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#I have lost the vast majority of my friends in the past year and honestly it’s a relief

mychemicalroadworkahead · 11 months

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Alright serious post time (I know, I know, completely fuckin off brand)

Trigger warning for suicide below the cut

So here’s the thing: there is a serious lack of discussion on and information about how you’re supposed to just keep living after a suicide attempt that failed. You try to talk about it with your close friends and they just start treating you like a wild animal that could snap at any moment.

The main thing that I struggle with is how the fuck am I just supposed to function like other people when I have the knowledge that I absolutely should not be alive? I’m supposed to be dead, not still laying awake at night trying to figure out the best way to die. I put in the effort to actually die, and it didn’t fucking work.

How am I, and statistically probably thousands of other people, supposed to be functioning members of society when we didn’t even plan on living this long?

I’m not gonna lie and say my life is total shit, because it’s not. There are some days I am glad I’m alive. But the vast majority of times I regret not taking more of the medication. This shit is hard.

Which leads to the next question. How am I supposed to live with the constant knowledge that I will probably die by suicide? Even when I’m happy or having a good day, there’s still this unspoken rule in my life that it’s going to be ended by me. And it’s probably going to end pretty early, too.

I’m not saying this to be edgy or anything, I say this because it feels like a fact. I hear my friends talk about their plans for the future and I just sorta sit there trying to do the same but failing. I wasn’t supposed to make it this far. I’m absolutely, irreparably lost. I don’t think about the future because I honestly don’t think I have one.

It hurts a lot. Living when you know you shouldn’t be, living when you know that in a few years you probably won’t be. It all hurts, but it all feels like common knowledge. When asking each other how we think the other people will die, all of my friends said suicide for me. And I agree. I don’t want to be this way, but I don’t think it’s possible that I would live past 18.

Sorry to be this depressing. If you read to the end, thank you for listening to me ramble. I really appreciate you and I hope you’re having a good day.

Much love, whatever the fuck my name is

#trigger warning #may be triggering #my post #text post #cw vent #rant over #ty for reading

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intergalactic-chameleon · 1 year

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gender thoughts: friendships with straight boys + girls

i've sort of talked about this before but god being able to make friends or just silly conversation with boys, especially straight boys, really is something that is fun for me. in general, i dont really care about straight men -- i far prefer queer men, and i look up to them way more that i would a straight man (excluding celebrity actor men that i like lol). but regardless, sometimes, having some silly goose banter with another straight guy that i deem Okay enough to enable myself to talk to can be such a special little treat for me. i grew up loving being friends with boys, and had many successful friendships with them, but especially as i went into middle school, rarely did the majority ever truly want to be my friend back. either they had feelings for me that were unwanted/not reciprocated OR more often than not, they just... didn't care. they didn't see me as a Real friend probably bc didn't see me as a viable dating candidate AND i would not dumb myself or my morals down for them to see me as "one of the good ones." and it fucking sucked!! guys in high school were absolutely atrocious when it came to feminism/LGBT stuff which was super disheartening.

but now that im in college (even tho it's ending soon), i feel a lot more... respected as a human being than before. which isn't saying a lot lol, straight men still are misogynist and bigoted in various other ways which make them unappealing to me. but i noticed as soon as i transferred to art school last year, men and women were far more integrated than what i had seen in high school. and seeing that really renewed my faith in making friends with another man, even tho i still probably will stick with queer men as my buddies for my sanity's sake.

in the perspective of my genderqueer identity, getting to positively interact with other masculine people (including men of course) feels so EUPHORIC... even if the other person only sees me as a Girl, i still express myself pretty openly and authentically if given the chance and i feel like they respond well to it. i've noticed a couple guys that ive interacted with once or a few times before that give me a glance while walking past me every now and then, as if to say "i think you're cool. im probably not gonna try and talk to you cuz im shy and unsure if i actually wanna be friends or not, but you intrigue me." of course, i may just be projecting what i Want them to think hahaha. but i swear, when i talk to straight boys like they're my equal, i think that genuinely makes an impression on them. and so they wonder about me. straight boys wanna be my friend but they're emotionally repressed and/or dont deserve my friendship!! and honestly? i kinda... dig that. lmfao. feels like i have the upper hand for once in my life. i swear im not being delusional HAHA.

but yea, anyway... i was just thinking about this because masculinity is weirdly important for me. being able to express it while in camaraderie with someone else is !!! so exciting! feels like im making up for lost time all those years that my male peers rejected me, forcing me to only really interact with girls. and just to be clear, i didn't have a problem with girls at all. they were a far better option than the boys so ofc p much all of my friends were girls for a very long time and expressing myself femininely wasn't like, totally inauthentic. but since i felt like girls were my only choice back in the day, that lead me to sort of repress any masculinity i wanted to express because i knew a lot of girls wouldn't "get" it. i've always felt different from most girls in general - being queer and neurodivergent and all - and trying to fit in with any of them who had any semblance of popularity (and who were usually very pretty + feminine) just... never really worked. to this day, i just dont feel feminine enough to really connect to the vast range of girls i've come in to contact with. a lot of them have access to a certain kind of social capital that i just never will be able to access simply by being more feminine that me. which is ok, i like spending my time exclusively with queer, trans, gnc, neurodivergent people. but yea, i've always kind of felt like an outsider to the womanhood that a lot of my cis female peers seem to experience, yet i don't exactly feel explicitly left out. this outsider experience is voluntary in a lot of ways because i know this experience just isnt exactly for me. womanhood as i know it is very informed by heterosexual dynamics and compulsory femininity and that just isn't my vibe at all!

#personal #gender

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doktordismemberment · 1 year

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Roundup #4: Albums of the year II: Supersize Me Edition

Oh, I'm sorry, did you think all these stupid fucking albums were ever gonna fit into just one list?

As before, these are in no particular order.

Sigh - Shiki - I feel like Sigh are one of those bands like Merciful Fate/ King Diamond where you either just "get it" or the entire concept is totally alien and off-putting to you. As for me? I like it.

Strigoi - Viscera - Terrifying blackened doom with slight hints of crust and grind via ex Paradise Lost, The Secret, Extreme Noise Terror personnel.

Sumerlands - Dreamkiller - These guys sound like a modern era version of my favorite Ozzy album, to the point I find myself really wishing they'd cover Secret Loser.

Astronoid - Radiant Bloom - Soaring ambient-pop-metal from Lowell MA. If you reimagined Mew's "And the Glass Handed Kites" as a thrash album it would probably sound a lot like Radiant Bloom.

Aeternam - Heir of the Rising Sun - Avenger/ Crusher era Amon Amarth meets Blind Guardian with lyrics about the crusades.

Wilderun - Epigone - I have never been the biggest "symphonic metal" guy but for whatever reason this album works for me, probably because I'm a gigantic prog nerd and vast swaths of this album remind me of Genesis/ Yes/ Van Der Graaf Generator... I have to assume at least one of these guys is a BCOM student 'cos it sounds like a lot of the arrangements here are coming out of a "classically trained" headspace.

Cult Of Luna - The Long Road North - Isis are long dead and Scott Kelly pretty much shit all over any chance of there ever being a new Neurosis album, so it is in Cult of Luna that we must place our hopes.

Luckily, "The Long Road North" carries the apocalyptically heaving quiet/ loud post-metal torch admirably.

KEN Mode - Null - I feel like KEN Mode have been getting progressively more brutal and terrifying for the past 20 years with the end result being NULL... An album that sounds like the nightmare bastard child of My War era Black Flag and early Swans. God help us all if they ever top this.

Otoboke Beaver - Super Champon - Splattery Japanese chick-punk that gets stuck in my head mercilessly. I feel like almost any track on this album could be subbed in for the theme song to Dorohedoro if that's any indication of the level of derangement happening here.

Ereb Altor - Vargtimman - I stumbled across this album while I was in the depths of a months long Bathory kick and wound up really enjoying it. Total Twilight of the Gods/ Hammerheart/ Nordland vibes.

I've heard that Vargtimman is a bit disappointing compared to some of their older albums but it's honestly the only one I've bothered to check out so I can neither confirm or deny that statement.

Chrome Ghost - House of Falling Ashes - Massive sludge/ grunge/ doom from California. Packs kind of a Floor meets Yob punch.

Freedom of Fear - Fairly straightforward 90s style melodeath/ melodic black metal with a touch of proggy technicality and killer vocals. My friend Jessie (RIP) would have absolutely loved this band.

Mordant Arrow - Rhythmic industrial crunch, icy washes of noise, and impeccable synth design combine with a rugged crust punk energy to create one of my favorite electronic albums in ages. A perfect soundtrack to the vast and inescapable surveillance state where we're all currently serving time.

40 Watt Sun - Achingly sad. Achingly beautiful. And oozing with a palpable sense of loss and desperately reaching for something as it slowly falls away from you.

"Wherever you are, the light will reach."

Major Parkinson - If Nick Cave's recent forays into electronic music had been a whole lot more successful they probably would have sounded something like Major Parkinson. YMMV but I really enjoy this album. This has kind of a Bowie vibe happening too, for whatever that's worth to anyone...

The Sawtooth Grin - Imagine Pg.99's Document #8 reconfigured as a Discordance Axis album and that's sorta the ballpark you're in with The Sawtooth grin. The lyrics to "What's Cremation?" fuck me up.

Grand Harvest - 90's Peaceville style doom 'n' gloom via mud-caked Bolt Thrower style death stomp and more than a slight hint of blackened snarl. More "At Last Light" than first light... A fitting soundtrack to a world that seems to be mostly on fire these days.

Lament Cityscape - Jesus christ why am I still writing? Anyway, I feel like this new Lament Cityscape is slightly more electronic sounding than some of the older stuff maybe? And the tracks are shorter. But it hits hard and gets out before you have time to get your bearings which is an approach I always appreciate.

Ok, I was gonna do Video Games too but seriously fuck that (for now)... Writing even this much has taken literal days and I haven't even copied the links yet.

I'm sure I forgot a ton of stuff I liked, and missed a ton of stuff you liked because how dare I, but realistically I can only make one of us happy so I'm gonna say fuck it and go hang out with my wife.

#Roundup #Albums of the Year #Spritual Writer's Cramp

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eleriivt · 1 year

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Thank you for a wonderful 2022~!!

(Template by Kouma_Kou on twt!)

Huge thank you to everyone who has supported me this year, I'm really grateful for your patience, your care, and your wonderful company💜 Some (long and rambling) thoughts about the past year under the cut.

First of all, hello everyone💜 I'm trying out this format to share some of my thoughts that can't be contained in just a few tweets.

We've finally made it to the end of 2022! For me it was a challenging year for a number of reasons (physical health, mental health, the loss of a beloved family pet, things within and outside my control). When I looked back at the goals I set for myself at the start of the year, I've barely crossed off any.

As I mentioned on stream, I originally wrote this letter earlier in December, on a day which is probably the worst day of the year for my mental health. That letter focused on the negatives and the struggles, and while it was a great exercise for me personally (I cried, it was cathartic!), those aren't the emotions I want to go into the new year with. I think we can leave them behind.

What have I learned in the past year? I think I've actually progressed a lot. I've gotten closer to myself, tried to listen to my body and what I actually need, tried to be kinder and more forgiving towards myself, tried to set and protect my boundaries. I wasn't able to improve much within the past 365 days, but instead of feeling behind I want to accept this time I spent understanding myself as laying an important foundation to build upon.

When I think about streaming this year, I'd like to think I started off with good intentions, but I feel like I've actually done worse than I did in 2021. Yes, my growth and numbers have been pretty stagnant, but that isn't even what bothers me. I feel more upset that I once again over-promised and wasn't able to deliver on the vast majority of my plans.

At more than one point I was so disappointed in myself that I thought maybe I should just give up. But recently in chat someone said something along the lines of "we have time" and that changed my perspective entirely. Instead of thinking 'up until now I've barely done anything' I want to focus on the fact that there are so many more days ahead to do anything we want with.

Another thing I struggled with from the start of my vtubing journey was this parallel between vtubers and idols. Many of my friends who started streaming at the same time as me would fit into that "idol vtuber" category, and me, being a lifelong idol fan, was obviously drawn to the idol aspects of vtubing (like Niji). But I'm nobody's idol. I'm not a main character, or someone that makes you want to root for them, I'm not particularly hard working and I don't really have a dream to chase. My happiest place is being a fan and supporting others.

I think this disconnect between my personality and what I was essentially trying to achieve caused a lot of stress. For all different reasons, I didn't feel like I had any real direction. It was upsetting to feel so lost and without purpose in my supposed-to-be-fun-hobby-thing when I already feel so lost in every other facet of my life. I know, I know, 'it's not that deep', but I hate the feeling of spinning my wheels.

I honestly want to say maybe one of the best things that happened to me was watching one of Nina’s streams when I was first getting into Niji. I don’t even know which one it was, but I remember she was so authentic, warm, and inviting. She was talking about her own plans, her perspective on streaming, and I deeply admired the way that she could so easily identify her own shortcomings and how she wasn’t afraid of them. It gave me a lot of motivation and reassurance. Like, it's okay to just try things, you can keep what works and discard the rest!

So, if you've made it this far you're probably wondering, do I feel like I have a clear path now? Absolutely not. I don't think I'm any less lost and I'm not even sure I know how to get unlost. But I do think that I need to approach my goals from different angles. I know that the time I've put into this wasn't wasted because I am always grateful for every moment that we spend together, it's just the mindset that I've been applying that needs to be adjusted.

I still have a lot of apprehension and doubt, but I'm so thankful that everyone who supports me has created an environment where I feel safe to embrace those fears head-on, to learn, and to grow. It's actually really exciting when you think about it!

Let's let go of all the negative emotions of 2022, and welcome 2023 and all the potential it brings. Please continue to support me, in whatever capacity you can, and I will try to repay you by doing my best💜

#thank you for 2022 #happy new year

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th0ughtfl0w · 2 years

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.career guidance

I have a meeting with the career guidance center this afternoon and I’m really anxious for it. My masters degree feels kind of useless right now because I don’t know if I can get a job doing what I really want to do, but I honestly only realized what I really want to do like this past week.

Oh yeah, I finished my masters degree last month.

I’ve been obsessed with space and stars and galaxies and black holes and quasars and nebula for the vast majority of my life. At least since middle school, which was 2006? so that’s 16 years ago. I was instantly fascinated by it as soon as we started learning the basics and just couldn’t get enough. I’ve had a telescope for the past few years and love looking at the planets and their moons. They really just spark something in me and I want to learn everything about them.

I think I lost sight of that when I was in undergrad because I was just doing what I thought was right. I got my BS in mechanical engineering because I’m good at math and I liked working with my hands so I thought that was where I wanted to head. After graduating and getting into the work force I realized I hated it - or rather I wasn’t passionate about it, so it made the bureaucracy and office politics seem so much worse. Cars are cool but I eventually decided I didn’t want to live it anymore. So I took a step in a different direction and went for a MS in applied physics.

Family and friends and everyone I know kept asking me what I want to do with that degree and I kept saying research, but the research never happened. I emailed my academic advisor about any research opportunities but he said that would have to be an independent effort. I think I should’ve realized then that something was wrong with this program. Or not wrong, but just not right for me.

I wanted to be pushing the boundaries of science, asking questions and poring over data to find the answers. I took into to Astrophysics and I planned on taking Cosmology but they never offered it. That fascination came back in a totally different way but I sort of pushed it down because I thought there was no way I could have a career in that. It’s too competitive, there’s nothing like that in Michigan, I don’t have the right experience on my resume, yadda yadda.

Dr. Becky came up on a youtube recommendation and I realized I’m taking the same convoluted path as her - at least so far. Got her undergrad, started working in an engineering role she wasn’t passionate about, went back to get a PhD in Astrophysics, and now loves her job every single day. I want that. I want to get excited about space again. I want to do science and talk about science and read about science every day.

That all gives me hope, but I don’t know where to start. That’s the point of the meeting I have today but I’m scared they’re going to tell me that my degree isn’t going to help me get where I want to be and that I realized it too late - that I’ll have to start over with another masters/PhD program.

I know Max will say he supports anything I choose to do, and not to be in a rush for the first job that will hire me. And I feel very unbelievably grateful for that. He’s made a great life for us that I know I wouldn’t be able to have without him. It would feel wrong to not take advantage of that opportunity, but I also feel a lot of guilt about even considering it. Why do I deserve that? Why not give that chance to someone else?

If anyone else were in my shoes without the support of an incredible partner like Max, they wouldn’t get a do-over. They would have to live with this degree that wasn’t exactly what they were expecting and have to make the best of it. They would take the less exciting and less fulfilling job so they could keep a roof over their head and food in their mouth. It doesn’t feel fair to those people that I can consider doing it all over if I want to. The economy isn’t fair for those people.

I want someone else to have this opportunity. Not because I think I can’t do it - I’m sure I can - but why me? What if the cure for cancer or the best inventive mind the world has ever seen is out there stuck in poverty with no access to the education they want? That’s not fair. I wish they could have a chance. I wish everyone could.

I’ll tell Max about all these thoughts later tonight and he’ll tell me I’m generous and kind to be thinking this way but that it’s just unrealistic. Or that my parents were those ones stuck in poverty and they worked hard for me to have these opportunities. I still feel like I don’t deserve it though. I feel like a fraud sometimes.

Maybe that’s the root of it. I think I should have to be stuck with my decisions because I don’t think I’m good enough to deserve more chances than other people. But really, wouldn’t the world be better off if we all questioned ourselves a bit more? A little less overbearing confidence, a little less ego, and a lot more humility and generosity? Mostly from men tbh, if history has taught us anything.

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spxllcxstxr · 3 years

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Inked • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Could I request a Soulmate AU with Sirius please? Marauders era with matching tattoos. No rush and thank you 🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Mary is determined to find your soulmate and not even an oncoming storm will stop her. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: some tattoo talk?, rain, thunder, I guess hints/implied bullying, Peter makes an appearance but like he’s not a key part and he’s not like bad or anything

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: This is the kind of star I’m envisioning for your soulmark (just not yellow) I actually never specify the color, so you can imagine any color you want. This took me like a week to write for some reason. But I like how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too! Love you all ❤️

****

No one ever told you that soulmarks tingled.

When the eight pointed star seared itself into the flesh of the inside of your left elbow at age sixteen, you thought that was it. You thought that it would just sit there innocently to the point where it wouldn’t cross your mind every second of every day, but Merlin were you wrong.

The prickling of the mark was constant, like pins and needles jabbing relentlessly into your arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, it was just an obnoxious and infuriating reminder that you still haven’t found your soulmate.

Hogwarts was practically the place for the vast majority of witches and wizards to find their soulmate, as it was basically the only topic discussed amongst the sixth and seventh years.

Honestly, you just wanted your mark to stop its incessant tingling to the point where you wouldn’t mind anyone being your soulmate. You’ve never heard any complaints from your friends who had already found their true loves, so you assume that the sensation stops eventually.

But you were tired of scratching at your arm making it look like you had some weird sort of flesh eating disease. It was unflattering and highly inconvenient.

Sure, you could run around like a headless hippogriff with your sleeve rolled up asking everyone you encounter if they’ve seen another person with that identical mark, but that’s not romantic. And you wanted romantic, Merlin damn it.

Plus, imagine the burn of embarrassment that would overtake your entire being if no one shared your soulmark. You shudder at the mere thought.

So, you learn to live with it.

You almost want to rip your arm off when it gets particularly bad while studying or trying to get the perfect measurement for your potion, but after a full year you’re almost used to it.

You’re used to how often your friends would gush about their own soulmates and their constant questions about why you’re still single as well.

Mary MacDonald, one of your best friends, had already found her soulmate, some boy from Beauxbatons that sent her too many Howlers during breakfast, but they loved each other, so who were you to complain?

But ever since she found hers, she’s been pretty determined to seek out yours. Even getting her boyfriend to ask around his own school. You can never show your face around Beauxbatons and that’s final.

She’ll make you sit around the courtyard, pretending to read a book, while she scans the arms of the many crowds in search of your star. Mary tries to walk in on top secret Quidditch practices to get a glimpse of any rolled up sleeves, but so far, no good.

That’s really the only reason she’s dragging you down to the Black Lake even though dark grey clouds are hanging heavy in the sky.

“Mary!” You huff as she drags you down the grassy hills, the smell of rain thick in the air. “I know what you’re doing, I’m not daft, y’know.”

Her hand tightens around yours as she starts to feel you resist.

“What I’m doing? (Y/n), it’s a nice day to just hang out at the lake!” Mary cries, the lie hidden well if she wasn’t your best friend.

“Mary it’s about to torrential downpour.” You scoff.

“I thought you liked the rain.” She shrugs innocently, the sound of weeds getting crushed beneath your school shoes loud in your ears.

“Mary, my soulmate might not even be at Hogwarts!” You exclaim, trying to get out of this whole situation. You could be curled up by the fire with a sugar quill, but no, why would Mary let you have some peace and quiet? “They might be older or younger than me—“

“Well we won’t know that, will we, until we check everyone in our year first.” She insists.

The deep murky water is in sight, a few people are lazily lounging around the water’s edge. Like they haven’t even noticed the rain clouds overhead.

“You’re obsessed.” You sigh, finally stopping your attempts to wriggle away from her.

“It’s because I love you.” She smiles sweetly at you, cheeks pushed high, obscuring her dark eyes.

You continue to rub the inside of your arm against the side of your abdomen, attempting to find some sort of relief. The scratchy fabric of your white button down against your grey vest is probably the most effective. The closer to the bank you get, the better you’re able to make out the figures.

The owner of the vibrant red hair was obviously Lily, one of Mary’s friends, and also the more sensible of the group considering her coat was tightly wrapped around her. She’s in a somewhat similar situation as you—she hasn’t shown her soulmark to anyone. However, if what Mary drunkenly told you one night is true, it matches James Potter’s to a tee. Poor her.

Peter was also there, kicking rocks around and chuckling at whatever story Lily was telling them. His Gryffindor jumper is a little short on him while his slacks are a little long, mud dirtying the hem of them. As far as you know, he doesn’t even have a soulmark. It’s not uncommon or something to be ashamed of, but ever since certain people found out, it’s been quite the issue. Sure the infamous Marauders took care of the situation the best they could, but the damage was already done.

The last person was obviously Sirius, you could tell by the way he has his wand situated in his bun. He was closer to the water, picking up flat stones to skip across. His bark like laugh echoing across the space. You and Mary weren’t too far from the group now, so you could tell that the top two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open. Sirius Black’s soulmark was another mystery. He seems like the type to brag about something as important as a soulmark, but as far as you know, only James, Remus, and Peter were privy to that sort of information.

