” kai looks down at this and starts to fiddle with his fingers. “you noticed?” he asks. you nod, “of course, I noticed.” you take a seat next to him on the couch to wrap your hands around his hands. “we all have our moments, kai. if there’s anything you need to do to feel comfortable then I fully support you doing it.”

“ever since I got my hair cut, my confidence has been really high!” he tells you with wide, enthusiastic eyes, making you smile. you place a hand on the side of his cheek and kiss him softly. “and that makes me really happy.” you softly boop his nose. “all I want is for you to see yourself the way I see you.” kai brings you in for another kiss, giving his thanks in the form of his love.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, ning.”

[smilingformoney]

The Eternal Summer

IV. Cowboy Blues

Summary: Elliott Marston/Reader | Judge Turpin/Reader | Elliott makes his intentions clear - just in time for Turpin's arrival.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

It had been the longest, strangest month of your life.

What you and Elliott were, you couldn’t say. But it certainly wasn’t what anyone had envisaged when your husband had ordered you to keep his cousin’s bed warm while he made arrangements in Melbourne.

For one thing, he was only supposed to be a few days behind you. Yet here you were, one month later, still at Elliott’s station with no way of knowing where your husband was, if he was ever coming to collect you, or if he was even still alive.

You begged Elliott to send men to Melbourne to search for news of Judge Turpin, but with Quigley on a rampage in the outback, Elliott’s men were dwindling every day, and he couldn’t spare any until Quigley was put down.

So you were left in limbo, separated from your husband, unable to move on.

All you knew for sure was that you didn’t want to let go of how comfortable you were with Elliott. You welcomed his touch, his kisses, and when he took you, you felt like he was giving you pleasure just as much as he was taking his own.

Yet you still missed your husband, and it made everything so much harder. Your cunt might be on loan to Elliott, but was it even possible for your heart to be too?

One morning, you must have seemed particularly down, because Elliott asked you to accompany him somewhere. He didn’t say where, or why - he simply saddled up his horse, ensured you were securely sat behind him, and rode a few miles west, until he finally slowed the horse to a stop and helped you down.

You looked around. You were at a nearby town, in the graveyard behind the church. Elliott reached into the bag affixed to the saddle and withdrew a bunch of flowers. He took you by the hand and silently led you to a grave.

The gravestone was one of the larger ones like you’d seen in the graveyard of St Dunstan’s in London, which were double the width to accommodate two graves: those of a husband and wife. This gravestone, like some of those, marked one grave and one reserved plot; one spouse had died and waited to be joined by the other.

A wilted dark-crimson rose sat at the foot of the grave. Elliott bent down to clear it away and replaced it with a single pink carnation from the flowers in his hand. As he stood up, you looked at the gravestone and read:

Here lies Victoria Marston 1826 - 1860

Underneath was a blank slate, room reserved for her husband - for Elliott.

“We were only married for a year when the sickness took her,” Elliott said quietly, speaking for the first time since you’d left the station.

You looked up at him. You knew he’d been married before, but only because he’d mentioned it once the first day you met. Otherwise, there was no trace - no belongings left behind, no children. Only this one gravestone, a plot of ground, and the flowers Elliott brought.

“It was five years ago, and still I visit her grave once a month. I loved her very much. I… still love her.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if refusing to let grief take hold of him.

“I will always love her. Every day I spend with you, [Y/n], it’s… the happiest I’ve felt since I lost her. And yet, I feel twisted with guilt, as if I’m betraying her somehow. I know it’s not true, that she’s dead and gone… yet still I feel as if I’m betraying my vows to her.”

He turned to you, eyes looking into yours searchingly.

“I’m telling you this, [Y/n], because I want you to know that I understand how it feels when your heart yearns for something that goes against the vows you made. But sometimes… it’s time to move on.”

He held up the remaining flowers in his hand.

“These ones are for you.”

Red and white roses. One didn’t have to be well-versed in floriography to know what those meant.

“Elliott…”

You glanced at the pink carnation on the grave, then back to the roses in his hands.

“My husband isn’t dead, Elliott. He’s coming for me.”

How did you know? You couldn’t, not really. But a part of you knew, some part of your soul that was intrinsically linked to that of your husband, knew he was alive, and you’d see him again.

“You don’t have to leave with him, [Y/n]. You can stay. Stay here, with me. I’ll keep you safe. From him, from anything — and I would never hurt you.”

“Safe from him?” you echoed, frowning. “He’s my husband, Elliott. He’s not a danger to me.”

“No? Then why are you so frightened of him?”

You ducked your head, ashamed to let Elliott see the truth in your eyes.

“I’m not scared of him,” you lied. “I love him,” you said truthfully.

Elliott took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look at him.

“No good husband offers his wife to another.”

“And does a good man accept the offered wife?”

“I don’t claim to be a good man, [Y/n]. I never did. But I believe I was a good husband to Victoria… and I would be a good husband to you. You could be free, free to be whoever you want to be. I can give you that freedom.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“Even - even if I wanted to stay, Elliott… I can’t marry you.”

“Why, because you’re already married? Petition for divorce. It would be granted on grounds of cruelty, I know it would.”

“Do you think any judge is going to let another judge’s wife divorce him?”

“Then he’ll divorce you. You’re an adulterer, after all.”

You took a step back, wiping an errant tear from your eye.

“He’d never. He loves me, Elliott. He’d fight for me.”

Elliott’s hand twitched near his gun.

“So will I.”

“Don’t you dare! Not everything can be settled with a gun, Elliott. I’d never forgive you.”

“And I’ll never forgive myself if I let you leave with him.”

“Why are you saying this now, Elliott? We’ve been… whatever this is… for a month. What’s changed today?”

Elliott gestured towards the carnation on his wife’s grave.

“I’ll always remember her. But I’m not coming back here. I want to move forward — with you, [Y/n]. We can be a family here, you, me and Tommy.”

You blinked, taken aback. “…Tommy?”

“Of course,” Elliott said as if it were obvious. “You think I’d continue employing him if I married you? From what you tell me, you practically raised him, so we’d adopt him as our own and - mmph!”

You cut him off when you grabbed him by the lapel of his waistcoat and pulled him in for a kiss. He was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly melted into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tight while the other kept hold of the flowers you still hadn’t accepted from him.

You kissed him until your lips were numb, and when you finally parted for breath, your skin was sore from rubbing against his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

“Is it too late to accept those flowers?”

“Was that really all I had to say?” Elliott said breathily, and you laughed.

You took the flowers and held them up to smell them. They were fresh and stunningly beautiful. You had no idea a land as barren as Australia could bloom something so lovely.

“I’m… I’m not saying yes,” you said, your voice hardly more than a whisper. “But I’m not saying no. I need time.”

Elliott nodded.

“I understand. Shall we get home? I’m expecting Quigley to show his face any moment now, and I need to be there when he does.”

Home. Was that not London anymore?

***

You arrived at the station in the mid-afternoon, and while Elliott tied the horse, you made your way into the house to find a vase for your flowers. You heard movement in the house, but you paid it no mind, assuming Elliott’s servant was going about his business. After placing the flowers in a vase from the kitchen, you opened the door to the lounge and let out a yelp of surprise when you saw a figure sitting on the sofa with a book in hand. Your immediate thought was that it was Quigley, waiting for Elliott to get home to shoot him, but as the moment of shock passed, your mind caught up with your situation and you realised that you very much recognised the visitor, even from behind.

“William?”

Your husband turned to you. Yes, it was him, it was really him! His skin had tanned in the sun, but no doubt yours had too.

“Darling,” he said with a smile as he put the book down, and he was hardly to his feet when you threw your arms around him. You recognised his smell, the feel of his body against yours, the low rumble in his chest as he chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“Oh, Will, I was so scared,” you cried, head buried against his chest. “I thought you’d died or - or decided you didn’t want me anymore…”

“Oh, bunny, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m sorry I took so long to come for you. The administration in Melbourne is a nightmare, it took a week just to get a house, and another two until I was satisfied it was hospitable enough for you. Did you miss me, then?”

You sniffed and looked up at him. “Very much so. I don’t want to be parted from you for so long ever again.”

William smiled. “You won’t, I swear it. I need my bunny, after all. Won’t you greet your husband with a kiss?”

You squealed happily and lifted yourself on your tip-toes to kiss him. You’d missed this so much, his warmth, his touch, his taste. William wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close against him, his tongue desperately seeking yours, as if a month without you had parched him desperately.

Hearing movement and voices from within his house, Elliott kept his hand over the barrel of his gun as it sat in its holster, ready to whip it out at a moment’s notice. When he pushed open the door and saw another man holding you close, lips and tongue accosting yours, he nearly did draw his gun - until he realised who it was.

He was still tempted to shoot him down.

“Finally arrived, then, cousin,” Elliott said instead, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms folded, as if it were a perfectly normal scene for him to walk on.

You made a muffled grunt of surprise, as if you’d completely forgotten whose house you were in. William finally withdrew his tongue from you, panting heavily, his eyes blown with lust as he looked down at you with a hungry grin.

“Elliott!” you exclaimed, looking over to him, and you felt a pang of guilt when you saw the way he was watching you. “So sorry for the lack of decorum. But isn’t it wonderful? William’s finally here, and he’s alright!”

“Yes. Wonderful.”

“You could be happier to see me, Elliott,” William said with a raised eyebrow, finally tearing his eyes from you to address his cousin. “You’ll no longer be encumbered with hosting duties. I do apologise for stretching your hospitality so far.”

