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#and people should really be grateful for how even-tempered and patient and calm he is
leaguepremsinfo · 21 days
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Be more like your dad! His mother had always squawked at Jonny, her Polish accent more thick with pride when talking about Filip Mazur. He and Bethany came to London as eighteen year olds with big dreams, having met back in Poland. They got engaged, married and had kids quickly, raising them to speak both English and Polish, to respect where they came from; heritage was important.
His father had, at one point, been the absolute best of the best on the pitch. A legend. He was loved by the team he played for (an Arsenal man through and through), loved by the nation (when he made his first appearance for Queen and country, Old Wembley’s stands shook) and loved by the pundits. He had records young footballers could only dream of, but it didn’t make him untouchable. 
In 2017, he did retire, at an eye watering age of forty two – something utterly unheard of in that world. He left with a wealth of accolades for Arsenal under his belt, a whole load of records - including oldest goal scorer in the Premier League. 
Jon, the Mazurs’ first born, had worked through Chelsea Academy as a kid - he didn't get to have a Bar Mitzvah because of his incredibly busy schedule, though he put his all into his sisters’ so that he could be a big part of it - and stayed with the Blues all the way through to seniors, making his debut in 2012, after Chelsea won the Champions League the year before. He was a Chelsea lad to his very core, playing (eventually) alongside Roy. Fucking. Kent. A man he should objectively hate given that he’d once tried to absolutely KO his dad in a match, but hey - what wouldn’t anyone give to kick a ball around under that man’s captaincy. He helped shape Jon into the player he is today and he’ll be grateful for it for as long as he’s able to play and beyond.
Of course WHU wanted him; he was in high demand; not only was he the second-tallest player in the Prem which made him a beast to go up against but he was known as an incredibly flexible player who had the ability to move from defence positions to the midfield right up to being in front, playing the 9. He had a kick like his dad, though in truth they were not that similar. That Mazur, though outspoken and bold off the grass, was patient and calm on the pitch, sharing his whippet speed and skill with his son. This Mazur had a relatively short temper and wasn’t afraid to use his elbows.. Though, this is something Jon has worked on over time, instead becoming known for his level headedness and dedication to the sport. He doesn’t fight referees, he doesn’t pick fights with the little shits on lower table teams, he’s an artist on the pitch. 
In 2015, aged twenty, Jon made his debut for the Three Lions, the England team, legacy number 1207.
Now he’s as beloved by West Ham fans as his father was (is) by Arsenal’s. He was named their captain in July of 2017, the same year his father stepped away from the game. It’s a role he takes seriously, trying to pave the way for the younger Hammers, showing them how to act and how to better themselves just as Roy Kent had done for him those years ago. 
On Nov 15th 2018, Jon was given the captain’s band for England for a game against USA, something his own father had never quite managed. He had wanted to step out of Fil’s shadow and this was just another challenge to take up in order to prove himself even more… to who, he wasn’t entirely sure. 
He captained the England team through the 2016 Euros, the 2020 Euros and the 2022 World Cup, he’s got 221 goals for West Ham under his belt, 62 for England and in 2023 he led West Ham to victory, winning the Europa Conference League in Prague.
The man is a true testament to himself and his game. It was no shock to the people that really knew him to find out that he was nominated for the Ballon d’Or, let alone when he won the thing (he, though, was sitting with his jaw agape before being roused from his seat). The biggest surprise of all was the moment his father walked out on stage to hand him the trophy - some people slammed the move from the older Mazur man, but it was perhaps the most touching moment of young Mazur’s life so far.
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keikakudori · 3 years
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i’m just thinking about how aizen is able to stop bankais with his bare hands again and just okay listen i know i keep saying the man is terrifying BUT THE MAN IS FUCKING TERRIFYING.
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hitnran · 3 years
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UNHAPPY (gender neutral! reader)
how you deal with them when they’re unhappy
includes: chifuyu, sanzu, ran, rindou
note: you can view these as either their past or present selves
— CHIFUYU MATSUNO
For Chifuyu, it doesn’t take too much for him to really make him super unhappy. But often times, he does get annoyed at some things that just tick him off. Sometimes it’ll be something small, like someone cutting in line or someone stepping too close into his boundaries. At those times, he usually either lets it go or will confront whoever it is he has to deal with (verbally or physically, depends on the situation).
But nothing would make him more unhappy like the situation involving the death of Baji - someone who changed his life for the better.
For the first few days, it felt like the situation didn’t even occur. He would drag this out to days, weeks, months. You didn’t want to ask too many questions out of fear of being too insensitive, maybe this was just how he dealt with it. Though, you would always at least check up on him.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” He would softly grin, assuring you that he was okay. Never had you heard him fully talk about it, and you wouldn’t force him.
Upon plans to visit his place and hangout, you figured that it wouldn’t hurt to show up earlier than usual. It wasn’t like he minded it either - more time to spend with you.
You gathered together both of your favorite snacks and drinks, the door was left open for you. You quietly snuck in, figuring he would be in his room, maybe reading a new manga or playing with game.
But upon peaking through the cracks of his opened room door, you found him sniffling and sobbing, staring down at something in his lap - Baji’s Toman uniform.
You felt your throat go dry and your chest ache to see him like this - so vulnerable about a topic that he swore he accepted, but you knew him better. You slowly pushed opened his door, falling to your knees and pulling his head close to you.
He cried harder, feeling weak to show this side of himself to you, but he couldn’t help it. Chifuyu tried letting out words like ‘I’m okay,’ but he failed and choked on his words.
“You..don’t have to keep it to yourself anymore, Chifuyu,” You comforted him, softly humming and running your palm over his head.
Once he is calm enough to speak, you both move to a more comfortable spot where he can talk. One of Chifuyu’s favorite thing is to lay down with you, so this isn’t out of the ordinary, but when he’s unhappy, he relishes this moment more than he ever has.
The feeling of your stomach raising up and down and the sound of your heart beating makes him feel at ease - it helps him know that you’re there with him and you’re all his.
When he’s unhappy, he really appreciates it when you give him his undivided attention and just listens to him talk. Chifuyu’s aware that some things are out of your control, but it’s the thought of having someone to share these moments of his life with that means more to him. Whether it’s him ranting about someone who annoyed him or him reminiscing back on his memories, at the end of his session, he will always shower you with attention to show you how much he is thankful for you.
— HARUCHIYO SANZU
There’s a lot that actually makes Sanzu unhappy. It might be more common than him actually being happy, but nonetheless, for the most part he doesn’t care. Sanzu simply does not care enough to worry about minor inconveniences. If it doesn’t get in the way of him and/or those he is loyal to, he isn’t going to waste his time and energy on even thinking about it.
Other times, if he’s just having a bad day, he’ll maybe blow things out of proportion and take those minor inconveniences as a way to just blame his bad day on. If someone really wants to get on Sanzu’s bad side though, all they’d have to do is either mention his siblings that he loathes so much or talk badly about those who he is loyal to.
You will immediately know when he’s unhappy when Sanzu doesn’t talk. He’s already wasting his time and energy to even worry about what’s making him upset, so he’s not going to add more by talking. Unfortunately, this even goes for you. He’d enjoy it if you would give him his space, allowing him to just let time deal with his temper.
Though, Sanzu greatly appreciates how patient you are with him. Never did he ask for you to do these small things you do for him, in fact, he thought it should be the other way around where it would be him giving you everything.
When he’s unhappy and unwilling to speak, you still put so much effort. His favorite food is ready and waiting for him, his clothes are free of wrinkles, and life just seems so much easier for him to deal with.
Depending on how serious the issue was, it’ll either take a few hours or a few days for Sanzu to speak to anyone else again, but you will always be the first. He’ll walk up behind you, ignoring whatever you’re doing and inhale your scent that he missed so much.
It’s really better to just not ask about what happened unless he brings it up himself, but he likes it if you’d just talk about yourself.
“What are you doing, doll?” His words are a lot softer around you, a big contrast to the personality he puts out towards others.
And as you begin to talk, Sanzu can’t help but soften his expression, nodding at every sentence and giving you his attention. He knows that he isn’t the easiest to deal with and he knows that it was nothing you have to deal with - you could ignore it and he would be fine with it. But your efforts will never go unnoticed, and he will be sure to make it up to you to the best of his ability.
— RAN HAITANI
It doesn’t take too much to make Ran unhappy. He’s unbothered by a lot of things and it may just be an older brother instinct to just deal with things as they go. If it’s things involving his career as a dangerous man, then it’s a little different. Things are in the moment and he has to make sure that he isn’t caught with his guard down.
If someone is bothering you, Ran will deal with it on the spot. If Rindou got himself in trouble again, he’ll deal with that too on the spot. He just doesn’t wanna waste his time.
Like Sanzu, it had to just have been a bad day where things kept piling up on him and he just had enough. He’ll immediately go and find you, not wanting to really project his problems on you, but more as a way to distract himself.
You hear a familiar set of feet creep your direction, your name is dragged out as Ran calls for you, wondering where you are.
“There you are,” Ran’s face visibly beams as he finally sees you.
He immediately walks over to you, grabbing your attention and leaving you to toss out whatever you were doing prior. Ran’s a touchy person, but never really ‘clingy.’ You’ll know when something happened that irritated him when he clings onto you more.
“Did something happen?” You curiously ask, looking straight at him.
He shook his head, nearly forgetting the reason why he was upset in the first place, “Let’s go out tonight or something. Tell me what you wanna do, and we’ll do it.”
If Ran is unhappy, he really just doesn’t wanna bother with it especially if it isn’t something he can immediately deal with. The best thing you can do is just ask if he wants to talk about it. Usually he’ll brush over it, wanting to at least let you in on the details of his life, but that’s about it.
His thought process is really ‘why spend time worrying about those things when I can just be with my partner?’ He doesn’t want to think of you as a distraction, but no doubt does he see you as a mood booster. You always make his day.
— RINDOU HAITANI
Rindou gets irritated a lot. One thing he hates dealing with his people. He just hates dealing with how ‘indecisive and stupid some of them’ can be as he says. But with his title, he’s kind of forced to have to consistently be around others, usually those who aren’t looking to be his friend.
When Rindou’s unhappy, he’ll find everything else annoying. If it someone who cut in front of him in line, suddenly everyone to even looks in his direction will piss him off. If his brother took the last of his favorite snack, suddenly he’ll start thinking about how he can step outside and beat the shit out of a person just for fun if he wanted to.
He tries his best to not snap at you, it’s nothing he wants to bother with if he makes you unhappy too. He’ll be very similar to Sanzu where he just wants to be left alone for the most part but only out of fear of taking his anger out on you on accident or saying something out of pocket due to frustration.
But even after just a few minutes of asking to be alone, Rindou will usually go and find you and just ask to silently do something together. He just doesn’t wanna be left alone with his own thoughts; it might drive him more crazy.
Rindou will make it super evident when he’s upset (he’s stubborn), but when he is, it’s good to just be patient with him as he’ll most likely come back and drape his body over you, silently asking for attention.
Take off his glasses and kiss his eyelids, play with his hair and his fingers, tell him you love him and he’ll melt. His face is left with an expression he wouldn’t dare show anyone else, but nonetheless, he’s grateful to you and he immediately forgets what upset him in the first place.
“Thanks,” He lowly murmurs into your neck. You feel the heat from his ears go hot. “For dealing with me.”
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crystalwolfblog · 3 years
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I Can’t Sleep Without You || Ivar x reader || Modern
This is my fic created for @ofmanderley’s writing challenge. My prompt was: It's 4:03 and I can't sleep without you next to me.
First of all I need to apologize because I am SUPER late with my work but life was kinda crazy and writing block wasn’t kind! 
Hope you will like it!
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Being with Ivar Ragnarsson wasn't an easy task to perform. He was a man of a short temper; he could be cruel and mean but thankfully for him you were out of the reach of his anger. Ivar always did his best to keep his raging nerves away from you. For him, you were his little treasure, a lovely woman who was patient enough to even try to form any kind of relationship with him.
You got used to this life and no matter what everyone said, you stayed by his side.
Of course you didn't do this because Ivar forced you or blackmailed you. The love towards this man was simply too strong within you.
After two years of being together you learned that behind that huge, thick wall he built around himself was a suffering, lonely man that craved to be loved.
____________________________
There was one thing you loved to do right after work - paying a visit in the local cafe. It was a quiet, little, cozy place. You sat at your favourite table and placed your usual order - a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.
Last thing you expected that day was to see a familiar face.
"Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here," Bjørn smiled, sitting in the chair right in front of you.
"Hi, Bjørn," you greeted him, returning the smile. "How are you doing?"
Eldest Ragnarsson nodded. "Oh, I am doing just fine. Since I have a break at work, I decided to get myself a coffee and something sweet."
____________________________
"So, when do you have this big game of yours?," Ubbe asked, looking into his phone.
"Seriously? I am going on and on about it for weeks now. It's this weekend, Saturday to be exact," Hvitserk rolled his eyes; he grew annoyed by repeating himself on and on.
"Forgive him. I guess the family takes a lot out of our dear brother," Ivar chuckled.
All three of them walked down the street.
It was the first time in months when they could just meet and go out. Even if they didn't plan anything crazy, it still was nice to get reunited.
"I at least have a family, Ivar. You and Y/N could think about it as well," Ubbe shrugged, placing the phone back in his pocket. "Mother is still talking about it."
"Mother will talk. We both feel comfortable with how things are for now. I am not pushing her and she is not pushing me, to anything. We just live the best of our lives and we both are happy about that," Ivar answered, nodding.
"I mean, that's sound fair," Hvitserk commented.
Boys quickly changed the subject to something far way interesting to talk about. They walked  lively as they talked about some stuff.
The nice atmosphere lasted until Hvitserk stopped in front of a little cafe. Through the cafe's big window he spotted a familiar person, actually two to be exact.
You were sitting there, talking with Bjørn and giggling like a schoolgirl.
"Yo, Ivar? Isn't it Y/N?”
Ubbe and Ivar looked over their shoulders, and then joined Hvitserk.
Ivar frowned as soon as he spotted you.
Of course you going out wasn't a problem for him, you were a free woman after all but meeting with Bjørn? Out of all the people?! Fucking Bjørn. What else?! Maybe you were doing it regularly behind his back?
"I am going back home. Whatever idea you two had, go without me, I’m passing," crippled, young man muttered, tightening the grip on his crutch.
There was no reason to argue with Ivar at that point. They could see that he was pissed and arguing with angry Ivar was like teasing a bull with a red cape, it was the last thing they really needed that day or ever.
Ubbe and Hvitserk just shook their heads and then slowly walked away.
____________________________
You had no idea how long you sat there but you couldn't help it. Talking with Bjørn was really captivating. While listening to one of his stories you looked at your watch. "Oh, my! Bjørn, I am so sorry but I should go. I still have plans."
Bjørn looked at you and nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure. It was really nice to see you."
"Same! We need to meet up one day. Bye!," You quickly paid and left the cafe.
____________________________
The walk home was calm, you even texted Ivar that you are on the way back but for some reason he didn't respond. Maybe this should be a red flag but you shrugged it off, he probably was still with his brothers.
You didn't expect to see him in the flat. He was sitting on the couch, tapping his fingers angrily. It was more than obvious that he was mad.
"Love? Did something happen?," You asked, taking your jacket off.
"I don't know. You tell me, love."
Walking into the living room you looked at him with confusion written on your face. At this point you had no idea what he meant.
"What? You gonna stand there and make a fool out of me? You thought I won't find you? I wonder how long you go behind my back!,” Ivar growled, getting up from the couch.
Then it suddenly hit you. Did he see you in the cafe? After all he was out with Hvitserk and Ubbe, so there was a slight chance he did.
"Ivar. It's not like that. I was in a cafe and Bjørn just happened to be there as well."
"He? Happened to be there?," Ivar chuckled darkly. "You are blind, stupid or both!"
His behaviour was getting out of hand  but his accusations were too much for you to handle.
"Excuse me? Watch your words, Ivar."
"Me?! Watch my words?! These are words of truth! He was following you those fucking eyes ever since I brought you home for the first time. Ever since that day he accidentally happened to be in places that you are!," Ivar growled, shaking his head. "Of course you had to fall for this. What's next?! Are you gonna fuck him? Or Maybe Hvitserk?”
You went silent. How could he even have thought about something like that? He was hard to live with but you would never cheat on him, no matter how moody or annoying he was. His words cut you deeply.
The lack of response meant as much as a yes for him.
"Fuck it. I am leaving, no idea when I will be back," Ivar muttered and walked to a hanger to grab his jacket before leaving.
The door slammed loudly that you literally jumped in the place.
____________________________
House without Ivar seemed empty.
Maybe it was stupind to miss him after this argument but you couldn't help it. You really loved that man, no matter how moody he was. Even if it was hard to love him, you knew that he was different deep inside.
Laying in bed alone was odd, without his body next to yours. He always was there, mostly complaining about his legs or just talking about his day and how annoying his brothers were.
Sighing, you took his pillow and hugged it tightly, you wanted him back but he needed time to cool down. Looking at the clock helped you realize how sleepless your night was. It was almost morning.
____________________________
Ivar also couldn't sleep. He just lied in bed, smoking and looking into the ceiling. Aslaug would prabobly murder him for smoking inside the house but he didn't care, it's not like she would kick her crippled son out of the house.
Puffing out the smoke he watched it disappearing in the air.
He already missed you, so fucking much. Ivar looked at the bedside table and grabbed his phone to check the time.
____________________________
Trying to get some sleep, you laid on the bed, with eyes closed and Ivar's pillow under your head.
Suddenly, your phone buzzed.
You sat up and grabbed it; maybe it was Hvitserk? Or Ubbe? Maybe Aslaug? Maybe something happened to Ivar? You simply had to know.
To your own surprise, it was text from Ivar himself.
Ivar ❤️😈: It's 4:03 and I can't sleep without you next to me.
Chuckling, you felt the wave of relief washing over you. He was alive.
You: I can say the same. Where are you?
Ivar ❤️😈: I am at my parent's house.
You: I am happy that you are safe.
Meantime Ivar blonked looking at the screen. You were happy he was safe? You were worried about him.
Ivar ❤️😈: Were you worried?
You: Of course I was, dummy. I am always worried. Listen, I just want you to know that I don't care about Bjørn. All I care about is you, Ivar. Always and forever.
He looked at the text. You didn't have a reason to hurt him in any way, you always were patient with him. Even when he was a total asshole. No matter if the day was regular or filled with pain, you just were there for him.
Maybe the fear of losing you just clouded his judgement? Bjørn wasn't like him, he was a strong and healthy man when he was just a cripple. Who the hell would pick a cripple over a healthy man?!
He was jealous and scared but it was time to fix it.
____________________________
You waited at the message but nothing came. Maybe he just fell asleep or didn't care about your empty (for him at least) arguments. After giving him fifteen minutes, you send another text to make sure he is okay, and surprisingly you heard the sound of the SMS notification in the flat.
Ivar opened the door to your shared bedroom and rested his weight on the crutch, looking at you. Without any word he walked to the bed and sat down. He removed his braces, clothes, and soon you were wrapped in a tight hug.
"I am sorry," Ivar whispered.
You nuzzled to him. "It's fine."
"It's not, Y/N. I hurt you... All because of my insecurities. I was furious, he is Bjørn, big, strong, healthy. I am none of that, and you are beautiful, special. You deserve better,``he muttered, nuzzling to you.
While listening to him, you undone his bun and moved your hand through his hair. "Silly! I love you. I love you so much, no matter what. You are hard to deal with sometimes, that’s true but I still love you."
"You are too good to me, you know that?”
Giggling, you gently pulled on his hair, earning a soft growl from him. "You should be grateful and not point it out," you kissed his forehead. "We should get some sleep."
Ivar nodded, hugging you tightly. "Yeah, you are right."
Soon, both of you fell asleep, embracing each other tightly.
____________________________
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Simply Meant To Be (pt 1)
An expansion on this soulmate blurb (no Virgil in this one though)
[part 2]
Rating: teen
Word Count: 2130
Pairings: Roceit, Intrulogical
Warnings: minor swearing
~~~START~~~
Roman is a romantic, that’s just a fact. He loves love. Any day he gets to watch two soulmates meet each other is automatically a good day. The second best day of his life was getting to watch Remus meet their soulmate when they were sixteen. The best day of his life is reserved for when he meets his own soulmate. 
It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. One day. 
For now, Roman is content with being colorblind (well not content, but he’s learned to not let it bother him too much). Remus and Logan are actually a huge help with that. Logan has even gone as far as to make a list of all of Roman’s clothing and includes a chart of what pieces do and do not go together based on Remus’ (admittedly professional) opinions, and Remus actually went through and labeled all of Roman’s makeup with what color it is and what kind of look it should go with. 
Anyone who vaguely knew the twins might think that Remus would use this opportunity to mess with Roman, but Remus knows how much Roman hates being colorblind; they would never lie to Roman about colors — about other things? Sure, but not colors. 
Remus and Logan met when Logan moved to their school from Georgia. One day Remus had claimed that there was a trail of color — they would later learn that it was navy blue, Logan’s soon-to-be favorite color — leading from the parking lot, to the main office, to the east wing. They’d chosen to skip first period in order to follow it, having never seen the trail before, and Roman, being unwilling to miss the opportunity to watch his brother meet their soulmate, followed him. Remus had walked right into a physics classroom, and straight for a boy with short curls and thick glasses that Roman had never seen before and declared him their soulmate. 
Roman got detention for skipping first period, Remus got a pass on account of meeting their soulmate. 
Most people met their soulmates before they turned twenty-five, after all, how difficult can it be when all you have to do is find the trail of color they leave behind them everywhere they go and follow it?
Well, as Roman has learned in his thirty-five years of being alive, it can be pretty freaking difficult. 
As children, Roman and Remus had wandered their town far and wide looking for colorful trails, and even after they met Logan, Remus continued to go with Roman as he searched, even if they couldn’t see Roman’s soulmate’s trail themself. As soon as Roman graduated from high school, he took the customary gap year that most everybody who hadn’t met their soulmates yet takes to search for their soulmates. 
He never caught a glimpse of anything. 
“What if I missed them somehow? What if I saw their trail and just didn’t realize it?” Roman whines one day at his usual Saturday brunch — because they’re adults goddammit — with Remus and Logan. 
“You wouldn’t have missed them, Ro bro,” Remus assures him as they do every time Roman starts lamenting about having not met his soulmate yet. “Colors are so unmistakable that there’s no way you’ll miss them.”
“And even if you are genetically colorblind — which is unlikely considering Remus is not,” Logan continues before Roman has a chance to respond. “I have read multiple papers that state that soultrails will still make themselves distinct. There are multiple accounts of the trails emitting light, absorbing light, or even emitting sound. All of that is, of course, on top of the translucent cloud that follows your soulmate’s every move. I find it improbable that you, of all people, would not have noticed a soultrail.”
“Yeah, I know you guys are right,” Roman sighs. “I just want to meet them! I’ve travelled all over the place looking for them, where are they?”
Remus says nothing, which Roman is grateful for because Remus has a habit of saying dark jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, and Roman really doesn’t need to hear them suggest that his soulmate died in a car crash or something right now. Besides, the question is rhetorical. If Remus could see Roman’s soulmate’s trail, then he’s sure they would have spent the last nineteen years looking for them too. 
“Sorry, I guess I brought the mood down,” Roman apologizes. “How are you guys?”
Remus opens their mouth.  
“The PG version, please!” Roman rushes to say before Remus can mentally scar him. Again. 
Remus closes their mouth again. 
Logan rolls his eyes fondly and proceeds to get Roman up to date on all the high school gossip. 
“- and of course the middle school’s robotics instructor left suddenly to follow her soulmate to England, so I have taken over as their advisor until a suitable replacement can be hired.”
“How is that?” Roman asks, cringing at the thought of having to deal with middle schoolers. Kids in general kind of freak him out, but middle schoolers especially. 
“It has been fine, they are not as adept as my high school students, but of course for many of them this is their introduction to such things, so I’m trying to be patient and supportive.”
Roman snorts at that. He’s sure Logan is a good teacher, but his brother-in-law can be a bit short tempered, and has a habit of talking down to people who don’t understand what he’s trying to tell them. 
“Don’t laugh at him!” Remus jumps in to defend their soulmate. “Logan’s great with kids, it’s adults he has a problem with.”
“They are much too old to be as ignorant as they are,” Logan defends himself resolutely. 
“Of course they are, Sugar Butt.” Logan cringes slightly at the pet name, which is really all Remus is ever looking for with their pet names. 
“Anyway,” Logan says, somewhat forcefully. “There is one student who seems to know what he is doing, but he doubts himself at every turn. I have tried telling him that he is doing everything correctly, but he is… reluctant to trust himself.”