“Hey guys!” Lily perks up, waving at the two of you.

You smile and wave at her, but as Mary stops and chat, you gravitate closer to Peter and Sirius.

“So where are the other two?” You ask, watching as his stone skips across the water, finally ending with a satisfying plunk!

Sirius turns to face you, a few loose strands framing his face, blowing slightly in the wind.

“Detention.” He remarks casually, lazily trying to tame his curls.

“And you two aren’t?”

Peter shakes his head enthusiastically, blond hair bobbing around. “Sirius and I managed to escape before Slughorn lost it.”

“Hey Pete!” You hear Mary call from behind you. “Don’t you wanna know what you missed in Muggle Studies?”

“Shit, yeah.” Peter bounds over to where Lily and Mary are sitting, leaving you and Sirius alone. Your feet shuffle at the predicament.

You slowly inch closer to Sirius, the large distance awkward without a third person. You’re forced to hold down a wince as your mark prickles almost painfully.

Sirius’ eyes are almost the same shade as the clouds in the sky as they pierce into yours.

“You know how to skip rocks?” He tosses you a smooth stone which you catch effortlessly.

You open your mouth to respond but before you’re able to, you’re cut off by a clap of thunder. The ripples of thunder makes you jump slightly.

“We should probably go inside—“ You start, shivering at the cold wind that begins to roll past you.

“Scared of a little thunder, (Y/n)?” Sirius teases, smirking at your shivering form.

“Don’t be a prick.” You snort. “Just throw your rock.”

You push the thought of the oncoming storm to the back of your mind as you position yourself on the bank.

The water laps at you shoes as you toe the edge, running your thumb over the smooth surface. You mirror Sirius’ position, slightly crouched at the knee, body angled towards the lake.

“One...two...three!”

You watch his body move fluidly through the positions, the stone releasing and skipping across the water delicately. Not only do you get distracted by Sirius, but the mark on your arm gives a sudden jolt, making your posture falter and your stone crash recklessly into the lake.

Sirius brings a ringed fist up to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not that funny.” You grumble, embarrassed.

“I mean, it’s pretty fucking hilarious. I thought you said you knew how to skip rocks?” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, a chuckle still lightly escaping his amused smile.

“Technically, I didn’t tell you shit.” You remark. “The thunder cut me off.”

“Ah yes. The spooky thunder.” He drawls, wagging his painted fingers at you mockingly.

You bring your hand up to flick him off when you feel a cool dot of water drop onto your hand.

“Hey, did you just feel a—“

In the middle of talking, one raindrop becomes hundreds, the torrential downpour almost instantly soaking you to your bones. You hair plasters to your skin, clothes clinging onto you.

“—raindrop?” You utter weekly, a chill coming over you.

Your eyes widen as you look at Sirius, how his dark hair sticks wildly to his face, like curtains across his eyes.

Lily and Mary let out identical high pitched shrieks, and you hear the sound of mud squelching as the three run back towards the castle.

As Sirius tries to wipe the wet hair from his face, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him as your sprint back to the castle. You’re fumbling as you try not to slip in the mud but at the same time try get to the cover of the castle quickly.

“A little thunder, my arse, Sirius!” You huff out, his wrist still grasped tightly in your hand.

You hear him chuckle behind you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Cold water traces down your back and fills your shoes, your discomfort rapidly increasing with every step and every second you spend outdoors.

Your mind drifts off to Sirius, who was only in his white uniform button down. He must be freezing.

After sloshing through puddles and mucking up your shoes, you manage to get under the cover of the stone castle.

Your teeth are chattering and you body trembles, but at least the rain isn’t cutting into your skin anymore.

Lily, Mary, and Peter are nowhere to be found, though they’re probably making their way to the Gryffindor common room already.

Sirius is wringing out his drenched dark curls, his wand between his lips, but you’re too focused in the face that his shirt is now completely see through. Your eyes wander as you ogle his fit body, shamelessly trailing everywhere. You bite your bottom lip at your confidence.

However, something catches your eye as you admire his arms. A black splotch. Like a tattoo in the inside of his elbow. You somehow go colder than you already were.

“Admiring my beauty—Hey!”

You step forward and latch onto his arm, trying to get a better look at the spot on his arm. Initially, he struggles, but you jab your finger into his skin, your own mark tingling beneath your wet clothes.

“What’s your problem, (Y/n)?” He angrily grunts.

“What’s this, Sirius?” You demand, looking at him.

“Why?” Sirius rips his arm out of your grasp, trying his best to hide the mark from you.

“Because,” You explain, rolling up your own sleeve to expose the eight pointed star on your arm. “We might have something in common.”

Your entire body erupts into shivers both from the cold wind against your soaked skin and the way your soulmark buzzing.

The star stands out against your skin and you watch Sirius’ eyes widen, his jaw going slightly slack.

“Sirius.” You whisper. “I need to know if you’re my soulmate.”

The rain pounds against the castle, wind whistles, and thunder claps, and yet you don’t jump. You’re too focused on Sirius’ expression.

Silently, he brings his index finger to your mark and lightly traces the shape with his fingertip. His finger is cold, but you barely realize it because of the shock that runs through your body, originating from his touch. Goosebumps run wildly across your flesh.

He swallows harshly before pulling away and recklessly pushes his sleeve up the length of his arm. Your heart beats wildly in your chest in anticipation.

Sirius shoves his arm in front of you and you bring your gaze to focus on the inside of his elbow.

And there it is.

His soulmark.

Your soulmark.

The lines are clean and the points are sharp, the star is clear against his skin.

“Oh.”

“You’re my soulmate.” Sirius mutters. “Oh thank Merlin!” He’s laughing, a smile growing across his face.

His laughter is infectious and you find yourself joining him, practically jumping with glee.

Sirius latches onto you, pulling your wet bodies close. He brings his lips to your forehead, warmth spreading from the contact.

“We should celebrate.” Sirius remarks, pulling away just enough to see your entire form.

“Hold on.” You chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting to do something.”

His grey eyes flick down to your lips. “How could I ever forget the best part?” He smirks.

You lips are slow to connect, relishing in the sounds of the rain and how his his hands wrap around your elbows, thumb pressed into your mark.

When they finally join together, you feel whole. Like two puzzle pieces linked together. Eyes flutter shut as emotion run rampant through your body. Your mark tingles before fizzling out when you and Sirius disconnect.

You’re breathless as you cling onto him, as he clings onto you.

“We’ve got a party to throw,” Sirius grabs your hand. “soulmate.”

A stupid grin makes its way across your face.

“Lead the way, soulmate.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #Sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders x reader

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thedisguisedaltruism · 3 years

Text

fond stares, vast place, loud heartbeats

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, concert au

pairing: wonwoo/gn reader

summary: wonwoo hates the crowds, but he has to save up all his energy since you’re taking him as your concert buddy for taylor swift’s 1989 tour. little did he know, he will soon realize that he was actually in love with you, thanks to taylor and her wicked songwriting.

word count: 2,192

a/n: dumping this shit because too much feels for you are in love live :((

2015

“Wons, turn it up, turn it up!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort from your excitement to see your longtime idol live. You worked hard to save enough so you could see Taylor Swift since then, and now you’re about to witness your turning point in life.

...together with your best friend, not to mention how he loathes crowds.

I Know Places is currently playing on the car stereo and you're warming up as you hit the high note in the chorus, dramatically pressing your chest with eyes shut. Wonwoo takes his final turn as you finally arrive at the stadium.

"Missed the note there, my friend." He teases. You could care less from his assed remarks because your mind's been in euphoria since you woke up from a power nap a few hours ago.

Outside the venue has already gathered a big crowd, and you patiently wait for your best friend who's double-checking the doors if they're surely closed.

Wonwoo has been your best friend for five years, and being grateful to have him is an understatement as he has witnessed your ups and downs in college. He knows that apart from your family and him, Taylor and her music has already played such a great role from adolescence until adulthood.

As a sucker for books, Wonwoo was undoubtedly impressed by Taylor's songwriting prowess since he listens to your discussions during the free time about the lyric analyses that you read across the internet, and you usually play her live performances whenever you pull off all-nighters that's why he agreed to be your concert buddy because he wants to see the person who could give rainbows to the person he likes.

Yes. The person he likes.

Wonwoo thought being in a Taylor Swift concert is not bad at all. It's like having a big crowd of best friends gathering in one huge place to have fun with their most talented best friend. Everyone's perfectly singing along to every lyric, breathing to each punctuation, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Honestly speaking, he was having fun, and boy, he could sing along to a few songs while waving with his light-up bracelet.

Aside from being fascinated by the live performances, he would sometimes steal glances at you, making him amused by your kaleidoscope of emotions you've shown from the past eight performances. Sometimes you'd turn to him just to sing while holding your chest, and go back to screaming how much you love Taylor Swift.

After the succeeding crowd-jumping performances, Taylor comes out with her black Gibson acoustic guitar to perform an acoustic version of her song just like the old days. The crowd has once again roared, and you scoot close to Wonwoo to whisper that Taylor's going to sing your favorite song from 1989.

He knows the story behind it. You told him on your graduating year at the rooftop of your college building while chugging an energy drink just to keep yourself awake from pulling off an all-nighter for your thesis, it was about Taylor’s known actress friend falling in love with her producer on this album—someone with the name Jack—if he could still guess correctly.

Taylor has already ascended for a clearer sight of crowds from the top seats, instructing everyone to sing back the specific words. Wonwoo watches you hugging yourself while craning your neck so you could see Taylor from above.

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

You and Wonwoo first met at the same elective during college freshman year. You were sitting near the door, sparing the next seat with your bag since someone from your class politely asked you to but unfortunately, she never came back and it was perfectly timed that Wonwoo immediately spotted the vacant seat beside you, exhausted from running before he gets late (yes, in a goddamn first day of class).

He learned that you’re taking up creative writing that’s why said elective was important for your course. He told you that he was taking up computer science, but he still needs to take the elective.

...and then, your friendship started.

You have friends, but they’re few for your liking because socializing is exhausting. Wonwoo, on the other hand, despised being exhausted around people and that’s the reason why both of you became friends quickly. Reading was Wonwoo’s stress escape and yours was binge-watching k-dramas and reality shows.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

Since both of you chose to live in dormitories at college, sometimes you’d walk together around the university park late at night and talk about stuff happening in your life outside academics. One time, you told him how you’re pissed at your family’s insights about coming out since they happened to share once about how your cousin came out at a family gathering and the next moment, he was already in the hot seat. You told Wonwoo that you wished you were there to end all of your religious hypocrite relatives.

Wonwoo, within the years of friendship, was never the type to initiate a conversation, but he’s an excellent listener. He could watch you talk about Taylor Swift, the perennial hate for your Major professor who’s academia-obsessed since she sets a standard too high for her liking while her class is on the brink of dropping out, and how you were fascinated about him staying up all night for computer games and still ace programming exams.

Suddenly, the crowd started to roar out of the blue, making him shake his head from spacing out. Still standing, much to his surprise since he hates getting tired, he realized that he’s just watching you being helplessly in awe at Taylor Swift no matter how neck-stiffening it is, how your eyes sparkled with bliss just like the days when you talk with him about the things you love.

And then he felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened.

The crowd was already singing along with excitement—he has no idea what kind of reason it is—but he remains watching you like you were excruciatingly hard to reach, despite how you could hear his loud heartbeat if this was an empty place.

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says “You're my best friend”

And you knew what it was

He is in love

You screamed you’re my best friend at the top of your lungs together with other sixty thousand people at Taylor despite how your best friend, who’s silently watching beside you, couldn’t calm himself down unnoticed.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

Suddenly, you turn to Wonwoo as Taylor does her guitar break before singing the bridge, and you were surprised to see him just staring at you instead of watching Taylor from up above and tell you how skilled she was at playing guitar. The way he’s looking at you wasn’t even judging, teasing, or the usual antics that he does.

He’s just looking at you fondly and you thought maybe, he’s extremely happy that you get to see your longtime idol live after all these years and you deserved it so much.

...except that your tentative guess is incorrect.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” you yelled at him proudly while pointing at Taylor with emphasis.

Your best friend could only nod and gesture at you to look back on your idol.

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

That made Wonwoo look up to Taylor Swift in an instant and judged her as he could so. As Taylor stopped, the crowd screamed once again, but nothing is deafening as his heartbeat while watching you cheer in chorus.

He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed, because you were his partner during graduation ball and you were just having the best time of your lives because fuck it, despite being anxious about what’s to come after the graduation, both of you were so happy to have been able to survive despite the shit hole life your university has given.

He also happened to frame a picture of you in his office peacefully sitting beside the stacks of scratch papers for software development. He secretly requested for its original copy at the official student publication of your university during that one major event as he saw it on Facebook.

He realized that he’s in love with you after all this time.

Much to his misfortune, you suddenly looked at him again and your eyes met that he couldn’t look away, but this time it was replaced with worry. You caught him twice, and knowing Wonwoo, he’s not usually vocal when it comes to express his discomfort.

You gently hold Wonwoo’s hand. “Are you having a bad feeling? We could go out if you want to,” you whispered just audible enough for him to hear.

And that’s how he lost it.

It took him another deep breath to sink in that you chose his well-being over your once-in-a-lifetime moment with your idol.

Like… holy shit, he was so lucky to have you in his life and he thought this time, he wants to step out of his shell and gather the courage to tell you how much you mean to his life. He’s had enough secretly pining over you for years.

But first, he wants you to be happy and enjoy your time with Taylor. He shakes his head no and holds your shoulders to turn to Taylor who’s now descending for the next performance.

“I can’t believe she’s real, what the hell, she was fucking real, Wonwoo.” you sighed. “Oh my god.”

You couldn’t stop wiping your face after spacing out which made Wonwoo chuckle. After the concert and almost a painful hour of waiting to get out of the stadium, you mutually agreed to stop by the nearest convenience store.

Although you only bought a coffee and went back inside Wonwoo’s car.

“Me too.” Wonwoo whispers. That made you remember what happened during You Are In Love performance. You looked at him and tapped his shoulder.

“You looked unwell this evening. Were you honestly okay, Wons?” you ask.

He only blinked in response.

It took Wonwoo a few seconds to gather up his courage. Now that it’s only the two of you alone, he thought he must let it out.

“Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. You don’t have to worry.” he jokes, his attention remained at the store. He could see from his peripherals how your eyebrows furrowed, obviously not convinced enough by his excuse.

“What you told me about Taylor the first time you introduced her to me was...true,” he sighed deeply. “She sings what we couldn’t put into words.”

For someone like Wonwoo whose eloquence is something to look up to, you were confused by what he meant.

Wonwoo turns to face you and takes your icy palms to wrap them with his large, slender, and warm ones.

“I love you.” He says, straightly looking into your eyes.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Please don’t joke around!” You hit his shoulder, but all he does is let out a burst of breathy laughter.

But honestly, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his sudden confession.

Tracing circles on your hand, Wonwoo smiles at your bewildered expression. “You were wondering if I was having a bad time? No, it’s all Taylor’s fault for making me confess to you tonight. That took me a long time I guess.”

“Wait, what?”

“I love you and Taylor made me realize that I should confess before it gets too late.”

You looked up at Wonwoo while pulling your hand from his gentle hold and laughed. It was unbelievable how both of you have been painfully oblivious despite being helplessly pining towards each other.

It was your best friend’s turn to get puzzled so you took the time advantage to confess.

“Idiot, I liked you too, ever since we first met.” sounding bashful, you looked away hoping that you didn’t sound like an idiot. So much irony for making fun of your best friend a few moments ago. “I have no idea that you felt deeper than I thought I have.”

Even if you already knew how Wonwoo’s mind works for five years, he is always full of surprises.

Or maybe he was so happy tonight that he kissed your hand and never let go of it as he started driving you home.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt au #DOOD MY FUCKEN HEART I CANT #stream ready to love everyone #lf: heaven's cloud stans #kpop fiction #kiwistories

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letsdiscoverkitty · 3 years

Text

"Life" Update - May 2021

This is the last of the three updates I have to post at the moment. If anyone actually reads these, especially in one go, you really do deserve a medal and I have no idea what I have done to deserve your kindness and support but THANK YOU SO MUCH (to all of you who are here, you are all truly wonderful and amazing) Okay, let's get going....

I suppose the title is a bit, well, overkill. To say that anyone has been had any sort of "life" over the past year would be a huge misuse of the word. The global pandemic has, quite literally, turned life upside down for the vast majority of people and I know that lockdowns, especially in the UK, have meant that anything other than what was deemed "essential" has been off the cards, which has hit us all hard.

I personally found it quite difficult whilst I was in hospital as although on the one hand it was good to know that there wasn't much that you were missing out on whilst locked on a ward with 15 minutes fresh air (if you were lucky), it did make it hard to find/hold onto motivation at times. Coupled with the fear of how my dad's condition would progress, whether he would make it and what sort of home life I would be going back to; the world suddenly felt even noisier than it had before (which I didn't think was really possible). The situation seemed to further heighten my fears as well as add to them. I found my mind was swamped with so many questions and fears, to then be asked about my future/what I wanted to do with my life (that classic question) and what my motivations were to get better, was too much. I fell blank.

I had completely lost myself and any shed of hope that was left inside of me. I tried to put on a smile; paint a different picture to the outside world but inside I was dark. I was hollow. I was empty.

What was the point? You never know what is waiting around the corner; everything can turn upside down overnight. What kind of 'life' would there be going back to anyway? Would it be possible to go to University anymore or would there still be multiple restrictions in place? would that make the huge financial costs worth it? What sort of society will we be coming out of the pandemic anyway? Will we even come out of this? Will people ever go back to offices again? Will we be able to see friends soon or go out to places? What about travelling? Fun? LIFE?

I found depression swamped me more than ever after dad's accident. I was trying to hold myself together for mum but I was losing all hope of anything ever being 'the same' or 'okay' again. In the end, the only reason I accepted the admission was for mum - I wanted to be able to support her with dad in hospital and us not know what the future held; as much as I wished I could be there all the time, I knew in the state I was that I couldn't. Initially I was told the admission would be a short one, that I could then go back home to support my mum through the family trauma...but that 4 weeks soon turned into over 8 months, which I still can't believe.

Gosh, I am sorry, I seem to have got a little distracted. This was meant to be the POSITIVE update. So let's get to those bits...

NEWS ONE: I HAVE A JOB (starting in Sept)

So whilst in hospital my consultant kept trying to get me to think about what I wanted to do with my life (just the small questions you know *lol*) - in her eyes she thought it would be risky to go back to University to do neuroscience/a degree so intense, and that instead I should think about doing something more creative, taking small steps to get a part time job and then go from there - which, as much as I hated to admit, I agreed with. However after one particularly bad run-in with the nutritionist when she decided to tell me that she didn't think I could achieve a life beyond Anorexia (it must have been mid-way-ish through my admission) blah blah blah (I get that she could have been trying to motivate me but there is a way to go about it and then there are ways to really not go about it and she chose the latter). Anyway, I was rather angry/mad and ended up doing basically trying to prove everyone wrong and started doing some research into my different options...

Long story short: I ended up applying to a degree apprenticeship scheme in business management...I've never really considered something like this before, perhaps partially because at school they drilled into me that business was a "soft" subject as it would not be looked upon very highly for Oxbridge applications *rolls eyes*. Thankfully I did a lot of research into Degree Apprenticeships a few years ago so I knew where to look online. Anyway, back to this application. I ended up going through the process/tests, somehow managing to make it through the initial online stages, then just before I was discharged I was invited to a online interview!

I only had a few days to do the interview before it timed out so I actually ended up doing it In the end the day after I was discharged (not ideal) and I was convinced that I had messed it up as it was one of those ones where you get shown the question for around 30 seconds before being given 2 minutes to respond - i.e. stress.pressure.anxiety.stumbling over words. HORRENDOUS.

I somehow passed the interview and the reviews before being invited to an online assessment centre in Feb, which spanned a whole day and included multiple interviews (the first was a strengths based interview with 2 interviewers for just over an hour - yuck!!!) as well as a presentation which we were given 24hrs in advance to prepare for (we were given 4 'topics'/questions and had to answer all of them in a 15 minute window using aids if we chose to, again to 2 (different) interviewers before having a 45 minute further interview - double yuck!)

Dare I say that I actually enjoyed the preparation for the presentation and the interviews?! It was so nice to have a focus and something to be working on that I was actually really beginning to connect with/want/see myself doing. The interviews and presentation themselves? HORRIBLE but the process reignited something within me. After the assessment centre day we were told it could be 7-10 working days to hear back from them - waiting for anything like this is just the worst so I wasn't looking forward to it and tried not to get my hopes up as these schemes are ridiculously hard to get into... Well, I got the call the next day saying that they were so impressed and out of something like 14,000 applications, I was offered one of the spaces on the scheme!! - I honestly still can't believe it and imposter syndrome is v real -

I know at the beginning of this I sounded very blase about the whole thing but as I progressed through the process, as I read more about the scheme and the business and what it would entail, the more I began to get excited. The more I realised how interesting it was and what an amazing opportunity it would be for me.

Despite this, I was also at the time, finishing up yet another an application to University (for the millionth time, I swear I must be a pro at these personal statements by now) this time for psychology and behavioural studies. This was before I got the offer of the degree apprenticeship scheme, which I knew was a long shot with only a handful of places given for thousands of applicants, so I felt I had to keep my options open (Neuro is still an area of fascination to me but not so much with the INTENSE LEVEL of physiology and pharmacology that I was doing at Bristol. Yes bits of it were good and interesting but that degree was ridiculous and, again, I felt far more drawn towards the behavioural studies and psychology when researching into Universities). I ended up getting 3 offers, 1 interview for Cambridge and 1 rejection (ironically from Bristol, even with my recommendation/support being from my previous personal tutor at Bristol!) - so I suddenly had options. And then the offer from the degree apprenticeship came through and there were even more options to choose from.

It honestly felt so surreal (and still does).

In the end, after a lot of thinking and debating and researching and talking, I decided to withdraw my University application and I accepted the degree apprenticeship role. Overall it is such an incredible opportunity that I knew I couldn't turn down, whereas University will always be there. I am actually getting a little excited about it (as well as extremely nervous, but I must say that the company has made a really positive/good impression thus far, even as far as creating MH podcasts with a psychologist for us and offering things like zoom baking sessions!).