“Nonsense, [Y/n]'s been excellent company,” Elliott replied with a nonchalant shrug. “She’s patched up all my clothes, and my men’s, and fulfilled all the duties she would if she were my own wife.”

“Yes, I bet she has. Well, we’ll be off soon, so you won’t have to bear her company much longer.”

“Do we leave very soon, my love?” you enquired, fear suddenly striking your heart that you might find yourself leaving Elliott too soon.

“Not tonight, obviously, it’s getting dark. And I’m not just here for you, darling, I have other matters to attend to. This Quigley business, Elliott, we’re hearing all about it in Melbourne and he’s stirring up quite a storm. If he shows up here, I’ll arrest him and bring him in for trial myself.”

“Oh, no need to trouble yourself with Quigley, William, I’m expecting him soon enough and I’ve got it quite in hand.”

Elliott patted the gun on his hip with a confident smirk.

“You’re aware of the arrangement I have with Major Ashley-Pitt?”

“Yes, well, if you kill him, so be it. It’ll be much less hassle than escorting him back to Melbourne. Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long ride and I’d like some rest. Do you have suitable quarters?”

Elliott scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Well, there’s the men’s quarters, but that’s not good enough for a man of your standing, I suppose. The only bed I’d imagine is suitable would be my own. Go ahead and make use of it, I can bear to sleep in the lodge for a night.”

“Very gracious of you, Elliott, thank you.”

“Of course. Get yourself rested up, William, I’ll get the servant to make dinner for three tonight.”

“Excellent. Come along, [Y/n].”

William placed a hand on your lower back. You glanced at Elliott apologetically, then allowed your husband to guide you to the bedroom.

“Lord have mercy, [Y/n], the hold you have on me,” William said with a groan of relief as he pushed the door closed behind him. “I’ve been unable to sleep without you by my side. Dress off, darling, I need to see you.”

He assisted you with the lace of your dress, although his method seemed to involve a lot more breast-fondling than your own. You let the dress fall away, and William let out a moan of desire when your breasts popped out of the bodice. He grabbed at the waistband of your bloomers and pushed them to the floor, then stood back to get a good look at you.

“Even more beautiful than I remembered. Have you lost weight?”

You looked down and examined your figure. “I suppose I have,” you mused. “The food isn’t as luxurious out here as it is in London.”

“Hmm, I hope Elliott’s been feeding you properly. I won’t have my wife wasting away.”

William placed his hands on your hips as he looked you up and down appraisingly. He smirked in satisfaction, then turned you around to look at you from behind. He ran his hands over your rear, and you shivered with anticipation. William hummed with approval, then pulled your body against him, his hard cock pressing against you through his trousers.

“Oh, I have missed this. Have you missed me, bunny?”

“Yes, yes, I missed you so much, my teddy bear,” you mumbled, then gasped when William slid a hand between your legs and pushed a finger into your folds. He slipped in with ease, and you heard the familiar squelching noise that betrayed your arousal.

“Mmm, you must think me such a cruel husband, getting you addicted to my cock then taking it away for a month. How your cunt must have cried out for me. No matter… I’m here now, and I’m going to live in your cunt until you swell with child. Get on the bed, darling, else I won’t be able to contain myself much longer.”

“How do you want me, sir?” you asked obediently as William stepped back from you to undress himself.

“However you want, darling. It’s the least I can do after starving you for so long.”

He was letting you choose the position? Perhaps a month in Australia had changed him, too.

You climbed onto the bed and laid on your back, head on the pillows, your legs open and ready for him.

“Ah, classic missionary, is it? If my bunny insists.”

“I want to see you, Will.”

William grinned. “Good. I want to watch your face as I fuck you again. I had to take the whores in Melbourne from behind, I couldn’t stand looking at their faces knowing they weren’t you.”

Your heart dropped, and you shrunk into yourself slightly. William, meanwhile, finished undressing himself and climbed on top of you, apparently unaware of the effect of what he’d said.

“You… took whores in Melbourne?” you asked quietly.

“Of course I did,” William replied curtly, as if the question were obvious and bothersome. “You know how hot-blooded I am, darling. Did you expect me to abstain for a month? Don’t worry, I didn’t finish inside any of them. Now, keep your legs nice and wide for me, bunny…”

You obeyed, although your heart wasn’t in it anymore. He slipped inside you with ease, and you whined as you felt him stretching you out, and though you’d ached to see his blissful face again, now you felt nothing but anguish knowing he’d shared that same intimacy with however many whores he’d found in Melbourne.

You wished now you’d asked him to take you from behind so you could hide your face from him. You settled instead for wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and burying your face in his neck, letting him think it an act of intimacy, when really you were hiding the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

It had been a long time since you’d tried to hide your anguish as William fucked you into the bed, uncaring if he even noticed your feelings, but it was a skill you’d picked up early and one you remembered now as easy as breathing.

He was grunting loudly with each thrust, and if you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was being loud on purpose, making sure that Elliott could hear you from the lounge, reminding him that he was your husband, reclaiming your cunt that had merely been on loan.

Elliott could, indeed, hear his cousin’s passions through the walls. He heard William’s grunts, the squeaking of the bedsprings, the thud of the headboard against the wall, the slapping of skin against skin. But what he distinctly didn’t hear was you. He knew how vocal you were; with the intensity of the way you were being fucked right now, you should have been moaning too. So why weren’t you?

He knew he should leave. He could sit out on the porch, practise shooting, get some work done around the station. He had no cause to sit at his desk as he was now, staring blankly at his ledger, fooling himself that he intended to work when all he could do was sit and listen to another man taking you in his own bed.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He thought that if he did, William might know somehow that he wasn’t there to protect you, and what was now just selfish lovemaking would turn into something worse.

So he stayed, staring blankly at the ledger, and when half an hour had passed, Elliott had to give his cousin credit where it was due - he had considerable stamina for his age.

Eventually, Elliott became so used to the noise that it became background noise, and he was actually able to get some work done. By the time the noise stopped and William’s grunts were shortly replaced by his snoring, an hour had passed.

Elliott closed his ledger with a sigh, then stood up to stretch his legs. Just as he did so, the bedroom door opened, and he spotted you in a nightgown scurrying across the hall to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, you emerged, and you jumped when you opened the door to find Elliott standing against the doorframe, waiting for you.

“Sorry, it’s all yours,” you mumbled, thinking he wanted the bathroom. You stepped aside to let him in, but instead Elliott wrapped both arms around your waist and pulled you in close.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him, even with his lips pressed against your ear.

“No,” you replied softly.

“Then why are your legs shaking?”

You glanced down and realised that your legs were indeed shaking, as if you were a newborn foal walking for the first time.

“I’m just tired. I need to rest.”

“Come and sit down.”

“…Alright.”

Elliott led you back into the lounge and sat you down on the sofa. He disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments, then returned with a glass of water, which you took gratefully.

“I’m surprised you can ever sleep at home with those snores,” Elliott commented as he sat down next to you and delicately wrapped an arm around your waist.

You smiled. “It took some getting used to, but now I can’t sleep without the sound of snoring. That’s why I never complain about yours.”

“I don’t snore!” Elliott protested, and you laughed.

“Not as loud as that, but you do. It’s fine, I told you, I like it. Especially when I wake up first and I can feel your breath on my neck… and even in your sleep, as soon as I move you pull me in close and kiss me…”

You smiled, blushing, then your heart dropped slightly when you realised you’d probably never wake up next to him again.

Elliott looked at you, saw the sadness in your eyes, and made a decision. He took your glass from your hand and set it aside, then crouched down on one knee in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“It doesn’t have to end, [Y/n]. Stay with me.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears not to spill.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

“[Y/n], I just had to sit here and listen to that man fuck you for an hour solid, and not once did I hear a peep from you. He doesn’t even know how to please you! You think he cares about your happiness? I can give you so much more, [Y/n]. I can give you freedom. Freedom to be who you want to be. To discover who you want to be. Tommy too, we’ll adopt him and he’ll be free from his service. Don’t you want that?”

“It’s not that simple, Elliott,” you said with a shake of your head. “I love my husband, I’d never hurt him.”

“Then let me hurt him.”

You looked up at him in disbelief through watery eyes, and you could tell from the hard look in his eyes that he was being completely serious.

“No,” you said firmly. “Not everything can be solved with a gun, Elliott.”

“Then how do we solve this?”

“Don’t you see? We don’t! We can’t. There’s no resolution here that doesn’t break my heart.”

Elliott sighed, closed his eyes resolutely, then bowed his head to steel himself. It was now or never.

He looked at you. You, with your eyes full of tears, holding them back even now in an attempt to be strong. You, who had done nothing wrong in your life, and was being punished for it with a marriage to a man you thought you loved, but when you spoke of how he treated you, how could you love a man like that?

Only a heart strong enough to love a man like Judge Turpin could be capable of loving Elliott Marston.

That was the irony of it all. If you weren’t married to his cousin, you’d be free - but you’d have never come to Australia. You’d never have met.

There was no way your love could be anything but doomed.

But it was real. He loved you, and he knew you loved him. You proved it every day with your sweet words, your blushes and smiles, your kisses and your embraces.

But you’d never say it, not while married to another man, not when to admit it was to break your own heart.

Well, his heart was breaking anyway. He might as well go all the way.

Elliott reached up to cup your face in his hands, his thumb wiping away an errant tear.

“[Y/n]… I love you.”

And there it was. The truth of the matter, laid out in three simple words.

I love you too, Elliott. Let’s get married tomorrow. We’ll adopt Tommy, have more children of our own and live out our lives together as far from London as we can get.