“Maybe as the year goes on he’ll gain confidence,” Remus suggests. Logan hums in acknowledgment, and Roman takes that as the end of talking about Logan’s students. “Oh! Ro bro! Did you hear the theater got a new makeup artist?”
“Finally!” Roman groans, thinking back on their last makeup artist. “I swear Lisa was trying to poke my eyes out every time she did my eyeliner!”
“Oh she probably was,” Remus comments offhandedly. “I told her — back when she first started with the theater — that you thought that makeup artisting was a waste of time.”
“WHAT!?” Roman screeches, gaining the attention of the staff and other patrons. 
“Roman,” Logan warns, growing uncomfortable under the curious stares. 
“How could you do that to me?” Roman hisses at a much quieter volume. “I never said that! She hated me for five years because of you!”
Remus shrugs, slurping the end of their drink through their straw loudly. 
“You better not make the new artist hate me!”
“I would never!” Remus gasps, clutching their heart dramatically. 
Roman glares. 
“Cross my heart!” Remus insists with a much too innocent expression. 
“I hate you.”
Remus just gasps again before dissolving into uncontrollable giggles. 
 ~~~
There isn’t rehearsal on Sunday, so Roman doesn’t have to go in to work. Unfortunately, he is saddled by the knowledge that Remus — as the theater’s costume designer — does have to go in today, and therefore has a whole day to lie to the new makeup artist about him. 
Come Monday, all Roman can do is hope that Remus hasn’t done irreparable damage. 
“Calm down,” Remus orders when they come to pick Roman up. “They weren’t even in yesterday; I haven’t met them yet.”
“I’m not letting you ruin my relationship with the makeup artist again,” Roman pouts. 
“Just try and stop me!” Remus cackles. 
Once they reach the theater, Roman practically jumps from the car before Remus has even parked. 
“REAL MATURE!” Remus yells after him as he sprints for the theater door. 
“THIS ONE IS GOING TO LIKE ME!” Roman yells back. 
“NOT IF I MEET THEM FIRST!”
Roman skids to a stop as soon as he reaches the lobby. Not expecting their twin to just be standing there, Remus slams into his back, throwing them both to the ground. 
“The fuck, Ro Bro?” Remus demands as they flop off their brother and onto their back. 
“I-I see it,” Roman whispers, voice filled with wonder. 
“See what?” Remus demands. “The lobby? You’ve seen the lobby bef-oh!”
The awestruck look on Roman’s face finally clicks, and Remus bounces excitedly. 
“You see it? Like it it?” Remus scrambles to their feet, dragging Roman up with them. “Where? Which way does it go?”
“It looks like how the sun feels,” Roman says instead of answering. “All light and warm and good.”
“Roman Kingsley you tell me which way your soulmate went this instant!” Remus demands loudly. This is important dammit!
“It goes from there,” Roman points to the side door that’s usually used by staff that take the bus to work. “To there,” the door leading backstage. 
“Excellent!” Remus cheers dragging Roman forward. “Time for your date with destiny!”
Remus throws the backstage door open dramatically, but Roman groans as he realizes that his soulmate’s trail is going in literally every direction, making it impossible to know which way they went last. 
“Well?” Remus asks expectantly. 
“Either my soulmate is familiarizing themself to the theater, or they knew I’d be here and are trying to spite me,” Roman answers somewhat dejectedly. “I can’t tell which trail is freshest.”
“Well shit.” Remus scans each entry as though Roman’s soulmate will just happen to wander in (plausible, considering they’ve trailed all over the theater). 
“Hey guys!” A voice calls from by the dressing rooms. The brothers turn to find Thomas, the owner of the theater and their boss. 
“Thomas!” Remus cries gleefully. “My absolute favoritest person in the world behind my incredibly sexy soulmate!”
“Okay, so you want something,” Thomas answers with an amused grin. Remus always piles on the compliments when they want something.
“Who’s new today?” Roman asks, more to the point. 
“Like, in the theater?” Thomas asks. “Just Janus, the new makeup artist. Why?” Thomas’s eyes widen as if he’s just had a realization. “You’re not going to prank him or something, are you? He’s very talented, I can’t have you scaring him away already!”
“Roman’s soulmate is the new makeup artist? Lame,” Remus pouts. “How am I supposed to trick him into hating Roman?”
“Soulmate?”
“My soulmate is in the building, Thomas!” Roman declares, striking a dashing pose before deflating a little. “Except his trail leads all over the place, I don’t know where he went!”
“Oh… well,” Thomas looks to each direction Janus could have gone, but he clearly doesn’t know which way Janus would have gone. “He said he wanted to get a lay of the land before everyone got here…”
“I got this!” Remus pipes up suddenly before cupping their hands around their mouth like a megaphone and screaming at the top of their lungs. “JANUS!”
“What?” A faint, far-off voice calls back, followed but the sound of hurried footsteps. “Thomas?”
“Dressing rooms!” Thomas calls back. 
Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and all too soon a man appears on them. 
The first time you lay eyes on your soulmate, you begin to see the world in color. Everyone’s experience is different: Remus said that as soon as he laid eyes on Logan, the world exploded violently into vibrant shades. Logan said that colors appeared one at time, quickly, but slow enough for him to notice. Roman’s mom said that her soulmate’s trail swelled to fill the space before things slowly began to take on their proper color, and his mama said that it was almost like everything had always had color, she just hadn’t bothered to notice before. 
For Roman, the man before him is painted in vibrant shades while the background remains in grayscale, but as soon as the man makes eye contact, his colors begin to slowly bleed throughout the space. 
The man’s eyes widen as he stares, slack-jawed at Roman — no doubt mirroring Roman’s own expression. 
“I’m Roman,” Roman says quickly, before Remus can forever ruin his first meeting with his soulmate by making a dick joke or something. 
The man smiles and Roman immediately decides that his favorite color is whatever this guy’s eyes are — they’re hazel, but Roman will later change his favorite color to red after realizing how stunning and bold the color is when it isn’t just another shade of gray. 
“Janus.”
~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~
General Taglist:
@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly
@pixelated-pineapple
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marjansmarwani · 3 years
Text
maybe, I’m afraid 
3.8k || ao3
Episode 2x06, but with Carlos (as it should have been)
Just me here again to give Carlos the screen time he should have had. 
A little late to the party maybe (I have no idea how you all manage to get fics up within 24 hours of the episode, I am in awe of that ability) but I still felt the need to make my contribution.
--------
Most days Carlos was pretty sure that after 7 years on the force he had seen everything there was to see. 
Other days he got a call to respond to two teenagers trapped in a homemade minefield and he was forced to reevaluate that sentiment. 
It doesn’t take long to figure out all there is to know, including just how bad it really is, and by the time the familiar ladder truck pulled up (because of course it was the 126) he was waiting outside the passenger door to give Owen the rundown. 
“Officer Reyes,” he greeted when he saw him, “I’m surprised to see you. I thought this would be a little out of your jurisdiction.” 
Carlos shook his head, “Just barely within it, another half-mile and the sheriffs would be handling the call.”
“But you managed to snag it, lucky you.”
“Can’t say I would have been too upset if I had missed out on this one,” Carlos agreed drily. 
Owen hummed in agreement as he surveyed the scene, “What are we looking at, exactly?”  
It was a bleak picture: two brothers, trapped. One injured, both scared and stuck in an active minefield without a map. And the bomb squad was at least 40 minutes out. He saw his concern reflected on Owen’s face as he considered the situation and all the implications. If they waited, the boy would die. If they went in, he would be possibly sending some of his people to die too. 
And yet Carlos knew what choice he was going to make before he even opened his mouth. He had learned so many things during his time with TK, and one of them was that in so many ways he and his dad were a lot alike. If it were his call, TK wouldn’t have been able to leave those boys in there either. So when the instruction came, he wasn’t surprised. 
“We’re going to need the heaviest duffel we can find and spray paint - the brighter the better.”
Carlos locked eyes with TK briefly as he and the rest of his team turned to start gathering supplies, giving him a smile and hoping that it conveyed everything he wanted him to know: it would be alright, no matter what. 
He almost believed it too. 
All was calm at the start, the 126 functioning like the well-oiled machine they were. In no time they were prepped and Owen was striding back towards the ambulance, asking the new guy if he was ready to go. The discussion quickly transformed into an argument and Carlos couldn’t help but glance back over at the minefield and the brothers. Every moment they argued was one less moment these boys had. Carlos was considering stepping in when a new voice entered the discussion, effectively bringing the escalating argument to a halt. 
“I’ll go.” 
And Carlos froze because he knew that voice. He would know it anywhere, it drew him like a moth to a flame in any room. He turned slowly to find TK standing slightly apart from his crew, stance relaxed but jaw set in determination. 
“I was a dual function FD medic in New York,” he explained, voice calm and firm, “all my certifications are up to date. I can do this.” 
Carlos didn’t need to be looking at him, didn’t need to see where his gaze shifted to know that those last words were directed at his dad. The knowledge made Carlos’s heart ache. The fact that his boyfriend still felt the need to prove himself to his dad after all this time and all he had accomplished killed him, but the thought of TK willingly walking into the minefield killed him even more. 
But it wasn’t his choice to make and when Owen nodded, he felt a cold dread spread throughout his body. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Today was not supposed to be the day he watched his boyfriend walk into an active minefield. That day was never supposed to come, and yet here it was. 
He walked over to where TK was switching out his gear, struggling with a strap that was twisting over his shoulder. He reached out for the strap without a word, smoothing it out and snapping it in place. They didn’t speak as Carlos stepped back, surveying the harness and gear for any other twists or issues. 
“It’s going to be fine, Carlos.” 
TK’s voice, soft and reassuring, broke the silence and Carlos met his eyes sharply. He wanted so desperately to believe him, but there was a field filled with explosives that had already claimed one life today behind them and he was finding it hard to be optimistic. 
“Are you sure about this?” he asked instead. 
TK pulled his helmet on, his steady gaze never leaving Carlos, “Of course I’m sure, the kid’s going to die if we don’t go out there, Carlos. I need to help if I can.” 
Carlos reached down to grab his medical bag and held it out to him. He didn’t like the thought of the man he loved purposefully putting himself in harm’s way, but he also knew TK. As much as he might hate it sometimes, this was TK: always ready to help, always willing to put himself at risk if it meant saving someone else, and there was nothing Carlos could do to change that. And he wouldn’t want to - it was a part of TK that made him who he was: someone that Carlos loved with all his heart. 
When TK reached out to take the bag from him, he didn’t release it immediately. He let his grip linger for an extra moment as he studied TK, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Just, be careful,” he told him softly. TK gave him a small smile, and Carlos released his grip on the bag, allowing TK to walk away, towards the minefield. He was still watching as he ascended the ladder that would drop him out onto the minefield when he felt the presence of others appearing at his side. 
“He’ll be okay kid,” Judd said quietly, eyes never leaving the sight of the two Strands climbing to the end of the ladder. 
“You don’t know that Judd,” Carlos responded just as quietly, already feeling his fingernails digging into his palm as he clenched his hands at his side. 
“No,” the older man agreed softly, “I don’t. But I do know they’ll be as careful as they can.” 
Carlos nodded, eyes tracking every movement desperately. They had reached the edge of the ladder now and he watched as Owen tossed down the duffel, as they both reeled back in preparation for an explosion. He could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat as they waited, but there was only silence and after a moment, he allowed himself to breathe again. 
“I don’t know if my heart can take this,” Paul lamented from his left, “that was nerve-wracking and they still have a long way to go.” 
Carlos nodded wearily, but caught his retort before it slipped out of his mouth: if they made it that far. He didn’t need to release that idea into the universe and the others didn’t need to hear it. So he swallowed it and continued watching. Each and every movement they made was agonizing to watch, but each and every thud of them landing unharmed gave him a moment to catch his breath, a brief reprieve for his heart to beat normally. They had settled into a rhythm, and everything was going smoothly. 
Until it wasn’t. 
The sound of the mine exploding filled the air around them and worked its way into Carlos’s soul. It sent shockwaves through his body as he watched, desperately trying to see through the haze of smoke and debris. He couldn’t see him, he didn’t know if he was okay. 
That fact was more than enough to bring on the fear. It attacked him with a vengeance, freezing him to the spot. He felt as if the whole world froze in that moment; suspending him in the terror of not knowing, trapping him with doubt and fear. 
And then he heard TK’s voice, and he could breathe again. It might just be the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. 
When Owen’s voice sounded across the radios, confirming that they were both in one piece, time picked back up at its usual pace. He felt himself sag in relief, grateful for the knowing and supportive hand on his shoulder from Judd. He spared a glance at the others, seeing his relief reflected on their faces and in their stances. 
Marjan let out a long breath, “That was…” 
“Intense,” Paul agreed grimly, “let’s never do that again.” 
They all nodded, and Carlos couldn’t agree more. 
If there was an upside to that moment it was that the path forward was now clear and the two Strands made quick work of the rest of the journey, closing the distance between them and the boys in seconds. Carlos watched in awe as TK slipped into medic mode the moment he reached the boys’ sides, calmly managing the scene and taking care of the patient. It was a wonder to watch. He handled it all with focus and compassion, quietly reassuring the boys even as he gave instructions to his dad and administered care. He was cool and steady even as he delivered the lifesaving compressions, forcing the teen’s blood to pump through his veins with his own hands. It was only minutes before his voice sounded over the radio, announcing that the injured boy was stable and no amount of fear or worry could have stopped the intense pride Carlos felt in that moment. 
“Kid’s got some skills,” Judd observed with a fond smile and Carlos could only grin. 
Paul nodded, “Looks like someone’s been holding out on us, that was pretty impressive I must admit.” 
“Badass is more like it!” Mateo exclaimed and Marjan, standing next to him, laughed even as she placed a hand on his arm. 
“Steady Probie,” she reminded him, “they still have to get out of there. Let’s not jinx anything.”
Her words tempered the celebratory mood of the group, but even though Carlos had never let go of that fear (he knew he wouldn’t until TK was out of the minefield and at least 2 miles away) it felt different from before. It was wrapped in that pride now, and even as Carlos watched them prep to move and the bomb squad moved out to locate and detonate any mines along the path, he couldn’t shake that. It was almost stronger than the fear now, this pride he felt for TK. That was his boyfriend; the person who had just saved two young brothers in the middle of a minefield was the man he loved. Just when he thought that he had come to know every bit of his body and soul, he managed to surprise him all over again. 
It took every ounce of restraint and professionalism Carlos had to not rush over to TK the moment he cleared the edge of the minefield. He forced himself to wait, focusing on his own job while keeping a watchful eye on TK as he reported back to Captain Vega, as he got an exam from the new paramedic. It wasn’t until he headed back to the ladder truck that Carlos broke away from the crowd, meeting him at the side of the engine. TK looked up as he approached, a smile on his face and a greeting on his lips, but Carlos pulled him into his arms before he even had a chance to speak. 
He held him tightly, savoring the feeling of his breath on his collar and the faint sound of the beating of his heart. His familiar scent filled Carlos’s head with each breath and he closed his eyes. He would have been happy to stand there forever, feeling this and just being them and while he knew they couldn’t, he was determined to have at least a few moments more before the world interrupted. If nothing else, the universe at least owed him this. 
“I’m okay Carlos,” TK said evenly, his voice muffled against Carlos’s shoulder. 
But you almost weren’t. The words rang through his head, but he didn’t speak them. Instead he pulled away just enough to see TK’s face as he asked, “Are you sure?” 
“Yes,” TK assured him firmly, placing a steady hand on his chest, “the new medic looked me over but I could have told you anyway, I’m fine. Not injured, my dad and I both made it out and so did the boys. This was a win Carlos, I’m more than okay.” 
And he was, Carlos saw as he studied him. He was beaming; enthusiasm pouring out of him. His eyes were alight with something Carlos couldn’t name and he was practically vibrating. Despite everything, Carlos couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was still worried, still terrified by all the ‘what ifs,” but seeing TK like this gave him a lightness he couldn’t have imagined feeling even a few minutes before. 
He shook his head, trying to mask his smile with little success, “I am glad you’re so pleased with yourself, considering you almost gave the rest of us a heart attack.” 
He had been going for a joke but he instantly regretted it when TK dimmed, “I’m sorry,” he told him sincerely, “I didn’t mean to scare you guys, especially you. I just knew I could help…” 
Carlos interrupted him, moving his hands so they were on each of TK’s shoulders, “You have nothing to apologize for Ty,” he assured him firmly, “you did the right thing. You saved a kid’s life and you did amazing. I am so proud of you.” 
TK’s smile returned, softer than before but still glowing with pride, “You are, are you?” 
Carlos leaned down to place a soft and tender kiss on his forehead, “I am. So incredibly proud. You’re a pretty impressive guy, you know that?”
TK’s smile could have lit up the world and Carlos would have been happy to let it. But they were both still on the job and decidedly not alone, as they were suddenly reminded when Paul peaked around the side of the engine. He smirked at them before calling over his shoulder, “Yeah, they’re decent back here, you guys can come around.” 
Carlos rolled his eyes at his friend while TK casually flipped him off. Paul crossed towards them, completely unfazed before reaching out and pulling TK into a hug of his own. “You can’t keep scaring me like that man,” he told TK when they pulled apart, “I’m getting too old for that crap.” 
TK rolled his eyes at his teammate and Carlos chuckled. He looked behind him to see the rest of the team materializing. 
“That’s my cue,” he told TK, “I need to get back to work and get this scene wrapped up anyways. I’ll see you at home later?” 
TK nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand, “I’ll be there right after my shift.” 
“Think you can make it until then without nearly dying on me again?” 
“I’ll do my best,” TK assured him and Carlos smiled. 
“That’s all I ask,” he responded, “I love you.” 
“Love you too, Carlos.” 
Carlos smiled at that, the warmth he felt every time he heard those words from TK rushing through him. With one last squeeze of the hand holding his own, he stepped away, letting TK’s team get in their time. As he reached the corner of the engine he looked back, still feeling the whirlwind of emotions deep in his chest. 
But TK was safe and happy - he couldn’t ask for anything more. So he turned the corner and returned to the task at hand. 
----------
“You know, that call today? It felt good, really good.” 
Carlos looked up from his dinner sharply to see TK idly playing with his, his focus clearly elsewhere. “Please don’t tell me this means you have decided to become a real-life minesweeper, I am going to have some objections to that,” Carlos deadpanned. 
TK laughed lightly, shaking his head, “No, not quite.” 
“Thank god, I don’t think my heart could handle that.” 
TK shook his head fondly at Carlos before his expression grew more pensive, “I didn’t mean the minefield, or even the danger or adrenaline. I meant the saving the boy part. I know I do that all the time as a firefighter, but there’s something different about doing it as a medic. I haven’t had the chance to really do any medical calls since moving to Austin, with the way the department is structured.” 
“You’ve never really talked about it before,” Carlos noted, “I’ve seen you do medical stuff in the field, but before today I didn’t even know you were dual certified.” 
TK shrugged, “It just never really came up, I guess. It’s pretty typical in New York, but their firehouses are structured differently. I guess once I made my peace with being down here I never really thought about it again. It’s not like I could do both the same way I used to.” 
His tone was almost wistful as he turned his gaze down to his plate, but Carlos had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing the food on it. “Sounds like you miss it,” he ventured after a few more moments of silence. 
“Sometimes I do.” 
“So why not go for it?” 
TK looked at him sharply, but Carlos just shrugged, “What? You’ve spent most of the past hour talking about it and you mentioned how the new guy quit and there’s an opening on the paramedic team within your first 10 minutes of showing up tonight. I know you and I know you’re already thinking about it, so why not try it?” 
“Even if I applied, there are so many other candidates. There’s no saying she’d pick me.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. She knows you and how dedicated you are to your job. She saw you in action today, willing to take the risk that someone else wasn’t in order to save a patient. You did the job well and you did it under insane pressure after months of not doing it. If I were her, I’d be wondering what you’d be capable of on an average day.”  
TK looked startled at the efficient takedown of his doubts, but Carlos just raised an eyebrow, “Next?” 
He would dismantle his boyfriend’s doubts with logic one by one if need be. Whatever it took for him to start believing in himself the way Carlos did. 
“I’d have to leave the team,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be working with them anymore. We’re like a family, I can’t just leave them.” 
Carlos reached across the table to take TK’s hand in his own, “It’s not like you’d be leaving the station,” he reminded him, “you’d still be in the same building and on the same schedule. And they’re not going to feel like you abandoned them, Ty, they’ll still be right there. And right here,” he added with a laugh, gesturing towards his living room, “we’ve fed them, I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of them now.” 
That pulled a smile out of TK, but there was still so much doubt in his eyes that it hurt Carlos to see it. 
“What do you think they would say, if you told them it was something you wanted?” he asked instead, “Do you think they would tell you to forget about it? To stay with them because it was more comfortable?” 
“No,” TK said quickly, “of course they wouldn’t.” 
“So why are you worried about them? They want what’s best for you and they always will. Unless,” he hedged when TK’s expression didn’t clear, “they’re not the ones you’re worried about.” TK pulled his gaze up from the table and Carlos saw all the confirmation in them that he needed, “Your dad?” 
TK nodded, and Carlos sighed. “TK…”
“It would be a big change Carlos,” he said softly. “Except for my probationary period, I have always worked with my dad. I don’t want him to take it personally.” 
“But it is a little personal, isn’t it?” 
He was careful to keep his tone even, non-judgemental and he watched TK closely, waiting for his response. 
“Maybe a little, yeah,” TK admitted. “I feel like this would be a way for me to really see who I am without him right there. It’s not like this is a reaction to him or any news he may have shared recently,” he added hastily, “I would hope I’m past the ‘blowing my life up to piss off my dad’ point, but it is something to consider. And…” 
He trailed off, but Carlos had a feeling he knew what was going to come next, “And you’re worried he might take it personally?” he suggested. 
TK nodded and Carlos sighed and set down his fork, reaching across the table again to pull both of TK’s hands into his own, “Look,” he began, “what’s important is why you’re thinking about this. So, what is it? Why are you thinking about becoming a paramedic?” 
“Because I think I’d love it,” TK said without any hesitation, “because I feel like it’s the best way I can help people.” 
Carlos smiled at him, squeezing the hands in his grasp softly, “Then I think you have your answer. You should do this because it is what you want and because it is right for you. That’s all that matters. Everything else - and everyone else - will fall into place.” 
“And if they don’t?” TK asked softly, and Carlos felt a pang in his heart at the sound of so much doubt in the other man’s voice. 
“They will,” Carlos assured him. “Nothing ever stays the same, remember? And your dad knows that. We all know that. And,” he added, leaning forward in his seat to close some of the distance between them, “I will be here for you, every step of the way. No matter what.”  
The smile TK gave him warmed every inch of his body. They sat in companionable silence for a while, intertwined hands connecting them across the table until TK spoke again. 
“If you really mean that,” he began with a grin, “I could probably use some help with my resume.” 
“Anything for you,” Carlos quipped back, but even as he said the words he squeezed their clasped hands. He meant that, in every way possible. He would be here for resumes and job interviews and everything in between, as long as TK wanted him to be. 
Judging by the way TK met his eyes, and the soft ‘thank you’ that fell from his lips, he had a feeling he felt the same way too. 
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whatifxwereyou · 3 years
Text
Ashes Chapter 6: Level-Headed
Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader
You meet Nightwolf. Turns out that he's a really good dude. Liu Kang is still having a tough time but he is seeming at least a bit more like himself. He's got a level-head but now you're the one who can't keep it together. And who could blame you?
A/N: I am just so happy that other people like reading the nonsense I write. I know it's not the best but I'm having fun writing it and it's even more fun getting to enjoy it with people <3 Sorry I'm so sentimental lately. Just feeling really loved and I want to spread that love~
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The next day was awkward but you weren’t biting each other’s heads off at least. You were both too tired, it seemed. Liu Kang had a big red comical handprint on his face that morning but it faded by the afternoon. You were both unhappy but you supposed this might have been progress since you weren’t snapping at each other. Either that or you’d taken ten steps backwards and said things you didn’t mean and had done irreparable damage to your friendship.
By the evening you were drawing close to the spot on the map, or at least you thought you were. “Look.” You gestured to a cabin in the distance. You could barely make it out between the trees. Then there was the howling of wolves and you heard their footfalls running toward you, the shadows of the hulking beasts flittering between the trees. It was only seconds before you were surrounded by wolves enveloped in green mist.
You drew closer to Liu Kang and summoned a sword with your ink. Liu stood at the ready but didn’t summon his fire yet. Neither one of you liked to hurt animals, even when they were aggressive. Besides, the floaty green mist made it seem like you were out of your league with these wolves.