So what is this degree apprenticeship? In short, it is a 3 year course during which I will have a Monday to Friday job at the company (for which the office is actually commutable from home - it is about 1hrs drive, which is not the best but it does mean that I can stay at home for at least the first year and there is a train I could get if I was too tired to do the drive all the time. As much as staying at home is not my long term plan it might help with the transition back to work/education to have a bit of stability and the support). During the first 2 years at the company we do four separate 6 month rotations in different areas to get lots of experience (marketing, supply chain, sales etc) whilst in the final year you get to put in a preference for where you would like to work for the year long placement. During this, every 6 or 7 weeks, we have to spend a week at University (which is not in commutable distance at all so the the company pays for our accommodation, travel and food during this time). As far as I have been told, we also get time during the working week allocated to do Uni work as well as our standard 'desk' jobs. Oh and not to mention one of the biggest sellers for degree apprenticeships....the company is basically sponsoring you so pays ALL of your tuition fees PLUS a basic salary! This means that you come out, in this case, with a Chartered business management degree, 3 years of hands-on work experience, as well as you being pretty much guaranteed a job within the company AND no student debt!!! How incredible is that? PLUS one big perk of the job is that they allow dogs in the office - I mean how could I say no to that?!!!!

So yes, by some magical miracle I actually have a job lined up for September! It still doesn't feel real and I am yet to fully process it. They don't know how it will be affected by COVID but the company did continue the programme last year (unlike some that postponed) so fingers crossed all should be going ahead. I have 'met' the other 4(?) who are on the scheme at my office as well and they seem lovely (including one other person who is my age/slightly older - which was such a relief as I was worried about it being only people just out of college).

I realise that it is going to be tough, I do not underestimate that at all, but I couldn't let anorexia still yet ANOTHER life milestone and opportunity away from me. There was a lot of questioning as to whether I should take it or not; I went back and forth between many spreadsheets that I made but I think this opportunity far outweighs going back to University. I have tried that route twice already and had to leave because of everything/haven't really coped (I think in some ways, being at Uni there is TOO MUCH free time and it allowed my perfectionism to run riot as I always felt like I was 'behind' in one way or another?). And that is not to mention that if I was going back to University, I would need to spend another 3-4 years studying, I would leave with little work experience or job in mind at the age of 29/30 with a mountain of debt.... And as I said before, I can always go back to University if I want to in the future/re train if I decide to, but this opportunity with a global company, well, this will never ever come my way again.

So yes that is my BIG BIG news. But I also have one more bit of news....

I'm getting a kitten. Yes, A KITTEN!!!!! I have so much more to say on this but for now you will have to wait and see. Photos will come when SHE does (a couple of weeks now)!!!

#personal #update #long #sorry I am no good at writing short posts anymore #well I never was #but this is my big news #TWO BITS OF BIG NEWS #ive still been baking and crocheting #and have taken up some gardening #and just generally trying to muddle through each day to be honest with you

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paperbodiesamongthestars · 3 years

Text

Promises

He didn't have a lot of friends. That required trust, and trust just wasn’t something Billy Hargrove did. Except with Steve Harrington, apparently. Steve was his friend, which was fine. Billy would have preferred a lot more, but that did not seem particularly likely. Not for lack of trying on Billy's part, honestly. At this point, Billy was so overtly flirty with Steve that he was worried he had overshot genuine interest and was fast approaching the realm of parody. He had spilled his beer on Steve no fewer than four times in the past several months in the hopes that Steve would go to change out of his wet clothes and realize halfway through that just...hanging out in his underwear would be totally fine. Instead, Steve always disappeared into Billy's bedroom, completely at home in Billy's space, and came back wearing Billy's clothes. And that was somehow worse?

And the thing was—the thing was!—Steve clearly wasn’t uninterested. He blushed when Billy teased him. His breath hitched when Billy touched him sometimes. His pupils went wide when Billy stretched or flexed or did that one thing with his tongue. And he didn’t avoid touching Billy, like just about everybody else did, or touch him like he was something fragile or broken. He touched Billy casually all the fucking time. He hugged him when he arrived, and fell asleep against his shoulder, and tucked his feet under Billy’s thigh on the couch, and kissed him on the cheek before he left. He even kissed him on the fucking forehead sometimes, which made Billy feel small and blushy and unbearably cared for.

Billy wondered sometimes if he should just be honest with Steve, but that was tricky, wasn’t it? Because in this particular case, he couldn’t be honest with Steve without betraying a little too much about himself. And it’s not like he had all that many secrets left. Neil was gone and his treatment of Billy was common knowledge, at least among the people who knew what had actually happened at the mall. So, the vast majority of the people Billy actually talked to anymore. It turned out that competent doctors could tell the difference between recent monster trauma and years of physical abuse, and Steve's little group of nerds and their various hangers-on were around enough and had overheard enough to put it together. The fact that Billy was not actually into girls was also common knowledge among that same subset of people, but only because Billy had been in a coma, so he hadn't been able to mention to Eleven that she might not want to share that little tidbit with her friends. Billy wasn’t mad—couldn’t be, not at her—and with Neil gone, he supposed he had a little less to fear on that front. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to do anything about it, aside from continuing to flirt shamelessly with Steve. So he only really had the one big secret left.

Here's how it was: Billy Hargrove, at the time that he was impaled by a massive interdimensional flesh monster, did not have a whole lot to live for. He had a shitty father and a mother who had fucked off quite a while back and a stepsister who had not yet given up on him for some reason, but who was also probably better off without him. He had a hopeless crush on a gorgeous, oblivious straight boy; several delightful mental images of that same straight boy in a frankly pornographic sailor outfit that he somehow had to wear for work; and treasured memories of California, but not quite enough money or guts to fuck off back to the beach where he came from, with or without Steve Harrington. All of that stuff was good, and it got Billy through the day sometimes, but none of it was actually something to live for. Steve Harrington in that sailor outfit came the closest, but Billy was never going to get to take it off of him, so what was the fucking point?

And Billy knew, even though he didn't exactly remember it, that it had gotten pretty bad for him a few times as he was recovering. Like, 'they were sure they were going to lose him' bad. And people had said a lot of fucking stupid things to him, both while he was in the hospital and after he got out, about fate and love and redemption. About holding on for the sake of the people you cared about. About not knowing what you had until you lost it. About how he must feel so lucky to be alive. And Billy hated all of it so fucking much. He wasn't alive because he had had some big epiphany about how precious life was, or because fate had spared him, or because he thought anyone on the planet would spend more than about thirty seconds being sad if he died. What he did have, what had actually kept him going when it got bad, were these...well, they weren’t anywhere close to clear enough to be called memories.

They came from that long, hazy period when his body was gradually knitting itself back together. When the boundary between being asleep and being awake hadn't seemed real at all. When he had almost no visual memories, aside from brief flashes of fluorescent lights or the shadows of people moving around above him. He had a handful of half-remembered phrases in various voices: Max whispering sorry, El whispering I won't tell. And these...other sentences. These promises, in Steve Harrington’s low, husky voice.

Billy was in no way certain that they were real. He didn't know how much of anything from that time was real. What they were was meaningful, which made it fucking impossible to talk about them. Unlike all the bullshit about fate and family and redemption, they had helped him. Had helped a lot, actually. Had given him something tangible to live for when it would have been so much easier to just let it all slip away. But that was the other thing--they weren't exactly things that Steve Harrington would actually, conceivably say to him. They were things he would have killed to hear from Steve, would still kill to hear from Steve, but Steve was sweet. Goofy, affectionate, kind. Unfailingly supportive. An invaluable friend throughout Billy's recovery. An invaluable friend who consistently, gracefully deflected Billy’s obvious flirting. It hardly seemed possible that he had said those things, and Billy really didn’t want to find out that he hadn’t. It was too awful to contemplate. Because, shit, they still kept him going sometimes, a year and a half later.

The first one came to him from far away, like he was hearing it from the bottom of a well. “I swear to God, Billy, if you make it through this I’ll let you choke on my dick whenever you feel like it.” So, like, there was a fair amount to unpack there. First of all, Steve almost never actually called him Billy, even now. And secondly, literally everything else about that sentence. It wasn't possible that it was real. Billy had to have made it up, given himself a fucking reason not to move toward the light or whatever. And if that had been the only one, he would have dismissed it as an obvious fabrication of his own mind without a second thought. But it wasn’t.

The second one was a little clearer, though all of them were maddeningly hazy. Had he actually felt Steve’s breath against the shell of his ear while he'd said it? It was impossible to say. “Hey gorgeous, hang in there, ok? Wouldn’t want you to die before I get the chance to fuck you so hard you forget your own goddamn name.” It was true—he absolutely did not want to die before that happened. That one had gotten him through some bleak nights, even after he woke up. He still got half hard every time he thought about it.

The next one was maybe Billy’s favorite. Although, honestly they were all his favorite. He wasn't sure he had ever treasured anything more. The third time, he was almost sure he could feel the warmth radiating off of Steve’s body as Steve leaned in next to his ear. “Come on, tiger, you gotta get through this so you can show me absolutely everything you can do with that tongue.” A little less filthy, maybe, but no less motivating. He did want to do that, very much. He had thought about it quite a bit while he was in the hospital. He still thought about it just about every time Steve came over to his apartment, which was often.

The fourth one changed it up a bit. “We’re going to sit there on the sand and watch the sun set over the ocean, and I’m going to make you cream your swim trunks right there on the beach.” And goddamn, that was quite the mental image. Fuck a bunch of holding on for the people you cared about; that was worth living for.

The fifth one was ragged, a little desperate. “You can’t die, baby. I’ve never let anybody put their dick in me before, and you have to live so you can do it.” That one came with the gentle sensation of a hand in his, the phantom press of lips to his temple. He was pretty sure he woke up just a few days after that one. And rightfully fucking so, honestly.

So yeah. He still had the one secret. And there was no fucking way to talk about it without revealing way too much about himself. So he didn't talk about it, and he was never going to talk about it, and he was going to go to his grave not knowing if any of it was real, and he was going to be fine with that because there weren't any other options. Until Steve slipped up.

It was far too early on a Saturday morning. Steve had arrived at an even more ungodly hour and had dragged Billy out of bed for some weekend trip. He wouldn't say where they were going, but he promised it was going to be great, and Billy could sleep in the car, and they were going to have the time of their lives. So Billy was slouched grumpily in the passenger seat, nursing an enormous coffee and periodically glaring at everything out the window for having the audacity to exist at this hour. He didn't glare at Steve. All of this was Steve's fault, but Billy couldn't be mad at him when he looked all sleepy and his hair was a mess and he was wearing his fucking glasses instead of his usual contacts. Billy couldn't be mad at him under any other circumstances either, but he deliberately didn't think too much about that, so it was fine.

Billy watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve sipped his own coffee and stifled a yawn. Steve had spent the first half hour of the drive not talking at all, but the coffee was apparently kicking in, so now he was trying to get Billy excited about his mystery plan.

“Come on, tiger, you’re going to love it,” he finally said. Billy wasn’t fully awake, so it took a second for it to land. Come on, tiger. When it did, Billy’s head snapped up, eyes wide. It could easily have been a coincidence; Steve would have been fine if he had just played it off, but that's not what happened. When Billy looked up, Steve was staring intently out the windshield, resolutely not looking at him. But his shoulders were creeping up around his ears and his face had gone scarlet. Billy felt a grin spreading across his face. Suddenly, he was on top of the goddamn world; this was shaping up to be the best day of his life. He stared at Steve’s profile for a long moment as the flush from his face spread down his neck. The atmosphere in the car was electric. Billy took a deep breath and tried to get himself under control. Steve's entire demeanor had hope beating wildly in his chest, but there was still room for this to end in disappointment.

“Absolutely everything, huh?” Billy said it quietly, carefully, deliberately, and then he held his breath. Steve made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and Billy felt giddy. Steve had been right--they had only been on the road for forty minutes, but Billy was already having the time of his life on this trip. Steve didn't say anything, but after a few long moments of silence, he pulled the car over onto the shoulder. After he carefully put the car in park and turned it off, he dropped his forehead to the steering wheel. He didn't lift his head when he spoke.

“I didn't think you remembered," he said slowly. Billy didn't say anything and after a moment, Steve gave a little sigh and continued, still talking mostly to the floor. "The first time, it was a fucking Hail Mary. You were declining fast and nothing was working, and I just...I had a hunch. So I waited until everyone else had left the room and I tried it." Billy was absolutely delighted picturing it, Steve flushed bright red, leaning down to whisper stuff about his dick into Billy's ear. "They kicked me out right after that, at about four am. They told me to go home and get some rest, and to be prepared for bad news. But when I got back to the hospital a few hours later, you were doing better.” Steve cleared his throat. “Apparently you started improving shortly after I left. I told myself it was probably a fucking coincidence, but part of me thought that maybe it had actually worked." He huffed out a laugh. "I could barely fucking believe that you weren’t dead; it was bad. And then a couple of weeks later, it got bad again. So I tried it again. And you started doing better again. And then it was like this secret that we had. That I had,” Steve corrected himself. He sat up and dropped his head back against the headrest, but he still wouldn't look at Billy. He stared out the windshield instead. His face was still bright red. “And then you actually woke up. I didn’t know if you remembered any of it, and I didn’t want to be the kind of person who would come onto you while you were in a fucking coma and then act like you owed me something afterwards, so I kept my mouth shut.”

"Steve," Billy said softly. Steve rubbed his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, and Billy stopped breathing for a second.

"Don't," he said quietly. They sat in silence for a long moment, and then Billy decided that he had to know what exactly Steve was apologizing for. “Did you...” he started to ask, but he found that he couldn’t finish the sentence. Steve glanced at him and his face softened before his eyes shied away again.

“Mean it? Yes. Fuck yes. Every word.”

“Then what the fuck, Steve?” Billy had been beyond obvious for months. Steve sighed. His hands came back up to his face, and then he sat up straighter and squared his shoulders.

“You just...you went through something so awful, and it was like...your world got so small. You were trapped in the hospital, and now you're trapped in Hawkins until they clear you to leave." Steve glanced over again, and his voice got smaller. "I just...I really wanted you, but I didn't want you to do something you'd regret just because I was there, you know? And I still don't want you to feel trapped into something just because you can't leave this goddamn town. I would never want you to be with me just because you don't have any other choices."

Ok, so there was plenty to unpack there, and all of it was wrong. Except the part where Steve said he wanted Billy--that part was the best thing he had ever heard. Well, the sixth best thing he'd ever heard. There was a silence while Billy thought about what he wanted to say. He took a breath to psych himself up.

"The first thing you should probably know is that I was into you well before any of the Mindflayer stuff even happened. So there's that." Billy cleared his throat, watching Steve out of the corner of his eye. "And the second thing you should know is that I got cleared to leave Hawkins over a month ago." Steve's head whipped around, wide eyes on Billy's face.

"Then why..." Steve trailed off. Billy had considered leaving, but only briefly. He wanted to go back to the beach, he did, but not by himself. Not anymore.

"Steve," Billy said again, giving Steve a look. "You know why." After all, Billy had been the opposite of subtle about it. Steve just stared at him, eyes going impossibly wider as Billy deliberately took off his seatbelt and moved into Steve's space. "But fine, if you need me to spell it out, I'm definitely not in this car with you right now because I don't have any other options."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to Steve's. Steve responded immediately and enthusiastically, and something that had still been wound tight in Billy's chest eased. By the time they broke apart to breathe, Billy was practically in Steve's lap, both of his hands up under Steve's shirt. Steve had one hand at Billy's lower back and the other buried in his curls. They sat panting a little, their foreheads pressed together. Billy smiled wickedly.

"I would just like to point out that you made a lot of promises about what was going to happen if I didn't die, Harrington, and I held up my end of the bargain." Steve's answering smile was bright and just a little cocky.

"I'm looking forward to keeping every single one of those promises, Hargrove. We can start as soon as we get where we're going." Billy frowned at him.

"I survived being impaled by a giant flesh monster because you promised me--"

"My giant flesh monster?" Steve cut in, cracking up halfway through. Billy snorted, but did not further dignify that with a response.

"As I was saying," he said instead, "I am alive today because you have a really nice dick and a filthy mouth, and I have been waiting on both of them for months, and I am definitely not waiting three more hours to get started." He punctuated this declaration by reaching for the top button of Steve's pants. He had it and the next two buttons open before Steve reached out to stop him.

"Billy," he hissed, "we are parked on the side of the highway! We are not doing this here. Literally anyone could look over at any time and get a fantastic view of exactly what we're doing." Steve had a point, but Billy didn't have to like it.

He sighed and kissed Steve one more time, hard, before he reluctantly clambered back over to the passenger seat.

"Fine," he said. "We can compromise." He leaned over and grabbed Steve's wrist to look at his watch. Then he smiled at Steve, sharp and a little predatory. "I'm going to start sucking your dick in twenty minutes, if not before. We're still in fucking Indiana, so that should give you plenty of time to find some deserted back road somewhere." Steve was already starting the car.

He grinned over at Billy as he pulled back into traffic and made his way to the next exit.

"So you're going to start at the top and work your way through them, huh?"

"Maybe. We'll just have to see," Billy said. He paused. "I gotta say, pretty boy, I'm legitimately fuckin' impressed. I didn't know you had it in you." Steve smirked at him.

“Hey, give me some credit. I knew you well enough to know that if I had mentioned feelings, or called it making love, you would have immediately chosen the sweet embrace of death.” Billy laughed along with Steve because Steve was right: at one point, Billy absolutely would have done that.

Not anymore, though. Not if it was Steve. But he wasn't about to just blurt that out, so. He could still have one secret. For now, anyway.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my writing #I don't know man #I wrote this at three am a couple weeks ago #I'm done staring at it so now you get to look at it #I'm sorry #or you're welcome!#one of those

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villainscomplex · 3 years

Text

this, at least.

hey so anyway yall know how there was that big boom of angsty ship fics right

,,,,,i wanted to write one too and I have no other excuse

!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH !!!

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Quotev

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In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

And he does.

Asahi jerks awake violently, legs tangled in his blankets and hair plastered to the back of his neck, cold with sweat. He still feels like there’s — what? He doesn’t know the source of the pain, only that it is sheer pain, radiating through the core of his very being. It’d be easy to think it’s something simple, a bullet wound or head trauma, but the way it nestles into his chest and takes root there begs to differ.

In his dreams — nightmares, they prefer — Asahi is made of fear and desperation, of please, no, and the unnerving feeling that he’s forgetting something. There’s always someone with him, always whispering his name, fingers cold on his face.

It’s always the same scene.

He steps into a doorway and panic swells in his chest, but he’s never sure what triggers it. There’s nothing in the room but darkness, and then his feet come out from under him, and he is falling. The ground is far, and he falls forever and ever, until time stops short. He crashes into it in one graceless dive, shatters apart, and reforms at the seams with the sweet familiarity of agony.

He’s sure, with every fiber of his being, that something is missing. He doesn’t know what, or who, only that it is missing and the absence feels like a hole in his chest, a hollow place where the pain doesn’t reach.

Asahi leans forward in his bed, struggling to catch his breath. His hair falls like a curtain around his face. He can’t remember why he keeps it long, only that the idea of cutting it feels wrong, and so he lets it grow.

Suddenly, his bed feels unappealing and cold, and he staggers out of it into the quiet of his apartment.

If his life was a story, the narrator would say something like this — Azumane Asahi is a twenty-six year old man with severe amnesia and a wedding ring on a necklace, to which he doesn’t know the location of the missing pair. And that’s it, they’d say, just a detective with no memory and a lot of anxiety. He doesn’t think he’s important enough of a character to warrant any sort of life story.

His phone is where he left it when he’d arrived home the night prior, tossed onto his side table in a fit of weariness. The screen blinks dimly back at him, still miraculously alive, but only with about six percent to spare and at least three new messages to speak of. They’re all from one of the few people he actually texts, and even without looking at the contact name, Suga’s typing style is distinctive from Daichi or Shimizu’s.

He checks the time in the corner of his screen. It’s nearly five-thirty in the morning, which isn’t a bad time, but it’s still earlier than he normally gets up. Going back to sleep is about the most unappealing thing he can think of right now, so even if he isn’t a morning person, he plugs his phone up, clicks on the shabby TV, and goes to make a pot of coffee, listening to the steady drone of the early weather report.

The ring around his neck is a cold weight against his bare skin, small and heavy against the hollow where his throat meets his clavicle. It rolls and clinks softly against its chain as he moves, a quiet, ever-present reminder of a past he doesn’t remember.

It’s easy to make assumptions. He doesn’t know who has the pair to this ring, only that it feels too important to get rid of, so he keeps it around his neck. For all he knows, he was married once. Someone else had — maybe still has — the pair to this ring. He doesn’t remember being married or who his partner is, but he’s sure they must exist.

Maybe they’d left because he’d forgotten.

Asahi tucks the assumption away before his anxiety can take it and run. He’s got a life now and he can’t go ruining what he has by overthinking whatever he used to have. Lacking the vast majority of his memories hadn’t stopped him from rebuilding his life these past few months, bit by bit.

It’s only been a few months since the accident and even though he doesn’t remember it personally, that’s all everyone keeps referring to it as. The accident, like he’d gone and suffered a massive memory loss by total coincidence.

Asahi kind of hates it. He tries not to think too hard about it.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been an easy recovery. He supposes nobody ever really thinks about what would happen if they lost a chunk of their adult memories and nobody would tell them why. He’d had friends to support him through it, even if he had taken a while to remember the three of them, and because of their support he’d been able to get back on his feet.

He’s still a rookie at this detective work, but sitting down and poring over the facts and figures of the cases he’s investigating is oddly comforting.

Light peeks out from over the horizon as the morning settles in, blanketing the world outside and the living room within in a sheet of pale light. Asahi’s eyes ache from his lack of sleep. The bags beneath them have gotten worse, and he’s sure he’ll inevitably get scolded about them when he sees his friends again.

By the time Asahi arrives at his workplace, the city around him has come to life. It’s never quiet here by any means, but once the sun is up, it seems everyone takes to the streets at once. He leaves early to avoid the rush, but always inevitably catches the start of it and makes it just in time, stumbling into the doorway of the detective agency’s office.

“Hey, Azumane,” the receptionist greets with an easy smile, leaning over the desk to be seen, “just in time. Still relearning the trains?” Asahi isn’t too familiar with Narita, but the man is calm and rarely bothered by high stress situations, and he appreciates the cool head and easy attitude first thing in the morning. He’d been one of the first to make sure Asahi had felt welcomed here, and Asahi is eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes, “it’s a lot to get used to all over again. I keep hoping I’ll just jog my memory somehow and miraculously remember.”