That was what you wanted to say. And maybe you would have but for the fact of your husband, asleep in the other room. Yes, he could be cruel, and he cared more for his own pleasure than your comfort, but without him you’d not be here at all. You’d still be on the streets of London, Tommy would have hung from the gallows, and you’d be all alone, if you were even alive.

How could you repay that with heartbreak?

So instead, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at Elliott as you broke his heart and your own instead.

“You can’t,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Elliott.”

“[Y/n] —”

“The lady said no, Elliott.”

Your heart dropped when you heard the familiar sound of your husband’s voice. When had the snoring stopped? How long had he been standing there in the doorway, listening to Elliott pour his heart out to you?

Elliott stood and whirled around, his hand instinctively jumping to the gun on his hip.

William had apparently been awake long enough to dress himself, although in the Australian heat he had forgone the cravat and waistcoat over his shirt.

“I let you fuck my wife for a few weeks, and this is how you repay me? By trying to steal her from me? You may have borrowed her cunt, Elliott, but her heart is mine.”

Elliott sneered, his hand tightening slightly on the handle of his gun.

“Of course she thinks she loves you, William. She had to convince herself of it, because the alternative was hating you.”

William glanced at Elliott’s hand that gripped the gun, and he smirked.

“Are you going to shoot me, cousin?”

“Here and now? No. I’d not do you the dishonour of shooting you unarmed. But if you don’t have a gun with you, I’ll lend you my second revolver.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

Elliott stepped towards him menacingly, fingers twitching as he resisted pulling the gun out there and then.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to duel you for her.”

***

You hadn’t dressed in such a hurry in all your life. You were fairly certain you hadn’t laced your bodice up fully, but that was hardly your main concern right now.

You rushed outside to find the two men pacing around, each checking their guns. A small crowd of Elliott’s men had formed, jostling and laughing with each other, as if they were getting ready to watch a sports match.

You ran up to Elliott and grabbed his arm.

“Elliott, don’t do this, please!”

He looked up at you, a fierce look in his eyes.

“He’ll never let you go, [Y/n]. You know that. This is the only way.”

“I’ll never forgive you if you kill him.”

“I won’t shoot to kill. I just want to hurt him.”

You sniffed. “You’re hurting me, El.”

Elliott frowned, looking imploringly into your eyes, desperate for you to understand him, but you couldn’t.

What you did understand was that he and your husband were men, and men always did what they wanted, regardless of your feelings. This was no different.

So you stepped away, retreated to the porch, and sought comfort in Tommy, who was waiting for you there.

“Don’t look, Tommy,” you said dully, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you.

“I’ve seen loads of duels by now.”

You didn’t argue. Tommy was still a child, but he was growing into a man, and he’d do what he wanted too.

The men took their marks. Elliott had promised not to shoot to kill, but what of William? He held no issue with sending men to the gallows, but would he fire the shot himself?

Did either of them really expect you to want to be with him if he killed the other?

“This is the last chance,” called Cavanagh, who was apparently officiating the duel, as William and Elliott took their stances. “Lord Turpin, do you forfeit the duel and give your wife up to Mr Marston?”

“Of course I bloody don’t,” William snapped.

“Mr Marston, do you forfeit the duel and give up your pursuit of Lord Turpin’s wife?”

“Never.”

“Alright, then. Count of three. One, two… three.”

BANG-BANG!

The sand at Elliott’s feet blew in the air, and he laughed as he realised the shot hadn’t landed.

Your relief that Elliott was unharmed was short-lived when you looked over to William and saw that he’d fallen onto his side.

“Will!”

You ran to his side as fast as your legs would carry you over the sand, and skidded to your knees next to him. William was cradling his shin, which was bleeding profusely, and you immediately tore apart his trouser leg to expose the wound.

“Fucking bastard! He shot me! Your fucking boyfriend shot me!”

“I know, I know, I saw! Just hold still and let me look at it.”

Bloody Elliott and his bloody perfect aim. The bullet had just grazed the lower leg, and was probably lying around in the dirt somewhere. Even so, you knew from your own experience that it was a painful wound, so you didn’t begrudge the stream of swear words currently spewing from your husband’s mouth.

You tore a strip off your dress and wrapped it around his thigh to keep the bleeding as limited as you could to allow you to get him inside. You turned to Elliott’s men, who were still gawking, and shouted, “One of you help me get him inside!”

They hesitated, but behind you, Elliott nodded, so Cavanagh jogged over to pull William to his feet and let him lean on his shoulder as he hobbled back into the house.

You watched them go, fraught with worry for your husband, then turned to Elliott.

“Happy now?!”

Elliott shrugged. “I told you I wouldn’t shoot to kill. Just be glad I didn’t shoot him in the dick.”

You scoffed, then turned your back on him to follow William into the house. Cavanagh had just sat him on the sofa when you came in, and the servant poked his head around the door.

“Do you know how to clean a wound?” you asked him.

The servant nodded - why hadn’t you ever learnt his name? - and sat down on the floor, already with a cloth and bowl in his hands. How many times had he cleaned up a victim of Elliott’s gun-happy rages?

“I don’t care what he thinks his duel means,” William hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain as you knelt by his side. “He won’t have you.”

“No, of - of course not. I’m still your wife, William. I’ll always be your wife.”

“Try and leave here with her, and I won’t aim for the leg,” Elliott said from the doorway, his voice dripping with venom.

“Try it, you bloody bedswerver!” William shouted back. Whether it was the pain in his leg or the emotions of the whole situation, you couldn’t tell, but any sense of decorum your husband had was long gone. “I swear, I’ll drag you to court and sentence you myself - bloody hell, man, be careful!” he shouted at the servant, who was now dabbing rubbing alcohol on the wound.

“The only way you’ll leave here is alone or in a casket!”

“Stop it, both of you!”

You surprised even yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d raised your voice - and it had certainly never been at a man.

You stood, fighting back the tears that were welling in your eyes.

“It’s always the same with you men, fighting over who has control! I’m sick of it! You both claim to love me, yet neither of you seem to give a damn what I want!”

Elliott stepped towards you, looking you in the eyes earnestly.

“Then tell us what you want, [Y/n],” he said calmly, with none of the anger he’d been showing your husband. “Look me in the eye and tell me truly you want to leave here with him, and I won’t stop you.”

You hesitated.

“I… I don’t know what I want,” you said truthfully.

William scoffed. “You never know what you want.”

“Have you ever asked her?!” Elliott spat.

“I don’t need to ask her, Elliott, I know what she wants. Better than she does! Don’t let this man poison your mind, [Y/n] —”

“Poison her mind? With what, independent thought? God forbid.”

William grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, his leg now wrapped in a bandage. He and Elliott stared daggers at each other, both men’s faces twisted with hatred. William put a possessive hand on your shoulder.

“Very well. Let her choose. She won’t choose you anyway, Elliott. What, marry you and live out here, in this backwater desert? We live a life of luxury in London, don’t we, [Y/n]? In a few months we’ll be on our way back there and this whole debacle will be behind us. You’ll be nothing but a memory to her.”

Elliott sneered, then glanced at you, and his expression softened when he saw the tears in your eyes. He looked back at William.

“We’ll sort this Quigley business, then I want you out of here. Whether or not she leaves with you… that’s up to her.”

William considered the proposal, then nodded curtly.

“Very well. Until then.”

***

Dinner that evening was the most awkward affair you could have envisaged.

You were grateful that the servant, more observant than perhaps Elliott gave him credit for, had moved your chair to be seated next to your husband, making for you the awkward decision of whether to sit with Elliott as you always had, or to move next to William.

You did your best to fill the awkward silence, asking William about Melbourne, his work, the house he’d taken so much time and care to find for the two of you.

“And how do you find Australia herself?” Elliott asked, speaking for the first time since you’d all sat down. “She’s a harsh mistress, not every man can handle her.”

“Far too hot, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’ve certainly tanned, darling,” you said, raising a hand to gently touch William’s cheek. “I always thought you don’t get nearly enough sunlight cooped up in court all day. You look healthier now.”

William looked at you and swelled with pride at the compliment, then raised an eyebrow at you.

“And you, my dear, appear to have burnt. Did you overcook yourself?”

You withdrew your hand and blushed, although there wasn’t much skin to turn red that wasn’t already.

“I… sat out on the ridge too long. I was - um - waiting for you. Elliott had to bring me back before I roasted completely.”

William glanced over at Elliott. “I’m surprised you let her burn as much as she has, Elliott. Or do you like your girls crispy?”

Elliott’s jaw twitched. Before he could speak, there was a knock on the door, and one of his men let himself in to ask him about the reward for Quigley.

“Do you suppose he’ll be here shortly?” William asked with mild interest when the man left.

“Yes, I think so. I’ve got what’s left of my men guarding the whole station. That does beg the question, however, of what I’m going to do with the two of you.” Elliott pointed at you with his fork. “That man’s not getting remotely near you, that’s for sure. You’re staying inside.” He chewed thoughtfully, then said, “I suppose we don’t want you dying either, William.”

“I don’t intend on putting myself on the front line to protect your station, Elliott,” William scoffed. He placed a hand over yours. “I’ll look after [Y/n].”

Elliott didn’t seem to approve of that, but he said nothing about it.

“And what about you, Elliott?” you asked, your voice laced with worry. “I don’t want you dying either.”

Elliott smirked with self-assuredness you prayed wasn’t misplaced.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll kill Quigley before he has a chance to blink.”