They didn’t attack. Instead the voice of a man broke through their howling and the dogs silenced as he walked amongst them. Tall, with messy dark hair, dark eyes and tan skin, the man’s presence was commanding. This had to be Nightwolf or at least someone in close relation to him.
“What brings you to this place?”
Liu made to speak but you grabbed his arm to silence him. He’d caused more than enough trouble with his mouth the past week and you no longer trusted him. “We’ve come to talk.” You dug in your bag and one of the wolves growled. Intimidated, you felt Liu Kang step before you defensively. You reached into the bag and dug for the wolf charm you’d been given. Then you presented it to the man and the wolves disappeared. The man turned away from you.
“Come.”
You exchanged a nervous glance with Liu who remained tense after you’d interrupted him. He nodded to let you know he was okay and you followed the man into the cabin. “You’re Nightwolf.” Liu Kang wanted to make sure.
“Yes, that is what they call me now. You must be trusted to have been given this location and that trinket.” He addressed you and you offered a polite bow.
“I’m Y/N and this is Liu Kang. We’ve come a long way to talk to you.” For a while, the conversation went smoothly. Liu Kang explained the dragon marking and its significance, showing off his own and having you express that you had one too. He explained the nature of the realms, of Lord Raiden, of the war that was likely coming and that you needed him to speak with Lord Raiden and come train in his temple. You were grateful that Liu Kang had somehow managed to have a civil conversation with someone. One point in the win column against a thousand in the lose column. That was something.
But Nightwolf didn’t seem eager to join you and instead mulled over your information. You couldn’t blame him. This was a lot and some of it was beyond belief without proof. If you hadn’t been thrown into the whole mix against your will, then you would have struggled with it too. You’d had nowhere else to run at the time and had been in over your head with unruly arcana and visions from the past.
“I have a duty here in America. I’ll have to think about it.” At least he was honest.
And reasonable. Leaving everything that he’d ever known was a huge decision. It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t return someday but there was also a chance that he would die. What you did was dangerous. Your lives tended to be short. You held your bag a little closer.
“I’m to bring you to Raiden’s Temple. I won’t leave without you.” Liu was sounding harsh again so you sighed. Maybe that was why Raiden had sent you together. Liu Kang was too grief stricken and angry to do his job on his own and you were too swept up in guilt to stay focused. You balanced each other in a horrible way.
“That decision is not yours to make, friend.” Nightwolf was incredibly respectful considering Liu Kang’s tone but the air became tense.
“I understand your hesitation, but would you give me a chance to try and convince you? You have a little time to think about it but we’re not sure how much. The longer you get to train the better off we’ll be. We have no idea how long before Outworld strikes again.” You tried to play mediator. Liu Kang’s hand grasped your arm and you nearly snarled in anger but somehow managed to get yourself together.
“We don’t have time for this, Y/N.” Liu scolded you.
“We do. You’re being impatient. Take a breath.” You narrowed your eyes at him dangerously.
“Excuse me, then.” He gritted his teeth and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. His temper was out of control. You winced at the sound of the door slamming. You missed him. You wanted him to be okay.
“I’m sorry. It’s been difficult. This war has taken a toll on us all.” You offered an excuse and a smile.
“He seems troubled.”
“He’s a good man, I promise. Just having a hard time right now.”
“You seem troubled.” Nightwolf added with a knowing glance. He was a good judge of character. He was calming and you were grateful for that because you had enough frustration from Liu’s attitude. If you snapped, it would have made Liu Kang’s poor attitude look like child’s play.
“And I’ll be okay too.”
“So, tell me, Miss Y/N. Why do you think that I should help you?”
“Well, it’s not me that you’re helping, that’s why. It’s not us. Earthrealm is our home, warts and all. If we have any strength then we have a responsibility to protect it in any way that we can, no matter what that means.”
“A wise answer.” He smiled and you were relieved. “Is that why you do this?”
“Ultimately, yes.” You had found, over the years, that honesty was the best policy. There were plenty of times where it didn’t work, but Nightwolf seemed to be looking for honesty. You had a feeling he would be able to tell if you lied. “I was sort of thrust into this at first. I had nowhere to go after my mark and so I was brought to Raiden’s Temple, which I fought, and then I was too sick to leave. I fought at first because I didn’t know what else to do. I was lost. But with time and understanding, I found that no matter what other reasons I had, I would fight to protect the place and people that I loved. This is my home, and I am willing to die to keep it safe.”
“But you weren’t at first?”
It felt like a test, and you hoped beyond hope that you were passing. You’d failed enough the last few months, you couldn’t risk another check in that column.
“I was overwhelmed with the scope of the danger and truth of all this. In the beginning, I treated it kind of like a joke because I didn’t understand. I knew, deep down, that it was the right thing to do but I had no other reason than that. That changed, of course. I think it’s normal to want to think it over. Liu Kang thinks it is too, he’s just not himself right now. I hope that you don’t judge him too harshly for his temper. It’s not like him.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Y/N.” He stood and walked to the counter, picking up a clear bottle filled with tan liquid. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“You have no idea.” You laughed and he joined you in having one. As long as you weren’t with Liu, there was no risk of you making another stupid mistake. And as long as one didn’t become ten, the risk of that was even lower.
Nightwolf turned out to be a kind and interesting man. He had struggled with his mark because the mark meant that he was special. You understood how that felt. Embracing the fate of something beyond your control had scared you too, but it had been worth it in the end. You listened to him as he shared his story and you shared a drink. You were a good listener. You always had been, and he seemed to appreciate the ear.
When your glasses were drained, he took them and set them aside which you were grateful for. “There are couches and some blankets that are open to you and your friend. I’ll make my decision as soon as I can, but I make no promises as to what that decision might be. You have been patient with me, and I appreciate that patience. I will do what I can.”
“This is a big decision but time is of the essence. Still, I want you to take that time.” You wouldn’t push him into giving up his life as he knew it to travel halfway across the world. You wouldn’t push anyone who didn’t deserve pushing. You also had the feeling that he was going to help. He seemed like a kind and powerful man whose motives were morally aligned with yours. You were grateful for that. So many with the dragon marking had wound up being scumbags.
“Thank you. Get some rest, Y/N.”
“I will. You too.” You watched him leave and then were left alone in the kitchen. You set your bag down on the smaller couch and walked outside. There was a firepit near the house and several overturned logs that served as benches. You sat on one of the logs and faced away from the firepit. The sky was overcast that night so you couldn’t see the stars but watching the clouds was soothing too.
Then Liu Kang sat next to you.
This was all too familiar now. You watched the clouds and were at peace for a short time.
“I’m apologizing again.”
“Oh. What for now?” You couldn’t help it. The sarcasm came out. He mulled it over as if to be thinking through the list of nonsense that he’d done in the last few days that he had to apologize for. Then he gestured back to the cabin.
“Being a jerk about this whole thing, for one.”
“That is just not specific enough, I’m afraid.” You turned to him.
“Being short with Nightwolf. He deserved time to mull it over.”
“I know he did. You know he did. You’ve got to figure out this temper that you’ve developed, Liu.”
“I don’t know where it came from. I always had such control.” He slumped his shoulders.
“You’re grieving.”
“Yeah, but so are you and you aren’t jumping down everyone’s throats for no reason.”
“Not when you’re looking, at least.” You were still angry with him even if he seemed willing to talk. He’d upset you. An apology wasn’t enough.
“I’ve got to get it together.” He held his head in his hands and pushed his hair back, disgusted with himself. The sound he made would have been funny if you hadn’t been a terrible mixture of mad at him and worried for him.
“Do you know what I keep thinking? What I keep wishing for?”
“Kung Lao to be back?” He said in a tired drone.
“No. I keep hoping that you find peace. I’m crushed by his death, Liu, but you’re broken.” You watched the clouds again. You wanted him to be okay, but you couldn’t be an emotional punching bag for him to figure it out with. He watched you and you could feel his eyes taking you in longer than they should have. He scooted closer. He probably didn’t believe you, and you couldn’t blame him.
“Your being here helps.”
Bullshit.
You laughed in disbelief. Liu Kang radiated with fire and you knew that feeling all too well and scooted a little away.
“Really? Because I feel like I’m actively making it worse.”
“Well, it’s complicated, isn’t it?”
“That’s a good word for it.”
“You remind me of him. You make it real. But also, you’re my friend. You were more than that.” He shrugged, clasping his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees. “We never really talked about it and it made things so hard.”
“We’re talking right now. We’ve talked and yelled a lot the last few days.” You were tired of talking about your grief in vague niceties. You were tired of being comforting. Of fighting.
“Not Kung Lao. Not grief.” He gestured between you and then returned his hands to his knees as if he had more control of them there. “About this.” You sighed heavily. Hadn’t you slapped him real hard about it the night before? “About what it was before you decided on Kung Lao.”
“I didn’t decide anything, remember? We did talk about it, Liu Kang. And you said that it wasn’t like it meant anything. That I didn’t owe you anything. A keep the change sort of comment. Remember?” You didn’t want to talk about it. You were so tired of fighting with him. It felt endless. How could Raiden do this to you? Why? Had you offended him in some way? Had your grief over Kung Lao not been loud and sad enough? “It doesn’t matter what you meant then, Liu, because that was what I was left with and so that was what I believed for years.”
“Except that I did that for Kung Lao. Do I not get to talk about it?”
“Sometimes it’s better to leave the past in the past and move on.”
“Except that it isn’t the past anymore, Y/N.” He grabbed your arm and urged you to look at him. You stiffened up. “I guess that you were hoping we’d just never talk about the other night. You keep running off. I tried to say something in the motel but you shut me down hard.”
“You can’t do this.” You struggled to speak without your voice trembling. His eyes were so dark and sad and full of fire, his lips twitching in a way where you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. “You can’t just bring it up whenever it’s convenient for you. You can’t just… wreck my emotions on repeat because you’re grieving. I’m grieving too.”
“Yeah, well you can’t just crawl into my bed and leave a bunch of scars down my back and then fuck off because it’s convenient for you.”
You were exasperated and threw your hands up in frustration. “We were drunk! Obliterated!”
“I wasn’t that drunk. I remember, Y/N.”
“Yeah, well I was. It was a mistake, Liu Kang. A grievous, drunken error that has only made things exponentially more difficult. I was sad and vulnerable and wasted. I made a mistake, okay? So maybe, just maybe, you can eat some of those lies you told me years ago. It’s not like it meant anything.” You spat with some venom and were surprised with yourself, covering your mouth after you’d said it. Oh, that hurt.
“I’m done lying, Y/N. I was never good at it. You’re not either.” He hadn’t yelled at you, which surprised you. In fact, he seemed to have a level head on more than you did. “It wasn’t a mistake for me. I knew what I was doing. I get that you’re trying to hurt me because you’re mad and grieving.” He said that in such an annoying way that you could have smacked him again. “But I’m saying now what I should have said all those years ago. It meant something. It meant something then and I knew what would happen if I went through with it the other night and I chose to anyway.” Liu was going to kill you at this rate. You were just going to drop dead. “Maybe I needed to feel something other than angry and sad. Maybe I thought I should try and undo something I regretted.”
Why was he so level-headed? Why, in this moment, had he managed to keep back his temper? If you could just yell at each other and hate each other it would be so much easier. But you didn’t hate him, you were torn between wanting to shake some sense into him and kiss him and it was so frustrating. Kissing him would only leave you more hurt but it seemed like the easier option too. You didn’t. You fought it, even if he seemed to be drawing closer. The tension of Liu Kang was so thick you could barely breathe.
“It was a mistake, Liu.” Your words were shaky but you tried to stand your ground. You’d beaten yourself up over this for too long and there he was, making it so much more complicated.
“Was it, Y/N? It didn’t feel like it was. It didn’t sound like it was.” His voice was low and serious and you felt your stomach twist into knots. “Look me in the eyes and tell me it was a mistake. That it was all a mistake. That it didn’t crush you when I said that all those years ago? That it had ever stopped being passionate between us even when we weren’t together. Tell me that. Look me in the eye and tell me that’s your truth and I will drop it.” He grasped your cheek and urged you to look him in the eyes.
You tried.
You couldn’t.
You were going to burst into tears at this rate and then he’d hold you and kiss you and you’d end up making this even more complicated and you couldn’t do that. Not right now. Not when he’d taken everything you’d known as truth and thrown it out the window. “I’m grieving Kung Lao and...” You couldn’t finish it. You couldn’t because it had never been a mistake to you back then. He was the one who had drawn the line in the sand. You’d just believed what he’d wanted you to believe for Kung Lao’s sake. And the other night was not something you remembered. There were only flashes of hot and sweaty lovemaking and all that version of you had felt was pleasure. Liu pulled his hand back and sighed.
“Figures that you would honor his memory more than think about yourself. He’d remind you that you were a terrible liar.”
You wiped your eyes as they betrayed you with tears and struggled to find words that didn’t involve crying or sobbing. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, damnit. You didn’t want to cry because of him. “This isn’t fair. It isn’t fair, Liu Kang. You can’t just… I can’t take much more.”
“I’m not trying to mess with your head, Y/N. I’m not trying to hurt you. You feel guilty but you don’t have any reason to. You think I don’t feel guilty? It’s eating me up. But we owe it to ourselves, don’t we? To figure it out?”
“Why are you being like this? Why now? Why?” You wiped furiously at your eyes. Stupid tears. You were so tired of your eyes being puffy and painful all the time. Stupid Liu Kang and his stupid emotions and his stupid whirlwind of honesty and misplaced anger. Stupid Kung Lao, dying and leaving you to deal with this. Stupid Raiden not sending you alone.
“I think that you turned down Kung Lao’s proposal because you were worried that maybe you still had feelings for me and had to figure that out first.”
That was the last straw. You broke.
You hated that it was partially true. You’d never stopped being attracted to him and that had become painfully obvious. What a selfish reason it had been to turn down the love of a man who had been dedicated to you and you alone. You swore that your heart was shutting down, it was beating so hard. He had you confused. Was that part of the reason? You didn’t know because you hadn’t been given the chance to figure it out. The truth was that you probably would have married Kung Lao. You would have talked about your plans for the future, what he saw of it, what you saw of it, and then accepted his proposal. You hadn’t turned it down because you didn’t love him. You had turned it down because you’d needed to talk. You were less spontaneous than Kung Lao had been. The only reason he’d needed was love and you’d needed to know more details. That was it. Liu Kang was making you overthink in ways you hadn’t in years.
“I can’t do this.” You stood and Liu grabbed your arm before you could leave. His fingers brushed down your wrist and to your hand and he gave you a look as if begging you to stay. It was killing you.
“We can’t avoid this forever.”
“I let you have your time to process this bullshit, Liu Kang and you are going to let me have mine.” He didn’t let you go. His grip tightened on your hand as if afraid to let you walk away, as if you would never come back. “Liu Kang?”
“Don’t go, Y/N.”
“You will let go of me right this instant.” You avoided his eyes. “You have ignored my feelings in favor of yours for long enough tonight. Let me go.”
Liu’s grip tightened but then he very suddenly let go and turned away with a bow of his head. “Of course, Y/N.”
The panic as you marched back inside the cabin and sat down on the couch was killing you. You held your head in your hands. What were you supposed to do with this? You had to calm down, first and foremost. Thankfully, Liu didn’t follow you inside and you had some peace and quiet but your thoughts weren’t much better than his argument had been.
You’d fucked up.
It would have been so much easier if neither one of you felt anything. It would have been easier if he had been as drunk as you had been. It would have been easier if you could continue believing that it really had meant nothing. It had never meant nothing to you. It had crushed you and taken you months to recover from that sadness with no one to talk to about it. You may not have remembered the other night but you remembered him from all those years ago.
The hot nights, the times you’d spent devoted to each other’s bodies, tangled up in his sheets or in yours. He’d made you feel sexy and forbidden, something beyond desire that no one else had ever made you feel. You hated those memories for so long that it was hard to feel any way other than that.
You loved Kung Lao.
But would you have even gotten the chance to if Liu Kang hadn’t said what he’d said? You had this connection, this fire that you couldn’t put out even after years of letting it simmer down. Even now when you’d fought, you had known that if you didn’t get out of there then you would have given into that passion, that instinct. What a mess of a human being you were. You curled up on the couch and this time you didn’t pull your bag close to you. You couldn’t think about Kung Lao when you were like this.
Next Chapter >>
45 notes · View notes
ibijau · 3 years
Note
Losing their memory only to have it come back after a much awaited true love’s kiss Nie Huaisang & Lan Xichen please. Lan Xichen loses his memory (maybe on a night hunt?) And even though him and Nie Huaisang have been together for over a year they haven't told anyone else yet so Nie Huaisang tries to wait for him to remember on his own but when he doesn't Nie Huaisang eventually breaks down and ends up kissing him. (Either completely alone or in front of a huge crowd) again I don't mind changes
also on AO3
this got a bit out of hand and is nearly 6K, oops?
Lan Xichen turns toward Nie Huaisang, and smiles politely.
“And you are?”
Nie Huaisang nearly drops his fan. More than the question, it is the tone of theother man’s voice that shocks him. It is the polite but slightly distant tone that Lan Xichen uses when talking to sect leaders or people who have come to beg for Gusu Lan’s help. Nie Huaisang has only once before been on the receiving end of that tone, the first time he came to visit Lan Xichen after the events in that temple. 
It was a slap back then to be treated so coldly. 
It is even more so now, with the new balance they’ve tentatively started to reach.
Nie Huaisang is too stunned to answer, but the juniors around Lan Xichen seem unsurprised by this. They trade a few worried glances, then the most confident Lan junior grabs Lan Xichen’s sleeve and smiles up at him.
“Lan zongzhu, that’s Nie zongzhu,” he explains. “He’s the one who came with the Nie juniors to help supervise the Night Hunt. You really don’t remember that either?”
“Not right now,” Lan Xichen amicably admits. “But I’m sure it will come back to me very soon. I’m sorry if that was rude, Nie zongzhu,” he adds, turning his attention back to Nie Huaisang and bowing slightly. “I seem to have suffered through a slight mishap and cannot remember a number of things. Please be patient with me if I behave inappropriately.”
Behind Lan Xichen, a few of the Nie juniors grimace. Even the Lan kids look uncomfortable. None of them know how close the two adults with them are, but they’ve seen their friendly banter earlier in the day, miles away from this reserved manner of address. Lan Xichen has never called Nie Huaisang ‘Nie zongzhu’ outside of discussion conferences. It feels wrong, so wrong that Nie Huaisang almost feels dizzy.
He keeps himself calm though. The children are already very distressed, and Lan Xichen is obviously not in a state to deal with anything, so Nie Huaisang has to take charge until someone more competent comes along.
“What happened?” he asks the Lan junior who spoke earlier. “Did he get hurt?”
A wound to the head could explain temporary difficulties, but Lan Xichen doesn’t look unwell. Indeed, the Lan junior only briefly hesitates before shaking his head.
“We’d spotted the demon,” the boy explains, glancing up at his sect leader. “Lan zongzhu thought there was something strange about it, so he asked us to stay back while he got a better look. But the demon spotted him and did something, and now he’s like that and doesn’t remember anything.”
Nie Huaisang nods along. So does Lan Xichen.
“If that’s so, I’m glad I went ahead,” he says. “A demon? How frightful. I’m glad none of you children were harmed.”
In spite of his growing anxiety, Nie Huaisang can’t help a weak smile upon hearing this. Even like this, Lan Xichen is still the same person, and Nie Huaisang is impossibly fond of him. It must be terrifying to not know who anyone is or what’s going on, and yet Lan Xichen is so fundamentally kind that he’s still more worried about the children than his own state.
“Indeed, we were lucky,” Nie Huaisang agrees, opening his fan to hide that smile he can’t contain. “From the way villagers described it, I wouldn’t have expected that demon to be strong enough to harm Zewu-Jun. That’s you,” he adds, catching Lan Xichen’s confused gaze. “Your courtesy name is Lan Xichen, you are sect leader of Gusu Lan, and your title is Zewu-Jun.”
“It’s pretty,” Lan Xichen muses. “What is your title, Nie zongzhu?”
Nobody says anything, but Nie Huaisang can still hear the juniors of both thinking ‘Headshaker’. He doesn’t get called that too much these days, but he doubts that it will ever fully leave him. Usually he doesn’t mind, but somehow it’d be embarrassing for this more innocent version of Lan Xichen to know anything about Nie Huaisang’s tricks.
“I don’t have a title,” he announces, before turning again to the children. “Do you have everyone from your group? Did you count yourself after the demon escaped? No one missing or added?”
“No, Nie zongzhu,” a different Lan boy answers. “We’re the same number as before. Nie zongzhu, can you cure Lan zongzhu?”
However touched he is that anyone would have that sort of faith in him, Nie Huaisang grimaces.
“No, probably not. Let’s go back to the inn for now, and from there I’ll send a distress signal to warn Hanguang-Jun.”
“Hanguang-Jun?” Lan Xichen curiously repeats. “A friend of mine?”
Before Nie Huaisang can answer, the Lan juniors all start correcting their sect leader, eager to explain who Lan Wangji is. Even some of the Nie children join in, such is the fame of the great Hanguang-Jun. All Nie Huaisang can do is herd everyone toward the village where they’re staying, and make sure that nothing too outrageously untrue is said. 
He notices that while the children don’t hesitate to speak about Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen’s claims to fame from the Sunshot campaign and after, they are careful not to say anything about more recent events. The oldest among them can’t be much more than thirteen, but they already have enough good sense to guess that speaking of Jin Guangyao would only hurt Lan Xichen. Nie Huaisang feels proud of them, though he knows he has no reason. He’s not the one who raised them, and even his own disciples have not felt his influence much.
Perhaps more than pride, it is gratefulness that he feels. Or else, it might be admiration. Such is the effect that Lan Xichen has on people: it is impossible to know him and not care for him.
With the children chatting and Lan Xichen listening, they make it safely to the inn. That’s where Lan Wangji and the inevitable Wei Wuxian find them after a few hours. 
Things, after that, go very fast. Lan Wangji checks on his brother while Wei Wuxian interrogates the juniors to learn more about the demon. Nie Huaisang stands to the side, knowing he won’t be of any help. He pays their bill, and announces to the village chief that they won’t be able to eliminate the demon just yet, but will make sure the situation isn’t allowed to degenerate.
It is a bit of a surprise when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian say that they have no idea how to get Lan Xichen back to normal, but it isn’t a huge shock either. Nie Huaisang is starting to suspect the demon might have been extremely powerful, but merely of mischievous temper rather than outright evil and thus only caused small problems for local people. It is a little worrying that Lan Xichen might have been cursed, but the Lan elders are wise people and they will set him right in a matter of days.
So while Lan Wangji takes his brother home, followed by his husband and the Lan juniors, Nie Huaisang gathers his own little disciples and prepares to do the same without having exchanged another word with Lan Xichen. It doesn’t bother him too much.
He knows he’ll soon hear from Lan Xichen, and together they'll laugh about this misadventure.
-
As days turn into weeks, Nie Huaisang tries not to worry about the lack of news coming from the Cloud Recesses. If things weren’t going well, he would have heard about it. Gusu Lan might have a rule against gossip, but servants and guest disciples still like to chat. Just as Nie Huaisang was among the first to hear when Lan Xichen entered seclusion after the death of Jin Guangyao, he’s sure he would know if his curse had proved impossible to lift.
Lan Xichen must be fine.
Which means, also, that his silence must be a deliberate choice. That for whatever reason, he cannot find time to spare to tell his lover that he is feeling better, nor to schedule when they might try to meet again. Lan Xichen is a busy man, and ruling Gusu Lan is a more involved job than ruling Qinghe Nie, so Nie Huaisang has been warned from the start that if they chose to change the nature of their friendship, there would be long periods where they wouldn’t meet.
Nie Huaisang, refusing to appear possessive or clingy, decides not to ask for news when none is given. He has distracted Lan Xichen from his responsibilities too often when he was playing the fool, he cannot continue doing so now that he is no longer hiding.
Weeks continue passing, and still not a word from the Cloud Recesses, except an official letter reminding Nie Huaisang that he is invited to a discussion conference set there. The letter bears Lan Xichen’s seal, further proving that he is fine and simply too busy to fool around. Or perhaps that incident with the demon, and how useless Nie Huaisang was in the aftermath, has reminded Lan Xichen that aside from plotting murder and painting, his lover isn’t good for much.
The advantage of a secret relationship, Nie Huaisang realises one day, is that there’s no need for a public break-up. Lan Xichen only has to stop contacting him, and things are over.
He realises, also, that it was Lan Xichen who insisted on keeping things secret as they figured out if this could work. He had said that Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji might have objections otherwise, which seemed like a wise consideration at the time, but now Nie Huaisang can only wonder…
If this was Lan Xichen taking revenge for being left in the dark about Jin Guangyao’s true nature, then he played his cards well. Nie Huaisang never saw it coming, though perhaps he should have.