Narita laughs. “I’m sure it’s somewhere in that head of yours.”

Asahi doesn’t stick around to chat much longer, heading up to the main office. There’s only two others inside, both at their desks doing very different things. Akaashi, ever studious, is hunched over a case file from a recent completion of his, scribbling away. Kozume, on the other hand, their resident cyber specialist, reclines back in his chair, tapping away at his phone and looking like he’s half asleep. “Azumane,” Kozume yawns, “there’s some files on your desk.” There are in fact — Asahi turns to confirm — files on his desk.

There’s also a boy there.

His back is to Asahi, but he can see the slicked black hair, wild and dark, sharp against the evident paleness of the boy’s skin. The boy visibly straightens when Asahi turns to look, whipping around in his chair.

Okay, no, a man. A grown man.

Asahi feels a little like deer in headlights, caught in the sharp stare of the man’s golden eyes, interrupted only by the equal shock of bleached blond hair in the forefront of his bangs. Asahi feels pinned in place by that unblinking stare, and it takes him a moment to remember to move.

He circles to his desk a little hesitantly, starkly aware of the other man’s stare following him the entire way around. It’s still on him when Asahi seats himself on the opposite side of the desk, and Asahi steels himself to meet it, smiling nervously.

“Hello,” he greets, “I’m Azumane. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any clients today.” “I’m Noya!” The man declares, gives no further context, and slaps a file down in front of Asahi. “I need you to look into this.”

The words CASE CLOSED stands out in stark red lettering on the front. Asahi resists the urge to frown. It isn’t uncommon for them to receive requests to look into closed cases, but generally speaking, they’re a waste of money and time.

“Listen,” he starts hesitantly, “honestly, I’m still very new at this. Could I recommend you to one of our more experienced investigators?”

Noya shakes his head adamantly, looking appalled at the mere suggestion. “No!” He says, loud enough that Asahi flinches. “This is important to me! You have to do it!”

“I-”

Noya stares at him, lips turned down, eyes wide in a silent plea. Asahi takes the file.

There’s no photo inside, but it's very clearly labeled as involuntary manslaughter. The victim had only been twenty-five, but the details are absolutely minimal. There really won’t be a lot he can do with this, even if he does accept it. He’s sure the case is closed for a reason.

“Look,” he starts, raising his eyes.

Noya is gone.

Asahi leaps out of his seat, file in hand. Noya had just been there. He’s not surprised the man is fast, but Asahi hadn’t even accepted the case yet, and Noya hadn’t even stuck around to answer questions. Asahi races out of the office and into the entry lobby, head swinging from side to side in search of the shorter man.

“Narita,” he asks, leaning over the side of the receptionist’s counter, “did you see where that man went?”

Narita frowns at him. “What man? I haven’t seen anyone pass by.”

“I-” Asahi sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair hard enough to yank it out of his half bun and just resigns himself, tucking the file under his arm. “Nevermind. Thanks anyway.” Narita gives him another odd look as he turns away, returning to the main office. When he enters, Akaashi and Kozume both glance up strangely, matching the look Narita had previously given him, but Kozume loses interest much quicker than he’s gained it, as if this is a perfectly normal, everyday incident. Akaashi’s gaze tracks him all the way back to his desk, and only then does it fall away, leaving Asahi to his own devices. For a long time, Asahi just stares at the file. Case closed stares back at him, bold and red and final.

It isn’t to say that it’s quite uncommon for them to get a closed case to investigate. Generally speaking, it’s recommended to avoid closed cases. More often than not, they lead to dead ends and more broken hearts than when they began. The police may not investigate as much as private detectives, but they weren’t always wrong by any means. But Noya hadn’t given him too much of a choice in the matter, so against his better judgment, Asahi opens the file.

It’s almost pathetically small, three pages at most. There’s no photos, but from what Asahi can gather, it’s a twenty-five year old man who fell victim to an armed robbery incident, whose death was ultimately ruled involuntary manslaughter as a result. The culprit had never been caught, but the man’s partner had suffered some sort of collateral damage. There’s no further information on any of the three; the partner is unnamed and there are no photos of the man or the partner.

There’s nothing here that points to the case being anything other than what the file says, much less any sort of connection. He considers, briefly, that maybe Noya is the partner and wants the man brought to justice, but he doesn’t have any confirmation to this theory. It just seems like a home robbery turned homicide.

It’s essentially a dead end. There’s no address to begin the investigation and no family on the file to contact in regards. If Noya is the partner, Asahi could start there, but if he’d suffered some sort of trauma related to the incident, then Asahi has to take his testimony with a grain of salt. And this is all based on assumption — he doesn’t even know the extent of Noya’s personal involvement with this entire situation.

Noya hadn’t left him any contact details.

The thought strikes him abruptly, and Asahi sighs. This isn’t going to go anywhere without Noya’s cooperation. Asahi hadn’t agreed to investigate it in the first place. Resigned, he closes the file again and slides it underneath a few others on his desk, where it’s quickly forgotten in the wake of the rest of his work.

When he leaves that evening, files tucked away in his bag, the sun hangs low over the horizon, lethargic orange rays reclined across the darkening sky. It’s as beautiful as it is ominous, and Asahi ducks his head to avoid wandering eyes as he hurries to the train station, long coat swishing behind him.

The temperature sinks as it grows late, and despite his scarf, Asahi’s face burns with chill by the time he gets to the stairs leading down into the train station. People swarm around him, talking and huddling, faces as red as his own and stark with the relief of getting somewhere decently warmer.

Close enough to the rails to actually get on the train, but not close enough to get trampled by those trying to get good seating, Asahi tucks his chin into his scarf and takes a steadying breath.

He wonders if he was always an anxious person like this; had too much noise always been overwhelming to him? Had he ever walked with his head up, unconcerned about the opinions of those around him? Was this ever present bundle of nerves set deep in the square of his chest just a side effect of a tragic accident that nobody will tell him about?

He slides his thumb over the crest of the wedding ring on his necklace, a motion that feels like nothing but pure instinct, and then nearly yanks it clean off his neck when a hand grips his elbow, hard, and he flinches.

Asahi looks down.

Staring back up at him indignantly, lips fixed into a frown and golden eyes wide, looking as if he’s entirely unbothered by the cold despite being in nothing but a t-shirt and basketball shorts, is Noya.

“Azumane-san!”

Asahi is unbelievably shaken right now. After all, the odds that Noya would show up at the same train station as him were slim, even for this side of the city, but here he is, grip hard on Asahi’s elbow. If Asahi had gears in his head, they’d be stalling right now, and the little embodiment of his consciousness would be trying to restart it to no avail.

When the wires finally reconnect, Asahi gasps. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”

The words come out more demanding than he intended, but it’s too late to apologize, so instead, Asahi strips off his overcoat, and then the coat beneath it. Goosebumps prickle over the nape of his neck where it’s exposed to the cold, and he hurriedly yanks the long coat back on, handing the other off to Noya. Noya, who has since let go, looks a little surprised as he accepts it.

“I’m fine!” Noya huffs, but he pulls the jacket on regardless.

The sleeves slip past his fingertips, effectively dwarfing him. Asahi thinks it would be rather comical if he wasn’t so upset at this precise moment, but even swallowed up by Asahi’s undercoat, Noya feels like a force to be reckoned with, a storm lying in wait.

Asahi can’t put his finger on it, but Noya’s brash personality seems familiar, somehow. Mentally, he goes through his limited list of friends. Sugawara fits the bill closest, but even his chaos is of a different sort.

The train whistle breaks him out of his thoughts. He spots the lights as it barrels down the tunnel.

“Have you solved the case yet?” Noya asks, gaze still fixed on Asahi, unwavering.

Asahi frowns at him. “Listen,” he begins, turning his gaze back to Noya.

His words die in his throat. Noya stares back at him, eyes glittering in the faint light of the underground station, wild hair stirred around his face by the gust of cold air the train brings with it. The doors hiss open, but Asahi doesn’t move to get on yet. People stream by them on their way on or off the platform.

He can’t say no. He doesn’t know what it is, but Asahi is suddenly resigned to seeing this through. Noya’s eyes are intense and focused, hard with determination and a type of fire that Asahi can’t remember ever seeing before. He can’t say no.

“I haven’t,” he says, “but I’m going to investigate it as best I can.”

Noya’s grin makes him think that perhaps this is the right decision after all.

The train whistles again. Asahi starts, whirling back around to the platform. Oh no, the train’s going to leave.

“Are you-” He begins, glancing back to Noya, intending to ask if he’s getting on the same train.

Noya is gone. Asahi stares incredulously at the spot where the man had been, dwarfed in Asahi’s coat. He turns, glancing a full circle around himself, trying to spot that shock of blond in the crowd, but no, Noya is gone.

Maybe he got on the train.

Asahi follows suit, tucking his overcoat a little tighter around him as the doors slide shut. The people on the platform all blur together in a mass of color as the train pulls away, but Asahi swears he catches the piercing stare of golden eyes. It’s gone before he can think too hard about it, and Asahi spends the train ride and subsequent walk home staring into space. He hadn’t gotten Noya’s contact info.

“I’m home,” he says to no one as he opens his door and steps in, taking his shoes off.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Sighing heavily, Asahi drops his bag onto the floor by the door, where it tips to the side and lets a few papers and files slide halfway out. He pays it little mind, figuring he can think about it later, and makes his way down the narrow corridor into the bedroom at the back.

It’s sheer muscle memory that gets him through his nightly routine, and by the time he lets his hair down and flops into bed, he’s too exhausted to think. The somber tendrils of heavy sleep drag him deep into the sheets.

He dreams. (He has nightmares.)

Wake up, wake up, wake up, the voice is saying. Asahi, please wake up. Please don’t leave me. Please, no. Please, no.

This time, when Asahi jerks awake, the sun is still low below the horizon and his phone reads 4:36 A.M, but there’s no chance of him going back to sleep so he dons a hoodie and decides to do something with himself. In the end, Asahi goes for a run. It’s been a while since he’s just gone out like this, so he takes the short route that loops through the backside of a local park. Asahi jogs what he can, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t nearly as in shape as he clearly had been once. He can tell he used to be muscular and healthy prior to the accident, but he’s hardly been focused on maintaining that post memory loss. Still, running feels natural, so he tries to keep it up.

He runs into Noya again. Asahi rounds the bend, huffs of breath forming white clouds in the chilly morning air. There’s only a handful of other souls up and about this early, and from what Asahi can tell, they’re all out running too. It’s a nice change of pace to get his mind off of everything, but it’s clear the universe has other plans. As he nears the park’s massive lake, he spots a figure sitting right at the bank of it, leaning precariously over the water.

Even from this distance and without his glasses, he recognizes Noya’s wild hair paired with the white t-shirt and black shorts combo. Noya’s back is to him, but he visibly straightens as the sound of Asahi’s footsteps approach, head twisting around to fix those ever startling eyes on the taller man. “Azumane,” his eyebrows pinch, “what are you doing here?” There’s this nagging feeling in his chest. It strikes him as odd again; something about Noya is so unnervingly familiar to him, but he can’t put his finger on it. He’s sure if they had known each other prior to his memory loss then someone as headstrong as Noya seems to be would have said something about it by now, but Noya doesn’t seem bothered like Asahi is. He shakes it off.

Something seems off. Noya is quieter, more pensive. His gaze has returned to the surface of the lake immediately after confirming that he knows the person approaching him. It’s a strange change from the loud, fierce boy Asahi has started to know him as. “Noya,” he greets softly, joining him carefully by the water. “I was out for a run. Are you okay? Aren’t you cold?” “Oh,” Noya seems to remember something, “I forgot your jacket. Sorry.” Asahi shakes his head. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known I was going to come running. It isn’t like I’ve done this in a while.” Noya is staring at him again, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He’s frowning — it’s only a faint, downward quirk of the lips, but it seems so out of place on Noya’s features that it catches Asahi off guard. A matching frown slips onto his face.

“Have you made any progress?” Noya asks suddenly, peering up at Asahi intently. “With the case, I mean.” “Noya, it’s only been a night,” Asahi reminds him gently. “I’ll look into it more later, but nothing’s changed from when you asked me yesterday.” “Yesterday?” Noya echoes, as if confused. “Oh… Right. When you gave me the jacket. Okay.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asahi persists. “I’m fine! Listen, I’ve gotta go, ‘kay? I’ll catch you again sometime soon.” Noya takes off before Asahi can so much as consider asking about contact information. At this rate, he’s going to be stuck only contacting Noya whenever they happen to run into each other in town. Belatedly, near the tail end of his run, he realizes that Noya must live nearby, to have been at the park.

So why had he been all the way across town yesterday? Asahi glances back, as if the answer will appear behind him. The cold wind replies, whispering through the bare branches of the trees. He just can’t shake the feeling that something is too familiar about Noya to forget. Maybe it’s just the man’s strange tendencies or the way he seems so desperate for the case to be solved as soon as possible, but Asahi just can’t get rid of this feeling. He doesn’t know what it is yet, only that it feels too important to completely dismiss a third time.

So this time, he tucks it away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“Oi, Azumane,” Kozume leans around his laptop, “what was that new file you got? An investigation?”

Asahi starts at the sound of his voice. After the two loudest members of their agency had gone off on lunch, the room had finally become quiet enough for Asahi to focus on his research. His desk is in clutters, public records scattered across the surface, laptop balanced precariously on the corner and held in place only by half of a large, opened book. Asahi is in the middle of rereading the case file when Kozume speaks up. He's so focused that, in his surprise, he nearly takes out his laptop himself. Kozume just lifts one disinterested brow, strands of dark hair slipping back into their usual place over his face. “Uh,” Asahi begins, eloquently, “something like that. Client wants me to look into a closed case. I think he’s probably got some pretty personal roots in it, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him it isn’t a good idea to reopen old wounds.” “You’re too nice, Azumane-san.” Akaashi remarks from his desk without looking up. “Sometimes, it’s best to put a stop to it before it can start.” “Then again,” Kozume muses, “I guess we are getting paid for this, huh?”

They lapse into a mutual silence again.

Asahi feels like there are still eyes on him, but Akaashi is still looking at the paperwork on his desk and Kozume has returned to his laptop screen. The rest of the employees aren’t here, and Narita is presumably still at the front desk. With a faint frown, Asahi shakes the feeling away and returns his attention to the files.

His information is severely limited. That’s the biggest issue. If there had been an address on the file he could have started his investigation there, but Noya would be the easier source. The only issue with that is that Asahi still hasn’t gotten Noya’s contact information to ask him about it. That being said, he’s not even sure if Noya actually knows anything or if this just happens to be a personal investment of his. Asahi isn’t in the habit of prying about people’s personal connections to a case. As long as he can get their information and go on about his business, he’s content, but Noya is so forthright and intense that Asahi can’t help but be curious.

It bothers him, but he doesn’t know why.

“Oh,” says Kozume, voice breaking into Asahi’s thought process abruptly again, “another robbery. I wonder if it’s a chain?”

When Asahi looks back up, Kozume is still looking at his laptop, but now he’s leaning closer to the screen, visibly reading something. He turns away and wheels his swivel chair over to the side table by the door to retrieve the remote.

“Last I heard, there wasn’t any correlation between the places that were being hit.” Akaashi replies, gaze lifting from his papers. “They’re thinking it’s separate cases, but who knows. The police don’t read too into situations if the evidence is obvious.” “Lazy asses,” Kozume scoffs, clicking through channels on the overhead TV.

“Robberies?” Asahi speaks up, confused.

He hasn’t been actively keeping up with the news outside of early weather reports recently, a little more concerned with his own issues and his work. It’s more than enough to balance work and the whole memory loss thing, and while he definitely should be better about keeping up with the rest of the world, it hasn’t been his main concern as of late.

Kozume settles on a news channel. The news anchor is in the middle of reporting on the subject at hand — another local robbery. It’s the third in the past two weeks, but there’s no evidence to connect it to the other two. This one had targeted a tiny, one bedroom home on the city outskirts. Asahi frowns at the news coverage. He doesn’t understand why anyone would target a place where there was unlikely to be anything to be gained, but he feels bad for the homeowner. The newscast says they came out undamaged since they weren’t home at the time, but nonetheless, he understands the feeling of having your life uprooted suddenly.

Asahi shakes his head and returns his attention to the files before him, scribbling notes down on things to look into further and potential leads. He’ll have to remember to find Noya again and get his contact information this time. Noya is the best lead he has at this point, and hopefully he can get something out of the other man to get him somewhere in this seemingly dead end case.

In the background, the television drones on.

When evening gives way to the end of his work day, Asahi finds himself searching the rush hour crowd for the tuft of electric blond that he’s becoming so familiar with. He can’t figure out why he’s trying to find Noya here; after all, he’d come to the conclusion that he lives on the other side of town, so he doubts he’ll see him here. On the other hand, it’s possible Noya works over here too. It’d be a strange coincidence for him to be in the same working and living situation as Asahi himself, but it’d make sense as to why Noya had come to their agency in particular. It's possible that it's also the opposite way around, with Noya living here and working on the other side of town. All of the facts Asahi knows check out with one of those theories; it’d explain why Noya was at the train station, too.

But by the time he gets to the station, he hasn’t spotted Noya anywhere. Even amongst the people waiting on the platform, he can’t see the wild, dark hair, and there’s a pang of disappointment in his chest. He tries to ignore it, but it’s a persistent feeling, and more surprisingly, one that doesn’t feel new. He can’t imagine forgetting someone like Noya, but he’d forgotten someone like Suga already, so his memory loss isn’t discriminating.

The train whistles a warning. Asahi startles, hurrying on instinctively. He hadn’t even realized the train had pulled up. He looks for Noya one more time, but upon confirming that the other man is nowhere to be seen, averts his gaze to his feet. The train doors hiss shut around him, before it lurches into motion, pulling away from the platform.

It’s strange, he thinks, how lonely the platform looks disappearing behind them.

When the train comes to a hissing stop at his destination platform, Asahi’s phone begins to vibrate aggressively against his thigh. He waits until he’s clear of all the people to check it, unlocking the screen to several tests and a missed call from Suga. Just as he’s going to check the texts, Suga’s name lights up his screen again. Asahi nearly drops his phone in his haste to answer the call.

“Asahi!” Sugawara practically yells. “Have you been keeping up with the news?”

Asahi slowly brings the phone back to his ear as he walks, having held it away in his haste to avoid having his eardrums blown out.

“The news?” He echoes. “Like the robberies?”

“Yeah! Apparently, there was another one! I guess the person tried to fight back and get this - they ended up in the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds.”

Asahi grimaces. If all of these robberies are connected, then it could be a problem. Generally speaking, most robbers would flee if they were caught or met with resistance, but if this one had no qualms with hurting people, it could get dirty. Asahi is hoping they aren’t connected, but it’s starting to look doubtful. He’ll have to catch up on the situation when he gets home.

“That’s-”

Asahi cut off, turning his head to follow the abrupt streak of color that had caught his eye. He’s a few blocks from his apartment, at best, but now he turns around entirely, gaze searching. He spots it again just in time to watch it vanish through the door of a tiny coffee shop. Asahi hesitates.

“Asahi?” Sugawara calls from his phone. “Hellooo? Earth to Asahi! What happened?” “S-Sorry, Suga,” Asahi says quickly, feet already guiding him towards the building, “I have to go. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Huh? Hold on, wh-”

The line goes dead as Asahi jabs the end call button, shoving his phone unceremoniously back into his pocket as he enters the cafe. The bell chimes gently overhead as he pushes the door open, and someone at the front calls out a greeting that he only half hears. He’s busy thinking about how Suga will be upset with him later for hanging up so abruptly; he’s thinking that maybe he should feel a little worse about that than he does, and it has him wondering if he’s less of a friend for it. He’s busy thinking about how he’s sure to get an earful later, but his body is moving across the cafe, toward a booth in the corner where he can see the backside of dark, wild hair, and the small flick of a tag sticking up from the inside of a white t-shirt.

The man in the booth lifts his head when Asahi rounds the table, piercing gaze fixing onto the detective. It’s as if he comes back to earth all at once, awareness lighting his eyes and his expression picking up in something vaguely resembling surprise. “Asahi!” He half yells, slamming his palms into the table and standing in one motion.

Asahi flinches at the abrupt shout and one of the employees glances their way. Ducking his head bashfully, Asahi makes himself as small as possible as he slides into the booth across from Noya, reaching out to gesture Noya back into his own seat. Preferably, he thinks, as quietly as possible.

Luckily, Noya drops unceremoniously back into his seat, staring intensely at Asahi.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“I…” Asahi grimaces, knowing how strange this is going to sound, “I saw you coming in. You never gave me any sort of contact, so I haven’t been able to reach you for anything regarding the case.”

Noya visibly straightens. “Have you figured out something new?”

“Well, not exactly, but-”

“Oh,” Noya continues, cutting him off, “I don’t have a phone.”

Well, that certainly threw a wrench in things, didn’t it? It’s just Asahi’s luck, he supposes. Still, he’s got to figure out some way to keep up contact with Noya, since he’s Asahi’s only sure link to the case.

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket.

“Okay, then take mine,” Asahi grabs a napkin from the table, fishing a pen from the front breast pocket of his jacket. “And if you can, just let me know if you come across anything new. Can we meet again sometime here to sit down and talk? Like Friday?” Noya takes the napkin and with surprising tenderness, folds it, and tucks it into the pocket of his black basketball shorts. He’s staring at Asahi still, but Asahi can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

“Okay,” Noya says, “Friday.”

And there it is again; Asahi meets his gaze and he feels like he’s missing something, like there’s a piece here that he should be aware of. He can’t shake it, that feeling that he just knows Noya from somewhere, from before all this.

“Noya,” he breathes, “have we met before? Before you came in with the case?”

Noya scrutinizes him for a long moment, almost unresponsive, as if the question hadn’t even registered to him. There’s something off about the entire moment, the motionless state of someone who feels like he should always be moving. Slowly, his lips pinch into a frown, just a little downward tilt that looks so off on his features. His expression darkens, hooded over like a shadow fell across him.

He looks unsure. He looks scared.

It’s only for a moment, so quick that Asahi is sure it must have been his imagination because then Noya is laughing, loud and rambunctious and more like the one that seems familiar to Asahi.

“No way!” He decides. “You must be imagining things, Azumane-san! There’s no way you’d forget someone as cool as me!”