After dinner, William retired for an early night, not having taken the nap he’d meant to take earlier on account of spending an hour fucking you instead. Although you weren’t tired, you obligingly went to bed with him, and when he fell asleep two orgasms later, you slipped out of his tight grip and got back into your dress.

You followed the sounds of gunshots to find Elliott around the back of the house, shooting at apparently nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Elliott turned around, and smiled when he saw you were alone.

“Just emptying my revolver. I want it freshly loaded when our visitor shows up. And I couldn’t stand to listen to William fucking you again, so I thought I’d pretend these fence posts are his dick.”

“Elliott, you shouldn’t say that,” you said in hushed tones, glancing around as if your sleeping husband could hear you from inside the house.

Elliott chuckled and wrapped his spare arm around your waist to pull you in close. You hesitated, but your body reacted to his so naturally, you found yourself melting into his embrace. He smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Everything’s going to be alright, [Y/n]. I promise you.”

You looked up at him, desperate to say the words you never could, your heart aching from being torn in two.

“You said you’re sleeping in the lodge tonight?”

Elliott nodded questioningly.

“Maybe we could… go there now? Together, I mean…”

A devilish grin broke out across his face, and you ducked your head in embarrassment at your own forwardness.

“Well, well, well… sweet Lady Turpin, sneaking out of bed to proposition another man while her husband sleeps. You have grown bold, haven’t you?”

“I… we don’t have to… I don’t mean — I just want to be alone with you for a bit. Is there something wrong with seeking a bit of companionship?”

Elliott leaned down to kiss you, but then a shot rang out in the distance, and you were both jolted out of the moment, both of you turning towards the direction the shot came from.

“Maybe Scotty’s got Quigley,” suggested one man as he came jogging around the corner.

Elliott rolled his eyes, then took your hand and wordlessly pulled you away towards the lodge.

“They’ll warn me when he’s here,” he said, his voice low with the darkness that he saved for his men but dissipated when he looked at you. “Until then… you’re right. A bit of companionship is just what we both need.”

The lodge was a cabin near the back of the station, nothing as comfortable as Elliott’s house, but it was much better than the men’s quarters, and when the door closed behind you, you could almost forget you were anywhere at all. The lodge was the world as far as you cared, and nothing mattered to you in that moment but Elliott and his wandering hands as he pushed you up against the wall and kissed you as if he could only breathe air from your lungs.

You clung to him desperately, any sense of propriety or reservation forgotten the moment you closed the door.

Elliott grabbed hungrily at your bodice, pulling it down to release your breasts, and you whined into the kiss when he began pawing at you with desperation, as if it was his last chance to touch you and he might be interrupted at any moment.

You finally gasped for air when Elliott pulled away, your already sore skin stinging from the friction of his facial hair, but you didn’t care.

Elliott dropped to his knees in front of you and pulled your dress down past your hips. He let out a hungry growl when he saw your cunt, and you gasped when he buried his face between your legs, tongue desperately seeking the sweetest spots that he knew only took well.

The fact that his cousin had finished inside you only a short while ago did nothing to deter Elliott as he passionately made out with your cunt, and you felt your stress melting away with each lick, each contented hum from Elliott’s lips that betrayed the pleasure he found in worshipping you.

When his tongue began caressing your sweet spot with gentle yet rapid caresses, your orgasm came over you like an explosion. Elliott held your thighs firmly in his large hands, steadying you as your legs buckled beneath you, and he took your weight with no protest as you shuddered through your high, only pulling back when he was satisfied you were completely sated.

You were so lightheaded that at first you didn’t realise Elliott was making no move to take his own clothes off, and in fact it wasn’t until he was guiding your arms through your sleeves that you realised he was redressing you.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” you asked, feeling a little dejected that he apparently had no interest in you.

“I don’t need to fuck you to show you how I feel,” Elliott said softly. He took your hand and led you over to the nearby couch, and when you settled into his arms, you felt like you could fall asleep there and then.

“You’re right,” he murmured in your ear. “I just want to be alone with you for a bit.”

“Then why did you use your tongue if not to ready me for you?”

Elliott chuckled, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“You’ve been fucked enough today, [Y/n]. I wanted to make you feel good. Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Good. That’s all I care about anymore.”

You must have dozed off for a bit, because before you knew it, night had fallen and you were awoken when Elliott lifted you gently to move away from you. You blinked, bleary-eyed, wondering why Elliott was leaving. He opened the door and you heard the noise of a galloping horse, prompting you to shake yourself awake and follow Elliott outside.

The horse came to a stop in the middle of the station and you caught up with Elliott just as he met up with the half a dozen men that had gathered around the riderless horse.

A piece of paper was pinned to the horse’s saddle. One man tore it off and opened it to read, “Anyone can leave safely before dawn except Marston. The girl will not be harmed. Yours cordially, Matthew Quigley.”

Elliott snatched the paper from the man’s hand and screwed it up in anger. “He must think I’m stupid! This just means he’s gonna spring something on us in the night. Alright - nobody sleeps.”

He grabbed his hat from Cavanagh’s head. “Give me that!” he snarled, taking the jacket too, before taking you by the arm and leading you back towards the house.

“Come on, we’ve got to get you safe.”

“But the note said —”

“I know what the note says. Don’t believe a word of it. A monster like him, he’ll shoot anyone in sight, innocent or no. Go back to bed with your useless lump of a husband, meanwhile I’ll keep the monster at bay.”

“You expect me to sleep now?” you asked as you crossed the threshold, and Elliott stopped in his tracks, clearly not intending to follow you in.

“Sleep, read, fuck, whatever you want. Just stay safe. Quigley wants me, which means for once you’re not safe by my side. The only other man I trust to protect you, God help me, is William. Promise me you’ll stay inside.”

“I promise, El. Just - be careful, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

He smiled smugly. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll outfox this snake if it’s the last thing I do.”

[improvised-finish]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #10 - Stable

Content Warnings: Lehon'a is referred to with he/him pronouns, as this takes place before her transition in Shadowbringers, but not in a transphobic way.

Spoiler Warnings: None

Summary: After many moons away, Lehon'a returns to the Shroud to take advantage of the Grand Company system for an entirely selfish reason (the reason has feathers).

Check it out below, or on Ao3:

Lehon'a was over the moon, the happiest he'd been in days.

After being paraded from one major city to the next like a touring circus attraction, he'd finally settled on joining a Grand Company (though to be frank, he found the whole distinction a bit silly). He'd picked the Order of the Twin Adder, mostly out of lingering fondness for his home in the Shroud, if anything. He'd heard the stories of how outsiders to the forest had been treated by the Adders in the past, and he knew it was simply good fortune that they hadn't stumbled on him before his adoptive mother had.

All of that pointless pomp and circumstance was in the past, though, and now he could get to the really important part: the mount issuance.

He didn't want to say it aloud, but the promise of a license to ride a mount across the land was pretty much the only thing that kept him from telling all of the Grand Companies to buzz off. He'd patiently sat through meetings and completed stacks of paperwork, doubly so for his more unique mount situation. But the day had come at last, and he'd gotten the approval from the postmoogle that morning, all that remained was the walk to the stable at Bentbranch. 

—-

It ended up being more of a run, really.

He really just couldn’t help himself, given how many summers it had been since he’d last been to the stables. He came to visit in what seemed like every free moment he could spare as a child, but eventually he couldn’t keep up as his adventuring duties took him further and further afield. He really had missed spending so much time with the birds, smell and all. There was a unique type of bond that it seemed only chocobos were capable of, and one that Lehon’a hadn’t realized he’d valued so highly until he’d gone without it.

Lehon’a barely had time to worry that Felicitas might not recognize him; the stable quickly came into view and he heard that distinctive chirp echoing down the road. He spotted his chocobo not long after, and in a matter of moments he’d hopped the fence and just about tackled Felicitas in a hug.

“Felix!” Lehon’a yelled, overjoyed. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again!” He felt a familiar beak ruffling his hair, and let out a laugh. “Couldn’t ever get enough of messing with my hair, could you?” 

It was at this point that Lehon’a noticed a very bewildered looking stablehand holding a clipboard, presumably with some more forms for him to sign. 

“Oh! My apologies, I just uh… Well, I… I’ve known this bird since I was a kid, and I… suppose I got a bit carried away.” Lehon’a sheepishly untangled his arms from Felicitas’ neck, and turned to reach for the paperwork.

“That’s quite alright, just a signature here, here, and here,” the stablehand replied, relaxing into a smile upon realizing the person who’d practically assaulted the chocobo in his care was, in fact, the person who was supposed to take him. “Has he changed a lot since you saw him last?”

Lehon’a finished signing, and then walked a quick circle around the bird to see if he could spot anything different, or more importantly, any possible health concerns that had cropped up. Without a second thought, Lehon’a bent down to inspect Felicitas’ legs, sitting right in the sweet spot to take a kick to the head that would leave him dazed at best, and headed to a chirurgeon at worst. The stablehand looked on in shock and horror, but Lehon’a simply went about his work before hopping back up. 

“Looks like he’s grown just a little, but otherwise just as happy and healthy as the day I left him,” Lehon’a replied, answering the original question before noticing the concerned expression directed at him. “Oh, don’t worry. I know that’s usually the trouble spot, but Felix and me have had many years to get close to each other, so it doesn’t bother him if it’s me under there.” 

The stablehand’s expression changed again, into a sort of fearful reverence this time, but Lehon’a barely paid it any mind, fishing some pieces of apple out of a small pouch on his hip.