Even for a man as kind as Lan Xichen, some things must be too much to forgive.
-
When the time for that discussion conference comes, Nie Huaisang considers not going. There’s never much there that interests him in those conferences, and he doesn’t quite feel ready to face Lan Xichen yet after what he is now convinced was a silent break-up. He also refuses to give anyone the satisfaction of having wounded him, though, and that means he has to go to Gusu and act unaffected.
Not so long ago, it would have been odd to arrive at the gates of the Cloud Recesses and not be greeted in person by Lan Xichen. Usually whoever is guarding the entrance has instructions to go warn their sect leader that his old friend has arrived, allowing Lan Xichen to lead Nie Huaisang inside even though he was given a jade token long ago, back after his brother’s death. 
This time, Nie Huaisang gets to use that token at last, because he is told to go in alone since Lan Xichen isn’t free to come at the moment. He supposes he should feel grateful that the token hasn’t been deactivated. Maybe Lan Xichen feared there would be a scandal. Maybe he doesn’t care enough to remember that Nie Huaisang even has that token.
Either way, Lan Xichen isn’t there, and ultimately it is Lan Wangji who comes to meet him and leads him to the guest quarters. Nie Huaisang figures it’s better than if it had been Lan Qiren, who still scares him a little from his time as a student.
At dinner that evening, Lan Xichen is absent. Nie Huaisang doesn’t ask any questions, but someone else does, only to be told that Lan Xichen has to deal with some urgent situation and likely won’t be present during the entire discussion conference. There’s some whispers about that, unsurprisingly, but no one is alarmed and Nie Huaisang least of all. With Gusu Lan’s reputation, they tend to be asked to help with very delicate cases that require great expertise. It is not so extraordinary for Lan cultivators to have to drop previous engagements to go help those in need.
Nie Huaisang may or may not be relieved that he won’t have to face his former lover just yet. Either way, he is careful not to show any emotion, especially once he notices that Wei Wuxian keeps glancing his way.
He will not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing his heartbreak.
Come morning, the discussion conference starts as it normally would. Lan Xichen’s absence is hardly felt at all. Lan Qiren is more than competent to represent Gusu Lan, having done so for many years. If Nie Huaisang’s eyes accidentally start looking for Lan Xichen every time someone says something particularly stupid… well, it’s unlikely anyone will notice. His reputation has improved, but Qinghe Nie is still not quite back to being a Great Sect again, nor is it likely to happen in his lifetime, so nobody really pays attention to him. Nobody except Lan Xichen, and…
Well, not even that anymore.
Which is fine.
Nie Huaisang has managed to be on his own for ten years, he doesn’t mind going back to that. The only regret he allows himself is that time passes so slowly in those damn conferences when he has nothing to look forward to. Inane chatter is so much worse without the promise of stolen tenderness later on.
But instead of being able to run to his lover’s arms
, when the discussion ends for the day, Nie Huaisang finds Wei Wuxian waiting for him at the door of the hall.
“Nie-xiong, let’s have a chat,” Wei Wuxian demands, grabbing him by the arm and kidnapping him so he cannot join others to dinner.
“I’m kind of hungry,” Nie Huaisang complains. “Can it wait?”
Wei Wuxian grins, and takes a small box from his sleeve, holding out for Nie Huaisang to remove the lid.
Nie Huaisang starts salivating the instant the smell hits his nose.
“Dumplings from that place you used to like,” Wei Wuxian announces. “It’s still the same man making them. So, can we have a chat, or would you rather have a proper Lan dinner with everyone?”
“Wei-xiong, you are the worst and I hate you,” Nie Huaisang grumbles, staring at the dumplings. “Fine, I’ll listen to you.”
Wei Wuxian grins and continues pulling him away from everyone. Lan Qiren, who leaves the hall last, notices them going away and glares at them but doesn't actually say anything. 
"I see the in-laws are liking you a little better these days," Nie Huaisang remarks, carefully grasping one dumpling. He would have preferred not eating with his hands, but he can make sacrifices for the sake of a good meal. "Not long ago, Lan Qiren would have gone mad, seeing you disturb his conference like this."
"I didn't disturb anything, you lot were done for the day," Wei Wuxian objects, letting go of Nie Huaisang’s arm. He too grabs a dumpling, and inelegantly shoves it in his mouth. "And he's glad I'm helping with Lan Xichen," he adds, spitting food. "It's a difficult situation." 
Nie Huaisang knows he's being baited. He truly knows it. 
"What about Lan Xichen?" he still asks, unable to stop himself. 
"Nie-xiong, don't you remember that curse he was hit with? We're still trying to lift it." 
Nie Huaisang stops in his tracks and stares at Wei Wuxian. 
"What do you mean you're still trying to… It's been months! What could take you so long? Aren't you supposed to be a cultivation genius? Isn't Gusu Lan a well of wisdom?" 
Wei Wuxian shrugs, and gobbles another dumpling. 
"So you really didn't know, eh?" 
"How was I supposed to know? No one saw fit to inform me of this situation. Excuse me for having too much faith in your competence, Wei-xiong." 
"Didn't it strike you as odd that Lan Xichen stopped contacting you after that incident?" Wei Wuxian retorts. "I know the two of you had become close again lately. Some friend you are, letting this much time pass without news." 
Nie Huaisang's face burns at those words, and he quickly opens his fan to hide behind. It shouldn't surprise him that Wei Wuxian guessed what was going one between him and Lan Xichen.
"Yes, yes, we both know I'm a terrible friend, especially to Zewu-Jun," he grumbles. "I just assumed he was busy. Not everybody can ditch their responsibility whenever they please to go Night Hunting like you do, Wei-xiong." Nie Huaisang pauses, and sighs. "Is it really serious? Is he in any danger?" 
Can I help? he wants to ask, though the very idea is so ridiculous it isn't even worth saying out loud. If all of Gusu Lan and Wei Wuxian have failed to bring Lan Xichen back to normal, Nie Huaisang won't be of any use. 
"It's more inconvenient than anything," Wei Wuxian says, lifting a weight from Nie Huaisang's shoulders. "Aside from the memory loss, he doesn't suffer at all. His cultivation is still the same. He hasn't even forgotten everything either. He recalls everything to do with cultivation or the arts quite well, he can still fight without problem… But anything personal is just gone."
"Oh. Well, then it might be more of a blessing than a curse," Nie Huaisang remarks. "Or have you told him…" 
Wei Wuxian quickly shakes his head, nibbling on another dumpling. Nie Huaisang steals another one and does the same, refusing to watch his dinner be eaten under his nose like this. 
"We only told him basic things, to see if it would help his memory. He knows he has an uncle, a brother, that I'm married to Wangji… But since that didn't really help, we figured it was better not to say too much. Lan Qiren decided it would just have distressed him."
Nie Huaisang nods. He still remembers the way Lan Xichen looked that night, at that temple, after everything had come to light. To inflict that upon him a second time would have been too cruel. 
"Truly a blessing then," Nie Huaisang muses. "Maybe it's for the best and we should let him be."
"Nie-xiong, you really are too dramatic," Wei Wuxian complains. "We've told him that his past has painful things in it, but he still wants to remember. And you should know, he's been asking about you." 
Hearing this startles Nie Huaisang who gapes at Wei Wuxian. 
"Didn't… Didn't you say he doesn't remember anything? Wei-xiong, make up your mind about this. I swear if you're lying…" 
"Not lying," Wei Wuxian retorts, biting into the last dumpling. "He can't remember anything from before that Night Hunt, but apparently you make a strong impression on him that day. He frequently asks about the 'handsome young man' and has said a few times he wants to thank you for helping and keeping the children calm that day."
"He's just being polite," Nie Huaisang grumbles, his cheeks heating up upon hearing that even without memory of their acquaintance, Lan Xichen still finds him handsome. His looks aren’t too bad, but he doesn’t quite compare to some other cultivators. "I suppose some things don't change."
Wei Wuxian shrugs, and puts away the now empty box.
“So, Nie-xiong, are you coming with me so see Zewu-Jun? We told him you’d be here, he’s very impatient to ‘meet’ you at last.”
“No,” Nie Huaisang says.
“No?”
“No.”
“And why not?” Wei Wuxian asks, his expression quickly losing its warmth. “Aren’t you two quite close lately?”
Nie Huaisang hides behind his fan, and looks away.
“Wei-xiong, me coming to see Zewu-Jun can only have two effects,” he says, and raises a finger. “One, it does nothing to help his memory, he realises that aside from my face I don’t have much to interest him, and he’ll be embarrassed for even asking about me. I’m not stupid, without shared experiences, there’s little to draw him to me. It will just be awkward for both of us. Or else...” He raises a second finger. “Two, seeing me unlocks his memory. And wouldn’t that be cruel? He has a chance to live free from the burden of what happened, I would not take that from him.”
“Nie-xiong, you’re still a coward after all,” Wei Wuxian remarks.
“Think what you will,” Nie Huaisang retorts. “I’ve had to hurt him once like this. I can’t do it again. Could you, if it was Lan Wangji?”
“I know Lan Zhan would want to remember. Without the bad, we wouldn’t have the good either. Zewu-Jun said he wants to remember too, and he said he wants to see you. Isn’t that more important than your guilt, Nie-xiong?”
Nie Huaisang grits his teeth. There’s no reasoning with Wei Wuxian when he’s convinced to be right, and for someone who was so blind for so long, Wei Wuxian certainly thinks himself an expert about romance.
Lucky him, if what he has with Lan Wangji is worth all the pain, all the suffering. Nie Huaisang, given the choice, would rather not have gone through all of that. Even if it meant never getting the chance to be with Lan Xichen, who surely would have picked someone else if life hadn’t pushed them together. And whatever Lan Xichen says now, when he doesn’t know what darkness lurks in his past, Nie Huaisang is convinced he will regret it if his memories return to him.
Nie Huaisang doesn’t mind making that choice for him.
It won’t be the first time.
Besides, he’s already mourned the romance that had only just started between him and Lan Xichen. He is quite fine with having lost this, even if it isn’t in the way he imagined.
It’s fine.
Everything is fine, and this is for the best.
“I’ve made my choice, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang announces with all the confidence he can fake. “Please tell Zewu-Jun I cannot meet him. Even if he’s upset at first, I’m sure he’ll get over it quite easily.”
“Nie-xiong!”
Ignoring his old friend, Nie Huaisang turns around and starts walking back toward the heart of the Cloud Recesses.
If he feels a cold, gnawing sensation in his chest and stomach, he’ll blame it on hunger. After all, Wei Wuxian very rudely ate over half his dinner.
-
Due to a mistake, the disciples Nie Huaisang brought with him to the conference have been given their own separate room rather than to stay in the same guest quarters as him, as would be more usual. Or, well, it might be unkind to call this a mistake. It is an arrangement that became needed after things changed between him and Lan Xichen, so they could more easily have time alone. Nie Huaisang can’t remember what excuse they gave to justify the need for this, but apparently whoever is in charge of organising things for the guests wasn’t told that this isn’t needed anymore.
A shame, because Nie Huaisang isn’t particularly in the mood to be alone. Or at least, not in the mood to be alone in the damn Cloud Recesses, where he has no way of getting his hands on alcohol except through Wei Wuxian and… well, it’s not really an option. Nie Huaisang will have to face his renewed heartbreak sober, which isn’t something anyone should have to go through, he thinks.
Just as Nie Huaisang starts wondering if he should just go to sleep and try to forget this unfortunate situation, there’s a knock on his door.
It is odd for anyone to come see him. His disciples know they can’t wander around so close to curfew unless there’s an emergency, in which case they wouldn’t knock. Wei Wuxian is angry at him, and will probably remain so for a few days to a few weeks, until he forgets they had an argument. King of Grudges Lan Wangji has done his best to pretend Nie Huaisang doesn’t exist, just as he does with Jiang Cheng. Nie Huaisang can’t think of anyone who might come see him.
There’s another knock on the door, the rhythm of it familiar, yet also not. After some hesitation, Nie Huaisang decides to go check, though he carefully keeps one hand on the handle of the dagger he took to carrying everywhere since launching in motion his revenge plan.
Nie Huaisang opens the door.
And then very nearly closes it again when he sees who his visitor is.
“I’m sorry for coming so late,” Lan Xichen says with a polite smile. “And I understand that you told Wei Wuxian that you had no desire to speak to me, but I really must have answers for some of my questions.”
Nie Huaisang does some quick math. He could still try to close the door. Either Lan Xichen would accept his rejection and things would end for good, or he will force the door open and Nie Huaisang simply isn’t strong enough to stop that. He knows what Lan Xichen would normally do, but he has no idea how different this version of Lan Xichen is. Nie Huaisang would rather not risk antagonising him, not now that they aren’t even friends anymore, and not when he knows better than most how terrifying Lan Xichen could be, if he just bothered.
With a sigh, Nie Huaisang gestures for Lan Xichen to come in.
“I have little to tell you that your brother and his husband couldn’t say better than me,” Nie Huaisang meekly states, his heart clenching at the sight of Lan Xichen in this room, too much like other times and yet so different. “But I’ll try to be of use, of course.”
“I’ve tried asking them first,” Lan Xichen reveals as he steps inside, letting Nie Huaisang close the door behind him. “But they’ve admitted that they didn’t know the answer to some of my questions, and they were reluctant to share speculation with me.”
Nie Huaisang hides a grimace behind his fan. He supposes he should be grateful that Wei Wuxian and his husband have acquired such a distaste for gossip, but sometimes it’s really annoying.
“If they don’t know, I doubt I’ll know much more, Zewu-Jun.”
“And I think you do,” Lan Xichen softly insists. “I have done my own share of speculation. I have found some letters, some paintings, a few gifts, and so I must ask… Nie zongzhu, am I right in thinking we were not only friends?”
The hopefulness in Lan Xichen’s face, in his voice, are so unbearable that Nie Huaisang has to look away.
Of course Lan Xichen would have figured that out. However much they tried to hid in public, in private they were quite open about the way they felt, all the more so because they never had the chance to meet quite as often as they would have liked. Nie Huaisang’s letters were hardly restrained, though still more so than some of the ones Lan Xichen sent him. The content of those would have left no doubt possible as to the nature of their relationship.
“Zewu-Jun, I’m not sure this really matters,” Nie Huaisang says, avoiding the question. “Since you have no memory of anything, no matter what our links were in the past, it would be unfair of me to demand for them to be maintained. I will not make demands of you, don’t worry.”
“I would not mind if you did,” Lan Xichen protests, stepping closer. “All these weeks, I’ve been thinking of you a lot. Everyone else acted so worried, but you were the one person who kept his calm, you took care of the children, you made sure the innkeeper was paid, you even made sure to update the people who had called for our help on the state of their problem… I was so impressed by how level-headed you were, and that’s why I started asking questions about who we were to each other.”
Blood rushes to Nie Huaisang’s face upon hearing his behaviour that day being praised. To him, what happened back then is a bit of a blur because he was so worried for Lan Xichen, so he doesn’t really remember what he did at all. Surely he can’t have handled it that well, it must just be that Lan Xichen is too kind, as always.
“Zewu-Jun, things between us… I won’t deny that they were a certain way,” Nie Huaisang admits, gripping his fan a little harder. “And I am very touched if I made a good impression on you that time. But things between us… you have to understand, even if things were good, it had come at a heavy price. I have done many things that you did not approve of. Things I am not sorry about, because in the end, I got what I wanted, and I’m the sort of person for whom that’s what matters. To put it bluntly, I’m not a very good person, and I have no intention on improving myself.”
“I don’t think you’re quite so bad,” Lan Xichen retorts with amusement. “I have read the letters you sent me. You seem like a very soft and sentimental person, Nie zongzhu, and I think I like that.”
Nie Huaisang sighs, and shakes his head.
Suddenly, he misses Lan Xichen.
The real Lan Xichen, the one who knew his tenderness and softness didn’t mean he wasn’t also capable of horrors. The one who loved him in spite of it… perhaps even for it, at times. And the reverse was true as well. Although he'd always had a bit of a crush on Lan Xichen, it wasn't until everything was exposed, until they'd both known the best of the worst of each other, that Nie Huaisang had really fallen in love. 
He can't wish for this ignorant Lan Xichen to suffer what the original one had suffered, he isn't that unkind.
But he also can't love someone who doesn't have the life experience to understand why he is the way he is. 
"Zewu-Jun, I'm really not the way you think," Nie Huaisang states, as coldly as he can manage. "If you remember someday, then I'll be happy to resume what we had, should you wish it. Until then… for your own good, it's better to go our separate ways. I don't have anything to give you, not as you are now. And I love you too much to wish you the pain of remembering your past."
"So instead, you cause me the pain of being rejected," Lan Xichen bitterly remarks, walking closer, close enough to touch, if Nie Huaisang wanted. He wants to. He still doesn't move. "Can I do anything to change your mind?" 
"Zewu-Jun…" 
"Please understand it is very unpleasant to hear you say that you love me at the same time you’re pushing me away. If you gave me a chance…”
Nie Huaisang laughs behind his fan.
“Trust me, it’s better for you. Just walk away and forget about me.”
“Nie zongzhu, give me a chance,” Lan Xichen pleads, looking so heartbroken that Nie Huaisang has to avert his eyes.
“It’s better that way.”
It is.
It has to be.
It isn’t like things could have lasted anyway. They both have a duty to their sects, to their families. It really is better this way.
“Then at least… would you kiss me, Nie zongzhu?” Lan Xichen asks.
“Zewu-Jun, that’s not…”
“Give me this at least, if you won’t give me anything else. If we were happy once, don’t I deserve a last goodbye?”
That would be a terrible idea. Nie Huaisang knows himself. If he gets that small taste of what he used to have with Lan Xichen, he’ll be tempted to actually take that risk, and then when it fails, when this too innocent Lan Xichen realises what he’s capable of and starts hating him for it, Nie Huaisang will know it was his fault for being weak, for not making this end cleanly.
It would be stupid to kiss Lan Xichen.
But it’s been months, and the day has been so long, and Nie Huaisang is too tired to continue making the right decisions.
“Just one kiss,” he sighs, closing his fan.
In an instant, he finds himself pulled into Lan Xichen’s embrace, soft lips pressing against his own with a clumsiness that he once found endearing, when it all started. Lan Xichen was so inexperienced when they got together, though he learned fast. To be kissed against with that unskilled enthusiasm is a bitter reminder that this man isn’t quite his Xichen.
Even knowing this, Nie Huaisang returns the kiss with a touch of desperation, his arms around Lan Xichen’s neck, keeping him close while he can have him.
After a while, Lan Xichen’s mouth pulls away. Nie Huaisang, who had closed his eyes at some point, opens them again and finds his lover staring down at him with an air of shock, panting harder than the kiss truly justifies.
Before Nie Huaisang can say anything, Lan Xichen breaks into a smile and kisses him again.
This kiss is different.
This time, Lan Xichen isn’t so clumsy anymore, he knows how to lick into Nie Huaisang’s mouth, how to bite and suck on his lips just right, leaving the other man breathless. His hands are no longer just on Nie Huaisang’s hips either, they move to pet his hair, to grope his ass, his thighs, to pull him closer until there’s no space between their bodies, pushing him against the door until Nie Huaisang is trapped in the most perfect of ways.
When that kiss ends, Nie Huaisang too is breathless, and his legs feel so weak that if he weren’t clinging to Lan Xichen so tightly, he’d fall to his knees for sure.
“You ridiculous man,” Lan Xichen breathes against his lips. “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”
Nie Huaisang’s grip tightens. The other man’s voice seems different suddenly. Warmer. If it weren’t foolish to hope…
“Even after all this, you really can’t believe I’d trust you?” Lan Xichen accuses, sounding too amused, too fond. “We’re going to have to work on this, A-Sang. I really thought you’d learned not to try to handle everything alone.”
“Xichen,” Nie Huaisang gasps, half fearful that he’s misunderstanding. “A-Chen, are you…”
“I’m back,” Lan Xichen confirms, rubbing their nose together before stealing a brief kiss. “And I’m not letting you go, you silly man, even if I’m a little cross you’re still so convinced you don’t have my full trust. You’re really…”
“No, don’t scold me,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, suddenly a little embarrassed by how dramatic he’s been, even if he still thinks he wasn’t wrong. “You can scold me later. For now, just kiss me again. I’ve missed it, and I’ve missed you, so kiss me, A-Chen.”
Lan Xichen grins, and promptly obeys.
Nie Huaisang pulls him closer. He loves this man, loves him so much, and he’s so glad to have him back at last.
109 notes · View notes
Note
Hey can I request HC of Bucciratti Gang to a super affectionate s/o (likes to give hugs, back hugs, kisses etc) and is kind hearted, sweet and goofy but when in battle becomes super strong fierce and badass! Thank you in advance:)
I love you, thank you for this request, it’s a blessing to this world.
---
Bruno Buccellati
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As long as it’s not in public, mama bear Bruno is perfectly fine with all and any kind of affection you want to show him.
In fact, he actually loves it, and will tell you that very often.
He especially loves it when he can kiss your forehead, your cheeks, or simply hold you close to him while reading.
Your goofiness is also a trait he greatly appreciates, since he’s passively more serious and always thinks of his work, and you never cease to manage to help him relax and get his mind away from stress and responsibilities.
He knows, however, that you’re not a part of his Gang for no reason, and that you are an incredibly strong fighter, so he would never underestimate you.
However, the first time he sees you fight, there is a certain kind of awe in his eyes  and he finds all your moves so graceful and enticing, he’s entrances by your dance.
---
Leone Abbacchio
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You’re basically this man is still sane and can remember he’s actually a human being and is allowed to feel things other than pain and numbness.
You being so sweet and caring for him it’s like he’s found himself an angel to finally shine light on him and slowly pick up the pieces and mend them back together.
Abbacchio won’t really admit it, but he melts whenever you kiss his forehead or nuzzle in the crook of his neck.
And don’t even get me started how fast his heart beats when you hug him or want to cuddle with him in bed while listening to music or watching a movie.
The first time he saw you fight...He didn’t underestimate you, but he didn’t know what to expect either, and he got a little overprotective over you  because he’d rather die than have another person he loves so much sacrifice themselves to save him.
He was, however, quickly reassured that you had everything under control and didn’t need anyone’s help, since yeah, you were that cool and fierce, and you S L  A Y.
Literally.
That will help him sleep easier at night.
---
Giorno Giovanna
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Just like the other 2, he doesn’t want PDA, however, he would be fine with hand holding and some light side hugs and temple-kisses.
Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that you embarrass him, but now that he’s a Mafia Boss, he can’t show the world that he has a lover, since they’d automatically have #1 target written on their forehead and the last thing he’d want is for you to get killed because of him.
On the other hand, at home, or in places he knows he’s surrounded by trusted people and there’s no spy around, he won’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted.
He really loves that you’re so sweet, and in the dark life that he has to live in, you’re definitely that divine light that saves him.
Giorno is well aware that you can handle yourself against most enemies, however, as the problem with him being a Don comes again, you could get ambushed, so he would make sure he’s either by your side at all times, or you have a bodyguard of sorts around you.
He’ll do anything in his power to make sure his little ray of sunshine always shines bright by his side.
---
Pannacotta Fugo
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Give this boy some love, he truly deserves it.
Panni is incredibly flabbergast seeing you being so calm and patient, especially when he’s losing his temper and you constantly try to help him get over his rage and chill a bit, resolving the issue in a more peaceful way.
He is aware that you know he gets upset whenever he hurts Narancia when he irks him, and he’s incredibly grateful when you make sure to get the boy away from his uncontrollable wrath.
Allowing himself to be loved will take a while and he will be a bit uncomfortable at the beginning, but once he begins to feel more relaxed around you, he will melt into your touch like a puddle on the ground.
If you call him cute nicknames, including Panni, sweety, cutie, honey or whatever, his breath will stop and he will blush in happiness.
He’s incredibly proud of you being such a badass fighter, and on top of that, being able to control your Stand, something he can’t particularly do very well, so you have all the respect in the world from him.
Hell, you might even have to save him at some point, because he’s too scared to rely on Purple Haze, considering how untamed and chaotic its ability can be.
---
Guido Mista
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He’s the 2nd most affectionate person on the Bucci Gang, Narancia being the 1st, obviously, but Mista is a bit more mature about it.
While yes, he is pretty energetic himself, he enjoys the more laid back and chill activities that he can do together with you, and he won’t shower you with 5235237 kisses per second - 
He would hold you close to him, occasionally kissing your nose or temple, while you go on a stroll through the park or on the beach, or just sit somewhere and enjoying a nice conversation, no matter how weird or random.