Asahi feels like his veins have frozen over. He’s cold down to the bone.

“Of course,” he agrees, smiling shakily, “that’s true.”

There’s a seed of doubt rooting itself in his chest, and Asahi is too scared to try to figure out the root of it.

He stands again, bidding Noya a good night, and hurries out the door before the other man gets another word in edgewise, but he feels Noya’s gaze follow him out the door. His phone vibrates in his pocket again, and he takes it out, preparing himself for the earful he’s going to get.

Something is reassuring about Suga’s ranting on the other end. It gets him home.

When he looks over the case again that night, he writes details about the recent robberies down on a notebook next to it. He gathers what he can from the news and more from the internet. Tomorrow, he’ll get more info on it from Kozume, and Friday, he’ll get what he can from Noya. He doesn’t know yet if he’s making progress here, but he’s hoping for the best.

At this point, it’s all he can do.

It isn’t until he’s getting ready for bed, braiding his hair back out of his face, that the thought strikes him. He’s thinking about the tiny coffee shop, about the bell over the door, about the way Noya had called him Asahi. He has the distinctive memory of introducing himself only as Azumane.

So where had Noya gotten his given name?

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“You look different,” Noya remarks.

Asahi feels like he’s having deja vu. He hardly knows where the week has gone, and now he’s back at the tiny coffee shop with Noya. They’re seated in the same booth as before. Noya’s shirt tag is sticking out. Asahi has his hair loose.

“It’s the hair,” they say, in sync, and Noya grins when Asahi cracks a smile.

“Finally!” He laughs. “I was starting to think you couldn’t smile properly! You’re so nervous all the time that I was starting to wonder how you’d ended up in this line of work.”

Asahi tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Well, I’m sure it probably wasn’t my dream career, but I don’t remember enough about my old life to know how true that is. I guess it seems like a pretty unpredictable career, but it’s routine enough to be comforting.”

Noya frowns at him. “Whaddya mean you don’t remember?” Asahi winces. Outside of the fact that nobody else wants to discuss the accident, Asahi tries not to talk about it too much. Trying to remember gives him an intense migraine, and he hates the pitying looks he gets from it. He hates feeling helpless, and there’s this part of him that wouldn’t be able to handle it if Noya looked at him like that.

“I had an accident a while back,” Asahi replies vaguely, waving one hand dismissively, “nothing important.”

Noya’s watching him like he doesn’t believe him. Asahi avoids his gaze; he has the distinct feeling that Noya will see right through him otherwise.

“Okay,” Noya finally says, “then what about that necklace you’re always playing with? The ring. Are you married or something?”

Asahi doesn’t even realize he’s messing with it until Noya points it out. He’s busted, caught like a deer in headlights under Noya’s drilling questions. His words die in his throat, lips parted but nothing coming out.

I don’t know, he thinks, clenching his fist around the ring. He shoves it back into his shirt and grips the edge of the table, focusing on keeping his hands there. “No,” he manages, smile tight again, “but it doesn’t matter. We’re here to talk about the case, remember?”

Noya’s gaze flicks down, but he doesn’t push it.

“Right.”

Noya talks. It’s not all connected, more stream of thought and dropping details as they come to him, but Asahi listens. He takes notes, putting things that he knows already on one page and things he’s hearing for the first time on another. Some of Noya’s tales have nothing to do with the case, but Asahi lets them slide, and then he realizes that Noya hasn’t been talking about the case for a while.

But here’s Asahi, pen down and still listening. There’s something about Noya’s energy that’s so easy to get wrapped up in, and Asahi hadn’t even realized he was in it until it was too late. Maybe it’s the way Noya feels familiar to him, like second nature, or the way he’s sure he must know Noya from before, but the sensation is contagious, quick like electricity and quiet like a thief.

“Azumane-san?”

Noya’s voice breaks into his thoughts again. Asahi starts, focusing back on the task at hand. He doesn’t know when he’d stopped writing, or when the case discussion had ended and the casual talk had begun, but he does realize, belatedly, that they never got their coffee. The baristas bring them out here, he’d noticed, so it strikes him as a little strange.

“Sorry,” Asahi tells him, “I just realized we don’t have our drinks.”

As if on cue, Noya’s gaze moves from Asahi to the woman approaching their table. Asahi tears his gaze away from the man in front of him to focus on her as well, putting on his most polite smile as she sets the coffee down in front of him.

“Here you go,” she says, “sorry about the wait.”

She turns to leave, and Asahi realizes that she’s only brought his drink.

“Sorry, ma’am?” He calls quickly. “What about my fri-”

He turns to gesture at Noya and falters. The seat across from him is empty; Noya is gone. The employee gives him a strange look, glancing between him and the empty booth across from him. Asahi swallows his sentence back down, where it feels like a thick lump in his throat.

“Nevermind,” he says instead, “thank you.”

She glances at the booth opposite of him again and then seems to simply accept it as strange, for she turns and heads back to the front, leaving Asahi alone with the ghost of Noya’s electric presence.

He ends up getting a to-go cup for his coffee.

Asahi doesn’t know how he got back to his apartment, only that he gets there and he comes back to awareness when he’s unlocking his front door. He falters, hand on his doorknob, gaze fixed on the crook between his thumb and his forefinger. Everything comes back all at once. Is this the right thing to do? Should he have just followed the advice and refused the case upfront? He doesn’t even know when Noya had slipped out. Had it been the brief moment he’d turned his attention to the girl at the shop? Asahi hadn't even heard the bell.

Why hadn’t Noya said anything?

Asahi is starting to think he’s getting too ahead of himself, thinking one normal conversation and a borrowed jacket makes them friends or something. But there’s the thought he’s been hesitant to admit to himself; he wants to be friends with Noya. Something about the other man makes him feel comfortable, regardless of his eccentric nature, and he’s starting to think that maybe Noya was right about his career choice being the wrong one for him.

He can’t afford to get attached to every other person he meets in this line of work. Noya is the first, but Asahi can’t say for sure if he’ll be the last, and Asahi doesn’t even know when the line in the sand got washed away. He doesn’t know if it happened halfway through their conversation or the first time he’d realized something about Noya was too familiar to ignore. Still, Noya had been right about one thing: there’s no way Asahi could have forgotten someone like him.

It’s the only reason Asahi is hesitant to let the feeling of familiarity go.

He realizes with a start that he’s still standing outside, so he pushes the door open and ducks into his apartment. Whatever he ends up deciding to do here, he’s got all the information he thinks he’s going to get from Noya. For now, he needs to crack down on the case. The longer he drags this on, the worse it will get for the both of them. He wants to give Noya the best chance he has of moving on from this, and the only way to do that is to solve it as soon as possible.

Asahi takes his shoes off at the entryway and heads into the living room, setting his bag down next to the low table in front of his couch. He yanks his hair up into a half-hearted bun and collects his notes and files, adding them to the growing pile on the table. Clicking the television on for background noise, he gets to work sorting. The details are still minimal, and the progress looks minimal, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, there’s still that robber at large, and while Asahi has no surefire proof to connect the two outside of a gut feeling, he’s learned very quickly to trust his gut.

He glances up at the TV just in time to catch a glimpse of a reporter standing in front of a house, door caved in and front yard taped off by obnoxious yellow crime scene signs. It catches his attention immediately, so he glances down at the caption.

Armed robbery. Voluntary manslaughter.

Asahi’s heart jumps to his throat. His eyes dart down to the file. What were the odds?

What if it hadn’t been involuntary? The file states that the person had been found dead at the scene, a victim of multiple gunshot wounds from a robbery gone wrong. Robbery. Check. Armed suspect. Check. Had they considered a lack of qualms against hurting people? Asahi flips his notebook to a fresh page and begins charting all the locations the robber had hit thus far. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern they’re overlooking, a rhyme or reason to the places the robber is targeting.

His facts are minimal but sure.

The robber only targets houses, never businesses. The types of houses vary. No known pattern thus far.

The robber is armed and dangerous. Generally, there’s minimal damage to any people they happen to rob, but when those people get in the way or fight back, it’s a different story. There have been people both hospitalized and killed.

The robber has no qualms about killing people who got in the way.

Asahi stares at the page. Finally, at the bottom, he writes Noya? beneath his list of facts. He doesn’t know what the precise connection is with Noya’s case in all of this, but if he can predict where the robber is going to strike next, maybe there’s something to be found there. That’s only if the police themselves don’t beat him there first. Either way, hopefully, some sort of confession would come out and Asahi could call this closed properly. If this is unrelated, then he’s going to have to think of something else fast.

It’s nearly four in the morning when he finally talks himself into going to sleep, but it’s restless at best, and he rises early. He’s off on weekends, so they’re his only opportunity to go get things done if he doesn’t want to go right after work. The case weighs heavily on his thoughts for the entirety of his morning run. When he passes the lake he’d run into Noya at that time, he pauses, only for a moment, to glance around, but Noya isn’t there.

Asahi keeps running, but he’s starting to feel less like he’s keeping active and more like he’s trying to get away from something. He feels like he’s running away from a lot of things, as of late. It can’t be helped.

Azumane Asahi is a coward, he tells himself, and this time he doesn’t think it’s a lie at all.

The next time he sees Noya, it’s on the same route and nearly a week later. Asahi finds himself searching the route consistently without even knowing if Noya even lives in the area, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse of the other man. He hasn’t heard anything from Noya since the day at the coffee shop, and he’s starting to grow a little concerned.

His traitorous heart says something else, but Asahi tries not to listen too hard to things made of glass.

There’s rustling overhead when Asahi passes beneath a tree. It’s followed by a loud yowl, and it’s this that makes Asahi falter in his steps. He pauses, turning his head up to squint into the branches. The early morning sun is bright, near blinding, but the shadow that covers Asahi blocks it out.

He sees the little tag sticking out of the collar of the white shirt first, and then the outstretched arm, pale and skinny, reaching out to a higher branch. Asahi can mostly only see the person’s silhouette, but he knows that figure anywhere.

“Noya?” He calls up hesitantly.

Golden eyes fix on him immediately. Noya looks vaguely surprised, arm still outstretched, lips parted into a perfect little circle. There’s a cat a few branches up from his perch, a skinny little tabby with all of its fur puffed out. Its teeth are bared at the other man, a low growl rising in his throat.

Asahi hasn’t ever seen a cat react like that to someone. Usually, the strays around this area are calm, used to the joggers and families who come through the park trails all the time. He frowns a little at the sight, putting one hand on his hip and using the other to shield his eyes as he peers up.

“Oh,” says Noya, “Hey, Azumane. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I run here every morning now,” Asahi frowns, “you already knew that. What are you doing up there?”

Noya gestures to the cat, who swings at his moving hand. “I came up to save him, but he won’t let me anywhere near him. I think I’m just gonna grab him and deal with the consequences later.”

“What.” Asahi intones.

Noya reaches for the cat.

“What?” Asahi repeats. “Wait, no-”

Noya stretches out of his crouch and snatches the cat in one quick motion. The tabby immediately begins yelling, claws sinking wherever they can reach. Noya yelps, and then takes a surprised step back into mid-air. Asahi shouts. All at once, Noya and the cat come crashing down through the branches, and Asahi slides down on his knees beneath them, breath leaving his body as they collide.

Asahi groans softly from his place on the ground. Noya scrambles off of him, eyes wide. He’s still holding the cat, who looks shaken, but overall unharmed.

“Asahi!” Noya gasps. “Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry!”

Asahi waves him off with one hand, sitting up slowly. His torso aches where he’d ungracefully caught them, but at least they seem unharmed. His hair falls loose around his shoulders, and he looks around for the tie, only to find it snapped on the ground. It’d been fraying, so he isn’t surprised, but it’s still a little inconvenient.

“It’s okay,” he manages, when he finally catches his breath, “are you two okay?”

Noya beams, holding the cat up victoriously. “We’re totally fine!”

The cat bites Noya’s hand. Noya drops the tabby, and he bolts without so much as a glance back. The short man sulks as he stares after the vanishing animal, crossing his arms over his chest. There are claw marks down the length of his forearms and branches still stuck in his black basketball shorts.

“Rude,” Noya says, getting up.

He offers a hand to Asahi, but Asahi, a little doubtful that Noya can lift him, stands on his own.

“You should be more careful,” he says, frowning.

“I had it handled!”

“You fell out of a tree.”

Noya purses his lips. “You know. Fair.” He sticks his index finger out as if to agree that Asahi has a point. “You got me there.”

“How did you even get up there?” Asahi asks, gazing up at the tree.

There aren’t any visible branches that Noya could have used to climb, and Asahi has to admit that even with his height, he would have been hard-pressed to reach the lowest ones. There’s no way to get a handhold on the trunk, either, so he’s not sure how Noya got up there to begin with.

Noya shrugs. “I climbed? The cat couldn’t get down so I went up to help him.”

Asahi sighs. “Okay, Noya. My apartment isn’t far from here, so let me at least treat the scratches. It’d be bad if you got something.”

Noya hesitates, but then he looks down, inspects his arms, and grimaces a little.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Asahi tucks his hair behind his ears and turns, starting at a steady pace back up the pathway. Noya keeps at his heels, carefree and cheerful as he turns his arms over, inspecting his new battle scars. It’s almost endearing, Asahi dares to think, but he’s still not over how the cat had acted with Noya. Asahi is sure Noya isn’t a bad person, but he’s never seen a reaction like that in the months he’s been running here.

He frowns back as if the tree itself will give him answers, but it stands tall and silent, shadowed against the pale blue sky.

When they climb the steps to Asahi’s apartment, the realization hits him like a bullet. He’s bringing Noya into his apartment. How had they gotten here? Is his apartment even clean? It’s so plain that he doesn’t know what Noya is going to think about it. Had he done the dishes already or were they still sitting in the sink?

Anxiety settles in like a second skin, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. They’re already at the door and Noya is looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to unlock it. Asahi tries to hide the way his hands shake as he puts the key in the lock and opens it, letting Noya into the dark entryway.

Noya kicks off his shoes at the entrance, and Asahi follows suit, stepping in ahead of the other man. The sink is clean. The living room has a few books on the table and stray papers from his brainstorming session the other night, but otherwise it isn’t unacceptable. He flicks the light on and crosses to the table, shoving the papers messily together.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, “make yourself at home and I’ll grab my first aid kit.”

Noya plops onto the couch, looking around like a curious child. Asahi feels strange having someone over like this. He seldom has company, especially new company, and he feels like he’s being assessed for some sort of test. Clutching the papers to his chest, Asahi hurries into his room for the first aid kit in his bathroom.

Noya is still sitting on the couch when Asahi returns. His gaze is fixed on a photo hanging on the wall. It’s of Asahi, fresh out of the hospital, Suga and Daichi standing just behind him in the frame. Shimizu had been the one to take it, and it’s one of the earliest things he still remembers. Noya frowns at it a little, like he’s struggling to think about something, and Asahi just figures he must have zoned out.

“Noya?” He says as he nears.

Noya straightens, almost imperceptibly, turning his gaze to Asahi as the other man crouches in front of him, opening the first aid kit and setting it aside on the table. Noya gets the hint and offers out his arms while Asahi prepares a cotton pad for cleaning the scratches.

“Ouch,” Noya hisses once Asahi starts dabbing over them.

Asahi shakes his head, holding Noya by the wrist to keep his arm steady.

“Are those your friends?” Noya asks suddenly.

Asahi glances up at him, and then back at the photo. “Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze back onto his task. “The one with the silver hair is Suga. The dark-haired one is Daichi. Our other friend, Shimizu, took the photo, but she’s not very fond of being in them. They were there with me when I was in the hospital for a while.”

“What were you there for?”

Asahi grimaces, remembering why he’d avoided the subject the last time he’d talked to Noya. “Uh,” he starts hesitantly.

He can feel Noya’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. Asahi gets the feeling that he’ll spill everything if he does, so he stubbornly keeps his focus on treating Noya’s scratches.

“It’s okay, Azumane-san,” Noya laughs, “you don’t have to tell me. I was just being nosy.”

Asahi exhales, a little relieved. He wraps up Noya’s first arm, having finished treating the scratches there. Moving onto the second one, Asahi grabs a fresh cotton pad. He frowns as he sets back to work.

“Noya,” he starts, “where did you go, the other day? At the cafe, I mean?”

Noya stiffens a little under his grip.

“Sorry about that,” the other man mumbles, “I had an emergency I had to handle, so…”

“Oh,” says Asahi, unconvinced, “okay. I was just worried… You just up and vanished without saying anything.”

Noya doesn’t go into any more detail, and Asahi doesn’t push it. He gets the feeling Noya isn’t telling the whole truth, but he’s not going to try to force it out. He has his own secrets, and he’s sure Noya has plenty himself. Despite seeming like a very open person, he’s come to notice that Noya is strange, like he’s never quite there most of the time, and the times that he is, he seems so full of life that he’s ready to burst with it.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Noya’s voice is painfully soft.

Asahi’s heart aches. He doesn’t know why that gentle voice hurts, only that it does something strange to him. He catches himself holding his breath, as if even that will break this moment. He knows better. He knows better. He doesn’t know Noya, and Noya doesn’t know him. They’re client and employee, nothing more.

Asahi doesn’t even know himself. How could he even hope to let someone else know him?

“It’s okay,” Asahi gets out, but his voice sounds foreign to himself like it’s coming from someone else speaking in his place instead of him.

Something about the intimacy of the moment makes Asahi feel like he’s an outsider, watching his own hands and fingers tenderly take care of Noya’s newly acquired scratches. He knows there’s more on the man’s face, but he’s scared to raise his gaze. He’s scared that whatever is happening is going to shatter the moment they make eye contact. Asahi is going to realize it’s all in his head, or Noya is going to realize it’s strange for him to be in what is essentially a stranger’s house.

He feels like he knows Noya. The feeling won’t go away, but Noya has told him that he’s sure they’ve never met. Asahi couldn’t forget someone like him, and Asahi is inclined to agree. He’s stalling now, and he knows it, and he’s sure Noya knows it, but neither of them say anything about it as Asahi cleans over the scars a second, and then a third time.

Finally, he bandages the second arm. Noya’s skin is cold beneath his grip, freezing like the other man has been standing in negative temperatures for hours. Asahi knows this isn’t the case, so he assumes Noya must just run cold in comparison to Asahi himself. Noya seems unbothered, either way.

“Thanks,” Noya finally breaks the silence.

Asahi dares to raise his gaze. Noya’s eyes are trained on him, sharp and focused with such intense clarity that Asahi is momentarily taken aback. Noya looks as if he’s a page ahead of Asahi, waiting for him to catch up. Asahi isn’t sure if he should, much less if he wants to.

“Well,” he replies, averting his gaze to get another cotton pad, “I wasn’t just going to leave you after I watched it happen. I don’t mean to be rude, but you seem like you’d neglect taking care of them.”

Noya grins crookedly in the corner of his vision. “You’re right,” he says, “I would. But that’s not all I was thanking you for.”

Asahi pauses, mid-turn, pad raised to start in on the scratches on Noya’s face. He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“That was for everything,” Noya continues. “I know this case isn’t easy on you. I’m sorry I dumped it on you, but something told me you’re the only one who can handle it, and I always listen to my instinct. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet. So I was saying thank you for putting up with all of this.”

Oh, Asahi thinks, and then says, “Oh.”

Noya laughs. “Oh?”

“Sorry. No, wait. I mean… You don’t need to thank me.” Asahi reaches out, carefully starting to clean the scratches across Noya’s cheek.

“Ow,” Noya says, again.

“Sorry,” Asahi frowns, knowing there isn’t much he can do about the pain.

“It’s okay. I got myself into this, so I’ll tough it out!” The golden-eyed boy declares.

Asahi smiles to himself. Noya’s energy is near contagious, and he’s just about forgotten about his previous anxiety of having the other man in his house. Noya seems nonchalant and uncaring, like he doesn’t care to judge how Asahi lives either way.

“There,” Asahi says, putting bandages over the last few scratches. “Done.”

Noya gives him a double thumbs-up, grinning so widely it looks painful. “Cool! Thanks, Asahi! You’re the best!”

Asahi holds both hands up placatingly. “I wouldn’t go that far…”

“No!” A fire lights in Noya’s eyes, and he reaches out, grabbing both of Asahi’s hands so abruptly that the brunet squeaks. “It’s true! Don’t go selling yourself short, okay?”

Asahi’s voice catches in his throat. He wants to protest again, but Noya’s gaze is so intense that he physically can’t bring himself to do anything more than nod in agreement. It seems to satisfy Noya, so he releases Asahi’s hands and hops up from the couch.

“Alright! I’m gonna head out now, but I’ll see you soon, yeah? We’ll get this done!”

Noya reaches out, bumping Asahi’s shoulder with his fist. The little tap startles Asahi back into reality, and he scrambles to his feet, following Noya to the door and watching him put his shoes on. At the door, they both hesitate. Asahi looks down at his feet, but he can feel Noya’s gaze on him.

“Be safe,” Asahi says, finally.

Noya stares at him for a long moment. Finally, he reaches out, squeezes Asahi’s arm, and then turns away and bolts down the stairs. Asahi watches him jog down the road, and then vanish over the crest of the hill, out of sight, but never out of mind.

Maybe, he considers, he should have tried to make him stay.

Asahi stares at the hill Noya had vanished over for a long moment longer. He stares as if he’s waiting for the other man to turn around and come back, citing that it’s too late to head home, and the trains aren’t running anyway, so it’d take a while on foot. Asahi still doesn’t know if Noya lives nearby or closer to the agency, but either way, he could have thought of something.

He stares on, but Noya doesn’t come back. Finally, Asahi closes the door behind him and flicks the lock.

“You’ve been busy lately,” Kozume remarks, the following Monday, without looking up from his Switch screen.

Asahi doesn’t know how he gets away with playing video games at work so often, but he supposes as long as Kozume is efficient at his job, their boss doesn’t really care. He’s starting to give Asahi some eyes about the case he’s on, so he knows it’s time to hurry up and wrap it up.

Narita comes in, bearing coffee. He hands them out to each of the others in the room, setting Kozume’s next to him and handing Akaashi’s off. Crossing to Asahi, he offers out the coffee.

“Same as usual? How’s it going?” He asks.

Asahi accepts the warm drink from the receptionist. “It’s going,” he sighs, “I haven’t made too much progress outside of some guessed predictions. My sole witness has this habit of up and vanishing and apparently doesn’t have a phone to contact.”