“So, anything else you need, or…?” Lehon’a trailed off, focused on making sure Felicitas got his treat. The stablehand shook himself out of the bizarre trance of admiration he’d fallen into. “...No, no! I’ll submit this to the Adders and you’ll be good to go.”

“Okay, thanks!” Lehon’a dusted his hands off on his pants, gave Felicitas a few good head scritches, and then hopped up into the saddle with the ease of a practiced professional. “See you ‘round!” Lehon’a yelled as he and his steed tore out of the stable, leaping over the gate and flying down the road. It seemed like after such a long time apart, Felicitas was eager to stretch his legs, and Lehon’a was happy to oblige.

[froguemorgue]

The Cryptic Cryptid

truly a standalone drabble

"historical" lams but its the 20th century for... reasons

@lil-gae-disaster you've unleashed my many, many drafts of one-shots I never completed for AO3. here is ANOTHER (very different) vampire au with the boys.

cw: non-gory physical violence

It happened on a Wednesday early in the evening before the sun had even set. What happened wasn't the sort of thing you'd expect to happen on a Wednesday. The middle of the workweek, completely and totally average. So when John invited his boyfriend over so they could cook dinner together after their long days at work, he didn't expect to be pinned to the floor of his apartment by his neck.

But that's getting ahead of the story. It was Wednesday, wintertime, peaceful, about four PM. These days, John felt happy. Like, really happy. The sort of happiness that comes from contentment, not distraction. He didn't need alcohol, drugs, random sex, sleep in excess, or exercise in excess. He was balanced. He would soon finish his last semester of his undergraduate. His internship was working out well, he had long finished his finals, soon enough winter and spring would pass by in a flash and he'd be graduated and already he was well on his way to the next phase of his life; he'd recently visited his family down south and enjoyed the company of old friends and his sweet younger siblings (how grown they were becoming), his sister was enjoying her first year of college herself out in France, he rescued a very quiet and not at all bothersome elderly cat who was well cared for by his boyfriend during his trip, and above all else, he recently realized something about himself: he truly had not an ounce of him left that cared more about being gay than he did about being with Alexander. It was the early 90s and it absolutely was not cool with a lot of people to be gay, but John didn't care. He didn't care who it affected or how his life might be more difficult during his career.

Love, it's so strange and wonderful. It didn't matter that he didn't know how or when to tell his father about the life he was really living up in Manhattan. He just knew that he loved Alexander and they were talking about moving in together soon. "By summer, for sure, if not sooner than that," they'd agreed, and laying on the floor by the Christmas tree as they talked about plans for the future, John was the happiest he'd ever been.

He wasn't alone in that. Alexander, too, had never felt so happy, but something was itching at him. He had tried for so long to ignore it. That afternoon, it was just impossible. And John had been so excited, too. He didn't even think anything of the photos at first. It'd begun with him mentioning an elective he was taking on browsing historical records and primary documents. Essentially, it was completely innocent, even as John chattered happily about doppelgängers and old photographs and conspiracies and a particular case about an unknown woman who seemingly appeared in multiple photos, portraits, and descriptions from different time periods, stretching back at least six hundred years. Some conspiracists attempted to track this supposed immortal's whereabouts and prove that it could, indeed, have been the same person, but of course, that was a crack theory and the professor, while he liked to lecture on it and how primary documents allow historians to both make up fictional narratives and understand nonfiction truths, did not believe it himself.

This fascinated John, but Alexander had no idea that he was actually accruing his own research. He laughed it off a month ago.

On this particular Wednesday, Alexander hung up his scarf and hat and gloves and coat, set his boots neatly by the door, and flopped down beside John on the sofa. The television set was playing some old western film but it was muted and the radio was quiet in the kitchen. The environment was completely normal for when John was focused on something. But grades had already closed, so there was no reason for him to be doing traditional homework. Alexander leaned in with a quiet greeting, head on John's shoulder. He out his cold fingertips on John's neck and complained, "I'm so cold!"

John laughed a little, took his hands and tried to warm them both with his own for a moment.

Alexander then asked, in a voice that was gentle and sincere to match the setting, what it was that John was so wrapped up in. "You've only been home an hour," said Alexander. "Something's really got your attention, huh?"

John began to smile, excited to show him his research. "You're going to love it."

"Yeah?" He turned his head to actually look at the papers and sketchbook in John's lap. He saw a flash of a photo of himself before John flipped back to the beginning of the book. His heart could have stopped beating right there. He remained silent because maybe this was all innocent.

John showed him the first page. West Indies, circa 1698. It was an ink engraving from a wanted poster for a pirate by the name of Lionette. "'Fearless as a lion yet quite little in stature, this criminal, the Lionette, or Little Lion, as he has been so deemed, was once a privateer for French traders out of the West Indies. It is unsure from whence he hailed, however, he is, on more occasions than not, surrounded by numerous ruthless sailors aboard his ship Le Conquérant. The fiend's primary goal is to undermine profits by thieving from trade ships of all charges. It has been reported that he does not always sink the ships, instead, in many cases, Le Conquérant and her crew take charge of the ships and resell the goods to gain personal wealth.'" When John finished reading, he nudged Alexander. "Fearless and short in stature sure sounds like you!" he laughed. "And he might've come from the Caribbean, too. Plus, look at this drawing. Nothing crazy, but maybe it was one of your ancestors or you in a past life, huh?"

Alexander forced a dry scoff. "Hah, yeah."

"So that was the oldest one I found. The next one was probably the... seventh I came across? And it's just an unidentified enlisted soldier during the American Revolution, but it looked too much like you not to include it."

"I'm sorry, did you say this was for an assignment?"

"Well, no," said John, "it's actually just because that class was so interesting. I never meant to start this project at all, I was actually researching primary documents during the first world war on the library computer, but this— here, wait for me to get to it! I didn't put this in chronological order for nothing. But this dude looks like you, huh? Even the other soldiers he's standing beside makes it look like your height and weight."

"Right. That's so funny," he said, attempting his best to brush it off. When John showed him the next portrait of a soldier during the revolution, this time the French Revolution years later, Alex said, "Wow, that's crazy."

"I know. And then this one? Regency era Alexander, isn't he so cute? Best part is, I got the scans of the back of this portrait too, and all it says is 'Fr. Alex, 1821.' For Alex!"

"What an insane coincidence. But who'd want a portrait of themselves as a gift?"

"You, probably."

"All right."

"Portraits aside, this one's insane, right? A photograph of a group of westward wagoners around the mid to late 1840s, and look at this guy."

"This one actually does look a little like me."

"More like that might as well be you in that photo," he joked.

"Right."

"Then we skip many more decades and there's this one in the early 1890s, taken out west. You know," John teased, "you never told me you looked so good as a cowboy. It would've made me fall faster."

Alexander's brain raced so quickly out of control that he didn't answer. So, John went on. The World War 1 photo was definitely the craziest and it was coupled with a microfilm of a half-tarnished letter from the soldier who sent it, talking about the war, about wanting to raise children, about missing his dearest. The signature, return name, and otherwise any indication of who sent it was all but ruined, besides a couple letters. And, boy, doesn't it look like it could say "Alexander"?

Then there was the one from a queer bar in the mid 1920s. Then, finally, the protest in '67. "I haven't gotten anything better than these. You've probably noticed I swiped a couple of these from your place, I had noticed them in a box when I was helping you clean and I was curious. So I looked elsewhere for photos, too. There were some descriptions which matched you, but at some point I really did feel like I was chasing some stupid conspiracy and I just wanted to keep the solid evidence."

"Evidence of what?" demanded Alexander, a little irritated and feeling backed into a corner. "Why are you going through my stuff without permission?"

"Are you upset," asked John with a wry smiling, actually only teasing, "because you're some kind of immortal? Is that why you had those photos?"

"Oh, get bent."

"Come on," he laughed, "are you mad? I don't understand. Did I do something wrong? I can actually hear your heart pounding."

"You're messing with me."

"Now, why would I do that?"

"You are!" he insisted, feeling his chest heavy like it was difficult to breathe.

"I didn't think you'd react like this but if I took it a little far..." John was visibly confused and startled but Alexander couldn't see that. He could only feel his own blood pumping so loud in his ears, and it made him angry and afraid and hungry.

"I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, John."

"Okay?" John tried to touch Alexander's face but he smacked his hand away, anticipating an attack, and snatched the book from John's hands. "Hey." Without a reply, Alexander kept it from his reach so John stood to try to get it back and that's when Alexander all but tackled him to the floor.

That's how they got there: John's head turned awkwardly to the side and Alexander's forehead pressed against his jaw. He was breathing heavily and John was so confused by the turn of events that he didn't do much to react. He only wondered, silently, where this had come from. Alex had never been weak, not really, but John always thought himself stronger: taller, broader, always besting him when they sparred. He wondered if it had been some sequence of having caught him off guard that he fully bodied him like a linebacker.

Alexander exhaled against his neck, mouth open, then closed his lips for a brief kiss to his flexed carotid artery. He immediately sat back, still holding John down. John wouldn't have guessed in a hundred years that he was one more half-formed thought away from being bitten into like an apple.

John turned his head now that it wasn't being pressed into the floor. "I haven't been tackled like that since high school. Well. Minus the kiss on my neck."

"Hah, yeah." He looked down and suddenly felt glad that he didn't do what he'd momentarily considered doing. "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"...Was it weird that I found all those pictures? Are you mad because I went through some of your things?"

"It wasn't weird. I mean, don't go through my stuff without asking, John, that's so not cool. But... I was, you know, trying to joke but it came out wrong. And I... God, you know I just can't keep my hands to myself."