If you’re in public, he would get a bit flustered with you being so affectionate, but he won’t really stop you - 
Should you be anywhere else, on a date maybe, where the Bucci Gang isn’t present, then do whatever you want, he will just smile and reciprocate happily.
Mista really appreciates how sweet you are with Sex Pistols, and despite being a bit jealous that now they only want you to feed them, he’s happy you get so easily along with them and can even pacify #5 or stop #3 from teasing the former.
He’s confident in your abilities and the first time he sees you fight, he’s honestly reassured that he won’t have to be afraid for you sake - But that doesn’t matter that he will ever let you get hurt...Or that Pistols wouldn’t yell at him if you’re ever in danger.
---
Ghirga Narancia
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He babi.
He’s gonna jump on you and kiss you all over your face, would hug you tightly, would compliment you non-stop and honestly, it’s sort of a war between who’s more affectionate.
He really appreciates the fact that you’re so patient with him, despite being sort of dumb in some ways - 
But you can see the best parts of him and it gets ‘Rancia incredibly emotional and would hug you until you can’t breath.
He doesn’t care if you’re in public or alone, he’s not gonna care that anyone sees you being affectionate, since for him everything is normal, very sweet, and if anyone complains, they’re just jealous they don’t have such an amazing S/O.
When he sees how cool you are when you fight, he’s gonna hype you up SO hard and will join you, saying that you’re the best Power Duo and nobody can go against you since you’re unbeatable together.
Obviously, the whole Bucci Gang is gonna get SO annoyed about how much Narancia talks about you, compliments you and all that, but deep down, they are happy that he found someone perfect for him.
645 notes · View notes
monsterywriting · 3 years
Text
Dirrath pt 10
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Read part 1
Previous part
word count: 3,348
AN: it’s been... a really long time since i’ve update anything on this blog. i’ve just kinda been going through it and writing here and there but not really liking how anything turned out. but, i figured better to still put it out there for others because i’ll never really be satisfied otherwise, you know?
“A banquet in honor of the treaty?” Your voice betrayed your lack of enthusiasm at the news Myanthe brought with breakfast, unable to quite grasp the notion of a celebration in honor of something you were itching to go home and forget all about, “Well, we’ll be halfway back to Altruria by then, so it doesn’t really matter how Roquechade wants to celebrate.”
Despite your flippant act for the royal physician, it was mind-boggling to you that Roquechade would be throwing a party to commemorate the many unfortunate circumstances that resulted in the signed treaty, especially considering what happened at the last one.
“Other royal families will begin arriving any day now, so I doubt he had time to cancel,” Myanthe pointed out, sitting down on your chaise, “I suppose he foresaw your reaction, hence why I was sent to tell you rather than one of his servants.”
You turned to Olek sitting in the far corner of your room, fully prepared to decline the invitation and forge ahead with your plan to leave the castle within the next few days, but the look on your captain’s face made you pause.
“Perhaps staying another week would be in our best interest, Princess,” Olek interjected carefully, grimacing when your expression morphed into a look of pure indignation but forging on nonetheless, “It will give you more time to heal and it would seem strange if the other party in the treaty didn’t attend the celebration for it.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to notice that neither you nor the prince have been seen around the castle,” Myanthe added, “and rumors circulate fast amongst the servants. Some are even under the impression that you and the prince were caught in a late night liaison. Something about strange noises in your room late at night after dinner.”
You didn’t know which implication to gag at first, that you would sleep with a practical stranger, the orchestrator of your assassination attempt, or that Dirrath in your room that night came across to outside listeners as anything other than him attempting to murder you.
Once Myanthe finally left, called away by one of the king’s servants, Olek turned to you once again.
“I understand the rumor is not… ideal, for you, but I’m more concerned about maintaining appearances with the royal family,” the captain approached your bed, sitting on the edge near your legs before continuing, “If word reaches the High Queen about what occurred that night, the resulting war would impact far more people and in`` far worse ways than just your pride. Pretending all is well between you and the king for one night in front of other royal families could bury what happened for good.”
You couldn’t argue with his logic - though not for lack of trying, your attempts to dissuade your captain only resulting in you further resigning yourself to do the right thing. It would be selfish to throw two nations into a senseless war for a personal vendetta when peace had already been reached and was on its way to Altruria.
“It’s been pretty uneventful this past week. We can get through just one night in peace, right?” You joked, though neither you nor Olek found yourselves laughing.
You eventually dismissed Olek, wishing to be alone as the sole attendee for your pity party. Despite his reluctance, he agreed to leave you be, though there were still members of your guard patrolling the hallway.
You wondered, not for the first time, how the hell you got here. You were the child of a healer in the outskirts, for gods’ sakes. And not a particularly strong one, at that. Why did the great crystal decide you were to be the 13, over every single person from the capital, or any of of the other districts for that manner?
You definitely weren’t cut out for this. You couldn’t even stop your siblings from squabbling over their toys, or lie to your mother about heading straight home after a going to see a patient. How were you supposed to lie to a bunch of royals in order to prevent an entire war?
And you couldn’t even vent about it to anyone, the only person you’d trust enough with your true thoughts Olek, but his thoughts on the subject pretty clear; now is not the time for selfishness. You can’t help but think Olek would be a much better 13 than you. He would hate every minute of it, of course, but so do you.
When the sound of the lock on your door turning alerted you again hours later, you were caught standing in the middle of the room, frozen and certain Olek or Myanthe would finally catch you defying your strict orders to remain in bed.
Unfortunately, your unwelcome guest was far worse, Dirrath pushing the now familiar cart of supplies into your room. You and the demon had come to a somewhat uneasy truce, both of you tiring of your combative encounters around the sixth time Dirrath changed your dressings, a fact you should have considered before asking the demonic thorn in your side to be in charge of your treatment. But, at that moment, you were in no mood for company, much less the demon that has somehow managed to be at the epicenter of every disaster in your life since you first laid eyes on him.
These past few months have been more eventful than your entire life, infinitely more so than the year you spent in the castle being shuttled from one tutor to the next. You buried the rising wistfulness for such simpler times deep in the recesses of your mind, only managing a half-hearted glare as Dirrath stopped the cart at your side.
“It’s your final day with the stitches,” Dirrath remarked, waiting for you to life the hem of your shirt so he could begin unwrapping your dressings, “I thought you’d be in high spirits until after I left.”
The comment catches you off guard, Dirrath never having been one for small talk. You were accustomed to the awkward silences, the tense moments dragging on waiting for the demon to quickly finish the unpleasant task of seeing you exposed.
“Myanthe beat you to it,” you retorted, wincing when Dirrath pulled off the bit of cloth crusted to the wound.
It felt like an eternity since you’d woken up excited that morning, time dragging on at a snail’s pace while you were confined to your room the past week. Granted, while Myanthe’s poultice was nowhere near as instantaneous as the magic of the healers back home, you were still grateful that it had done its promised job of greatly accelerating the healing process. Your wound was still tender, too much movement ripping whatever fragile connections made to bridge its edges together, but the healing time was half what it could have been had it been left to mend on its own through non-magical methods.
“We’re staying here for another week,” you elaborated once it was clear the demon was not going to push the topic, his only response a noncommittal grunt.
Dirrath stiffened, his hand frozen hovering over the poultice. Neither one of you moved, each seemingly waiting for the other to break the silence.
“Why?” You had been waiting for an explosion, certain that Dirrath would respond to the news in anger that your return to Altruria would be delayed, inevitably culminating in the smell of burning flesh and the demon storming off to soothe his burning mark. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression impassive.
“Roquechade is holding a banquet, apparently with guests from other kingdoms,” you said bitterly, your eyes burning a hole into your lap and your hands clenching into fists so tight your knuckles turned light,“I have to attend. To maintain appearances. I have no more desire to stay longer than you do.”
“I see,” Dirrath said, and you were still unable to read him, “Perhaps I should have added a time limit to this deal.”
You were unsure what to make of this new side of Dirrath, whether he was actually as calm as he seemed or if he had transcended his usual purple-faced temper and into an entirely new category of sheer rage never before documented. You knew you should be treading lightly, but you couldn’t help the opportunity that presented itself to bring up another pressing matter.
You waited until Dirrath had scooped up the sayerba and slathered it onto the wound, your teeth gritting and eyes screwing shut through the now familiar pain of the paste forcing your body to heal itself in record time. For all its wonders, the salve burned like hell, though you no longer felt the pain as deeply as you had when the hole was gaping open. the burning slowly fading to a dull throb. You went all but limp on the bed, gulping down air you had been holding involuntarily.
“You know, if you’re in such a rush to remove the glamor, it would be a whole lot faster if I knew what kind of curse I’m dealing with,” you said as off-handedly as you could, taking a sudden keen interest in your stitches as you felt the demon’s full glare turn on you.
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” was the entirely expected response.
The topic had been a point of contention between the two of you for the past week, Dirrath refusing to talk about the obvious sore spot that was his original curse and you refusing to give up on convincing him to allow you to figure out how to break it. The demon was steadfast in his decision to keep his past a secret, even if it ultimately resulted in his loss.
He was convinced that since you had been able to remove the glamor once -albeit temporarily and under extreme duress- you would be able to get rid of it permanently. You had admitted it wouldn’t be entirely impossible to get rid of the glamor without breaking the curse, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to just break whatever curse held it there in the first place, or at least know what you were dealing with while you came up with a workaround.
“You’ll just do it again, whatever you did before,” Dirrath finally answered, handing you the edge of the new bandage to hold in place while he wrapped it snugly around your waist and tied it off.
“And it didn’t last a day,” your argument was half-hearted, not wanting to push the demon’s buttons too far just yet but unable to help adding, “Even if I manage to remove the glamor, you’ll still basically be human with the curse.”
“Not your problem,” Dirrath grunted, turning to the cart to clean up.
“Well, if I die at the banquet next week, it won’t matter what your dumb curse is,” you mutter sullenly, forcing down your disappointment as you realized Dirrath was leaving.
“You won’t, no one in their right mind would carry out an assassination in front of dozens of royals and their guards,” Dirrath huffed, turning to glance at you, “and the lug will be glued to your side the entire night.”
His nickname for Olek aside, you felt pleased the demon had taken the bait to carry on the conversation. However, just as soon as you had the thought you immediately internally berated yourself, being bedridden for so long definitely rotting your brain if the company of a demon was now preferable to being left alone to your thoughts for a few hours.
“What if,” you looked at Dirrath expectantly, his features twisted in deep thought, as though he was still wrestling with the words in his head before forcing them out, “I attended the banquet with you?”
You mulled over the idea. Olek, of course, knew of your deal with Dirrath, though you’d kept him a bit fuzzy on the demon bit. He didn’t approve, but had deferred to your judgement and the mark on Dirrath. None of your guard knew of his betrayal, and the king only knew him with the glamor as your advisor, not as the creature that had protected you against his son.
It wouldn’t be a bad idea, having an extra body with you at the banquet, if only for peace of mind.
“Alright,” you finally say after a long pause, managing to agree without sounding too eager so as to not allow the single good idea to get to the demon’s head.
With nothing else to say, you watch silently as Dirrath wheeled the cart out of your room, the door clicking shut behind him with finality.
You did not mean to fall asleep as you laid there, but it was the most excitement you’ve had since you were stabbed and the mounting anxiety about attending another banquet left your racing mind eventually drained. So, you did not even realize as your eyelids grew heavy, neither willing or able to fight off the encroaching rest from overtaking you.
You woke entirely too early, the small snippet of outside you could see from the single solitary window of your room still dark.
After just a week of limited mobility, you were now sympathetic to all the patients who had defied your mother’s orders to rest and ripped out their stitches. You were tempted to cut the damned things themselves if morning did not arrive faster. You apologized to every person you’d cursed for making you travel back and redo them.
You were by no means so desperate for something to do enough to look forward to the banquet, but you couldn’t help the small bit of joy you felt at the thought of seeing new faces that weren’t Myanthe, Olek or Dirrath. With the treaty finalized and Roquechade’s hunt for the knights that had aided the prince concluded, there was nothing else for you to look forward to during the winding days stuck inside. Though, a silver lining to your isolation was that you were excused from attending the hangings.
When the lock on your door turned just as the sun rose above the horizon and flooded your room in its yellow glow, you were practically vibrating with excitement, beyond ready to get the stitches out of you and to finally be able to at least walk around the castle freely.
To your great disappointment, however, it was Dirrath standing in your doorway and not Myanthe.
“Calm down, she’s coming, I’m just here to take the bandages off,” he rolled his eyes, motioning you to lift your shirt as he approached.
You complied, your high spirits renewed at the imminent next step. The cloth was unravelled and discarded in the bin within seconds, Dirrath already wiping off the old sayerba with a wet rag when Myanthe finally arrived with Olek.
It was the first time the two had been in the same room since the night it all went to shit, but despite the obvious tension as the two men stared each other down, you were in too good a mood to let them spoil your glee.
Myanthe pulled out a pair of scissors from her front coat pocket, waving it around for you as she stopped by your bedside. Once Dirrath finished and stepped aside, you leaned back and watched with bated breath as the elf carefully slipped one of the blades in between your stomach and the stitch, using both hands to close it until the first suture snapped open.
It wasn’t comfortable, some harder to wiggle the scissors under than others and the sensation of the threads being pulled out somewhat unpleasant, but it went by in a flash.
“I should be fine to walk around now, right?” You asked eagerly, prodding the skin around the wound to feel for any tenderness, “it’s closed nicely, and there’s no infection. With some bandages there won’t be too much strain on it.”
You waited impatiently for Myanthe to examine your wound herself, waiting for her final assessment.
“I want you to give it a few days,” Myanthe  finally said after a long silence, “Give the sayerba a chance to close the wound completely.”
Your expression fell, disappointment washing over you like a bucket of ice water. A wound like this would have been cleared for work in the outskirts, you thought. Then, you realized, you were no longer in the outskirts, and your title meant Myanthe couldn’t risk your wound getting infected or worse.
“Of course,” you replied, hoping your smile would seem reassuring and not show your utter despondency from the prolonged rest order.
Olek placed a hand on your shoulder, you hadn’t even been aware of the captain walking up to you. His expression was pitying, which made you feel all the more childish for your untempered reaction.
Despite wanting nothing more than to ask to be left alone for the day, you allowed Dirrath to apply new sayerba and rewrap your bandages, listening dutifully to Myanthe’s information about the banquet; what kingdoms will be in attendance, which royals were personally visiting and who was sending representatives in their place.
You appreciated the sentiment, but frankly the names meant nothing to you besides a geographic location on a map. However, even with your limited knowledge, you gathered that there would also be non-human kingdoms at the gathering.
You try your best to pay attention to what Myanthe is telling you, but you soon find yourself drifting off as what she told you went from somewhat useful to pointless gossip.
Once you were thankfully left alone again, you quickly found yourself bored, your newfound range of motion too tempting not to take advantage of even with Myanthe’s express orders.
So, you find yourself wandering around the room looking for something to pass the time. You look out the window, then through the belongings you brought from your tent once you were able to convince Olek to bring it to you.
You’re flipping through the pages of a book when you feel a sting in your finger. You bring it up to your face, mouth gaping in disbelief at your sheer misfortune as you realize you actually cut yourself on the fine edge.
“Dirrath is right; what godsdamned luck I have,” you think aloud to distract yourself, closing your other hand around the finger and squeezing to alleviate the pain.
Somehow, the pain is even more intolerable to you now than the literal hole in your gut, the feeling of the not even bleeding cut throbbing down the length of your hand. Dirrath would be entirely useless in this situation, of course, the only contribution he’d be capable of making would be to maybe put some sayerba on it, tying it off with some cloth when he comes to change your bandages again.
You wish you could just heal the damn thing yourself, cursing your limited abilities. You never had the opportunity to build your endurance for magic like those who grew up in the capital had.
“Potential,” the High Queen had called it, “raw talent,” according to the 8th when she would observe you, but both agreed you needed guidance in honing your skill. Such a small thing, they had made it sound like. But in fact, your entire first year in the castle had been spent teaching you the very basics for controlling your magic. Sometimes, your tutors would mess up in their lectures and word things as though they were speaking to a child - a dead giveaway for the average level of their pupils.
You glare at your finger, willing it to heal when you feel a tug in your stomach wound that hurts long after you lose focus on healing your finger. You have no doubt that its bleeding as you inch your way back to the bed, clutching your stomach in pain the entire time.
But a plan is already forming in your mind, you just need Dirrath there to realize it.
62 notes · View notes
sachigram · 4 years
Text
okay but picture this, shizuo, 16 and gay, he just noticed he has a thing for Izaya and now they have to work on a school project together, in his house, in his room, alone Izaya being oblivious and Shizuo being in a gay panic through the whole thing
((For you, anon! Sorry if it’s sloppy, I haven’t slept like at ALL.))
“What do you mean you can't?”
Shinra looks up at Shizuo almost absently, like he's already forgotten Shizuo was even there.
“I mean I can't! Celty said she'd have a movie night with me, and I really think she'll let me make a move! She's been indulgent lately!” Shinra says moonily, that distant look returning to his eyes as he mentions Celty. “Isn't there anyone else you can ask for help? I'm not all that great at English anyway.”
“No, there's no one,” Shizuo says. Kadota is a decent student, but he has to go home for something family related, and there really isn't anyone else Shizuo can ask. Most people at school are afraid of him, for good reason, and the ones who aren't still want nothing to do with him because of his delinquent reputation.
“What about your kid brother? He's good at school,” Shinra says, and Shizuo growls at him. Shinra cowers almost comically, and then he's apologizing.
“It's more advanced stuff than Kasuka knows,” Shizuo mumbles. “Besides, I don't want to bother him.”
“Well,” Shinra begins, and he backs away as he speaks. “I have a suggestion, but you aren't going to like it.”
“What is it? That I should pay someone? I don't really have any money.”
“Not that, no.” Shinra looks very uncomfortable. “It's just... Izaya-kun is very smart—“
“No,” Shizuo hisses, taking a step towards Shinra. “I'd rather fail than ask that fucking louse for anything!”
“He's not so bad! He'd probably just be flattered you asked!” Shinra bows, holding his hands up in surrender. “He's much better at English than I am! He reads books in English all the time!”
Shizuo grumbles and crosses his arms, refraining from smacking Shinra upside the head. He knows Shinra means well, in his own dumbass, twisted way, but the thought of going to Izaya and asking for anything...
“I'll just manage it on my own,” Shizuo says, though he knows he doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell.
“Suit yourself,” Shinra says, straightening, “but keep it in mind. What's pride going to get you in this case? If you fail, you'll only suffer more!”
“Shinra,” Shizuo snaps, and before he can continue, Shinra is sprinting down the hall, wailing at the top of his lungs, and Shizuo sighs loudly, knowing he doesn't want to ask Izaya, but at the very least, he can say later on that he tried everything, even the last thing he wanted.
***
Izaya is slinging his bag over his shoulder as he closes his locker, and Shizuo feels like a creep for watching him like this, but he keeps in mind that Izaya does this sort of stalker shit all the time. Shizuo can see plenty of people, girls and guys, watching Izaya hopefully, and it pisses Shizuo off that Izaya is so popular. He never seems to engage with anyone, but it's easy to see others want to engage with him. Izaya takes a few steps before stopping, laughing softly, and whirling around to face the wall Shizuo is ducking behind.
“What do you want? You suck at hiding, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, and Shizuo feels his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment as he steps into Izaya's line of sight.
“I need a favor...” Shizuo mutters, and Izaya cups his ear.
“Eh? You need what? Speak up, Shizu-chan, I have places to be!”
“Fucking—! I need a favor!” Shizuo snaps, and he forces his hands to unclench before he continues. “English. I need...a tutor.”
Izaya's eyes widen, and Shizuo is as perplexed by their color as ever. They're like rust, a strange brownish-red, but in certain lights, they're almost burgundy. Izaya is pretty, has always been too pretty, and it's one of the reasons Shizuo can barely stand looking directly at him. The other reasons all have to do with Izaya being a piece of shit.
“A tutor? You think I'd help you?” Izaya laughs, and others around them are watching warily, knowing of Shizuo's turbulent relationship with Izaya. “I want Shizu-chan to fail! That would be hilarious!”
Fucking Shinra! He said Izaya would be flattered! Whatever. Shizuo doesn't have time for this. He snarls at Izaya and takes a step closer.
“I'm being serious! I don't understand any of it, okay? If I can't figure out this homework, I'll never pass the test, and if I keep failing, they'll call my parents.” Shizuo isn't afraid of his parents in the least. They're understanding people, and he loves them. He doesn't want to give them another reason to worry about him, because he knows his recent fights have worried them.
Izaya clicks his tongue.
“What's in it for me?” he asks.
“What do you want?” Shizuo asks. He can feel his eyebrow twitching.
“Hmmmm...” Izaya makes a big show out of looking thoughtful. He grins at Shizuo, who looks away, because Izaya looks really good when he's smiling. “For starters, I want you to leave me alone at school! I'm tired of running from you in between classes.”
“Fine,” Shizuo mutters.
“And I want snacks. I want your favorite snacks!”
“You don't even like the stuff I do!” Shizuo sputters. He doesn't know why he knows Izaya's snack preference, but he does. Izaya shrugs.
“I'll like knowing you aren't getting them.”
Shizuo clenches his fists, baring his teeth at Izaya.
“Fine. Is that all?” he asks.
“I want you to say that you're a stupid idiot monster! Oh, and you have to leave me alone outside of school, too! I don't want to even see you for the rest of the year!” Izaya looks pleased with himself, and Shizuo weighs his options. Does he want to give Izaya free reign to cause destruction and chaos to his heart's content, just so Shizuo can pass English?
Shizuo makes a face as he thinks of his parents.
“I'm a stupid idiot monster,” Shizuo says, reminding himself that it's in his best interests.
“You could be more sincere than that! It's like you're asking me to move out of your way or something! You're asking me to tutor you, and I hate you. The least you could do is make it worth my while.” Izaya narrows his eyes, and he looks cruel, and this is the expression Shizuo is most used to seeing on him.
“Please help me, Izaya-kun. I'm stupid and whatever. I'm asking for help, aren't I? So you must know how desperate I am.”
“Ah, you need to work on your groveling. I'm in a generous mood though, so I'll accept it,” Izaya says. His pretty smile is back, and he moves to Shizuo's side. “Oh, you stink. Does your whole house stink like you? Whatever, I guess I'll manage. This is charity, after all. Lead the way, monster!”
***
An hour later and Shizuo doesn't think he's going to survive.
Aside from Izaya's grating, scathing comments, Izaya is also unexpectedly touchy. He'll tug at Shizuo's hair, press his finger to Shizuo's forehead, shove Shizuo lightly, and Shizuo keeps forgetting he shouldn't be allowing it. They've gone through half the homework, and Izaya is flabbergasted at Shizuo's inability to figure any of it out himself.
“How am I supposed to even read the questions if they're in English?!” Shizuo snaps, and Izaya laughs.
“Part of the homework is understanding the questions, you idiot. Come on, we just finished a question like this! You know it.”
Izaya is on Shizuo's bed, lying on his stomach. His legs are moving behind him almost listlessly, and his eyes are bright and brown in the light from Shizuo's room. Beside him is a bag of Shizuo's favorite chips, and every now and then, when Izaya knows Shizuo is looking, Izaya will eat one, gag a bit, and choke as he forces it down.
Shizuo hates him so fucking much.
“I don't know it!” Shizuo argues, and Izaya sighs. He points at the sheet.
“You do know it. Calm down a bit and think. Your temper flares when you don't understand something, but you have to ask yourself if that's really in your best interest.” Izaya reaches beside himself, and then he offers the chip bag to Shizuo. “Maybe you're just hungry.”
Shizuo grumbles and pours some chips into his hand before he shoves them all in his mouth. He glares at the question, and then he scribbles something down. Izaya reads it.
“Oh, no, I was wrong. You're really just stupid.”
“Fuck you!” Shizuo growls, but Izaya looks entirely unbothered. He watches Shizuo almost patiently, and then his eyes drift over to Shizuo's cracked door.
“Oh!” Izaya breathes, and he's sitting up immediately, patting his lap. “A kitty!”
Shizuo glances over at the gray cat sticking her face into the room.
“Yeah, that's my mom's cat. She really only likes mom and Kasuka,” Shizuo says. He blinks as the cat enters the room and hops onto the bed before curling into Izaya's lap.
“That's because you're one big predator,” Izaya says, petting the cat. “Isn't he?” he coos. “Yes, Shizu-chan is a big, dumb meanie! Yes, he is!”
Shizuo wants to be offended, but the soft look on Izaya's face while he gazes at the cat has Shizuo hurriedly looking away.
“Figures you'd be a cat person. Evil people always like cats,” Shizuo says.