Narita nods sympathetically. “Client isn’t making it easy, huh? This is probably your first one of those, but I see them come through all the time. It’ll work out, so don’t stress too much.”

“He can do with a little stress,” Akaashi comments, taking a sip of his coffee.

Narita turns to give him a withering look and then turns back to Asahi. “Anyway, drink up while it’s warm and then go back into this thing with a fresh mind, yeah? Good luck, Azumane.”

Asahi watches the receptionist go, and takes a long drink of his coffee. It burns his tongue, but he doesn’t flinch away. The moment of pain, however brief, does its part to make everything come into sharper focus. Three days from now, he’ll have been slugging through this case for a month. That’s the time limit he’s going to give himself; if he hasn’t figured this out or made any significant progress in the next few days, he’s going to tell Noya he can’t do it.

Resolution set in his mind, Asahi dives back into his work with renewed vigor.

“Don’t stay too late,” Akaashi says, later that night.

Kozume is already long gone, and Akaashi had finished his work, so he’s getting ready to leave too. It’s just Asahi now, with everyone else out. The black-haired man puts his jacket over his arm and strolls out. Only a moment later, Narita peers in.

“Azumane? Someone is waiting outside for you.”

Asahi glances up, confused. He hadn’t been expecting anybody, but it’s as good a reason as any to change location. He nods in acknowledgment to Narita and hurries to pack his things, pulling his bag over his shoulder and heading out.

Outside, he glances around in search of the person. It takes him a minute to spot them, but when his gaze shifts down, it catches on the streak of blond in Noya’s hair. The other man looks up when Asahi emerges from the building, and then stands immediately when he realizes who it is.

“Noya?” Asahi questions, surprised.

“Hey,” Noya smiles crookedly, “sorry for showing up out of nowhere. I was out and I just ended up here. Are you getting ready to head home?”

Asahi readjusts his bag. “Yeah, I just finished for the night. How did you end up way out here again?”

Noya opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again, frowning in confusion. Finally, he just shrugs a little, as if he isn’t sure himself.

“I just did,” he says. “Can I walk with you?”

Asahi hesitates, but finally nods in concession. Noya falls into step beside him as he heads out towards the train station. It’s later than Asahi usually leaves, and the streets are nearly empty now. The sun is starting to set beneath the taller buildings in the distance, and Asahi gets the feeling it will be well past dark by the time he gets home.

“Do you live around here, Noya?” Asahi asks, glancing down at the other man.

He recalls seeing Noya back near where he lives, as well, but maybe the shorter man just gets around a lot. This is his chance to finally figure it out, so Asahi seizes it.

Noya hesitates a little, lips parting like he’s going to speak, then closing again. “Uh,” he starts, glancing around, “well-”

Noya cuts off, gaze catching on movement nearby. There’s a girl, no older than seven or eight, stumbling down the sidewalk. Even from this distance, Asahi can see the scrapes on her knees. She’s bawling, rubbing her face with the back of her hands, but steadily making her way down the sidewalk nonetheless, like she’s on a mission.

Asahi exchanges a look with Noya, and they both hurry toward her. Noya reaches her first, crouching in front of her and starting to talk. Asahi is a short pace behind him, catching up just in time to hear the child speak through her tears and sniffling.

“A bad man came into our house,” she sniffles, stuttering around her hiccups, “and Mama told me to run away and get help, but she’s stuck there with him!”

Asahi’s blood goes cold. This is it. The one time he hadn’t been trying to find the man and it practically fell into his lap. Noya is clearly thinking the same thing, expression hard and eyebrows downturned. He meets Asahi’s eyes and nods.

“Hi,” Asahi says, crouching down, “I’m a detective. I can go help your mama, but I need you to tell me which house is yours. Can you do that for me?”

The girl sniffs, looking up at him. “T-The one with the flower mailbox Mama and I painted…”

Noya is already running. Asahi squeezes the girl’s shoulders, getting back to his feet.

“Listen carefully. We’re going to go help your mama, so I need you to be brave for me, okay? Find someone and ask them to call the police for you. We’ll make sure your mom is safe.”

The little girl’s gaze follows him as he runs after Noya. He has no chance of catching up with the spitfire of a man, but Noya waits at the door for him, clearly trying to find a good way in. Asahi glances into the shattered window. The coast seems clear. He gestures to Noya and creeps around to the front door, opening it slowly.

It doesn’t creak, and Asahi thanks any god that exists as he and Noya sneak into the quiet house. Asahi puts a finger to his lips, signaling for Noya to follow him. Together, they quietly round the corner and immediately come face to face with the robber.

They catch the man by surprise. Asahi sees it in the glance he gets of the man’s expression before he’s forced to leap out of the way, bullets riddling the wall where he’d just been standing. To his right, Noya hisses from his spot on the ground, and Asahi has to suppress the nausea that rises in his chest at the sight of red blossoming across Noya’s shoulder.

“Noya,” he gasps, scrambling over, “I’m so sorry. I should have reacted faster. You’re going to need medical attention-” “Asahi,” Noya’s grin edges on pained, but he’s pushing through, nudging Asahi away. “I’m fine. I'm tough, remember? So don’t worry about me. I’ll live, so worry about that kid’s mom first. You bust that guy for the both of us, okay?”

His fingers brush Asahi’s cheek, cold against the skin there, and Asahi’s everything zeroes in on just that sensation. He focuses on the way that Noya’s hand feels against his cheek, electricity at his fingertips. He focuses on the way that regardless of whether he’d known Noya before or not, he knows him now, and he wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

Kissing Noya feels like second nature. He’s careful of the other man’s shoulder, even if it’s nothing more than a brief press of lips, but when he pulls away, Noya exhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years.

“Stay safe,” he tells Asahi, “‘cause if you die on me, I’ll summon you back and annoy you as a ghost.”

Asahi laughs. “I won’t. Get somewhere safe, Noya.”

He squeezes Noya’s hand and then hurries into the hallway, keeping low and staying alert. He doesn’t know where the robber is, but the robber doesn’t know his location either. But only one of them has a gun, and it isn’t Asahi, so he’s at a disadvantage here. His priority is getting the woman out safely, but he hasn’t seen her yet, so he’s hoping she’s already hiding somewhere safe. His and Noya’s arrival had distracted the robber for a moment, and he just has to hope the moment is enough if he can’t find her first.

Asahi ducks behind the couch just in time to avoid being seen by the man who creeps in through the next hall. He drops to his hands and knees, sneaking around the side to watch the man’s slow progression towards the kitchen, where he assumes there’s a side door. The man’s gaze sweeps the room once, twice. Asahi creeps forward when his back is turned, and the moment he takes a step to move away, Asahi lunges.

He’s scared. God, he’s terrified. He shouldn’t have made any promises to Noya. He isn’t immortal. If this man gets the upper hand, Asahi knows he has no chance.

But he can’t think about that. Right now, he can only focus on survival, on grappling with the man before him for control over the single gun. The robber’s eyes are wide, wild with disbelief. Asahi can’t figure out what he’s so surprised about; surely, he’d expected someone to come after him eventually for all of this? Asahi pulls and the man resists, They shove and turn and twist, brute strength against brute strength, fighting for control of the situation. A stray shot shatters a vase, and there’s a muffled whimper from the closet next to it.

The woman.

Asahi has the upper hand. It’s only for a moment, but the sound distracts him, and the moment is more than enough. The robber twists around and slams his elbow into Asahi’s face hard enough to send him pinwheeling back into the coffee table, head slamming into the wood hard enough to make his vision go black, and then blurry. The aftermath leaves Asahi feeling like there’s an army in his skull waging war against the bones, pounding relentlessly against his forehead.

It hurts. It hurts. He can’t think. He can barely see straight.

He’s been in this situation before.

When he manages to get his vision to focus, only a little, he is staring down the barrel of the gun. The man’s chest heaves, expression twisted in fury, all bared teeth and vicious stance. And this is it — Asahi has no chance here. This is the end, and his promise to Noya will go unfulfilled after all. He thinks about Noya, laughing loud and free, holding his hand to the sunlight so the golden band on his finger glitters. Except Asahi doesn’t know where he picked up that memory. His head is pounding, a steady thump, thump, thump against his skull. His head is pounding and he is thinking and Azumane Asahi is going to die here and now, just like the man in the case he’d been trying so hard to solve. He can’t even close his eyes, watching the man’s finger on the trigger as if in slow motion.

But it never comes.

Instead, there is Noya, howling bloody murder, all feral motions and vengeful anger, streaking out of the hallway and barreling into the man. They both hit the ground and the gun skids away from them. Asahi’s shaken, but he still notices the lack of red staining Noya’s white t-shirt. Asahi trembles, but he realizes right away that Noya’s wound looks as if it had never existed to begin with. Noya looms over the man like a wraith, teeth bared, golden eyes glittering with a promise, a threat, and Asahi thinks to grab the gun before the man recovers from Noya’s winding attack. The would-be thief writhes beneath the other man, but Noya is unyielding and less hesitant than Asahi.

He takes the flower pot off the table and breaks it over the man’s head, knocking him out cold. Asahi is left in stunned silence, clutching the gun, staring at Noya as he hunches over the unconscious man, shoulders heaving with every breath. Asahi is still concerned; he can’t see Noya’s wound, or any sign of it, but for all he knows, Noya had just managed to find an extra shirt. It’s doubtful and farfetched, but it’s the only possible explanation, isn’t it?

“Asahi,” Noya gasps, “Asahi, are you okay? Did he hurt you? You’re bleeding.” He hadn’t noticed, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Asahi touches his head and his hand comes away red. He stares at his fingertips, dizzy, and finally sinks to his knees. Noya scrambles off of the man and barrels right into Asahi, straddling his waist to lean over and inspect Asahi’s head. Outside, sirens wail as their backup arrives, and Asahi sighs, relieved that the little girl had found somewhere safe. The officers come flooding in. Asahi feels like hell, but he’s more worried about making sure everything gets taken care of, so he directs them to the woman hiding, and then to the unconscious robber on the ground. It’s over.

Reaching out to touch Noya’s face, Asahi feels like sobbing. “I’m okay,” he rasps out, “I’m okay. You got shot, though, didn’t you? You shouldn’t do reckless things with a wound like that.”

Noya scrambles back off of him and out of Asahi’s reach before the detective can inspect his previously injured shoulder. He takes a little step aside, gaze averted, frown fixed on his features. Asahi’s eyes follow him as he moves away a little.

“Noya?” He frowns, moving to stand.

One of the officers shouts. Asahi’s attention catches on the shout and his gaze follows, catching sight of the previously unconscious man thrashing on the ground. He’s on his stomach facing Asahi, and one of the officers is straddling his back to cuff him. It’s his expression that catches Asahi’s notice, the sheer rage, face twisted up in hatred. His eyes glitter furiously, lips pulled back to bare his teeth in a snarl.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” He shouts. “You both died! I know I killed you, so why the fuck are you still alive?!”

Asahi’s heart falters in his chest. His head hurts. God, it hurts.

“I robbed you months ago! I shot that boy to death! You were dead! You’re supposed to be dead!”

He keeps shouting it. Asahi is cold to the bone, dropped into an endlessly deep pile of fresh snow with no way out. All he sees is the man’s face, and all he hears is dead and his head hurts so much. He’s supposed to be dead? He’s alive, though. He’s alive, but he doesn’t have memories, and he’s supposed to be dead. What boy had he meant? Noya? Did that mean Asahi had known him before after all? Had they both lost their memories?

Something is screaming in the back of his mind to come out. Asahi clutches his head in his hands, feeling panic swell heavily in his throat, suffocating him. His vision is dark at the edges and the gun is on the floor beside him, just within his gaze.

“Asahi,” Noya croaks behind him, voice soft and pained.

Asahi, it echoes and echoes and echoes, and all at once, everything slams back down. He remembers, and he doesn’t know how he could ever forget. The wedding band burns against the hollow of his throat like a brand. He watches, dumbstruck and breathless, as the robber is hauled out. He remembers who he is. He remembers who Noya is.

“Yuu,” he gasps, whirling around.

But the other man is gone.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

Asahi hates the smell of hospitals.

The nurse tells him he’s fine to leave, but he needs to come back for another check-up in a week to make sure there isn’t further head or brain damage. The doctors know his memory has returned, so they’re hopeful, but Asahi can’t share their joy. He goes home, empty-handed and desolate. He’s thinking about everything, about Yuu, about the wedding band around his throat. He doesn’t know where the other man had vanished to this time, but he hopes he’d at least had the sense to get medical attention.

And a week goes by.

In the seven days that Nishinoya Yuu is gone, Asahi dreams.

In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

Except this time, he doesn’t. This time, the pieces reconnect themselves. He is not the one in pain, nor is he the one being called out to. In his dreams, Asahi comes home to their shared home and finds Yuu on the floor, riddled with gunshot wounds and already bleeding out. In his dreams, Yuu is unconscious, and Asahi is sobbing, his voice cracking as he tries desperately to call the police.

“Yuu,” he’s begging, “Yuu, please wake up.”

In his dreams, Azumane Asahi does not make it home in time to stop his husband from fighting a robber. Azumane Yuu had fought alone and lost, and by the time Asahi had gotten back, he’d already been half-dead. Asahi hunches over him, pleading with any god that might listen.

He doesn’t know when he got up, only that he’s standing. He doesn’t know when the man appeared around the corner, only that he’s surprised by his appearance, and when they fight, Asahi does not win. He sees the table come into his line of vision.

There’s pain, and then there’s nothing.

Asahi wakes slowly from the darkness as the pieces slide together in his mind. Suddenly, everything makes sense. He hadn’t given the theory any thought before; it’d simply been the most unbelievable thing, but now he’s sure. It all makes too much sense. The name, the vanishing acts, the same outfit all the time, the strange looks Asahi would get when he would bring Yuu up with others, the missing bullet wound in his shoulder.

Yuu is already dead.

Asahi thinks the cold chill of resignation is the hardest part.

When he sits up, Yuu is sitting on the end of his bed. Asahi can see the door through his blood-stained shirt. The sight makes his heart ache anew. How cruel, he thinks, to make him fall in love with this man all over again, only to lose him once more. Had he really ever had Yuu to begin with?

Yuu looks like he had the last night Asahi had seen him as Azumane Yuu, and not Noya. His face is pale and hollow, golden eyes set into his features, a shade duller than Asahi is used to seeing them. His shirt, previously white, is riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood. Asahi is scared to even breathe for the fear of Yuu leaving once and for all.

Yuu doesn’t look at him when he speaks.

“I’m dead.” It’s not a question. Yuu knows this is a fact. “Right?”

“I’m sorry,” Asahi chokes out.

It isn’t enough. This isn’t enough. He has so much more he wants to say to Yuu. He wants to tell him how sorry he is. He wants to tell him that it should have been Asahi who’d died that day. Yuu had so much to live for, and Asahi barely knows how to live for himself. He wants to tell him how much he loves him, how they were supposed to have a whole life ahead of them. Their adventure had only just begun and it had been torn out from beneath them before they could take the first step.

Asahi chokes on his breath. It isn’t fair. It still isn’t fair.

He wants to say, please, don’t leave me again.

Yuu’s form flickers. Asahi covers his mouth to stifle the sob there. Yuu is in front of him now, gaze soft with acceptance. Even in death, he is the stronger of the two of them. Even now, his unwavering dependability makes Asahi feel safe.

“Asahi,” he says, ghostly fingers brushing past the strands of hair by Asahi’s ears, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Asahi manages. “Why are you sorry? Yuu, I’m the one who should be apologizing. If I hadn’t gotten held up that day-”

“Then you would have died too.” Noya cuts him off.

Yuu stares him down, golden eyes piercing, and Asahi falters beneath that gaze.

“Asahi, I’m saying sorry because I promised you forever, but I have to go now. I love you so much, you stupid crybaby. I love you more than anything, and even if we were reborn, I’d find you again in ten thousand lifetimes. It’s always going to be you. You’re the kindest, bravest person I’ve ever known, and I’d do everything the same if it meant I had the chance to love you.” Asahi feels like he’s suffocating in his own words. He wants to grab Yuu and hold him close, but his hands pass right through the other man’s shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he sobs, “Yuu, I don’t want to go without you. I don’t know how to socialize properly, and nobody else reminds me to take my meds. I can’t ground myself alone when I have an anxiety attack, and you always know what to say when I have a nightmare. I’m not brave. I let people walk over me when you aren’t there to tell them to lay off. You can’t leave because I don’t know what to do without you. I’m brave when you’re around because you make me feel like I can be.”

Yuu laughs. It’s a strangled half sob.

“Someone as cool as you shouldn’t be such a crybaby. You’re your own person, Asahi. You don’t need me or anyone else, even if you think you do. I’m not the one who makes you brave. You do that. And I need you to be extra brave for me now, okay?” His smile wobbles as he reaches out, hand hovering over Asahi’s cheek. “I need you to be brave enough to live the rest of your life, even if I’m not there to live it with you. I wish I could stay and make you as happy as you made me. I wish we could travel the world and have kids and grow old together. But I’ll always be with you.” And this time, when he reaches to touch Asahi, his palm settles over the ring strung around Asahi’s neck and stays there. The point of contact is warm, pulsing out into Asahi’s chest. He feels like he can breathe again. Asahi is so tired of being scared.

He manages a shaky laugh. “You still have my jacket.” Yuu smiles, something soft that touches the edges of his eyes. “Yeah,” he huffs, “sorry about that.” Asahi covers the hand Yuu has over his chest with his own. “Yuu,” he says, “I love you. I love you so much and I always have, and I’m sorry I never said that enough. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have the life we deserved. But I’ll keep living for you, as long as you promise to wait for me. Find me again in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that. Please let me fall in love with you again.” A single tear slides down Yuu’s face.

“Always,” he says.

Asahi does not get his coat back, but he feels it like a pit of warmth in his chest when Yuu is gone. He sinks slowly forward, gathering the blanket up in his arms and pressing it to his face in a futile attempt to gather the last bits of Yuu’s presence from the fabric. But he’s gone, and Asahi is alone again, with nothing but the ghost of his memory and a promise. His room is empty and the pit of warmth in his chest is a sorry excuse for Yuu’s presence. He’s alone for now, but he’s going to be brave, and he’s going to find Yuu again in the next life. He may not have him now, but he’s never going to let him go again. He has that.

His fingers close slowly over the ring dangling from his neck, pressing the memories there deep into his chest where they’ll make a home.

(And this, at least.)

#asanoya #azumane asahi #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu #major character death #unreliable narrator #marimo writes #haikyuu!!#marimo give asahi a break challenge

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

lost in space || s.r

summary: post-IW in which you’re stuck on the ship with tony and nebula. knowing you didn’t have much time left before oxygen levels ran out for good, you decide to send a final goodbye message to the man you’ve grown to love over the past several years.

words: ~2.1k

warnings: angst in the beginning, fluff, major feels, worried steve ;-p

a/n: i took inspo for another oneshot like this that i read but then i got a bunch of new related ideas, so here we go!

22 days.

22 days of drifting through empty space with Tony and Nebula.

After day 16, you began losing hope in returning home. Nobody had to say anything for you to put two and two together and realize you didn't have much longer before what little was left of your oxygen supply ran out. So this had the three of you accepting you wouldn't make it through, opting to make the best of the time you had left. Your breathing became more heavy and labored, as the act of taking a single breath had now grown more difficult with each passing minute.

While she didn't want to admit it, Nebula thought having you and Tony by her side was much better than imagining being alone. It was an unspoken agreement that you all enjoyed each others' company; seeing you were all you had now after losing almost everything.

You exhaled as you sat in the cockpit of the ship, chin resting in your hand as you gazed out the glass dome and took in the eerie yet beautiful sight that space had to offer.

Feeling a rough hand clasp your shoulder, you turned around to see Tony standing there.

"Hey," he smiled softly, holding his remaining granola bar out to you. "You haven't eaten all day. Why don't you take the rest of this."

"No, I can't do that," you shook your head. "You need to eat, too."

"Your health is just as important, Y/N. You've lost too much weight in these past three weeks."

"Haven't we all."

"Just take it."

Knowing he wasn't going to stop arguing, you mumbled a 'thank you' and took the bar from him, taking a small bite.

You pushed yourself out from your chair and took a seat next to him, lowering yourself to the ground on the steps as he leaned his helmet against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving them a message. In case things go wrong, and...we don't make it," he replied as he took in a deep breath and began fiddling with the helmet, flicking a switch inside it before tapping its' side, projecting a blue light over you two.

"Tony...we're literally going to die. I don't get why you're doing this, Steve and the others probably think we're already dead..."

"Might as well say a last good bye, then. And, recording...is this thing on?" He tapped the side of the helmet again. "Hey, Miss Potts...Pep. If you find this recording, don't post it on social media. It's gonna be a real tear-jerker. I don't know if you're ever going to see these. I don't even know if you're...if you're still...Oh, god. I hope so. Today is day 21, uh..."

"22," you corrected as you leaned back against the wall. “Or 23. Wait no, 22.”

"Yeah, 22. You know, if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into a void of space, I'd say I'm feeling better today. The infection's run its course, thanks to the blue meanie back there."

"You’d love her. She’s very practical," you added, "Only a tiny bit sadistic."

"Anyway...some fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge to buy ourselves about 48 hours of time. But it's now dead in the water. We're 1000 light years from the nearest 7-11. Oxygen will run out tomorrow. And that'll be it. And Pep, I...I know I said no more surprises, but I was really hoping to pull off one last one. But it looks like...well you know what it looks like. Don't feel bad about this. I mean, if you grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt. I should probably lie down. Please know that...when I drift off, I will think about you. Because it's always you."

You both fell into silence afterwards and you quickly looked away, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to try and stem the flow of tears that threatened to spill. Tony must've noticed the look on your face, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as you stared blankly out ahead.

This really was it. When you imagined dying, you saw yourself going down on the battlefield, maybe jumping into the crossfire to save someone. Or simply passing in your sleep, dying of old age, anything but being unable to breathe.

You didn't think you'd meet your demise by running out of oxygen as you drifted mindlessly through space.

"Why don't you talk to Capsicle," Tony finally spoke up several minutes later. "This might be your only chance to get the closure you've wanted for so long."

"I'm not...it's not like that," you sighed, running a hand down your face. "He's just a friend."

"Don't bullshit me, Y/N. I know you're in love with him."

You let out another sigh, staring at his helmet blankly for a moment before opening your mouth to speak.