"It felt like..."

"What?"

"Don't know. Never mind." He slid an idle hand up Alex's leg and took a deep breath.

"Can I keep the book? And have those photos back?" asked Alex.

"I made it for you. But why did you have those pictures?"

"Same as you. Everyone sees a short redhead and immediately thinks it's me. I want to kiss you."

"I want dinner before seven P.M."

His heart was returning to normal. He smiled a little, embarrassed at himself, how vulnerable he'd been, how he'd nearly threatened John. He kissed John's stubbly neck again where he'd wanted to bite. "Dinner. Yeah. Uh, did you show it to anyone else?"

"No. Would it matter if I had?"

"'Course not. Just, uh, you know how some conspiracy theorists can be. And cryptid hunters and otherwise those who believe in silly stuff like doppelgängers, reincarnation... ghosts and vampires..."

John sat up with him. "Think I'd know if you were a vampire."

"Hah."

"Seriously. I'd figure it out sooner or later. I ever tell you that when I was younger, my father once told me that we're descendants of vampire hunters?"

"Um. No. Those are real?" he asked with a strained smile.

"Not officially. Just some medieval French Catholics who were paranoid and probably consumed a lot of mold with their meals."

Alex's laugh came uneasily.

"So, yeah. Bona fide vampire hunter here."

"Yeah, okay. Let's just make dinner."

"Hey." He gently tugged on his chin so he looked at him, then pecked him on the cheek. Something felt wrong between them. He wanted to believe Alex, and he did at first, but...

They got up. Everything felt sort of okay again but John couldn't help himself every time he caught a glance at his boyfriend and wondered what could possibly be the reason for his earlier reaction and as he explored the possibilities - these insane scenarios - he wondered whether he'd be put off by them.

For example, if Alexander was a time traveler or had been reincarnated as himself over and over again, that'd probably be fine. It'd be crazy and silly, but he knew he wouldn't be upset.

However, if Alexander was something else, like...

"Mince the garlic while I do the onion?" John asked as he handed it to him. "Two cloves, the book says."

Alexander took it without a trace of hesitation and peeled away some of the papery skin. So, maybe not. Or maybe vampires being allergic to garlic was a myth. He could go in the sun, too, and he didn't have fangs, though he had always acted strange around blood, said it made him nauseous, but that was a lot of people.

"Not a vampire, then?" teased John, though it lacked his usual energy.

There came the hesitation. Then the dry, "Ha, ha," from Alexander.

"Y'know, you can tell me if you are. Something like that."

Which only earned an eye-roll from Alexander, who'd begun to press the flat of the knife against the second clove to free it from its organic wrapper. John's eyes flitted between the knife and Alexander.

"What?" asked Alex dryly. "Planning on how you'd impale me if I was?"

"Of course not. I was wondering what you're doing with the garlic."

"Makes them easier to peel if you do this. See?" He showed him the motion against the already-peeled garlic. "I love teaching you cooking tricks, Old Money, but it's sad nobody else taught you. You should have been taught family recipes, or at least common sense in the kitchen."

"Don't remind me how pathetic my life is."

"Oh, it's not pathetic. You've been very lucky to grow up the way you did. It's just a little bit... you know, it's a skill you missed out on. So I'm teaching you now."

"Thanks. How could I impale you when I still have so much to learn in the kitchen?"

"That is not funny, John."

"Why?"

"It's completely unsettling."

"Yeah, tackling me's unsettling, too. I'd have no reason to impale you if you weren't a vampire," he joked, reaching out to touch his arm but Alexander jerked away toward the garlic he began to mince with impressive expertise.

"You shouldn't want to impale me under any circumstance," quipped Alexander. "It's not 'vampire hunting' in your bloodline, it's systemic abuse of power. It's slave traders, witch hunters, and oppressors. The Christian occult."

"The Christian occult?"

"Yes. The biggest occult there is."

"You can't be serious. You know my family is religious."

"Yeah," said Alex, knife down, "and you were groomed into believing it. None of it's real."

"I believe it is."

"Trust me, it isn't. You can either be a Christian and a vampire hunter or be with me but not both."

"You can't ask me to renounce my faith, that isn't fair."

"And joking about killing me is?"

"If you were a vampire, which you aren't because they don't exist. You're being so weird."

"Okay, John, hypothetical for you: what kind of monster would I have to be for you to actually kill me? I'm the same man I've always been, same conversations and intimacy, but you find out there's a catch. What am I?"

"That's a stupid question."

"Would you kill me under any circumstance? The answer should be 'no.'"

"I don't know, what if you were going to kill me first? Or somebody else?"

"I have no reservations swearing with my whole heart that I would never even think about killing you. And I wouldn't so much as hurt anyone who didn't deserve it so, I guess my question is, if it was justified, would you help me get away with murder? Or would you go all Catholic on me?"

John had a feeling Alexander was dead serious and for some reason, the conversation didn't unsettle him. He should be worried about his boyfriend presenting hypotheticals about murder. "Are you some kind of serial killer? Seriously. What's with this?"

"Do you believe I have good intentions or not?"

"I mean, yes, but—"

"Okay, so be honest. Would you cover for me if I committed a crime, even if it's a crime you detest? I'll know if you're lying to me."

John huffed once heavily. "Um, I guess if they deserved it, sure."

"And what if I was a monster? Something not human? Would you be afraid of me?"

"You're freaking me out."

"It's just a question. If I wasn't human, would I still matter to you?"

Alex had put his hand on John's elbow and stood before him with purpose. That's when John knew the truth. The freaking out about the photos, the response, the questions. The need for reassurance. "I love you, Alexander. Your mind and your heart, not just that you're... flesh and bones with a pulse. And if you were some kind of... alien or vampire or whatever... well, what's more thrilling than forbidden romance between a vampire hunter and a vampire?"

Alexander set the knife down completely, acutely aware of the garlic still on his hands. He didn't want to wipe the scent all over John so he made fists, his heart just as tight. It wasn't exactly a secret that they were in love. They were talking about moving in together, after all, but it wasn't something they has ever really said in such seriousness. So he answered, "I love you, too."

With a slight smile, John cupped his jaw and said, "Good! Can we please cook dinner peacefully, now?"

"Sure thing, my handsome pile of flesh and bones with a pulse."

John pecked his cheek and they did just that. But that was all that needed to be said and John knew. He knew and he couldn't let it go.

For weeks, John researched feverishly, even into the new semester. He even called his father and took up all the time he could spare by asking questions about their ancestry. "Vampire hunters? Haha, what's made you interested in this?" To that, he'd told him a bit about his class and sprinkled in a lie about researching ancestry for extra credit. In return, his father told him all he could about their unsavory history. And John wrote everything down.

He studied Alexander's behavior. He wasn't planning anything and he meant what he said in the kitchen that night, but he had to have proof before he confronted his boyfriend. After that, he'd need to know what to do. What would be his duty? What would be his desire?

When they slept next to one another and Alexander excitedly pushed them forward on their plans to move in together, John worried himself over these questions. Who and what was this creature he slept next to? Could he trust him?

And was Alexander going to kill him that night he thought he'd been found out?

[queenofbaws]

as someone who is SO GOOD at forgetting i was tagged in stuff immediately after being tagged in stuff, i thought i'd go ahead and fill this puppy out while it was fresh in my mind ;)c hehehe thanks for the tag @phenanthreneblue!!!!!!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

156 😎 and hopefully no sign of slowing, lol. i've been writing and posting fic since aboooooout 2007 though, so. do with that as you will.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

it's. um. it's. uh. a lot. ahem. it's a lot.

(1,923,174)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currrrrrrrrently the supermassive universe and dragon age, but i'm slowly adding the remedyverse in there, and silent hill pops up from time to time!!! and in ye olden days, i wrote a LOT for kingdom hearts. i've been CONSIDERING adding horizon to the list too, but...only time will tell, hehehe ;P

4. Top five fics by kudos

the (almost)s; who ya gonna call? not these creeps.; my fav part of summer camp [not clickbait!]; lipstick stains & coffee cups; yes, no, maybe so: circle one and let me know!

5. Do you respond to comments?

i do! i figure if you took the time to read AND let me know how you felt about my work, then by golly, i'm gonna tell you how much YOU made me smile :)c i've met some pretty cool people thanks to the comment section, hehe

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

aw man, probably alone time, right? probably alone time. i'm sure there was some extremely angsty stuff in my kingdom hearts days, but lord help me i am old and i have forgotten a lot of that

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

well, the durellion affair ends with everyone getting to eat as much cheese as they want, so i think that fits the bill!!! 🧀

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nah. i've been crazy lucky that, aside from the occasional (and likely unintentional) insensitive comment, people have always been super kind with my stuff <3 the deviantart days were a slightly different story, but why relive THAT time period, i ask you?????