“So your mom and Kasuka-san are evil?” Izaya asks, and when Shizuo looks back at him, Izaya and the cat are sharing the same expression: immensely pleased, visibly relaxed.
“No! I'm not saying all people who like cats are evil! I'm just saying every evil person likes cats!” Shizuo huffs, and Izaya's smile spreads.
“You only feel that way because she doesn't give you the time of day. You need more patience, you know? Not just with cats, but with everything. Here.” Izaya grabs Shizuo's hand and guides it to the top of the cat's head. “There. Now scratch near her ears! Cats love that.”
Shizuo's face is on fire. His hand is so close to Izaya's lap. He wonders what the fuck is wrong with him, and he hopes he isn't blushing visibly.
“What's her name?” Izaya asks after a few moments. The cat is purring loudly, and Shizuo can't remember the last time she let him pet her.
“Dango,” Shizuo says. “She's an old cat. I named her a long time ago.”
“Figures you'd name her after sweets.” Izaya's nimble fingers move to her chin, and Dango is purring up a storm. Shizuo lets his own hand drop and watches Izaya disarm the usually grumpy cat. Shizuo's always heard to trust whoever an animal takes to, but in this case, he can blame it on Dango being senile. Still, she's gazing up at Izaya so lovingly, and Izaya is gazing right back at her with a soft smile on his stupid, pretty face.
“I'm surprised you asked me for help, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says after a while, and Shizuo looks up at Izaya's eyes and then blushes wildly when he realizes he was staring at Izaya's lips, probably openly, for an embarrassing amount of time.
“Well... You're an asshole, and I hate you, but you're good at school,” Shizuo says. He swipes the bag of chips from Izaya, who lets them go without complaint.
“I wouldn't have asked you for anything,” Izaya says. “Even if someone was trying to kill me, I wouldn't go to you for help.”
“Yeah? Well, I'm better than you. I'm way more mature.”
Izaya laughs, loud and bright, and Shizuo flushes again, though he doesn't really understand why. Izaya is so captivating, so effortlessly attractive, and he's on Shizuo's bed, sitting with a cat in his lap like he owns the place.
“I should go soon,” Izaya says after a while. “My sisters will be expecting me to cook dinner.”
“Can't your mom do that?” Shizuo asks. He wants Izaya to stay longer in this No Man's Land where they aren't friends, but they aren't enemies either.
“Nope. I have to do it,” Izaya says. “Though we might just order out tonight. Mairu has been asking for Taiwanese anyway.”
“If you're ordering out, you can stay longer, right?” Shizuo asks, and when Izaya's eyes meet his, Shizuo realizes what he just said. “I mean—! I still don't understand this! That's all! And you came over to help, so help!”
“Mm, I've been helping you,” Izaya says with a grin. He studies Shizuo's face, and Shizuo feels his skin crawl. Izaya is too perceptive to be studying him this closely. “What's up with you today, Shizu-chan? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were warming up to me.”
“You don't know any better!” Shizuo snaps, and then he shoves a handful of chips into his mouth. “I hae ooo,” he adds between his chewing, and Izaya makes a face at him. Shizuo swallows. “I've always hated you,” he finishes.
“Yeah,” Izaya says, and he looks down at Dango, who is snoozing peacefully. “Say... Shizu-chan?”
“What?” Shizuo asks. He picks up his worksheet and pretends to be interested in it.
“What should I have done differently? Back then,” Izaya says, and Shizuo's gaze snaps to his. “What would've made you hate me a little less?”
“I...” Shizuo's mouth feels too dry. Stupid chips! Why didn't he bring a drink up here?!
“Shizuo!” His mom pushes into the room, and she looks between Shizuo and Izaya, then to Dango in Izaya's lap. “Oh! Hello! You aren't Shinra-kun!”
“I'm much better,” Izaya says, and he gives her a charming smile. “Orihara Izaya. Shizu-chan asked for help studying.”
“Shizu-chan? My, you two must be close.” She smiles at Izaya, and then she pauses. “Wait... Isn't he the boy you're always fighting with?”
“He was being less of a jerk today,” Shizuo mutters, not liking the look she's giving him.
“I see! Feel free to stay for dinner, Izaya-kun. We have more than enough to share.”
“I can't. Thank you, but I should be going anyway.” Izaya lifts Dango, who meows loudly in protest, and then he's standing from the bed. He bows to Shizuo's mom. “It was nice to meet you.” He looks back at Shizuo. “See ya.”
“Bye,” Shizuo says, watching him go.
“I'll walk you out,” his mom says, and their footsteps fade down the stairs, and then it's silent once more. Dango is glaring at Shizuo, her tail whipping, and Shizuo sighs loudly.
“Yeah, I know, okay? I like him, too.” Shizuo groans. “This is a big problem.”
***
The next day, Shizuo finds Izaya chatting with Shinra and Kadota. All of them look up as Shizuo approaches, wary expressions on their faces.
“Good morning, Shizuo-kun,” Shinra says, and Shizuo grunts at him before locking eyes with Izaya.
“Come over again,” he says, and Izaya blinks up at him.
“Huh?”
“My mom wants you to stay for dinner. Says you're too skinny. And also, you were really...helpful. I feel like I remember a lot of what you said.” Shizuo looks down to Izaya's lips, wants to kiss them so badly, and fights the urge away.
“Uh... I can help tonight, if you still need it!” Shinra says hurriedly, as if he's worried Shizuo and Izaya will come to blows right here.
“I'm not asking you,” Shizuo barks at him, and then he looks back to Izaya. Izaya grins, almost shyly, and then he shrugs, reaches out, and tugs on a strand of Shizuo's hair.
“Sure. Why not?”
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saiilorstars · 3 years
Text
Dare To Forget Me
Ch. 31: Impeccable Timing
Previous chapters // Montserrat's masterlist
Fandom: SVU // Pairing:  Rafael Barba x OFC
Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.
Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel​ @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles @averyhotchner [If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]
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Chapter Summary: Once again, Montserrat and Rafael find themselves in the situation that has almost become a 'tale as old time' and this may be the last time Montserrat puts herself out there again. It's all in the timing.
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Montserrat sat on a metal table with her brother on the opposite side. She felt terrible for bringing the bad news, even more bad news than what he already had. "I'm so sorry, Gael. I promise we're trying to figure it out-"
Gael reached for one of his sister's hands and gave her a small smile, the best he could do right now. "I know you are trying. You don't need to remind me. The bail money is excessively high. I don't want you or anyone else to waste it on me."
"We just need $5,000 more. I know we can raise it I just...I haven't figured out a way to do it," Montserrat shook her head. And it wasn't like she wasn't trying. For the past two days she'd been going over her own finances along with her father's and even Casey's but between the three there wasn't any more money they could gather. Each of them had already put up a substantial amount, including Damian's own offer...and it still wasn't enough.
"Montserrat, when's the last time you slept?" Gael's question confused Montserrat since it wasn't pertinent (in her opinion) to the situation.
"I-I don't know," shrugged the detective. "Who cares."
"I care," Gael said, and sharply too. "Because you're spreading yourself too thin. What about your job? Have you gone back already?"
"I'm on an indefinite leave," Montserrat said casually.
"Montserrat-"
"-I'm just meeting with Calhoun to know your situation and I'm working to get some more evidence with Damian, alright? I can sleep when you're out of jail and free of any accusations."
"Montserrat," Gael gripped Montserrat's hand, urging her to stop and listen to him even if it was for just a moment, "I really appreciate everything you're doing for me. I know you hate Calhoun-"
"-eh, it's more of a frenemy thing," Montserrat cut in but Gael went on before she could discard everything else he wanted to say.
"But you're paying her big bucks to solve my case. And then you're taking care of my girls and God knows that's not an easy job."
"Yeah, I never knew putting a four year old to sleep involved...so many things," Montserrat wanted to yawn just thinking about all the tricks she had to pull so Ivana would fall asleep. "But it's okay, because you're my brother and I know these accusations are false."
"Are they?"
Montserrat blinked at her brother. Why was he looking so serious?
"I've seen the pictures, okay? I know everything that happened and...I can't help wonder...what if it is my fault those people got hurt?"
"Shh!" Montserrat quickly went. This was a tactic she would normally love if she hated the perp but this was her brother and he was innocent. "Shut up! Anything you say here can be used against you!"
"I'm only thinking-"
"-no!" she snapped. "You know for a fact you did everything by the book. You did all the evaluations, followed every code. You know that."
"So then why did people get hurt?"
Montserrat shifted in her seat. It pained her to know that they still didn't have an answer. It was an outright mystery why that building collapsed. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. In the meantime, just stay put and...be a bit patient with me. I'm gonna get that money to get you out of here."
"Thanks," Gael sighed. "Before you go...can I ask how my girls are doing?"
Montserrat smiled. "Ivana is fine. The thing about being 4 is that she is in an endless blissful bubble. She thinks you're just away."
"Thank you...and Juliana?" Gael shared a meaningful look with his sister. Teenagehood was already hell; he was sure he was only making it worse for his daughter right now.
"She's….uh...taking it hard," Montserrat swallowed hard. It was a bit of an understatement but she wasn't going to worry her brother more than he already was. "But we're handling it - I'm handling it."
"Handling a teenager is not an easy job and Juliana already has a temper…"
"She's going to be fine," Montserrat assured him despite not knowing it herself. "I'm going to make sure of it."
"Thank you," Gael gripped her hand again. "Really...thank you."
"What's family for?" Montserrat's smile would only last until her brother was taken away. Because as soon as she left, she handled yet another call from Juliana's school. She made a quick trip to the school and walked straight into the school's main office. She informed the first secretary she saw that she was there for Juliana and was immediately directed to her niece sitting outside the principal's office.
"Are you frikin kidding me?" she hissed at Juliana as she hurried up to the teenage ginger. "It's only noon!"
Juliana sat with her legs tightly closed and her arms crossed just as tightly against her chest. She looked like a four year old who'd gotten a scold...and she just might get one.
"What happened?" Montserrat bent down in front of her niece, letting go of the anger for a minute in hopes of getting the story from Juliana before she got it from the principal.
"I just did what I had to," Juliana curtly answered.
Montserrat tilted her head, then. "What did you do?" her voice sharpened.
Juliana did not answer.
The principal's door opened up to reveal a short, brunette woman dressed in a formal gray dress. Montserrat had come to know the woman in the past week as Principal Jannae Cams. "Miss Novak?"
"Yeah," Montserrat straightened on her feet. "Here I am...again…"
Cams turned away and led Montserrat into the office. Montserrat closed the door and inwardly sighed. She prepared herself for whatever Juliana pulled now.
"You should know, first and foremost, that we do not tolerate any type of violence in this school," Cams took her seat and left Montserrat to figure it out and take her own seat. "Which is why Juliana is suspended for the next three days."
"What?" Montserrat blinked. "What did she do?"
"Got into a fight with another of our students. Juliana was seen by at least three other students when she threw the first punch."
"My niece would never hurt anyone," Montserrat tried to say but Cams already had the story prepared and so cut her off.
"She broke the other student's nose. And when we asked Juliana about it, she admitted it. Juliana initiated the fight. She's suspended."
"I don't...I…" Montserrat drew in a deep breath to calm herself down before she too initiated a fight. "I have no idea what happened but I know for a fact that Juliana would never act like this unless she was provoked. What did the other student have to say about this?"
"That she was punched," Cams said, overly sarcastic which only fueled Montserrat's own anger. "In the nose. The family's pretty upset, as you can imagine."
"Well, I'd like to talk to this student and know what happened."
"Miss Novak, I understand that your family is currently undergoing some...problems, and I think it's affecting Juliana negatively. Perhaps you should take these 3 days of suspension as a way to talk to Juliana or, at the very least, get her some help."
Montserrat may have wanted to throw her own punch, but that wasn't like her either. She closed her eyes for a second to take another breath in. "Juliana's father, my brother, is being falsely accused so...yeah, it might be affecting Juliana but do you know what? She never fought before and even now...I know she wouldn't ever hurt someone so I'd really like to know what that other student had to say."
"I'm sorry, but that would be up to the parents."
Montserrat pushed herself up from her seat. "Fine," she practically spat before leaving the office. She grabbed Juliana by the arm on her way out of the main office, ignoring the teenager's cries to be let go until they were in the school hallway.
Classes were still in session which gave them the perfect chance to talk freely.
"I want to know what the hell happened that would lead to you breaking someone's nose!" she demanded from Juliana. "And don't you dare huff at me. What happened?"
"I already told Principal Cams that I punched Eleanor's nose!"
"Yeah, got that, what I want to know is why!?"
"Because she kept talking about my Dad like he was some criminal! She said he was a murderer and that he should rot in jail so you know what? I punched in her nose," Juliana folded her arms again, "And if I hadn't been pulled off her I would've gladly punched her again."
"Oh God Juliana," Montserrat pinched the bridge of her nose. Yeah, she should've seen this coming. "She was riling you up-"
"-of course she was! I'm not stupid!"
"No, but you were stupid enough to fall for it," Montserrat couldn't help but snap. "And now you've been suspended for 3 days. What the hell am I going to do? I just told your Dad I had things under control-"
"-you saw Dad?" Juliana's eyes widened. Her entire face lit up. "Can I see him!?"
"No! Because you're grounded!"
"What?" Juliana snorted. "You can't ground me. You're not my Mom."
"But I am your aunt and your current guardian so guess what? Grounded. And be grateful that I'm not mentioning this to your father. He's worried sick about you and Ivana."
"Well I'm worried too, but I can't do anything about it can I?" Juliana turned away, nearly letting her hair whip Montserrat's face. "I can't even see him!"
Montserrat had to pray that Juliana would see some light and be patient, otherwise there would be another type of hell coming for them.
~ 0 ~
As soon as Montserrat had gotten Juliana back home, the teenager locked herself in Montserrat's bedroom. She and Ivana had been staying there while Montserrat took the couch. But even then, Montserrat couldn't dwell too much in the suspension because she had to meet up with Damian about the bail money. Once more, they went through each other's finances, Casey's and Montserrat's father but they were still coming up short.
"Woah, what happened to my kitchen?" Kara's voice pulled the two from work to see her and Sonny walking into the apartment.
"We're just trying to figure it out again," Montserrat groaned and crumpled up an old bank statement in her hand.
"You guys are still short?" Sonny came over to see the handful of papers around Montserrat's immediate area.
"Yeah, the same 5 grand and no matter how we look at things...it doesn't add up."
"I told you guys I could put up 2 grand," Kara offered but Montserrat shook her head. "No. You need that for your salon's expenses."
"You're putting up your entire life saving's, girl," Kara countered but Montserrat still wouldn't give in.
"I'm sure, with a couple more days, we can figure it out," Damian said.
"I don't want Gael to spend another day in there," Montserrat sighed. "There's enough problems already and if I can get Gael out...that would really be nice. I just picked up Juliana because she's been suspended for 3 days."
"What happened?" frowned Sonny. The girl seemed like such a sweetheart.
"She punched a girl and broke her nose."
"Ha," Kara smirked. "Been there, done that."
"Yeah," Damian scowled at her and brought a finger to his nose as if it were still broken. "Watch out, Sonny."
The detective in question threw a concerned look at Kara.
"Juliana's getting picked on because of what's going on with Gael," Montserrat brought them back to the story. "So if I can get him out then at least he can be here to help them because obviously I'm not doing a good job."
"Hey, you're doing what you can," Damian got up from his chair and moved to Montserrat's side.
"Dad has Ivana right now because I couldn't pick her up on time from school," Montserrat brought her hands to her face. "I'm crashing here."
Damian gently pulled her hands from her face and squeezed them in his. "You're doing good. Why don't you get some rest? I can take things from here."
"Are you kidding? I can't go to sleep right now-"
But Damian pulled her right up, bringing them just a bit too close that had Sonny eyeing them. "I can take it for a couple hours. Get some rest."
"Yeah, he's right," Kara stepped forwards. "Take my room and if Juliana comes out we'll make sure she doesn't get into more trouble."
"I...I guess…" Montserrat gave the two siblings a soft smile. "Thanks. Really." She gave each a hug though it seemed to linger a bit more with Damian.
Once more, Sonny noticed it and had to hide his frown.
But before Montserrat would leave, she turned to her partner. "I've been meaning to ask, how's Nick?"
"He's good," Sonny answered her with a small smile. "The charges got dropped, actually. And, Olivia's acting commander again."
"What? What happened to Declan?"
"Some undercover mission, I don't know. But Liv's back in charge. And we're all waiting for you to come back."
"Believe me, I really want nothing but this nightmare to end too," Montserrat gave him a quick hug before leaving for a nap.
Kara waited to speak until Montserrat closed the door to her room. "Okay, now that it's just us...how bad is it?"
Damian threw a weary look at the papers left on the table. "We've gone through it dozens of times and...we are just out of money. Not to mention the fact Montserrat's solely paying Calhoun. She can't put up her entire savings for this."
"So what can we do?"
"Any of you guys got 5 grand just lying around?"
"I wish," Kara sighed. "My 2 grand still stands."
"You need that, though," Sonny reminded her. He'd love to help out but he was stuck with bills as well. Plus, he had a feeling Montserrat wouldn't he accepting his money anytime soon.
"We'll come up with something," Damian insisted. "But for right now I'm gonna head back to work. I know I told Montserrat that I would stay here and focus on the bail money but I think I would be a little bit more useful if I tried to find more evidence to help the case. Bail money becomes useless if the defendant is no longer a defendant but a convict."
"Yeah," Sonny nodded. He had mixed feelings about the guy but at least he knew Damian's heart was in the right place. "I need to head back to work too," he told Kara.
"Thanks for having lunch with me," Kara gave him a hug and a kiss before sending him off. Of course no one told her that she would be left to pick up all the papers from her kitchen table and floor.
~0~
"So she's not coming back anytime soon, then?" Olivia was disappointed, yet understood, to hear Sonny's relay of Montserrat's situation.
The detective stood in the middle of the bullpen's desks. He'd come in a few minutes before they were to discuss a new case potentially going to trial. They were only waiting for Rafael to get there.
"Nah, she's got way too much on her plate," Sonny said. "Juliana just got suspended for 3 days."
"What she do?" Amanda asked, looking just as surprised as Sonny had when he initially heard the news.
"Broke another student's nose."
"Teenagers," Fin said as of that was a reasonable explanation for anything.
"Those faces worry me," Rafael said as he came in. "Did the case go south already?"
"Everything's still intact," Olivia eased his worries. "We were only talking about Montserrat's troubles."
"Right," Rafael did a poor job looking casual. Truth was he hadn't heard from Montserrat in days and he didn't have the courage to call her. If she hadn't reached out to any of them, it was because she was too busy. He just had to learn how to control himself. "How...is she doing?"
Olivia gestured to Sonny since he had all the information. The detective shook his head. "Not so good. Way too many problems for one person to handle."
"Is no one helping her?" there was a sharp tone to Rafael's words that Sonny, and pretty much everyone else noticed.
"Well, yeah, but...it's a lot. Right now Montserrat's just focused on that bail money."
"She still hasn't collected it?"
"$5000 short."
"Oh…" Rafael let a moment of silence pass by before he moved the group onto business, but it didn't mean he'd forget what Sonny told him. And much less that it would stop bothering him.
When he was to leave, he managed to pull Sonny aside while everyone went onto their assigned tasks.
"Exactly how much does Montserrat need?" he asked very quietly once they were out in the hallway.
"About $5000 but listen, councilor, I know where you're getting at and believe me I've thought of doing the same thing," Sonny admitted in the same hushed tone Rafael used. "But I think we both know Montserrat would kill us if we tried giving her the money. Kara already tried doing the same and she got the same answer."
"That's insane. She needs help and we can give it to her." But even as Rafael said it, he knew there was no way Montserrat would take his money. She was too proud. Plus, if roles were reversed he wouldn't take money from her either.
But the thing was…
He didn't care.
He needed to help her and he had the means.
So he'd take the chance and be smart about it.
~0~
"Kara, I'm going out," Juliana was adamant despite having the blonde woman standing in front of the apartment door.
"No, you're not. Your aunt said you were grounded!"
"And I said that I wasn't!"
Kara blinked. She couldn't get how the hell Juliana turned into some temper-tantrum teenager - well, she had an idea but it still wasn't cool. "Your aunt is resting and you really need to let her. She has been spreading herself thin just to make sure you and your sister are okay."
"Well I'm not okay!" Juliana snapped. "Because my Dad isn't here! He's being accused of murder, haven't you heard?"
With a sigh, Kara leaned away from the door and walked up to the girl. "And your aunt is working so hard to prove he's innocent. Now you have to do your part and be a good listener."
Juliana scoffed and practically pushed past Kara to get to the door. Kara called for her to stop but of course Juliana never even looked back. She only slammed the door shut behind her. With a groan, Kara hurried to the door and opened it, only to bump into Rafael instead.
"I'm curious, do you or Montserrat ever just say a normal 'hello'?" he rubbed his nose with a common frown on his face.
"Sorry," Kara rubbed her own face. "You didn't happen to catch Juliana out there, did you?"
"Yeah, she looked mad as hell."
"She is." Kara sighed and let her hand drop to her side. "What are you doing here, anyways? If you came for Montserrat, good luck. She's finally getting some sleep and I doubt she'll be waking up anytime soon."
"I actually came to speak with you," Rafael admitted, reasonably surprising her since they hardly crossed words.
"Me? What for?"
"About Montserrat. Are you sure she's asleep?"
Kara nodded and motioned him to come in. "She hasn't slept in days. Trust me. She didn't wake up with Juliana's screams, so...we're good."
"Good," Rafael drew in a breath, letting Kara notice that he was nervous. That was novelty.
"What's going on?" she finally asked.
Rafael decided to just come out with it. He always blurted things out anyways. "Sonny told me that Montserrat was having trouble collecting the last of the bail money for Gael."
Kara sighed. "Yeah. She's going crazy."
"Alright, well...I want to help her with it. But I also know that…"
"Montserrat's too damn proud to take money from any of us?" Kara smiled sarcastically. "Yeah. I know her oh-so-well. And because I know her that well, I know that she won't take any money from you." Especially you, she thought.
"I know," sighed Rafael. He thought about it long and hard all day until he came up with an idea that could would work. "Which is why I'm giving you the money."
"Me!?" Kara blinked with wide eyes.
"Yeah, because she'll take the money if she thinks it's coming from you."
"No, that won't work," Kara shook her head. "I tried giving her 2 grand and she rejected it."
"Because she thought it was money that usually goes into your business. So just tell her that it's from somewhere else."
"I don't know…" Kara didn't feel right lying to Montserrat, but she also knew that maybe she'd be the only one who could actually get Montserrat to accept money from him.
Rafael reached for something inside his coat's pocket and pulled out an envelope. "It's the 5 grand."
"You walked the streets with 5 grand in your pocket!?" Kara exclaimed.
Rafael rolled his eyes. "Focus please. Take the money and make Montserrat use it."
"But she'll think it's from me and...that won't be right."
"That's the point. She'll never take money from me and I really want to help her, so…" Rafael motioned Kara to take the envelope.
Kara studied his face and realized, very quickly, that there was a desperate urge to help. She could identify with that because if Sonny was in dire need of money, she would want to help him by any means possible...and she would do whatever it took to help him. For that, she accepted the envelope. "I'll make sure she takes it," she promised for his concern.
There was an instant relief in Rafael's face. "Thank you. Really."
"You're welcome," Kara went to leave the envelope on the coffee table. She wanted to hand it to Montserrat first thing when the latter woke up.
"Thanks," Rafael headed for the door since he'd finished business, but at the last moment he turned back. "How...is she? For real?"
Kara could appreciate his attempt to be casual and discreet, but his feelings were visible from a mile away no matter what he did. "She's….she could be better. Her brother's being falsely accused of murder, so...you can understand that...it's difficult."
Rafael nodded silently.
"But I know that your help will definitely do her some good," Kara added in hopes of helping him as well.
"Wish I could do more," he blurted.
"You could," Kara wasn't afraid, like most people, to say things how they were. "But that's all up to you."
Rafael pointed at her as if he was going to say something, but in the end he opened the door and left.
"Nobody escapes Kara Mackie," Kara proudly said.
~ 0 ~
It was evening when Montserrat finally woke up, but even when she did she still felt rather tired. She emerged from Kara's bedroom to a quiet apartment. Kara was busy watching television but quickly paused the screen when she saw Montserrat.
"Hey!" she swallowed down the last of her popcorn before sitting up.
"Ivana isn't here, is she?" Montserrat assumed first. A four year old would never be this quiet.
"Uh, no. Your dad's keeping her tonight."
"And Juliana?"
Kara bit her lower lip. Yeah, she'd been debating how to go about that part. "Umm...she's...sort of...out…"
"Out?" Montserrat picked her phone from her back pocket and saw the time. "It's seven o'clock. Wait, she's not supposed to be out! She's grounded."