"Hey, Cap. You know, for the longest time, I was stuck trying to figure out what I was really meant to do, why I was ever placed on the earth to begin with," you spoke, looking out the glass at the darkness of space again, "When Fury first recruited me to the initiative, I was...I was in a dark place. And I didn't know how to get out. I felt stuck, frustrated...lost. I felt like I wasn't worthy or even the slightest bit prepared to take on the responsibilities of a hero because of all that I'd done in the past. I'd committed my fair share of sins, and...it all came down to a point where I almost lost the will to keep going, to keep living. My demons held me back from the perfect life I so desperately wanted and followed me everywhere I went. But then you came along, and for the first time in a long time, I started to hope, to...feel things again. You taught me that there was such a thing as second chances and forgiveness, that it's okay to make mistakes, and most importantly, I was meant to feel things; to love.

"You taught me that I was meant to feel happy, to allow myself the chance at living that burden-free life. That I didn't have to feel so doubtful when something good happened because all I'd ever learned was to feel suspicious when an event occurred in my favor. God, I really do owe you, huh? I honestly don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you. Maybe spiral down into an endless pit of despair and destruction? But really, I'm grateful that you walked into my life. I don't know how I'm supposed to repay you for all that you've given up for me.

You chuckled lightly and sniffled, hastily wiping at your eyes. "I know you're still out there. I hope you are. Because I know Captain America would never go down without a fight. This fight, though...you don't need to keep fighting. I've already accepted my fate. I'm going to die in less than two days...and I'm not bitter or mad at all. Death is inevitable, you know? If there's anything I took away from my torturous days in the Red Room, it was to never fear death because every girl would eventually meet her end. I'll be completely honest with myself here, I don't mind dying alongside these two...Tony and Nebula are some pretty great roommates. Who knew an alien could be so good at paper football?

The helmet flickered and you knew you didn't have much time left. "Steve...I don't want you to look back at all this in pain. I want you to live your best life...one that isn't filled with regret. And if this means moving on, starting anew...then do it. I want you to be happy. Be happy...for me.

Another tear fell, but this time you didn't bother to wipe it away. "I guess since my days are now numbered, I should let this weight off my chest...I love you, Steve Rogers. More than you'll ever know. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember and I can only hope you feel the same but I guess I might never know that answer now...we can't always get our happy endings, can we?

"I'm so sorry I didn't get to say goodbye one last time, I love you," you choked out as the recording finally powered down and you let your head fall into your hands, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. The ache of longing to be with him echoed through the marrow of your bones; a chill wind trapped inside your heart and a million little glass shards tearing at your guts. Nausea swirled around in your stomach, head swimming with thoughts as your blood felt like tar, struggling to flow steadily.

Reaching over, Tony carefully grasped your hand, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently. "It's gonna be okay," he muttered, eyes closed as you trained your gaze on the glass. "It's gonna be okay."

It could've been five minutes or five hours later, but suddenly, a vast white light illuminated the space surrounding you, forcing you to shut your eyes again.

As you focused on the bright ball of light, you could make out several features of a woman, though you initially thought you were dreaming. This couldn't be real. Was it?

"Hang in there, guys, I've got you," her voice flooded your ears, before she disappeared from view.

You opened your eyes a second time to see you were speeding towards Earth, the ship slowing down slightly as the familiar outline of America came into view.

Then, a steady jolt of the Benatar indicated you'd hit solid ground, in the middle of the field in the Avengers facility.

Nebula helped Tony up first, then you. The entry hatch opened, and you carefully stepped down the ramp together onto the grass.

It was pitch-black out, the only sources of light coming from the lights that projected from the compound, but it didn't take long for your vision to adjust. A small smile found its way onto your face as you saw six familiar figures came running towards you.

"Oh my God," Pepper cried, throwing her arms around Tony's neck and holding on as if her life depended on it. "Oh my God."

You smiled wistfully as you observed your surroundings, lowering yourself onto the ramp's last set, arms crossed over your chest as you realized just how cold it actually was.

A sudden warmth enveloped you and you felt someone's leather jacket being draped over your shoulders. Seeing Steve's familiar tall figure out of the corner of your eye, you moved over slightly to allow room for him to sit.

He looked over at you in concern, taking in your pale and malnourished figure. His chest ached at the sight.

"I'm okay," you found yourself saying, "don't worry about me."

"I've been worrying about you for the past twenty-two days," he replied, hands in his pockets, "I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," you swallowed hard.

Steve let out a shaky breath and slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"I thought you were dead," his voice cracked, "and if you really were, then...I don't know what I'd do."

“Me neither,” you breathed out. “God, I missed you so much.”

Then all of a sudden, the whole word seemed as if it was on standstill as his sapphire blue eyes bored into yours with such an intensity that sent a chill down your spine, keeping you firmly locked in place. And it utterly terrified you because you’d never felt something so intense like this before and he was the reason why you even felt this way to begin with.

And before you can protest against your own thoughts, you closed your fists around his shirt and gently tugged him towards you, closing the gap and kissing him. The sudden action took you both by surprise but Steve doesn’t waste any time in reacting, moving a hand from your cheek to the nape of your neck to kiss you back.

Everyone’s too exhausted, too busy feeling relieved at the fact that you returned safely to make a teasing comment towards yours and Steve’s relationship. They’ve secretly been betting for a while that you’d finally get together, though not in this exact way.

Until Rocket breaks the silence. “Nice welcome back gift, Agent.”

"You cockblock," Nebula flicks him in the head. "Let them have their moment, geez."

#steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #marvel imagine #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x you #marvel reader insert

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eleven-times-lively · 4 years

Text

The Fight

In which reader and Fred question their compatibility. 💕 masterpost

Summary: You and Fred haven’t been the same since the girls left for Hogwarts. Can you handle the new dynamic after eleven years? Word Count: 3654 Note: I am such a whore for angst so this is one of my favorite chapters so far lol. Thanks to Liv with help with some ideas! Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger, as this is the end of part 2!!! Enjoy!

Two weeks had passed since Cassie and Callie boarded the Hogwarts Express and left for school. Two weeks since you’d seen your little girls. Two weeks since you were surrounded by constant laughter and joy. Two weeks since things had felt normal.

You and Fred had gotten off to a fine start… that is if fine consists of uncomfortable silence and forced conversation. It was as if you’d forgotten how to be alone with each other. Eleven years of constant company can make a couple forget how to be, well, a couple. With each passing day you could feel a divide. Rather than a lovely time of peace, a rift between you and Fred was growing strong, vast, and cold.

The first major fight happened just a day after the girls had left. One day and you were at each other’s throats. It would have been the twins’ second day of school, and house announcements had finally come around to family members.

“Freddie!” you shouted from the front door, “The girls’ house announcements are here!”

“‘Bout bloody time!” he shouted as he ran down the stairs. He scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the couch. You gave him a quick kiss before settling opposite him and tearing open the letter.

Your excited expression quickly fell as you read. Fred looked at you expectantly. “Calliope Molly Weasley,” you began, “has been placed in Ravenclaw.” You looked up at Fred with a halfhearted smile.

“Can’t say I didn’t see that coming,” Fred chuckled, “why are you upset, love?”

“Not upset, just… puzzled.” You paused a moment before continuing. “Cassiopeia Ginevra Weasley has been placed in Gryffindor.” You looked up at Fred, this time with a genuine smile on your face. However, there were cracks in your visage, waiting to split upon his reaction.

“Yes!” he shouted, earning a puzzled glance from you. “Gryffindor! That’s my girl!” He was up from the couch, and quite literally, jumping with glee. However he faltered and paused for a moment. “Wait…” his words drew out from his mouth, as if the very sound disgusted him, “two separate houses?”

You looked up at him, unsure of how to precede. “Yeah,” you said just about a whisper. “I know it’ll be a tough adjustment, but if anyone can do it it’s our girls. I’m happy for them!” You were truly excited and extremely proud of your daughters, however you looked up and Fred didn’t seem to be sharing your feelings.

His face was flushed, save for a cherry red at the edges of his ears. He was breathing heavy, and honestly looked as if he was about to pass out. “Two… two,” he was stuttering in utter disbelief. “Two different houses,” he muttered as he brought himself to sit down on the chair next to the couch. His eyes were blank as he just stared straight ahead, incoherently muttering while he ran his hands through his hair. You only caught a few words in broken bits, which happened to be ‘twins’ ‘Gryffindor’ and ‘George’.

You stood up from your seat and crouched down next to him, gently rubbing his arm as you cocked an eyebrow up at him. He looked down at you, a shocked expression playing at his features. His face was contorted in such a way as if to perfectly convey his saying ‘why aren’t you shocked as well?’.

“Two different houses,” he repeated, this time clearly, “They’re in two different houses, y/n.”

“Okay,” you began, this time your turn to flash a look of confusion, “and? Fred, they’ll be fine. If anything, this will be good for them.” You stood up and looked down at him.

“Good?!” he gasped as if you’d just told him the Hollyhead Harpies lost the cup. “How in the world could this be good, y/n?” He rose to his feet and took your hands in his, searching your face for even an ounce of a shared feeling.

Because, Fred…” you began, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and scoff at him, “they’ve been attached at the hip for eleven years, some separation will do them well.”

“But they need each other, y/n!” He looked at you as if you had ten heads. “Twins need one and other!” He was shouting, whether he realised it or not you weren’t sure.

“No Fred,” you continued, now annoyed, “they don’t. It will be good for them. They’ll have different classes, different friends, different experiences. They’ll get to make a life for themselves that isn’t dependent on each other! How in the world could you say this is bad!?” By the end, you were yelling… intentionally.

“But they need each other!” He repeated the same sentiment once again, still flashing the wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression of shock.

“I’m not having this argument if that’s all you can say, Weasley,” you did scoff this time and started to walk away when he finally spoke a different word.

“Y/n, wait.” He was rubbing his face with his hands. You walked back over to him and gave him a look that quite clearly showed how perturbed you were. He was shaking his head, almost holding back a laugh. “I know you don’t understand, love,” he began, noticing the expression of amused anger that played at your features, “but twins have a special… connection.” It was taking everything in you to not bust out laughing. “Especially at that young, I don’t know if they can handle this much separation being thrown at them all at once. I mean Georgie and I probably only survived Hogwarts because we had each other.”

Poor choice of words, Weasley. “Only because you had each other?” you spat.

Fred nodded his head innocently, not yet realising his mistake.

“Just the two of you? Not me? Not your girlfriend that you had for the majority of school?” You were yelling, genuinely hurt by his words.

“Merlin, y/n, you know that not what I meant!” he shouted back, a culmination of the misunderstanding and his confusion of the whole situation.

“No, Fred, I didn’t! I mean, when you’re sitting here rambling about twins and nonsense, how am I meant to think I was included in your distorted memory of Hogwarts?!”

“Y/n,” he began, cautiously even if he was still shouting, “I was just trying to tell you how important a sibling bond is! Especially that of twins! I mean, what’s wrong with you!”

You looked up at him, shocked and even more hurt, yet the daft idiot kept going.

“I know you don’t understand because your one brother is dead and the other you don’t even speak to!” He continued yelling, but stopped abruptly as his words, and immediately softened, “Y/n, I-”

Tears streamed down your face in a disparaging mix of emotions. “Save it, Fred. At least our girls won’t be living the fucked up utopia that you and George did! Constantly attached and only living for each other! At least they’ll have a sense of independence and can learn to grow apart from each other! Which… if you haven’t noticed… if something you and George never did!” You didn’t even give him a chance to speak, you just ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind you.

***

Never, ever go to bed angry. That fight was two weeks ago, and you still hadn’t fully recovered. Everytime you tried to bring it up to Fred, you were met with dodgy glances and fleeting responses. However, the two of you tried to carry on as normal with kisses, cuddles, and date nights. So now, two weeks without the girls, and you were dreading what was still to come. You sat up from the couch, slowly waking up from your nap, interest piqued by the lovely smells coming from the kitchen. You made your way to the kitchen where you found Fred cooking dinner. “Hi, love,” you muttered, still groggy.

“Hi, darling,” he responded, kissing your head as you walked past. “Date night,” he chirped, sounding only slightly interested. You just hummed in response. He nodded his head and went back to the pot before him as you took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

“What’s for dinner, love?” you asked Fred.

“Oh, your favorite,” he said, turning and smiling at you. You only cocked an eyebrow in response. “Look, y/n, I feel bad. I messed up and then wouldn’t bother talking about it cause it was easier to ignore it than confront the issue. I’m sorry.” A blush crept on his face as he looked down at you, clearly slightly on edge.

“Thank you, Freddie. Means a lot.” You returned the smile up at him. “So,” you began, standing up and heading over to his place at the stove, wrapping an arm around his waist, “Lancashire stew, is it?” You smiled at him and looked down, peering into the pot. Your expression quickly fell to confusion as your gaze was met by a thick, orange substance.

“Um, no…” he drew out slowly, “pumpkin soup?” His words were more of a question than anything. “Your favorite dinner. Pumpkin soup.”

You removed your arm and turned to look up at him. Your mouth opened slightly as you flashed an incredulous look at him. “Fred I bloody hate pumpkin soup.”

“What?” He turned to you, utterly baffled.

“It has to be my least favorite thing in all of Wizardom. In fact, I hate anything pumpkin. Taste changed when I was pregnant, hated it ever since,” you expression quickly turned sullen and defeated. “Fred, you knew this.”

He looked down at you, mouth agape, unable to speak.

“Whatever,” you muttered, walking away. “Wouldn’t have expected you to remember anyway.”

“Y/n, wait,” he said, voice tense and clearly agitated. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well it seems that you’re at the store more and more, Fred,” you sighed. “I mean, how many times have I come home for the day, and you stay at the store for hours more?” You weren’t angry, just… tired. “You know what?” you began, “It’s okay, Freddie. I love you”

“No, y/n. I should have known that.” He was staring down at you, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “I have to be at the store to provide for us, love.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you stated, “Sometimes you’re home long after the store would’ve closed. Besides, Fred, we make plenty of money and you know that. You’d rather be with your toys than me.”

His heart broke. Seeing you so sad and defeated. Yet he couldn’t help the wave of hurt that came over him. “Toys?”, he asked.

“I mean that’s what everything in there is, isn’t it?” You crossed your arms, staring him up and down.

“Y/n, you helped create half those products.” He cocked an eyebrow down at you, genuinely not sure if you meant what you had said.

“Sure, Fred, because it’s a business. I don’t spend hours obsessing over it. I don’t spend hours testing and trying everything every day. I don’t spend hours thinking up products that probably won’t even make it to the shelf! I,” you paused, voice breaking, “I don’t spend more time in my store than I do with my husband.” Tears streamed down your face freely now, and you collapsed into Fred’s arms.

“Is that how you really feel?” Fred murmured, guiding you over to the couch. You just nodded your head in response, trying to choke back a sob. “Love, I-... I’m sorry.” There was a long moment of silence. Him holding you in his arms, shaking and sobbing as his own tears flowed as well. “I was never trying to be neglectful, y/n. Please, please know that. I… I just needed to get away I suppose. I mean not from you of course. Just… my mind. Being there with George, and sometimes alone, actually. I’d be distracted, focused on the store or a product, and not thinking,” he sighed, and the weight that came off his shoulders was almost tangible.

“But why was I not enough,” you whispered. “Why couldn’t I distract you? Be there for you?”

He took a deep breath in before continuing. “Cause you’re a reminder, y/n.”

“Fred, what?”

“They look just like you, act like you, sound like you. Everytime I look like you, I see our girls. And, and it’s not just that y/n. I haven’t felt happy lately.” You looked up at him, a mixture of confusion and dread spreading across your face. “Not… not with our marriage. That’s… fine. I just… I don’t know,” his voice grew quiet and slow. He took a deep breath in, shaking as he went. “I just feel different, and I don’t know why. It’s not the same and I’m not… handling it, y/n.” He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. He pulled you into him closely, not letting go for anything.

“Well let’s change that, Freddie,” you turned and looked up at him. You were met with his puffy, tear stained face adorned with a cocked eyebrow and upturned nose. “We’ll do something we can have fun and enjoy doing. Some of these rooms could use a new coat of paint.”

He gave you a soft smile, appreciative of your efforts. “Painting it is, then.” He stretched out to lay down on the couch, pulling you with him. The two of you drifted off into a relaxed sleep after a while, forgetting any responsibilities and settling in the feeling of normalcy… a connection that had been missing for weeks.

***

Fred groaned as he rolled over, waking up to the early morning sunshine flooding in through the window. He was met with cold sheets and an empty bed. He stood up, rubbing his eyes and stumbling into his slippers. He had a good morning stretch and wandered downstairs. He was met with you, standing at the bottom of the steps, staring up at him with bright eyes and a big smile.

“Morning, love,” you said bounding over to him and jumping into his arms.

“Hey, y/n,” he said, chuckling lightly. He hugged you and wandered into the kitchen, where you already had his tea ready for him. “What’s this about, love?”

“Well,” you began, taking a seat across from him, “I figured we could paint today.”

He gave you a warm smile as he sipped his tea, fully waking up. After a while he stood, placing his hands on your hips. He looked down at you, smiling before placing a warm, sweet kiss on your lips. You reciprocated, humming into his touch. You separated and took a step back, staring up at your husband. Everything felt right, whole, complete for the first time in weeks.

You guided him into the living room where you had the paints and supplies set up. “Well, here it is!” you chirped excitedly.

He chuckled, crouching down to examine the paints. “Which rooms are we doing, love?”

“I was thinking the kitchen, living room, and the front hallway.”

He nodded in approval, turning one of the jars over in his hands. His face contorted, features pinched tightly together. “Grey?” he asked, sounding perturbed and confused at the same time.

“Yeah…” you responded, turning an eyebrow at him.

“Beige?” he asked, lip upturned in disgust.

“Yes, Fred, what’s the issue?”

“So… boring,” he finally looked up at you, face shifted as if he smelled a horrible scent. “These aren’t real colors, y/n.”

“Real colors?” you chuckled, “pretty sure they are, Freddie.” You grabbed the grey and got to work on the living room wall.

“Wait,” he said, standing to meet you, “I mean no green, no red, not even a blue?”

“These are mature and modern, Fred. There’s nothing sophisticated about a primary color.

He scoffed at you, “Y/n we could have done an emerald green, and muted bluish grey, even a deep maroon. I’m not asking for Gryffindor red, here. But I’d rather not be suffocated by despair in my own home if that’s alright.”

“Bit over dramatic if you ask me, Fred,” you murmured, continuing your painting.

He rolled his eyes and got to work with the beige in the kitchen. After a while of heavy silence, his pettiness took over. “Hey, y/n,” he called out, walking over to you.

“Hmm?” You responded, now focused on the front hallway. He crossed over to the finished living room wall, holding up in paintbrush. “I think this grey is a bit too flashy, don’t you think, love?” You turned and looked at him just as he spread a stripe of beige onto the fresh, grey wall. “This dull enough for you?” He flashed an indignant look before smirking and returning to his work.

You stood there, mouth agape, not sure how to react. So, doing what any reasonable adult would do, you walked over to him and painted a grey stripe on his beige wall. He just rolled his eyes and kept going, unfazed. You huffed and walked away, leaving him smirking.

***

Over the next weeks the tension between you and Fred continued to grow. Every day there was either a petty spat, or an exchanged that would leave one of you defeated and disappointed.

One day you were in Wizarding Paris gathering some supplies and Fred decided to plan a surprise for your return. You came home to a trail of red rose petals from the doorway into the center of the house, where whole roses were tossed about and Fred was standing in a suit with soft music in the background. You were absolutely enamored, until he made the comment, “I know red roses are your favorite, so I had mother help me gather as many as we could find.”

You stood hesitating for a moment, “Fred my favorite is a peach rose, not red.” You stared up at him, tears from a mix of joy and sadness pricking at your eyes, “Fred they were our wedding flowers.” You tried to brush it off and enjoy the night, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you and Fred were starting to lose touch. The night ended with him getting upset over you not enjoying the surprise and not being appreciative of his efforts, even when he tried.

Another time you and Fred were in the store, planning for the release of a collaborative collection with Madam Malkins. You had rescheduled a development meeting without telling him, hoping to get some of your designs past Fred. This led to months of sly, petty plays between the two of you. Whether it be one of you not showing up to work, or not restocking a product, or not counting the days galleons, you and Fred were finding new ways to mess with each other.

The new, dangerous dynamic finally came to a head just before the girls would be returning for Christmas break. You were in the backyard gardens, tending to the various year-round plants and dusting snow off of the decor. Unbeknownst to you, Fred was creeping up behind you, a snowball in hand. He tried to hold in a laugh as he hurled the snowball, hitting you square in the back.

“Fred!”, you shrieked, turning to face him. Your face was beat red as your nostrils flared.

He was laughing until he saw your face. “Merlin, love, did I hurt you?”

“What? No. But what the bloody hell was that for?”, you helped, throwing your arms up in question at him.

“I-... it’s… snowball fight?” He rubbed his hands together, both out of nerves and a defense against the cold.

You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath as you turned back to your work.

“You know what?”, he began in a terse tone that compelled you to face him once again. “Enough, y/n. I’ve had enough.”

“Pardon?”

“I miss having fun, y/n! We used to be a happy and fun couple! We went out with friends, we got into trouble! We. Had. Fun! And now we live in this… this fucking charade! Are we even happy with each other?!” He yelled, face growing increasingly red as he turned and went inside.

You followed him in, slamming the door behind you. “Having fun!?”, you retorted, screaming as well, “Fred, you git, we’re thirty five years old with two kids!! There is no fun anymore, just parenting and real life shit!”

“And that’s exactly what’s wrong, y/n!” he yelled back, “This horrible attitude! Ever since you had those kids you’ve… changed! Changed into someone I don’t even recognize anymore!” Tears began to stream down his face at the utterance of his final sentence.

His words made you cry as well. “Those kids?! Fred Weasley they are your daughters, too! And think about how I feel! The fact that you haven’t changed! You’re still witty and crafty and energetic, and Fred I just can’t keep up with you anymore!! We aren’t in Hogwarts anymore, our children are, so you need to drop this childish attitude and fast!”

“What about our entire relationship that was built on wit and energy and childish fun?!”, he shot back, voice breaking, “All of the jokes and laughter, doesn’t that mean anything to you anymore!?? It’s what bonds us together, and now you just want to leave it behind like it isn’t what made us fall in love!”

“Are we even in love anymore?! I loved you for your wit and intelligence and creativity, yes, but those can be applied elsewhere! Stop acting like a child and act like the adult you’re supposed to be!” “You aren’t my partner in crime anymore. You aren’t the same woman I fell in love with. I want a divorce.” And with that he apparated away into the succumbing abandon of the wizarding world.