9. Do you write smut?

nope. i'm not, like, opposed, i just don't think it would be good, and i've yet to write something where i felt it would add anything, so. nah. there are so many other things i can do to earn that m rating ;)

10. Craziest crossover?

for sure did an organization xiii/sweeney todd crossover once, in the long-long ago asldkjflsakdjf recently, though, i guess i'd have to say reading & other fun rituals was a VERY self-indulgent way for me to smash the remedyverse and supermassive universes together!!!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

eh, every time one of those "this site is scraping people's fics!" posts goes around, i end up finding my stuff, but in terms of bumping into an individual nabbing something i've written? not that i'm aware of! (i like to believe anyone reading would recognize the overabundance of adjectives and come tell me, ha!!!)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had people ask, but i've never seen a finished product, so probably not! i tend to write pretty long stuff, though, and i wouldn't wish that kind of work on anyone alsdkjflaskdjfksljfd

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have! none that are posted currently, but i've for sure co-written in the past. i'm also slowly but surely co-writing a fun little thing over here with my buds where our (totally cool and DEFINITELY not overpowered) self-inserts have fun being npcs in the federal bureau of control, so...keep your eyes peeled for that, heheheheh

14. All time favourite ship?

right now? varric tethras and f!hawke 🥺 at this point in time, i only have eyes for them

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

sigh. soft reset 😔 it's a big ol' silent hill 2 timeloop fic that i started back in 2015 i think, and as much as i WANT to finish it...i haven't felt the silent hill muse strike in a hot minute. maybe once the remake comes out.

16. What are your writing strengths?

oh, i like to flatter myself that i'm pretty solid when it comes to character voices/interactions 😉 it's why i do so many character studies, honestly - i just *clenches fist* love studying characters!!! i also think my dialogue's fun

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

how much time do you HAVE??? hehehe i feel like i flounder when it comes to straight up-and-down fluffy/shippy stuff, like if the focus of a story is, for example, some sort of romantic gesture, i'm fairly lost. i'm also HORRENDOUS when it comes to keeping things concise, and god help me, every time i have to delete a passage and kill my darlings, i am miserable, so i tend to just...not do that

also? just putting it out there because i do consider it a weakness in regards to writing: sometimes my self-esteem with posting stuff is just. MISERABLE. so i have a tendency to get anxious before, during, and after hitting the post button, just really wallowing in those good, good I'M A FRAUD feelings, lmfao. i'm working on it, though!!! i love writing so much, sometimes the irrational part of my brain just worries i'm not Doing It Right, hahahaha

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

no one's done it better than the thing (1982) and no one ever will

19. First fandom you wrote in?

proooooobably kingdom hearts??? don't quote me on that, though, it very much could've been x-men: evolution asdlkfjsalkjf (those just never saw the light of day)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

c'moooooon. the (almost)s :)

i'm gonna go ahead and tag...hmm... @love-fireflysong @jadedsunshine @unicornaffair @big-ass-magnet @mrs-theirin @theartofdreaming1 @icequeen-07 @chris-hartley and anyone - yes, i mean ANYONE - who wants to talk about their stuff ;) especially YOU!!!

[citrus-cactus]

Citrus' Art Summary 2023!

The year is almost over, so here's my art summary for 2023! I got this template from here. This is my third year in a row being able to populate every month with a finished(/digital) piece (and really, I did a LOT more than what's shown here!), so that feels like something to celebrate!

Technically some of these choices don’t match up with their post dates; I counted some months as “when I was primarily working on them” and some as “when I actually published them,” but the sentiment remains. Like I said, it was a busy year! :)

Some more rambling + links to all featured artwork beneath the cut:

I remember last year I was quite worried about/was actually teetering on the edge of artistic burnout. There were definitely some months during this year that I felt a bit overwhelmed (particularly during the summer, when I was working on a 5-illustration series in a style that was DEFINITELY outside my norm, PLUS a bunch of other stuff), but I also appreciated the stylistic variety, and doing a lot of sketchbook drawings/marginalia that were(/are) just for me, so they never had to be "finished” or even "good." Even though almost everything pictured here is Digimon(/anime) art, I did experiment with a more "realistic" style for the Dracula Daily series (Aug/Sept), as well as trying to relearn the "Disney" style I started drawing in waaaaaaay back in high school, only now with a LOT more understanding of facial structure and anatomy. Largely, this style shake-up has been incredibly freeing (these are still sketchbook-only studies at this point, but I'm planning on some digital illustrations in the Disney style in 2024). I'm sure they still look pretty anime-influenced, and I'm not sure I'll ever truly be able to escape that, but honestly I don't mind; the anime aesthetic IS a part of my preference/style!

Let's see, the prevailing fandoms for what's shown here are Digimon Survive and Adventure 02. I really want to draw more Survive art next year!! Really happy with the collabo between @vidramon and myself (July), and honestly most (if not all) of these pieces. I worked hard, I branched out, I took on some really ambitious projects, and finished a ton of things (looking at you, March! That Knight drawing was a WIP for an entire year, but I finished it instead of abandoning it, which is what usually happens when things sit around that long!). Ultimately, I believe I told (and helped tell!) some great stories through my creative projects and art this year, which is my true goal forever and always.

Honestly I'm happiest with April's drawing. That one was a ton of fun to do, but I would have to work really hard to replicate that coloring style because I don't remember my brushes/settings, ahaha. Sadly this is how it usually goes with coloring for me; I make it up as I go almost every single time, which is why series are so difficult for me. I am nothing if not inconsistent -_-;

I would be remiss to mention that a huge part of my productivity this year was due to setting and tracking monthly goals for myself. I gotta thank everyone on the @campdigimonth server for their help in keeping me organized and motivated throughout the year! I plan on continuing my creative check-in posts in 2024.

Next year, I want to a) make more Survive art (particularly with Survive Week coming up), b) draw some more flippin' gargoyles (CRIIIINGE, but no, cringe is dead, I'mma do what I want!), and c) keep working on my personal project! And I am, once again, thinking about bookbinding. That's a "maybe" for next year as well!

Descriptions and links to the full artwork pictured for each month:

January: Survive Week, Day 5

February: Survive Gang Aromantic Week

March: Knight Unryuuji and Friend

April: “Rose-Tinted” fic illustration

May: Happy Birthday Vi!

June: Happy Birthday Haru Shinkai!

July: Happy 1st Anniversary Survive! (aka BEST SOCK FRIENDS)

August: Dracula, September 13

September: Dracula, September 20

October: Adv 02 Countdown Event, Day 7

November: “Boo!” on the Cob

December: Digimon Secret Santa 2023

[milkteamoon]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @shinyopals thank youuuu

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 42!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 340,042

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently and primarily The Magnus Archives — I only rarely write for multiple fandoms at a time. In the past I've written for Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun, Deltarune, Victoria's Electric Coffin......a friend and I used to write OC/Black Butler crossover fics in like, middle school lol

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Cicada Summar (JSHK, rated T, gen) — Pre-canon JSHK backstory fic

No Sort of Name for People Like Us (TMA, rated T, jmart) — mid s3 practice kissing fic

Our Own Personal Hell (TMA, rated T, jmart) — s2 time loop shenanigans

Tongue to Teeth (TMA, rated T, jmart) — victorian monster hunting au

Check Each Box That Applies (TMA, rated T, jmart) — s2 lunch dates and personal discussions

Cicada Summer was posted at the height of JSHK fandom popularity, so I don't think that one is super representative of my "best" fics, though I do think that No Sort of Name is pretty good haha

5. Do you respond to comments? I do my best to!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Prooobably Hazy Days of December...I got a lot of people yelling at me for that one haha (even if I don't think it's too bad? It's open ended at least)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Umm I'm not sure! I think most of my fics are happy endings...maybe Worth More Than All the Silence

8. Do you get hate on fics? I've gotten a few weird comments but I don't think I've ever gotten anything outright hateful

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I've written a few fics but must of my smut stays in the Google docs. My asexual ass likes things more focused on the humorous lead up and/or kink than the actual sex part haha

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I think the closest thing I've written to a crossover is the doctor who au I wrote earlier this year — I don't really write proper crossovers :,)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Don't think so!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Me and @indigosienna attempted to write a collab fic back in 2020, but we both ended up falling off of it before we finished (oops). The first chapter is still good though I think!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? HARD question, but jmart and hananene both have very special places in my heart

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Too many fic ideas to list haha

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm pretty good at humor and getting into a character's head. Also love writing an emotionally charged scene

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue heavy scenes are the WORST (writing dialogue tags without sounding stupidly repetitive...shaking my fist at the sun). Also forever complaining about editing

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I don't know any other languages well enough to do so

19. First fandom you wrote for? I have vague memories of writing warrior cats fanfiction waaaaay back in the day

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is a haaaaard question but currently I'd have to say 1. Learning the Ropes — I originally started this for the RQ big bang in June and didn't make it to the deadline, so it felt like a big accomplishment to actually finish it. Plus I just really like delving into that era of canon and Jon and Martin's whole not-quite-dating shtick they have going on. And 2. Tongue to Teeth — I really love this fic and this au and I was noooot at all expecting the love for it I ended up getting on it. I love this silly au and I'm glad others do as well :,)

Not sure who has been tagged so! Sorry for any repeats! @rakel-on-ao3 @asleeb @thatsrightdollface @crit20lesbian @phynoma @lo-fi-charming @pinehutch @cnnmonbimee

[tomorrowxtogether]

SOOBIN: “I think there’s a certain kind of love that can only exist between a singer and their fans”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION comeback interview

2023.02.07

SOOBIN was discreet in his words expressing his gratitude to his loved ones while looking back on the times he spent with them. The word he chose after careful deliberation - love - was brimming with sincerity. Passing on his confidence and self-assurance to the people who make him a better person: that is his “warm” and cozy love language.

You paid a visit to your childhood dentist, despite your full schedule. You also went back to your old school and said hello to your teacher back in the fall.