"Yeah that...sort of didn't take," Kara apologized with a small smile before bursting into a fit of rambles. "I'm so sorry! I tried to stop her but I really forgot what it's like being a teenager! She didn't listen - she was so mad!"
"Kara, it's alright," Montserrat sighed and sat down next to her. "I know Juliana's sort of...in a funk right now."
"But don't worry, I got your friend - Claire Wilson? She's with Juliana and she's keeping me updated in case they get into trouble."
"Well thanks," Montserrat leaned back against the couch. "But it still leaves so many other problems." She rubbed her hands over her face and groaned. Maybe she should just go back to sleep.
"Listen," Kara grabbed the remote control again and shut the television off, "I was...doing some digging through my own finances and…"
"Oh, Kara, no…" Montserrat presumed where her friend was headed. She watched Kara reach for an envelope on the table.
"I got the money, Montse," Kara put on her best smile, a hopeful one at that. "All $5000 of it. It's right here." She held the envelope to Montserrat but, as expected, Montserrat wouldn't take it.
"I can't do that. Where'd you even get the money from, you didn't have it before."
"I, uh, dug for it," shrugged Kara. She pushed the envelope to Montserrat's chest, but the ginger shook her head.
"Absolutely not. I can't take it."
"Oh!" Kara groaned. "And why not? You took it from Damian-"
"-because he's Gael's friend! You're my best friend and I know that you need this money!"
"Trust me, I really don't," Kara waved the envelope in front of Montserrat's face. "What I need is for you to take it."
"I can't do it, I'm sorry."
"Montserrat, stop being stupid. You need it - Gael needs it!"
"Gael needs me to figure it out," snapped Montserrat. "He doesn't need me taking money from other people."
"I'm not 'people', I'm family. And you know what? It's not even the reason you should take the money. You should take it because…" Kara licked her lips nervously, "...because the person who came up with this money really wants to help you." Her voice softened when she added, "He really does."
Of course that earned Kara a puzzled look from Montserrat. "What?" the ginger asked.
Kara sighed. "He's going to kill me," she concluded in a whisper, but she figured if she was killed because she tried helping her best friend it would be a worthy death.
"What the hell?" Montserrat wearily said as she dreaded what Kara was up to.
Kara drew in a deep breath as she shifted to face Montserrat. "Okay, so, that money...I'm not supposed to say, but...it's not mine."
"What, did you steal it?"
"No, Sonny would kill me, first of all. Someone gave me that money-"
"-Kara, please tell me that's not dirty money."
"Oh my God, would you just let me talk!?"
Montserrat pursed her lips together then motioned Kara to go on. "Look, I'm telling you this because I think it's only fair that you recognize the intent. I didn't come up with the money - hell, it's not even my money. Rafael stopped by this afternoon."
"...don't tell me," Montserrat narrowed her eyes on Kara, almost making the latter gulp on the spot.
"He wanted to give you the money himself but he knew you wouldn't take it-"
"-damn right I wouldn't!" Montserrat practically threw the envelope to Kara's face. "How could you accept that money!?"
"Uh, because you need it? And because Rafael was pretty insistent that you take it."
"Rule number 1 when it comes to Rafael: never listen to him!"
"I can see where most of your problems come from."
"It's not funny, Kara!" Montserrat was furious. She jumped from her seat and turned to glare at Kara. "I would never take money from him. So I'm going to give that back to him right now!"
"No you are not!" Kara hugged the envelope to her chest.
"Yes, I am!"
"Give me one good reason why you shouldn't take the money?"
"Because...because…" Montserrat shifted on her feet, the frustration getting to her as she came up with no good answer.
"Aha," Kara tilted her head. "See? You should take the money and use it to get Gael out of that hellhole."
"But I can't!" Montserrat threw her hands in the air. "It doesn't feel right!"
Kara shook her head. "Montserrat, quit being so proud and just accept the help." She patted the open spot next to her and called it a win when Montserrat actually sat down again. "Don't be stupid and please don't be proud. Rafael came with the most honest intentions and he specifically asked me not to say anything. He didn't want you to know that the money was from him."
"Well you sure screwed that up, huh?" Montserrat gently jabbed Kara on her side.
"Yeeeeah. Please keep me safe, he scares me a bit."
Montserrat laughed. "Oh c'mon."
"No, I'm serious! He's nice and all but he's scary," Kara's face only made Montserrat laugh harder. "I don't know how you do it."
"Cos he's not scary," Montserrat sobered slowly despite hearing Kara's continuous accusations of the opposite.
"Alright, so...will you take the money?"
Montserrat looked down at the envelope between them, looking unsure. "I don't...I don't know. I feel like I should just return it."
"Montse, I know I tease you and all but, being serious...he really did look worried and he was just doing what he thought was best. And he asked about you - how you were doing? C'mon," Kara now bumped shoulders with Montserrat. "Don't tell me it doesn't make your heart beat just an itty-bitty-" Kara raised her hand with an index finger just above her thumb to show the amount, "-tiny bit faster?"
Montserrat shook her head but said nothing. She wasn't going to give Kara any reason to actually tease again. "I'm over it. I'm over him. I said that a long time ago-"
"Regardless, before you take that money back...just think about it for a bit. Maybe just...consider it." Kara gave Montserrat a quick side-hug before getting up to leave.
Montserrat brought a hand to her curls as she once again looked down at the envelope. It was so stupid. There laid the solution to one of her problems and she was being too proud to take it. "Goddammit," she sighed and got up from the couch.
~ 0 ~
"Sonny?"
The last thing the detective in question thought he'd see in the D.A's building was his partner who was meant to be taking a leave from SVU. Sonny turned back in the hallway to see Montserrat coming into the building in a rush. She was bundled up in a beige-colored coat.
"Montserrat what are you doing here?" Sonny checked his watch for the time and raised his eyebrows when he realized it was a bit late for her. "It's ten o'clock."
Montserrat shrugged but her pursed lips and a gaze that couldn't seem to look him in the eyes indicated something else was at play. "I just...needed to talk to someone."
"Casey?" Sonny jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
"No, well, no…" Montserrat sighed. She would have to be a little more truthful. "I need to speak with Rafael. Is that where you were headed?"
"Yeah, uh, Liv's got me on a case and…" Sonny got the feeling she wasn't really paying attention to him. Her eyes kept flickering in the direction of Rafael's office. "Montse? Are you okay?"
Montserrat licked her lips and exhaled. "Look, Sonny, can you just give me like...5 minutes with Rafael? And then you can go in and talk about your case."
"O...kay…" Sonny looked her over and noticed she was a bit shifty. "Are you sure you're okay? Did something happen? Is there anything I can do to help you-"
Montserrat raised a hand to stop him talking. "Just give me those 5 minutes I'm asking for and we're good."
"Al-alright, go ahead," Sonny stepped aside and gestured for her to go. She gave him a grateful smile and went on her way.
In his office, Rafael was doing what he normally did each night. On one side he had the usual stack of papers and on the other side, he had the trusty glass of alcohol. He heard a noise - footsteps - outside but before he even thought of looking up, they spoke up.
"You paid my brother's bail money."
Rafael shut his eyes as if hoping this was just a hallucination. Maybe he'd finally had too much to drink. But when he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw Montserrat by the door. "Dammit," he muttered. He put his pen down and stood up. "I honestly thought Kara might manage to keep it a secret," he admitted as he moved around the desk. He had to make a compelling argument now before she killed him. Luckily, this was what he did for a living. "I know you're mad but I know you needed the money. And before you throw it at my face-"
Montserrat rolled her eyes and strode up to hug him, surprising the hell out of him. He was frozen in his spot, arms to his sides as he debated if this was real or not. Montserrat couldn't care less how he reacted or how she should react. She'd thought long and hard about what she'd say or do when she saw him and this was the only thing she felt was right. So, that's why she wrapped her arms around his neck and let that need finally be quenched.
"I'm...very confused here." It pained Rafael to admit it but he just couldn't understand why she was hugging him and not screaming at him.
Montserrat pulled away but never let go of him. "I can't be mad at you. Not when you gave away $5000 from your own pocket."
"...so you're keeping the money?"
"Well, I did think about giving it back to you but...I need to swallow my pride and use it to get Gael out. But I am going to pay you back, every last cent."
Rafael rolled his eyes at her. "Don't worry about that-"
"-but I am because it's the only way I'll truly feel okay with this."
There was no way he was going to get through to her but he didn't want to argue with her. He gave in with a nod and it definitely got a smile from her.
"Thank you so much," she said and hugged him again.
This time, he hugged her back. He held her tight as if she were going to disappear in the next second. He never really noticed how easily she seemed to fit between his arms; like she belonged right there with him.
Every time, he thought. Every time he had Montserrat that close to him he remembered how much he needed her with him. All those previous thoughts that they couldn't be that close were dismissed, forgotten, pushed away. He couldn't be that careless, not when it came to her.
Montserrat pulled away only slightly. She seemed more nervous than before, her eyes even seemed like they were struggling to look up at him. "Hey, um...I know what you said before...I know that we agreed…" she couldn't find the right words to express her feelings, no matter how much she tried. Screw it.
She kissed him. And there went his caution...again. His arms instinctively tightened around her waist, keeping her firmly pressed against him. She had the sweetest lips - even though they often threw some insults at him - and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her forever.
But he needed to remember what he was trying to do for her. He was only able to regain some type of control when he pulled away. "Montse, we can't," he whispered, but the mere fact he'd said a nickname he hardly every used was proof enough that he wasn't entirely convinced with his words. Because he really wasn't.
"Please don't say that again," she begged. She had her eyes closed and maybe it was for the better. She could feel his nose nuzzling her cheek. "I told myself before deciding to come here that I was over you and everything, but...I'm not. I'm really, really not. And I dare say that you aren't either...right?"
Rafael drew away to look in her shiny brown eyes. He tilted his head slightly, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I never said that I was."
~ 0 ~
Out in the hallway, Sonny stayed behind just like Montserrat had asked him to. He was checking his phone for an update from Liv when he heard footsteps nearing him. He looked up to see a familiar woman coming. It took two seconds flat to recognize Yelina.
Oh crap. For some reason, Sonny didn't want to let her in...or at the very least, he thought she shouldn't go into Rafael's office until Montserrat gave him the 'ok'.
"H-hi!" he practically jumped in front of Yelina without a clue of what he was going to say or do.
"Hello?" she gave him an odd, yet reasonable, look. "Do I know you?"
"Um...I'm...a friend…" Sonny said, pretty much making it up as he went along.
"Not my friend," Yelina was quick to say. "And I'm sorry but I have somewhere I need to get to." She tried moving around but Sonny quickly followed in suit to block her way.
"I'm sorry ma'am but Mr. Barba's a bit busy right now!"
Yelina tilted her head at him. "How do you know I'm here to see Rafael?"
You didn't think this through, Sonny inwardly sighed.
~ 0 ~
"It's hard, Montserrat but it's the truth. It's better if we don't do anything. I'm not good," Rafael wanted to sound as convincing as possible but he wasn't doing it right. He could've started by letting Montserrat go but his arms seemed to be on another plan.
"You say all these things like you're no good for me or that I may crash down because of you but guess what?" Montserrat's eyes became even more tearful, some of them threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes. "I'm not with you and I'm still crashing. There's no one to help me pick up the pieces."
Rafael's heart broke at her frail voice. She wasn't falling apart, but she certainly wasn't in her best state.
~ 0 ~
"Ah, so you were one of the detectives who helped put my husband on trial," Yelina's face went sour as she finally recognized Sonny. "That's nice, but...I need to go see my friend."
Once more, Sonny took the same step with her. He held his hands up just as she was becoming irritated with him. "I'm really sorry but he's with someone important right now."
Yelina raised an eyebrow at him. She had a sharp look that gave Sonny chills. "Business?" she asked.
"Uuh…not...really." Truth was that Sonny wasn't sure what was the nature of Montserrat's visit but whatever the answer was, he was sure it wouldn't please Yelina.
"Well, business or not Rafael has some explaining to do," Yelina straightened up, expression more fierce than ever. "Thinks he can blow me off without repercussions? I don't think so." She moved around Sonny and threatened him with a glare not to try getting in her way.
"Dammit," the detective muttered with a hand on his forehead. He quickly pulled out his phone but he wasn't sure who to text: Montserrat or Rafael?
~ 0 ~
"Montserrat, I'm only trying to do what's best for you," Rafael insisted but she humorlessly laughed.
"Do I look okay to you? I'm not. And I thought, that maybe - just maybe - we could finally work something out," Montserrat let go of him but she stayed as close to him as they were when they hugged. "I'm tired of pretending, tired of denying things...aren't you?"
Rafael would love to say 'yes' but that would go against the point he was trying to make. "I do care for you. It's just…"
Montserrat gently put her hands on both sides of his face. "No more long speeches, just tell me the truth."
"Truth?"
"The truth about why you don't want to be with me. Because all these speeches just sound...like speeches. Like something you rehearse for your job. I'm not a jury you have to convince. I just want you to be honest here."
"You want honesty? Fine," Rafael sighed. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't keep lying to himself and much less Montserrat. The truth was right in the fact that she made him lose control with just one kiss. He had his thoughts organized when it came to this subject. He had plans to keep himself away from Montserrat but then she comes right in and makes those thoughts and ideas disappear. There was no point in trying to build plans when it didn't matter in the end. He would just have to face it, face her. She got him.
"Not business," they heard from the doorway. Yelina looked a bit...fascinated by what she saw. "Definitely not."
Montserrat withdrew her hands. The expression on her face indicated an expectancy of answers because Yelina's presence made zero sense to her.
"Well, I can assume this is why you rudely left lunch early on Monday."
"Monday…?" Montserrat repeated just before it hit her. "Gael's arraignment." She laid eyes on Rafael again with a growing anger. "You were late." He was supposed to be on time, to be there with her when Gael was taken out for arraignment...and he'd almost missed it. Because he was having lunch with her.
"Yes, but I…" He really didn't have a good explanation for that one since Yelina basically beat him to it. But she said it all wrong and now he was screwed.
Montserrat exhaled as the weight of regret began hitting her. She stepped away from him. "I get it now."
"I don't think you do," Rafael said, sounding almost afraid of the conclusion she'd come to. He tried reaching for her arm but she yanked it away.
"There's the truth," she spat.
"It's not that, I swear-" he made the mistake of attempting to touch her again.
"Don't touch me!" she hissed and pushed his hands away from her. The humorless laugh that came next did not bode well. "And here I thought…" she laughed again then shook her head. "Forget it. I get it now. So sorry-" she gestured to both Rafael and Yelina, "-I got in the way. You won't have to worry about me again."
"Montserrat," Rafael called but she was storming out before he could even finish her name. There he went again screwing things up.
~ 0 ~
Sonny caught Montserrat coming out into the hallway a sprint, almost running really. "Montse! Hey!" he barely caught her arm but even then she wrestled to get free from his hands. "Montserrat, it's me!"
"I know! Let me go!"
Sonny only did so because he didn't want her yelling in the middle of the hallway. "Montserrat, what's happened?" She was in tears and he could only assume why. "Hey," his voice softened, "It's because of that woman, huh? I'm sorry. I tried to stop her-"
Montserrat laughed through her tears. "Sonny, you are the least person at fault here. This whole thing is just a mess - it was a mess from the start and you know what? I am so tired of it."
"Montse…"
"And I know that I've said this many times before but this time I really mean it: I hate—" Montserrat's voice truly snapped while she pointed at nothing in particular, "—Rafael so much. I wish I never met him."
"Montserrat, I don't think you mean it—"
"Try me, Dominick!" she frantically snapped. Her hands reached behind her neck and in two seconds she had taken off the ballerina necklace Rafael gave her and chucked it at Sonny. With such speed she used, he scrambled to catch it before it would hit his face. "I mean it with every fiber of my being. I hate him!" she turned away and left in a storm.
Sonny sighed deeply. He felt like he should at least drive her home or make sure she got home safely in whatever she came in...but he wasn't stupid to believe that she would let him or anyone else near her right now. So, that just left the other side of the party.
~ 0 ~
"So I guess now I know why you cut lunch short," Yelina made it in three steps before Rafael ordered her to leave.
"You and I are done," he spat and pointed at the open door.
"I didn't do this," Yelina said what she assumed he was thinking. "You did. You always had a tendency to know better and it always backfired."
"Get out!" he shouted at her. "I don't understand what the hell you wanted from me since the beginning! And frankly, if I was even a little bit curious now I'm not! Because you just cost me the one good thing I had in my life!"
"It didn't look like that to me," Yelina cautiously approached the desk Rafael was retreating behind. "She was already upset before I walked in. I was just the tip of the iceberg."
Rafael rubbed his face in exasperation then slammed them down on the desk. "What—" his voice had sharpened, "—do you want from me? Just tell me so you can finally leave me the hell alone. What is it? Money? A hand in Alex's trial? A job? Just tell me!"
But to his mighty frustration, Yelina said nothing. She only tilted her head and studied him. His darkened expression, his narrowed eyes, his heavy breathing. He was outright furious, perhaps the most furious she'd ever seen him...and she'd known him for a very long time. "Oh my God, that detective's responsible for this?" she pointed him up and down. "That tiny thing has got you...so wrapped around her finger."
Rafael gripped the edges of his desk because otherwise, he might have actually thrown her out of the office.
With a sigh, Yelina leaned forwards on the desk but the mere action made him straighten away from the desk. "Truthfully, I don't want anything. I didn't mean to cause you harm. In fact...up until last week, I had no intention of seeing you. I thought I had made a fool out of myself plenty the last time we saw each other. I certainly had no intention of causing this...problem with that woman. She seemed nice the last time I met her. Not quite your taste but that's beside the point."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The truth is, Rafael, you need to watch your back...as does that detective." Yelina looked around as if someone were going to eavesdrop on them. "Someone paid me good money to come see you. Don't ask me who, because I don't know. I just got a request with the promise of a decent amount that could help me and my girls get the hell out of this city."
"What do you...what do you mean? Are you joking?"
"No," Yelina shook her head. "Why else do you think I had no answer when you asked me what I wanted from you? I mean, yes, it was nice to see you but...I had no face to ask anything from you. Someone wanted me to come and see you, make sure to cause some problems with you and Detective Novak."
Rafael wanted to call her a liar, but if there was something about her was that she was no liar. And she didn't appear to be one right now. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because...I was not a good person to you, during the investigation and before...I blamed you for many things when the truth was I had a fair share of the fault. You and I...we didn't work. We just didn't. I wanted more. But I gambled and lost with Alex and now I have no right to take that chance away from you nor Detective Novak. I'm really sorry. And if you want, I could try to talk with her—"
"You will stay away from her," Rafael warned, leaving no room for arguments. "I don't want you near Montserrat, do you understand? If everything you just said is true—"
"It is—"
"Then you need to leave. Leave me alone, leave Montserrat alone and just go. I don't want to see you again."
"That's fair," Yelina nodded her head. "But I am taking the money because I need it. My girls need it."
"Sure," Rafael couldn't care less. He didn't wish her any harm but he certainly didn't care what happened in her life.
"Goodbye Rafael. Take care," she said then turned to leave. Only a few seconds after she was gone, Rafael received a visit from Sonny.
"Goddammit," he muttered. What more could this night throw him?
"Yeah, I know, not a place I expected to be," Sonny sighed. "I just came for the warrants you promised Liv. I didn't expect to be right at the center of all...this…"
"I will send them, get out," Rafael returned to his seat.
"Don't do that."
"I'm not doing anything. I have a lot of work to do so please get out." And maybe a lot of drinking too. Who knew.
Sonny drew in a deep breath, mumbling an 'oh boy' before he started off with what could either be his death sentence or the solution to Rafael's problems. "Listen, I'm not speaking to you as a co-worker, I am going to speak to you as a friend because right now you need one. What the hell are you doing, Rafael?"
Rafael could honestly say that he had no idea. "It wasn't like I planned it," he said as a means of defense.
"No, because that would be incredibly stupid," Sonny's flat tone wasn't appreciated in the least. "Can I just ask, in all seriousness...why?" Rafael gave him a confused look. "Help me understand because as much as we both hate it, the reality is I know everything. Literally. Why make all this trouble if you actually do like Montserrat? I don't get it."
Well it was bad enough Sonny knew everything, but now Rafael would have to explain himself? Again? He rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing this, Carisi. You can go."
"No," the detective flatly refused. "Because each time you screw up more than the last time and you should know that this time...you royally screwed up. Montserrat despises you."
"I didn't plan this - I actually had a very different plan in mind...but Yelina cut me off. She has terrible timing. And now Montserrat hates me."
"Yeah she does."
Rafael paused to glare at Sonny. "Aren't you supposed to be helping here or did I misread the conversation?"
Sonny rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. Truth is, if Kara told me she hated me I'd lose my mind. I need her just as I'm sure you need Montserrat."
"Let's not go confusing things." This time, Rafael's arguments wouldn't win against the detective.
"I'm not. Because it's not a question of 'want' anymore, you have a 'need'."
"What?"
Sonny took a seat down as he began to explain. "Look, I don't 'want' to see Kara. I need to see Kara. Every day. I don't want to spend time with her, I need to. It's a need that I can't push away because...because I love Kara. The 'want' fades away fairly quick but the 'need'...that doesn't go away. That's what you have with Montserrat now. You need her."
Rafael didn't like that Sonny actually thought he knew what he wanted - needed. It was ridiculous...wasn't it? She makes you throw your plans away, he reminded himself. You have no control when she's around.
Sonny watched the internal struggle for a few minutes before he took pity and further explained. "You remember those times where you asked me to find Montserrat? Because you wanted to see her? Well, you didn't want to see her. You needed to see her. You needed to make sure she was okay. And right now, do you want to see Montserrat? Or do you need to go and make sure she's alright?"
Well, the answer was evident, wasn't it?
"And listen, I wasn't going to say anything because it's, well, childish but...you should know that you're not the only one who has eyes on Montserrat."
Now that piece of information was surprising. Rafael tilted his head, for a second almost accusing Sonny.
"Don't get any ideas, councilor. I meant someone else. Uh, Damian." Sonny knew that alone was shocking but it did feel good to finally tell someone the secret that'd been gnawing at his mind.
"What?" frowned Rafael. "He wouldn't—"
"-oh but he would. You know that Kate Spade watch Montserrat proudly wears? Damian got it for her. He knows that's her favorite store. He likes her and if you continue to act like this, you're going to push her straight to him. Is that what you want? Is it really what you want?"
"Well of course not," Rafael found himself blurting. He shifted in his seat after realizing how fast that'd come out. "I already told you that I did plan on telling her. I was seconds away when Yelina made her...presence known."
"Well that's good," Sonny nodded. "Because we have a lot of work to do here." He reached for something in his pocket then put it down on the desk, revealing the ballerina necklace Montserrat had practically thrown at him. "If there's one thing I've figured out about women is that you can't outsmart them. But maybe two of us can and we can get you five minutes with her. Your fast mouth might just save you."
Rafael smiles for the first time. "With any luck."
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indyluckycharlie · 4 years
Text
Tinman
Chapter One: The Cyclone
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Chapter Summary: Bucky survives the fall from the train and comes home, hoping to return to his old life. Missing half an arm and full of bitterness and grief, he’s not sure he’ll ever be the man he was before.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Doctor/Prosthetist!Reader)
Chapter Word Count: 2.3K
Chapter Warnings: Angst, lots of it. Swearing. Frankly, Bucky’s hurting and angry and not very nice in this chapter. References to trauma consistent with canon.
A/N: This is the first chapter of the first series I’ve ever posted!! And this is the first time I’ve ever really explored Bucky’s character in this way. This fills the “1940s AU” square for @star-spangled-bingo​ 2020.  This is also unofficially part of @cake-writes​‘s 1940s Challenge. I missed the chance to officially sign up (and then really missed the deadline) but it bears mentioning because her prompt “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” was partially the inspiration for the story. 
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Bitterness has become an uncomfortable companion to his days and an unbearable bed fellow for his nights. Disappointment, he’s experienced before. Sorrow and loss, these are not strangers to him. But bitterness is new and he doesn’t know how to pull himself loose from it. 
Most days he hides it, doesn’t let it leach into the interactions with his ma or his sisters, not even with his father who often questions what kind of life he plans to make for himself now. Most days he pulls up his well worn mask of charming self-possession, brings out that smile, more bulletproof than vibranium, to face his friends whose own smiles can’t quite hide their pity. Most days, he manages just fine.
But not with you. With you, that bitterness bubbles up, clammy and clingy as a second skin laid just beneath the surface and easily drawn out by even the tiniest scratch. And you always seem to be scratching him. Your entire purpose in his life makes you more dangerous than the bayonets of his old enemies in the mud and him, soft skinned and easily wounded.