@it-was-three-am @hess016

(If you’re name isn’t linked, it means I couldn’t tag you! Message me to find out why!)

#HP #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley series #fred weasley angst #marriage story

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blindedbythedarkness · 3 years

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Josh,

I did it. I'm out. I'm finally done with my degree and away from that fucking university.

Had I not learnt the lessons that I did from your death, there's a good chance it would have finished me off at the end there. The way I was treated as I struggled with my thesis was unbearable and I've rarely felt so hopeless. I suppose it's a very fitting end to my time there. Three times my university experience nearly resulted in my suicide and though I somehow made it through, the marks it left on me will be visible for the rest of my life. I gained a degree, a master's degree in fact, but I lost so much more and yet compared to you, I was lucky.

I'm so relieved to be away from campus. As pretty as it was, it was always tainted by the 6-story grave that most people just knew as the maths building. For the last year or so, the main route around campus was changed to allow for more pedestrian areas, meaning every time I drove to campus I was forced to go right past that building. It didn't make me sad as such, more awoke a very primal hatred that made me want to get away from it as quickly as possible and yell "Fuck off! I hate you! You're disgusting!" (Don't worry Josh, I am aware it's pretty dumb to want a building to fuck off! But Monkey Brain doesn't think like that.)

I think it's kind of like when I was younger and living back in the house that had been flooded. I didn't realise quite how much I feared the rain until we moved away and I loved it again. I don't think I knew just how stifled and haunted I felt by the university campus, until I was away from it for good and realised I could breath again.

How the fuck was I there for four years, Josh? I'm a different person to the C that started there, the C that you met. I never felt like I had the full, typical uni student experience, but that doesn't mean I did nothing at all. Looking back, I did so much! I got drunk for the first time and the last and took care of so many drunk flatmates; I won the flat pool tournament; I joined the pride societies exec only a month after starting, despite not even being out back home. I went on my first date with a girl; met my current boyfriend of three years and started living as authentically me. I tried mixed netball and archery and wheelchair basketball; I auditioned for the university taskmaster; I made the most of the student cinema and even went to two showings of a film in one night (I think we can all agree that The Greatest Showman is...well pretty great). I went to a nightclub and unsurprisingly decided the SU rock nights were more my style; I played more laser quest than I ever did as a kid; I joined the musical theatre society and sang and danced despite my anxiety and atrocious coordination. I very nearly hit a tree after speeding down hills in a trolley; I won the flat screaming competition and I helped turn a flatmates entire bedroom upside-down (including the plug sockets). I tried yoga (it didn't cure me) and plenty of weird foods that I'd never heard of but "really aren't that posh"; I met people from all over the world; I made friends and at one time had an amazing little squad. I finally got to go to Eurovision party and a Halloween party; I stayed up far too late and learnt that I need at least four hours sleep to not drop off during lectures! I learnt that long-distance friendships can work; I learnt how to navigate all over the country on my own and I walked down the street dressed as Frank N Furter, in barely more than a corset and tights, in the middle of February. I power-walked to campus in just a hoodie and pyjamas past a tour of prospective students, only to miss a deadline by three minutes; I worked past my fear of rodents to get the three rat babies I have now. I hid from security in empty rooms late at night; lost so many pub quizzes and I learnt that the people from the Doctor Who society were some of the best company, so when I went to events it was never to watch the show.

I also learnt a lot of life lessons. I learnt that landlords will go to extreme lengths to try to keep your deposit but that they will see no problem leaving you without an oven for a month or without heating for three weeks in Winter. I learnt how to coexist with plants in the vents, black mold covering the ceiling and mushrooms growing out of the carpet. I learnt how to fight to get a deposit back; how to contact the council and to assert my rights as a tenant. I learnt how easily a crash can happen if just one person isn't paying attention; what happens when you ring 999 and that you really do talk total nonsense when in shock. I learnt to trust my gut when I knew I needed to see a doctor; that waiting lists are dangerously long and that you almost never get the healthcare you need without a fight. I learnt how it feels to be helpless and left to deteriorate; that trauma can trigger life-threatening, chronic health problems and that once you are disabled, people think your life has limited worth. I learnt that my university spends painfully little on student mental health support; how doctors deliver bad news and what it's like to lose a friend at 20 years old to suicide. I learnt that how to navigate grief while still taking exams; that spending time with the dead is often a lot more peaceful than with the living and what happens at a funeral. I learnt that when you make a complaint, there is no one else on your side; that the university cares more about its reputation than the actual service it provides and that my existence as a student beyond the fees I paid matters very little to the vast majority of university staff. I learnt that grief changes people and it's true that everyone deals with it differently; I learnt what it's like to see your group of friends fall apart in slow motion and that friends really can break your heart too. I learnt that academics will work you until you're on your knees so long as they get what they want; that sometimes begging for help isn't enough and what happens when you end up in A&E from self harm. I learnt that many people are unaware of how privileged they are; that many people will only care until it costs them something and that good friends are incredibly rare. And honestly? I learnt that life is a real, unfair bitch.

So I guess, after all that, it's no surprise that I'm a different person. I feel like I managed to age ten years, not four. And I mean, I'm glad for some of the life lessons because I know they'll help me later on but I can't help but wish I'd somehow learnt them another way. I don't know, Josh. University wasn't all bad, I met you for a start, but it also hurt me so badly. I'm so glad to be moving on. I wonder what I will learn at my new university; I wonder who I will be four years from now.

Love always, Josh,

#c rambles #mental health awareness #mental health #mental illness #suicide #suicide loss #suicide awareness #suicide prevention #grief #grieving #mourning #bereaved #bereavement #loss #university #university experience #graduation #depressed #depression

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adventurouspotatoes · 3 years

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Prompt: An impulse buy leading to intergalactic warfare.

Milo woke up suddenly as he fell to the floor, startled by the aggressive vibration of his phone. He blinked several times, trying to make out the name on the screen through the sleepy blur covering his eyes. A slight groan escaped his lips as he saw the name ‘Brian’ across the display and for a few seconds he debated going back to sleep. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he quickly found himself saying “Accept call.”

Brian and Milo had met during 2208, almost ten years ago, at a summer space camp. Those two months spent on the Lutra Space Station had been incredible and inspired both boys to pursue careers in space tech. For the next eight years, Brian and Milo were inseparable. They spent the majority of their free time together, studying and performing crazy experiments with the hopes of one day becoming famous space explorers like their role models. Unfortunately, as they grew, Milo slowly began to drift away from Brian. His mind was set on realistic goals, he wanted to be the head of the Earth’s Galactic Exploration Program (EGEP) and had been working almost 24/7 since his twentieth birthday to achieve this. Brian, on the other hand, never left his inner child behind and had been slowly building a name for himself as the laughingstock of the EGEP.

Brian and Milo both began working for the EGEP during the winter of 2216, after having completed many intensive space tech programs together. Milo had worked his way up the corporate ladder quickly and was now one of the main technicians on the Galactica spacecrafts - the first and only spaceship built for traveling between galaxies. Although intergalactic space travel had been banned since ‘The Incident’, a small, elite team of specially trained technicians was tasked with maintaining and enhancing the range of Galactica models. This project was kept strictly confidential at a national level and was self-funded by the EGEP, whose “task is to ensure Earth is prepared for any future by broadening horizons in the field of space exploration”, as their digital leaflets state in bright, attractive colours. Brian had also dreamed of being on this team; however, his wild talk of becoming a Galactica pilot had kept him at the lowest branch of the EGEP. In fact, he had managed to cling to his current job only by a thread, one strung out to him by Milo, who spent many hours on a monthly basis convincing his bosses that his friend deserved a spot within the EGEP, despite his occasional mad ramblings. These affairs eventually caused a strain between the young men and they rarely spent time together these days, which is why Brian was pleasantly surprised when Milo’s sleepy hologram appeared through his phone screen.

“It’s 2 am, Brian. And we have work tomorrow. What could possibly be up?” Milo groaned into his phone.

“Well, my dear friend Milo, the sky, space, Andromeda depending on where you stand, and now you, too, are up.” Brian grinned. “It’s late, I know, but I have a very good reason for calling you at this ridiculous hour. I can’t say much on the phone but meet me at our spot in the woods in an hour. You’ll want to see this.” His voice was hushed as if he was worried about being overheard yet there was still a certain bounce to his words, a hint of excitement which Milo hadn’t heard in Brian’s voice for years.

The clear night sky sparkled with the shine of millions of stars, while the moonlight illuminated Milo’s path through the woods. The hills and woods behind EGEP headquarters were the best places for stargazing due to their remote location. The air around the base was the cleanest on Earth, with an Air Quality Index of 71 and getting better by the year with the new advancements in air purifying technology. The flora and fauna here was also the most diverse, providing a home to 80% of the Earth’s remaining species. Milo loved walking through these woods for those very reasons, he liked to be close to nature, to really feel the Earth in a way not many others could.

Brian was pacing rapidly with a big grin on his face when Milo approached him. “So what’s this big secret you woke me up in the middle of the night for then?”

“It’s a little further away, on the other side of the woods. I’ll tell you as we walk.” Brian replied, turning to walk further away from the EGEP base. Milo followed him quietly, waiting to hear his best friend’s newest idea and secretly hoping it wouldn’t land them in trouble in the morning. “So I was scrolling through the backstreet online market… through an encrypted device, don’t give me that look! Anyways, I was looking for some quality hybrid bud, the kind you only get on other planets, when I came across something amazing. Now, it’s a little out there and I know you might think I’m crazy at first but just try to keep an open mind, okay?” Brian smiled at his friend, though his eyes gave off a slight air of nervousness.

“The last time you told me to keep an open mind we ended up buried in lunar soil and the principal made us… OH MY SWEET ROCKS BRIAN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?” Milo yelled and stared frantically from his friend to the object just 200 paces away from them. It was an exact replica of the Galactica 400X, except for the colouring. “I know how it looks but come on Milo, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Some ex-EGEP technician rebuilt this model and he was selling it for a very decent price and…”

“Wait… WAIT. You are thinking of FLYING this thing!? As your best friend, Brian, it is my job to tell you that you have officially gone off the space pipes! We are not going to space on our own without even a trained pilot let alone the fact that intergalactic travel has been banned for hmm... FOUR HUNDRED YEARS. I mean what were you thinking?” Milo exclaimed.

“Look everyone thinks I’m crazy and maybe I am but this has been my lifelong dream and damn it I am going to make it happen! I am going to fly a Galactica, Milo, whether you come with me or not. Plus we won’t take any outer space pipes, just a few quick spins round the station. And I have been doing extensive research on piloting one.” Brian replied and made his way towards the entrance of the spacecraft. After a few moments Milo groaned and ran into the ship behind him.

They had looped around the station a few times and taken in the magnificent views of Earth, although far less green than it once was, when suddenly the blood drained from Brian’s face. He looked at Milo and gulped. “Try not to panic but… well…” Brian stammered.

“What is it, Brian?”

“I’ve lost control of the spacecraft, I can’t take us back, and I have no idea where we are heading.”

Milo laughed until he realised Brian wasn’t joking, at which point he continued laughing but this time at the absurdity of his life. He looked outside at the vast darkness interspersed with tiny spots of light in the distance and thought of how insignificant he was compared to it all. This thought always gave him comfort in a time of worry.

“Look, Brian, I know we have drifted apart in the last few years and that the guys at EGEP haven’t always been the kindest to you, but I want you to know I love you, man. You’re my best friend and I honestly couldn’t think of anyone else I would rather end up dying on an illegal spaceship with.” Milo smiled at Brian who let out a loud snort. They stood like that in silence for a while, waiting to see what was in store.

“CAUTION! CAUTION! Accelerating speed to intergalactic levels. Please remain seated and keep all seat belts fastened.” The sudden computerized yell startled both men who stared at each other in terror as the spacecraft sped past a sign which read ‘Andromeda Space Pipe - Fast Track’. A few seconds later, once they flew through the Andromeda pipe line entrance, a loud, piercing sound began to radiate outside the ship. “Oh fuck,” Brian exclaimed.

“What could possibly be worse than this?” Milo stared at him.

“So you know how I like to research alien civilizations, especially those of Andromeda… Well, the residents of Stellaris communicate mainly through sounds and… Oh, Milo, I think we’ve started an intergalactic war.”

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #science fiction #original writing #flash fiction #my writing #sci fi #space #writing prompts

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rpgmgames · 4 years

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February’s Featured Game: Ressurflection

DEVELOPER(S): charlottezxz ENGINE: RPG Maker MV GENRE: Fantasy, Cartoon, RPG WARNINGS: Paranoia, fear and tension, mild swearing and blood. SUMMARY: Ressurflection is a Fantasy/cartoon RPG set in the fictional universe of the Arbvar and taking center stage primarily at the coastal city of ‘Horizon Bluff’. Its story and game play are heavily character driven, with its narrative divided into two parallels told both within and outside the mirror itself. Ressurflection’s core themes draw from our inevitability of fearing death, and that at some point or another, we all must accept it, and to treasure what’s really important in the time that we have.

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *charlottezxz: Hiya this is Charlotte, lead game developer for Ressurflection! I’m some silly, overactive drawing monkey who works a lot with Narrow on Ressurflection! I’m always sketching and conceptualizing monster bois, taking a lot of inspiration from various games, primarily monster hunter! I’ve had avid interest in the Indie scene for a while now and a lot of the great friends I've made have been due to it and a lot of my recent favorite games have come from it! I would have had Narrow say a few things here but he’s hiding in a corner somewhere!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *charlottezxz: Ressurflection started out as what can be described as two separate stories. Myself and Narrow wrote our own stories and every so often we swapped over ideas or combined them together with each other. One day I said to ourselves ‘You know what? This could work quite well as a game rather than just a story’ so eventually Ressurflection was conceived, around the idea of a mythical mirror capable ‘Ressurflection’ the title of the game. We’ve gone through quite a few iterations of the story before it came to its current form and to be honest if we even showed or compared them side by side they’d be pretty unrecognizable as the same thing except for certain characters, locations and the mirror itself to identify its primordial form having any kind of ancestral relevance to how it is today. As for what Ressurflection is about, I think our synopsis can get that across quite nicely! ‘Horizon Bluff has always annually held its ‘Legend of the Wyvern Glass’ festivities. The Wyvern glass was a long lost mythical mirror, once fabled for its power of ‘Ressurflection’ and coveted by a kingdom now all but gone. That is quick to change however with the arrival of the Roulette Runner’s circus to the coastal city of Horizon Bluff. Trouble is soon to set in motion not just the kingdom’s sudden reappearance but the entrapment of one of their own acrobats within the mirror silver. Yet things are soon to worsen...with the spread of a purple ‘corruption’ across the city and the fact that our most unfortunate trouper is far from alone within the mirror, finding himself at the mercy of its ‘Mirror Maiden’. > The apparent all powerful manipulator of its realm…’

How long have you been working on your project? *charlottezxz: Conceptually we have been working on it for 4 years which is hard to even fathom, however that’s more tinkering around the idea for the story and conceiving it as we learnt the engine. The blog itself is hitting its 4th birthday in February! Ressuflection’s development went on as i attended university, so its always been a side lined hobby of ours.Steam says 108 days worth of hours in the engine and most of the game progress other than concepts has been done in 2019. So I could say 4 years for the ideas/stories and concepts and a year of that for actual game making!

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *charlottezxz: We each have our own inspirations, Lost Odyssey, Final Fantasy 9, Xenoblade Chronicles, Monster hunter and many older PSX titles such as Medievil, Tomba and Heart of darkness are great influences and inspirations to me personally. The dark, dangerous environments of Heart of darkness contrasted by some innocent characters, the monster designs in capcom’s franchise and the storytelling and themes with a cinematic approach to cut scenes found in some of FF9, Xenoblade and Lost odyssey, a lost game stuck in the recess of the xbox 360. There are many more but these spring to mind first and foremost. Narrow himself draws inspiration from games such as Earthbound, the Persona series and FF10!

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *charlottezxz: We started the project in VX ace to begin with, until MV released. It was in Ace that I experimented learning RPG maker and in the early days of MV too. Although before Ressurflection’s time i also dabbled a bit in XP. MV seemed more in line for what we wanted, as i really wanted to try animating beyond SV sheets and do more, with Java being a bit more flexible and the scope of it being able to allow dragon bones later. However it hasn’t been without its hiccups! Part of that is the sheer amount of time you underestimate games and certain elements to take in their development. That and everything that comes with it, streamlining, trimming the fat...in the past week alone i spent days optimizing pictures, sounds and music in the game to cut down the staggering file sizes they were. So far they have retained their form without being as costly on the MB! Since I do the vast majority of the game development myself, everything takes a lot longer to develop. You underestimate all the little things to consider and that you may need later. By the end of development, I hope to have the vast majority of the game consist of custom assets and be able to truly call it something that is ours. Though that path is long ahead we won’t stray too far from it.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *charlottezxz: The game itself has always been a story-driven RPG at its heart, although certain game mechanics have been scaled down or developed further from puzzles to battle flow. As mentioned previously, the story has changed considerably which changed the direction of the overall narrative and gameplay as a whole. Certain characters and scenarios have been culled completely too. At its start the story wasn’t as heartfelt nor was the scope of the story all that big - Oh and the game had a time limit, a bit like Majora’s Mask! But it is a lot more meaningful now and we hope that you will enjoy it when the time comes.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *charlottezxz: It has been just myself and Narrow for the majority of the development but we reached a point where we wanted to reach out to find a musician for our game. We eventually came across Geoff who has done the majority of our music up until recently. However we have had friends help and contribute along the way such as Harry helping sprite some NPCs for me, Bart helping formulate and do some math balancing, Vaijack has also contributed to music making him our second musical boi and more on the way, our preliminary demo testers( it would take a little to list them all) and more peeps i’ll be sure to credit!

What is the best part of developing a game? *charlottezxz: For me it has to be conceptualising all the little ideas we have and bringing them all into being. This is especially so for any monster and character bois! I spend a lot of time visualizing and planning the design of areas, locales and creatures. Would this thing live here? Why would it be this way? If this is a historical town wouldn’t it have x and x? Then when we ultimately put it together, and all the pieces of the puzzle line into place and then you can just...experience, the final thing, that for me is the best part in developing our game for me.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *charlottezxz: I learn best by doing, so more often than not I just dive into things, including the engine blind and tussle around with it. It’s a silly way of doing it, but I've often found myself learning more that way than following tutorials. Although in any game I've played, RPG maker or not, i do like to ponder and deconstruct scenes within them. The Witch's house, Pocket Mirror, Dreaming Mary, Mad fathers and Ib are all wonderful games that are great to learn from, dissect and understand what makes and made them tick. This applies across any game I've played or intend to play! I look at game making as one giant puzzle with lots of intricate little details that need to be solved, it’s more fun and engaging that way!

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *charlottezxz: There’s some characters I like a great deal, but i can’t talk about as it would be spoilers to the plot, that and it’s hard to pick any overall favorites. Charm comes across as a fun character to write for as she’s quite witty and sarcastic, the kind of dialogue that comes a bit too naturally to me. She’s a budding magical prodigy of the circus under the tutelage of Jerine. She bigs herself up a lot but isn’t quite ready to deal with the problems of the adult world just yet, as much as she strives to get into it. Then there’s the likes of Ashley as well, she’s the loudest circus member and a close friend to Zakai, its ringmaster. She’s a super hard working down to earth country girl who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and jump into the thick of things. Honestly I love all the cast, but there’s those two for now!

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *charlottezxz: I would say ideally we should have had all our ducks in a row before we dove into development. My development style is very messy, especially since when we started development we had a lot of learning ahead of us. That combined with focusing on a lot of coursework and real life things meant I often forgot how we made things for consistency. This has improved considerably since i started getting more organised now, keeping lists and things tabbed for reference. My desk has bits of paper kept with it with information I need to retain. I forget far too many things for my own good, but now I'm taking better count measures! I would advise anyone to keep tabs of important information about your game such as consistent sprite style sizes, resolution size, x and y positions of certain things and important variables and switches.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *charlottezxz: There’s a few ideas bounced about to do side stories for some of the cast of characters in the circus, such as before they became one and the origins of how certain members joined the circus essentially the ‘First Stringers’ and ‘Second stringers’, these being those that joined afterwards. These would be great to do as small little episodes added onto the game post development, but currently they are just ideas and won’t be given too much thought until the game is either done or close to fruition.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *charlottezxz: My most hopeful thought is for people to enjoy the game and have as much fun and interest in it as myself and Narrow have had in creating it. It’s the kind of game we want to make and hope that the characters and story chime with people enough for people to see the journey through to its end! It’s a big scope of a project but i have endless enthusiasm for it, no matter how long it takes it will get out there at some point!

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *charlottezxz: That the games story and overall feel doesn’t quite hit the right notes, it's always a little back concern. From a technical perspective I would say that the game might have some oversighted bugs or critical crashes that slip under the radar or not run as smoothly on other PCs on release. We will do our best to optimise the game as much as possible for MV and squash those pesky bugs during testing, but it is on our minds often as a niggling fear.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *charlottezxz: Gut everything from the base project that you know you most definitely will not be needing and give all your files smart tags and naming conventions. It would be great if MV allowed for sub folders, but it does not so naming your files smartly is key to finding what you need. Any of these files you know you will use often in certain ways, make them common events and call for those in events and cut scenes. This saves you mass editing them later. With naming conventions this could be Actor_1_Hurt or Chapter_1_NPC. Anything you want at the top of the list name it with _ to begin with. The bigger our project gets, the more important this has become for us and we hope it serves other inspiring devs well all the same.

Question from last month's featured dev @rojisroomrpg: How do you keep yourself happy and healthy when making your game? *charlottezxz: I’m normally a happy-go-lucky person, so I'm rarely not happy when working on Ressurflection. It's the happy little hobby I devote most of my spare time to. However, recently i would say my hands, wrists and neck have been hurting from spending a little too much time drawing assets and pieces for the game. Taking more breaks and spreading that time with other activities in between has helped to ease that pain and i would like to advise any dev to do so for their own health, including always having one or two bottles of juice, water or whatever beverage always at hand to sip at as you dev away!

We mods would like to thank charlottezxz for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Ressurflection if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#ressurflection #gotm #game of the month #rpgmaker #rpg maker #rpg maker games #ressurflection game #gotm 2020 #2020 #february 2020 #february #indie games #games

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