SOOBIN: The people I’m visiting are all the ones I promised to visit again when I was a trainee. My high school was strict so it was hard to leave early, but my home room teacher was really considerate and helped me out a lotwith homework and cleaning. He also told the other teachers, “Go easy on SOOBIN,” a lot. I was so thankful that I told him, “If I debut and things turn out well, I’ll come back and make you proud. So you can brag to the kids in your class, too.” (laughs) So I go visit every year, but this year he said he’s retiring. I really wanted to go back there as a superstar but it hasn’t quite happened yet (laughs) but he said this would be the last chance so I went and said hi to his students, too. I was busy when I was a trainee, so my dentist would show up to work an hour before opening to give me treatment early. I wanted to repay the people who have worked hard for my benefit.

I think you must have had time last year to think about all the people in your life. You also wound up seeing your fans during your world tour.

SOOBIN: I kept saying to MOA thank you for waiting for so long. The reason I did that was because if the concert started at 7 PM, we’d have to leave at 9 AM for the venue to rehearse there and they were already waiting for us that early. On top of the tour, they showed up eight or nine hours before our performance at Lollapalooza to fill the front rows so they could cheer us on and lift our spirits. When I saw MOA were there early taking up four, five rows in front of the stage, I really thought, That’s something even greater than love. I’ve always been grateful, but I think I felt it even more during the tour and at Lollapalooza and Summer Sonic.

You must have seen MOA’s love for you at all those concerts clearly in front of your eyes.

SOOBIN: Yes. Going down into the audience during the tour and singing “Thursday’s Child Has Far To Go” is the happiest I’ve ever been singing in a concert. Seeing all those ecstatic fans’ faces right in front of me makes me feel like I’m a good and amazing person. (laughs) I was happy not because I was singing and dancing but because I could see how happy it made MOA to watch me singing and dancing.

You must’ve been happy you could see them face to face at the year-end concerts, too. You used to always be nervous about those shows, but you said you were excited this time.

SOOBIN: I felt like I would have no regrets and feel relieved even if I made a mistake this time because we worked really hard for the year-end performances. I thought to myself that this was the best of best I could do. When I watch older year-end performances, I see a lot of places I could have improved, but seeing the video from practicing for this year, I think I was more confident because I thought it was the coolest thing we ever put on.

That confidence came through in the way you dealt with unexpected situations as they arose. Even when you couldn’t get the blindfold tied on during your MAMA performance, you found a great new solution.

SOOBIN: The blindfold is one of the highlights of the choreography and I never had a problem tying it during rehearsals. I practiced over and over, but when it came to the real thing, suddenly it wouldn’t work. I was so worried that our highlight would flop all because of me, so I bit it and kept on dancing without me realizing it and it wasn’t like I made a split second decision thinking “I should bite this.” I was just desperate and thought I’d better do something. I felt bad and sorry because I made a mistake on stage but the immediate response was good and everyone was applauding when I got back to the green room, so I was relieved that it turned out okay.

It sounds like this year’s MAMA was an unforgettable experience for you for a number of reasons. You also got to see KARA perform, and they were your inspiration to become a singer when you were younger.

SOOBIN: I never thought I’d get to see them perform again so I almost teared up. I was so happy seeing how much they enjoyed being back up on stage. They were part of the reason that I liked K-pop and had a dream of becoming a singer when I was a kid. And I learned a lot about their mindset while watching all their appearances on variety shows. I thought they’re a strong and solid group and they influenced me in a lot of ways but I think I like them even more now that I do the same thing as them.

You never explicitly revealed who you’re a fan of before. What made you open up this time about being a fan and what it feels like?

SOOBIN: I thought the members of KARA might feel uncomfortable when I brought them up. I have such great memories of them but I thought it might be a little rude and could be off-putting to their members if their name was put out there because of me so I avoided saying anything. But I wanted to help them now that they made a comeback, even if it was just a little help by talking about them once to promote them. (laughs) It was kind of tough not talking about them all the way up to now. (laughs)

Does having been a fan in the past help you better understand how your fans feel?

SOOBIN: I think it helps a lot. I think there’s a certain kind of love that can only exist between a singer and their fans—one that doesn’t happen between friends or people dating. They exist for each other and want each other to be happy and hope for better things for the other than for themselves. It seems like it really only exists between fans and singers. Actually, as a singer, whenever fans came to a fan signing event with a fan letter in hand and said, “I’m going to hold a birthday cafe event for you,” I would say, “I think your hand will be tired from writing letters every time you come. I’m thankful you make time for me but I hope you don’t spend your money.” But now I think I should be grateful and accepting of everything they do, whether it’s writing fan letters or holding events, and I think I understand them better now, too. I’m the kind of person who puts the happiness of my fans ahead of my own unconditionally, but the fans also put my happiness first and feeling that again, I realized it’s an extremely special relationship.

You said in the Weverse Live held on your birthday that you’re having fun getting ready for your comeback.

SOOBIN: I felt that way because I have so much pride in my work now. I never really used to like myself, to be honest. I just felt sorely lacking as a person and last year in particular I questioned whether I’m even good enough to be a singer and started to have doubts about my job. But meeting the fans made me think of myself as a singer who can be a good influence and make them feel good, and that made me feel proud, and wonderful, and complete. (laughs) It changed to that kind of feeling. So I just want to do the comeback as soon as possible so I can show this off to the fans.

Why did you wonder if you’re really suited to be a singer last year?

SOOBIN: By the time we went on tour, it had been so long since I had been around so many people all in one big space. I don’t know if “shy” is the right term to use. I’m a singer, so I get up and sing and dance in front of lots of people, but I started to think, if I have a hard time doing that, how can I keep on being a singer? Maybe I’m not cut out to be a singer after all. But last year was actually my first tour, and it was the first time being around people in such a large space in such a long time that I think that something about it felt awkward to me. I’m confident I’ll have a lot of fun on our next tour. I think from now on I won’t be full of doubt about my job as a singer ever—I’ll just be full of pride. (laughs) I’ll be a better person this year than last year, and an even better person next year.

You tried a lot of new things last year. You could say you’re taking on another challenge with the concept behind this latest album. What was it like working on it?

SOOBIN: The new songs are a little tough again. (laughs) We revealed that the concept for the album would be “refreshing and sexy,” and after we did, fans seemed to be more excited for the refreshing part. So us members talked a lot amongst ourselves about what parts or sections would capture that refreshing quality best when we perform. While practicing, we would come to parts that seemed like they would capture that well, and we would say, “Let’s do this with more of a bright smile on our faces.”

The Daydream version of the concept photos really captures those bright smiles well. You called those your favorite.

SOOBIN: When we were shooting the Daydream version, they told me I’m having fun in Neverland and to wear a dreamy expression on my face. I thought of Neverland as this happy, joyous, innocent place full of smiles, so I wanted to look like a really happy little kid in the photos and actively tried to spend every second wearing a big smile.

You also chose the Neverland-themed “Farewell, Neverland” as your favorite song.

SOOBIN: I really love that song so I wanted to sing it particularly well. And since I like it so much, I did the most takes and editing for that one. It’s a difficult song, so practicing it was a little hard, but after it was all done and I listened to it, it actually turned out really well. (laughs) And with songs like “Devil by the Window” and “Sugar Rush Ride,” there’s ideas like temptation and the devil, so I used my voice a lot in ways I never did before in my life to sing the songs in a whole new style. It was a little challenging at times (laughs) but I put a lot of effort in and I think I captured the idea of temptation well.

There’s definitely a nuance of temptation. I think, despite those temptations, there’s sometimes things you have to hold onto. Sort of like the words in the logo video: “It’s so sweet, but I should find my name.” As a member of TOMORROW X TOGETHER, is there something you want to hold onto?

SOOBIN: I’ve said this again and again since debuting, but I want to hold onto the TOMORROW X TOGETHER name. I hope the name stays pure even after a long time passes. Even when our 15th or 20th anniversary rolls around, I want to make sure the name keeps its pure image, so when people mention our name, they’ll think, Those guys worked really hard. They were an amazing group.

Considering your members, I don’t think you’ll have any problem holding onto the meaning of the name. What do you, in your everyday life, want to hold onto—want to make sure you don’t lose no matter how much time passes?

SOOBIN: I want to be surrounded by good people the way I am now for a long, long time. I have a really good judge of character (laughs) and the other members, my friends, all the staff—absolutely all of them are great people. I feel like I’m living a blessed life with all these good people surrounding me.

You probably have so many good people around you because you’re a good person yourself.

SOOBIN: Yep! (laughs) That’s part of it. There’s definitely some kind of influence there. (laughs)

It makes me think of when you said on Weverse, “I hope you take a look at the real-life Choi Soobin. Honestly, when I look at myself, even I think I’m an okay person.” (laughs)

SOOBIN: I actually think SOOBIN the K-pop singer has a number of shortcomings but that the real-life SOOBIN is a great person. It’s sort of weird coming from me (laughs) but the more you get to know him, the more you realize he’s an okay guy. And I heard a lot of good things from the people around me last year. Someone told me, “I feel really comfortable around you. I really open up around you.” My friends said, “I’m really lucky to have you as a friend.” When I heard that, it made me think I might really be a pretty decent person.

You gain self-confidence from the important people in your life that way.

SOOBIN: Exactly. If you look at it that way, I’m discovering my own identity step by step, and the more I get to know myself in the process, the more I feel like I’m a really emotionally strong person—not just a strong person, but a strong person with a good mind. And MOA’s always helping make me into that kind of person. It might sound like a cliché at this point because I say it to them so often, and I don’t want to diminish its power by overusing it (laughs) but “thank you” really is the very best thing I can say, I think. I don’t just say it lightly—I’m being completely sincere. I’m really grateful.