The chaffing of that delicate flesh starts before he even arrives at your door. It starts with that goddamn lobby and that goddamn hallway on the way to those goddamn labs. This place should be his salvation but it feels like hell. He’s been in other labs of Stark's before, back when he was still a Commando. If the various odd contraptions unnerved him back then, he hadn’t let their unnatural forms shadow his steps and haunt his thoughts. But that was when he had been a healthy man, a whole man, whose sleep was only occasionally troubled by nightmares of cold steel on his face and leather binding his wrists. 
Now, when he walks through these halls, it’s as a broken man who no longer has the strength to hold back the dark memories of that cold laboratory table in Austria. Now, Stark's machines seem to loom around him, sinister in their strangeness, sometimes reaching alien hands out, sure to snag at his clothes if he gets too close. By the time he gets to you, he’s already more than half good and fucking ruined. 
By now, he’s learned to get to his appointments early. That way he has time before you arrive to breathe deep in the solitude of your work room and steady himself for what’s to come. He can already have his shirt off, so that you’re not waiting. He’ll already have unbuckled his prosthetic and laid it across the table for you to examine. And you won't have to help him, not like in those early days when he could barely even unbutton his shirt on his own. 
He could never decide what he hated more, when you offered to give him time or when you offered to help. There was never anything cosseted in your tone, but he felt it anyways. He felt pitiful and useless when he couldn’t even manage his own clothes and your endless patience just grated on his nerves. And he hates being exposed to you. Under these bright lights, he cannot hide his scars. Without his shirt, the hideous place where one arm continues and the other doesn’t lays bare for your eyes and hands to examine. 
The worst part is that he needs you. Your work with him is a gift. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a friend like Stark with his resources and connections. A friend who could introduce him to someone like you, someone with a vision and talent for helping make people like him whole again, or as close to it as he could expect. 
Really, he's lucky, all things considered. 
Of course, it's the "all things considered" that really gets him; he'd rather have never needed those considerations to begin with. Nevertheless, he should be grateful and he knows it. In his head, he is. But in his heart? In his heart, the bitterness swallows up his gratitude, just like it does everything else. It bows his head when he should look at you, it makes his tone harsh when it should be civil, it makes your touch on his marred skin a burn instead of a balm. 
For your part, you always manage him with patient politeness. You speak to him in neutral tones. You never try to sooth him nor do you ever chide him for his surliness. When he grates out the answers to your questions, you act as if his manner is normal. Any problems this week? No. Did the adjustments relieve any of the tension in your shoulders? Yes. How did the new socket feel? Fine. You respond calmly, kindly, undaunted every time. 
Sometimes he hates you because he thinks you pity him, sometimes he hates you because he thinks you don’t. 
Maybe it’s because you’re beautiful. Beautiful women used to be easy for him to understand, easy to flirt with, easy to charm. But not anymore. Being near you, instead of bringing back those days when he felt invincible and desirable, brings only grief and sorrow. Seeing your beautiful face is just another harsh reminder that he’s only half a man, unworthy of the game when so many others are just as handsome and significantly more whole. 
Logically, he knows that none of it is your fault, and he hates himself for the way he behaves. He’s never in his life been so callous, especially not with a woman, even more so, never with someone who was helping him. Once he’s out of those doors and walking a familiar path back home, his anger and fear lose purchase. But only just enough to let the regret take its place, heavy on his shoulders and in his heart. Each week he resolves to be better, and each week he fails miserably as the bitterness overrides all of his other intentions. He wonders how long it will be before you have finally had enough of him. 
It turns out that it is four months, one redesign, and three modifications before your calm cracks. 
It starts the way it always does. He’s agitated and complains over something minor. You respond politely and he is irked. So he snaps back that you have no idea what it means to be broken, damaged, less than. His rant is cut off by an abrupt clatter of instruments. 
When he turns to look at you, he sees that you have dropped your screwdriver onto the worktable. He is startled to see your eyes narrowed and your jaw tight. His own eyes widen as he watches your lips quirk, sure you're going to tell him off. 
But you don’t. Instead, you take in a slow breath and smooth over the anger with a bland expression. Turning back, you pick up your tool as if nothing had happened and continue your work. 
Though you say nothing, the incident leaves him feeling rebuked. And muddled. And oddly cold. You were angry, but you made a conscious choice not to bother. Now he's certain you pity him. He's not even worth your energy to fight with. 
The next visit, he’s more careful around you, in the hope that you’ll see he’s trying. But you remain just as gently detached as always. By the following visit, something has shifted in him. He’s not even fully aware that he’s doing it, but now he needs to know where your boundaries are. How long will your congenial facade hold before you get angry with him again? If it even is a facade. Maybe you really are just that unaffected by him. 
Either way, he needs to know. He needs to know if you feel something about him, for him, even if it’s contempt. 
It doesn’t take long before he has an answer.
After making your newest adjustments to the arm, you help him to reattach the prosthetic so that you can make sure the socket fits as it should. As you gently pull on the straps, your fingers brush against the cotton of his undershirt, sometimes just skimming against the bare skin of his neck. With each accidental touch, he bristles and the bitterness wells up. His emotions are always rawest when you’re touching him. 
So when you tug gently on the strap and his skin pinches, he barks out in anger. “That hurt!”
You stop your work and look at him. This close to his face, your eyes fill his vision. If it hurt him, it was only just barely, and you both know it. Without breaking eye contact, you flick up the small locking mechanism that holds the strap in place and the false arm abruptly falls. So startled is he by the sudden loss of weight that he reaches quickly to catch it, managing only to stop it from falling to the floor by a hair’s breadth. He looks at you, shocked, but your expression doesn’t change at all.
“I guess we’ll have to start over then.” You grab the arm from his hand, rougher than he expected, and begin threading the strap back into the loop.
Indignant, his voice rises, “What did you do that for?”
Your tone remains emotionless. “You said it hurt, I’m fixing it.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
You look at him for a long moment, then raising your chin you refocus your gaze on his straps. Just when he thinks you won’t answer, you speak. “I’ve always found that the best way to manage an ill-tempered toddler is to ignore his bad behavior.”
His mouth falls open. This is so unlike you that he’s unsure what to say. As the shock abates, an odd mix of smug anger rises in him. Though he hates himself for it, he is pleased with this turn of events. Now he’ll see what you’re made of, see where the two of you really stand. 
“Ill-tempered toddler?” His voice is tight. 
You turn cool eyes to him again. “Do you have a better way of describing how you’re behaving?”
Your directness surprises him once again and his temper flares. “I am not a child, and you act as if I don’t have a right to be angry.”
“You’re long past angry, Sergeant. This is self-pity and it’s going to get you nowhere.”
Tension runs through him as he stares at you. All of this time, week after week, you have been brushing off his cantankerous and biting remarks. But now? You’re not even bothering to temper your opinion. He thought he'd feel invigorated by the chance to argue with you. Instead, his stomach feels strangely hollow and the only thing that will fill it is his resentment. Worst of all, there you stand perfect and pretty and whole, with that cool voice and expressionless face despite your harsh words.
“What do you know about it? Do you have any idea of how unfair this is? I used to be strong and an athlete. I was a championship boxer for god’s sake! And I had a job working with my hands, something I could be proud of! I used to be somebody. The kind of person people relied on. People respected me, but now?”
Oh God, he does sound like a child having a tantrum and arrogant to boot. He can hear it but he can’t seem to stop himself. There’s too much ache to contain anymore. He’s never given voice to these feelings, and the words flow out on an angry wave, desperate to reach the shore before being harshly pulled back under.
“Now what am I? Slow and clumsy. And useless! I can barely even take care of myself. Who would ask me for help now? Who would want to hire me? I’m not even whole, I’m less than a ma-”
"Enough!” Your voice is sharp and it cracks hard as a whip. He pulls back as if stung. “Enough of that kind of talk about being less. Or about what you 'used to be'. If you truly are no longer the man you were before than you need to ask yourself why that really is. And then you need to decide what you're going to do about whoever it is that you are now. But don't imagine for one moment that lingering on this idea of fairness is going to make anything better for you."
His chest heaves. He doesn't like the abrupt feeling that rises in the back of his throat, tasting suspiciously like shame. You make no move to stop him as he grabs roughly for his shirt, pulling it on as he pushes himself off the table. He needs to get out of here because despair is now nipping at the heels of his already confused mix of emotions. He's not sure he can keep himself together should it overtake him.  
"Are we done here?" He barks out, half turned as he tries to button his shirt. Too angry to concentrate, he abandons the effort and pulls on his jacket. He just has to hope he doesn't run into anyone he knows on his way home looking the way he does. 
"I think that's well enough for the day." Your tone is biting. 
With only an angry grunt of acknowledgement, he moves towards the door without looking back. However, he stops abruptly because you’re speaking again.
"I'd like you to start attending my exercise therapy clinics on Saturday mornings. I think you need it."
He swivels, his eyes wide. "You want to see more of me?!"
Your eyes are as unyielding as your voice. "Yes." Then you turn away, offering no room for argument. 
He stares for a long moment before turning and rushing out the door and through the lab, focused entirely on getting outside before he can scream or break into painful sobbing.
Alone in your office, with the sound of the slamming door echoing in your ears, you're grateful that he left so quickly. You could no longer hold back your own hot tears. Or your own feelings of stinging regret.
---
Chapter Two: The Road Through the Forest
---
Taglist: @nacho-bucky​ @suz-123​ @wintersoldierissucharide​ @that-damn-girl​
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kookiepredictions · 4 years
Text
Jungkook’s Real Personality: Prediction
The main thing to remember about Jungkook’s personality is the word Balance. This means 2 things: 1, he has a very complex mix of many different types of personality traits so it is difficult to categorize him as one fixed personality type because he switches and changes a lot according to the situation he is in. 2nd, he needs to constantly work on maintaining balance between all these different traits, many of which are contradictory in nature. Think of him as a juggler juggling many different objects. It means he is capable of juggling so many things at once but it also means that he has to be always careful to keep them balanced otherwise he will face problems.
How is he different from his on screen persona? 1st, he is a lot more mature and intelligent than he is shown. Remember he has a Virgo sun which naturally makes him very calm and responsible, even without trying. He is a very responsible person. If he’s given a task, he will see to its completion to the point that if he can’t do it for some reason, he will think he is useless. It’s very important for him to feel useful, especially for those who he cares about. Also his Leo moon gives him a protective nature which doubles his desire of being there for his loved ones. He is the type of friend, partner, family who will never leave you alone in trouble, he will always be there for you, even if sometimes he doesn’t need to. But there is 1 condition here. He does not like to be manipulated. He hates manipulative behaviour and this grows bigger as he grows older. Jungkook usually is the type of person who speaks less and speaks last. He will always listen more. He will observe more. If you try to manipulate him, he won’t speak out immediately. He will silently watch you first, be completely sure that you are manipulating him without any instigation on his part, and are showing no signs of changing, then he will walk away from you without even looking back, even if you are so much as dying. In fact he can take this anger so far that he would wish for your harm and be happy at your misery. However, he will never actually do anything to harm anyone, even those who hurt him. His anger comes from a place where he deeply feels it is wrong to break someone’s trust so he would wish for your harm so that you can learn your lesson and never break someone’s trust again. I also feel this part of his personality is changing as he matures. In the near future, he will become more vocal right from the start as soon as he sees someone treating him wrong, and quickly decide to break ties instead of staying silent and seething inside. Once he parts ways, he will also let it go quickly and forgive the person, wish them good luck and move on with his life.
This brings me to the point that he has a short temper. It’s not so much that he is quick to anger, it’s more like he tends to hold grudges for a long time. Most of the time, his anger doesn’t even play out as loud outbursts. He is more likely to express his anger by completely shutting you out. He would refuse to even tell you why he is angry but also want you to coax him repeatedly to share his thoughts. Sometimes he could break this pattern and immediately express his anger even at an inappropriate time, but this happens less frequently. The reason of his anger stems from his perfectionism. We all know Jungkook is a perfectionist. And he expects the same level of perfectionism and dedication from everyone around him. His anger is more of an impatience. I won’t be surprised if he mentally says things like, Why are people so slow and clumsy? Why can’t people see the obvious? Why are people so stupid? Like 100 times a day lol typical Virgo male. So Jungkook really mostly gets angry out of impatience. He is a very sincere and dedicated person and gives his 200% in everything so when someone can’t keep up with him, he gets very impatient. 
There is also another thing about his anger. Very rarely will he get angry at your first mistake. For example, if you meet him for the first time and say spill a drink on his shirt, he might get a tad annoyed but he will smile let it go. He will even forgive your 2nd, 3rd, 4th mistakes. The point where he gets angry is the point where you have made several mistakes. So when he gets angry you will tend to feel he gets angry too easily but actually he ignored your mistakes for quite a few times before but you didn’t notice nor did you change your behavior. Jungkook tends to observe people for a while and then classify them into categories. His attitude towards you will depend on how he has categorized you, not on your first mistake. So if he has classified someone as a trouble maker, he will easily snap at them, and if he has classified someone as a good person, he will be more patient with them. This classification is not permanent of course and changes with time as per as your behavior. So if Jeon Jungkook treats you badly, be sure that he had given you plenty of chances to redeem yourself and he probably also has the receipts to prove it lol. This classifying system extends to everyone, whether you are a close friend or a stranger. So a waiter spilling drinks on him will be the same as a close friend spilling drinks on him. In fact, the waiter has more chances of being forgiven because it was a genuine first mistake, but a close friend could get yelled at if they repeatedly did this.
Jungkook tends to have very high expectations from those he cares about. But not in a superficial way. It is actually a love language for him. He puts a lot of importance on self development, which he himself follows. So he believes anyone who wants to do well in life should do this and that’s the advice he gives everyone. Remember when he told us to practice because there’s nothing that gets worse with practice? This is a very strong belief in him. But those around him can feel burnt out by his high expectations because not everyone thinks like him right? Especially not all the time. But he often fails to understand this and gets upset because he thinks they are self sabotaging by not focusing on their self improvement. However, this is another thing I see changing in him. He will gradually learn to be more understanding of differences in nature and opinions of people and learn to guide them without overstepping boundaries.
On the other hand, Jungkook knows and respects boundaries. He does not give unsolicited advice. But with him it’s like, he has to be specifically told what the boundaries are. If you are vague, for example, if you go to him asking for advice, he will take it upon himself to fully transform you and will hover over you, almost forcing you to do things his way. His reasoning would be that it was you who came to him for help and this is exactly the help you need. So you have to always show him clear boundaries. But once they have been set, he will always respect it because he is quite independent himself and respects personal space.
Jungkook has a pretty high IQ and he has a really high EQ. He could even be as book smart as Namjoon but it is something he almost chooses not to do. You will notice that he is really good at memorising English lines, he hardly forgets what he memorises. That’s book smart for you. But it’s almost as if he detests being so. He chooses to be street smart instead. His outfits are a reflection of this. It’s a subtle subconscious act of rebellion against system and authority, which he has always sort of felt oppressed by, since he is a K Pop idol. And since he can’t really quit, he takes every small opportunity to establish his individual choice, whether knowingly or unknowingly. Book smart or street smart, Jungkook is someone very thirsty for knowledge. He does actually read more than we know, but he mostly chooses to get his knowledge through more dynamic methods, one of which is by observing other people.
This brings me to the next point. Jungkook is extremely interested in people. He learns a lot, like new concepts, what is right or wrong, new ideas, etc. by observing people, not just in terms of work, but also personality wise. This is why he is so good at imitating people, which makes me think he could also become an actor someday and be successful at it. His high EQ also makes him understand people more than we know.
Although mature, Jungkook is also very childlike in a lot of ways. Especially when he thinks and acts from his heart. He genuinely loves people even before fully knowing them. He simply loves them because loving people is a good thing to do. His love also comes from gratitude. Which is why his love for Armys is so genuine. He does not fake it because he does not need to fake loving or being grateful. It is only when someone gives him a solid reason to be angry or sad with, that he changes his attitude towards them. Jungkook is someone who you can easily walk up to and he will be very polite and nice to you. However, he is not the type to make immediate close friends because he is very reserved and he will carefully screen everyone before allowing them into his private circle. But he is also the type to always smile at his acquaintances and people he regularly sees even if they are not close friends. He won’t ignore anyone just because he doesn’t know them or because they are beneath his level. In this sense Jungkook is very down to earth. He is also quite righteous. He deeply believes that it is wrong to misbehave with people due to their positions in society. I feel like he might have been mistreated when he was not successful (I mean we all know all of BTS was so it’s very likely) which is why he makes sure he doesn’t do that now that he is successful.
Having said that though, Jungkook is not extremely approachable. There is a certain air of unattainabilty that he deliberately keeps around himself. For example, if you met him at a private party or something instead of a televised BTS event, you will clearly know that he is a big celebrity. He doesn’t misbehave with anyone, he is actually quite polite, but people just feel that star aura. It’s almost like a protective shield for him. You couldn’t approach him unless he clears that air and makes himself approachable. Otherwise you will just look at him from far away, admire him (or hate him) and go away. This is not something he does to belittle others, this is a defence mechanism against those that try to get close to him to get some benefit off of him or manipulate him, which he is actually quite aware of.
Jungkook is not easily manipulated as I discussed earlier. But he always puts up a front as if he is extremely vulnerable and gullible so that people underestimate him and show their true colors quickly. Meanwhile he observes, classifies, and moves on before you could even tell what happened there.
When I say Balance is a big challenge for him it’s because he has many different personality traits that directly contradict each other. For example, he’s a careful planner but he also gets bored of routine very quickly. He takes each decision very slowly but sometimes he will be shockingly spontaneous. He is independent but he is also clingy. All of these are parts of him but it’s almost as if he struggles to keep up with them because he doesn’t know which one will come out when. Achieving balance and control over all of his different qualities will make him a truly unique and unstoppable person.
Besides balance, the biggest challenge Jungkook has is his rigidity of beliefs. He has very good intentions, good energy and drive, but he has to learn to be more flexible and adaptive, both when dealing with his work and people. He also tends to have a scarcity mentality which often manifests his worst fears into reality. The more he wants to avoid certain things, the more they come up in his life, simply because he is constantly living in fear.
Jungkook has a very strong heart chakra. He is literally love personified. He loves love. He loves to see it and he loves to experience it. It’s an adventure he yearns for. But his fear always takes him away from it. Either in terms of problems in his relationships or breakups or interferences and scandals. In spite of that, he always bounces back and his heart chakra heals pretty quickly. Not in a promiscuous way where he is serial dating. This is more like his heart is always a place for true love, it does not store any negative energy for too long. This is why Jungkook’s biggest successes will result from decisions he takes based on his deep feelings. This is also because he has a habit of overthinking so feelings can solve this problem. For example, if he has to take a big work decision, he tends to overthink it from all directions and get confused because every option seems right. But if he listens to his feelings about it, he will find the right answer. Operating from his heart chakra will also make him centered and grounded to achieve that required balance between his many personality traits.
Another big tool at Jungkook’s disposal is his throat chakra. Jungkook is very communicative. He believes that the foundation of all good relationships, the solution to all problems is communication. However, he struggles with timing and empathy quite often. He sometimes says the right things at the wrong time creating misunderstandings that he did not intend. Or stays silent that allows people to paint a wrong picture of him. He also sometimes fails to see things from others’ points of view and tends to see his thoughts and beliefs as the be all and end all.
His biggest tools also have the biggest blocks. It’s like his heart chakra is this huge power generator inside him but it’s blocked because he keeps it shut or underutilized and lets his brain do all the work, which is only half his power and potential. And his throat chakra is blocked because he is too worried about other people’s judgement of him which blocks his flow of communication.
However, the biggest strength of Jungkook and my favorite thing about him is that he is very open minded and willing to learn. He is rigid with his thoughts only when he truly believes he is in the right. If you can logically and respectfully show him where he is wrong, he will immediately proceed to change his ways. He is a true lifelong learner and this is what will ultimately lead him to massive success. He is proud only with things that he believes to be right, as he has a very strong set of values. But he doesn’t let pride get in the way of self development, in fact he is always on the lookout for opportunities that will improve him in some way or the other.
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celestialmark · 4 years
Text
Solitude - Part Two
Characters: Mark Lee x reader, members of nct
Genre: sniper!mark, mafia au
Word count: 10.4k
Warnings: mentions of death, cursing, hint of panic attack
Navigation: preview | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue 
Author’s note: after a gazillion years, part 2 is finally here. apologies for the wait! but I hope you enjoy! love you guys!!
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“Donghyuck?”
Johnny is peeking out the door only to be greeted by Donghyuck who doesn’t greet him a usual mischievous grin. His eyes are hard, lines forming on his forehead and lips pursed together. “What brings you here?”
Johnny opens the door wider and Donghyuck takes this opportunity to push past him, barging into his place without a proper invitation. “Is Mark here?”
“Well hello to you too,” Johnny mumbles to himself as he closes the door behind him, disappearing inside to wherever Donghyuck was headed. “And no Mark isn’t here. Shouldn’t he be with you?”
Donghyuck stops in his tracks when he reaches the room you and Mark had just been in two minutes ago. Johnny scans the room with his eyes behind Donghyuck, looking to see if there are traces of your presence left behind.
“He’s not answering my calls,” Donghyuck turns to Johnny. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday’s shoot.”
Johnny raises a brow, ready to play innocent. “Oh? Y/n? It’s all over the news.”
Donghyuck nods but narrows his eyes at the older right after. “I’m almost sure he’d be here,” his tone is accusing and Johnny has to hold himself back not to lose his temper when he’s reminded that Donghyuck has every right to be that way and that everything he’s accusing him of was true. Donghyuck is pacing around the room, to find anything, to prove Johnny was lying.
Johnny only forces a low chuckle, eyeing your blood-stained clothed tossed away in a corner. “Why would you think that? I haven’t seen Mark since.”
“Since you left?” Donghyuck asks, pausing in his steps, his voice low and somber. He turns to Johnny again, a sad hint flashing across his eyes when he remembers what had happened a little over two years ago.
Johnny falls silent, his gaze darting to the ground, memories still fresh in his head. “Y-yeah. Since that.”
Silence clouds over the atmosphere and for a moment, Johnny becomes distracted, getting lost in his own thoughts. It isn’t until Donghyuck is reaching for him and tapping his shoulder with his palm that he looks up. Donghyuck is giving him a smile, a sad one, “Sorry for barging in here. I’ll- I’ll get going now.”
Johnny reciprocates the smile with a nod. He follows Donghyuck out the door and just when he’s about to get into his car, he looks back at Johnny. “We can still come here, right? I don’t think we’ll ever stop getting into fights and the boys don’t know anyone who can treat them as good as you do.”
Johnny smiles, genuinely for the first time in Donghyuck’s presence, the sense of brotherhood coming back to life again. “Of course Hyuck. This place will always be open for you.”
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Mark is quiet when he watches you curiously take in your new surroundings of his humble abode, a loft in the middle of somewhere you’ve never been to. There’s a staircase to your right, leading to what you can make out as the bedroom, from its lack of walls surrounding the area, and probably the only bedroom in the building. The living room is in the middle of the first floor, two sets of sofas with a coffee table situated in the middle, on an area of the floor that dips down slightly, elevating everything else little. The small kitchen’s on the left, the kitchen counter serving as the dining table accompanied with two high swivel chairs. 
It’s neat and clean, quaint and cozy.
“Is this where you live?” You ask curiously, eyes studying every nook and cranny.
Mark, who’s behind you, mirrors your actions, “When I get the chance to come home, yeah.”
“Oh?” You inquire, turning to him only to find him examining his own place in the same manner you did, if not in an even more intense way. The sight makes you think it’s a foreign place to him just as it is to you. “Your job requires you to travel often?”
You realise it’s the first ever question you’ve asked about Mark and you hope you’re not crossing over the line too soon. Mark looks at you, his expression shifting from confused to understanding, “Y-yeah. Something like that.”
Before you can ask anymore questions, Mark beats you to it, “Hey, are you hungry? You haven’t eaten for over twenty four hours now.”
On the realisation, your stomach growls lowly, having forgotten about the hunger from the hectic escape earlier. You smile bashfully, suddenly growing shy at the possibility of Mark hearing your stomach. “You’re cooking?”
Mark tries to suppress a smile, his features softening, a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more. “No. I can’t cook. But I was thinking pizza? That sound okay?”
You smile a grateful one and nod. “That would be great, yeah.”
Mark can’t help but notice your lack of questions, your behaviour painfully similar to Johnny’s. Out of all people, it should be you asking a gazillion questions, after all, you were the one who had been shot. He’s expected you to ask him about the culprit to the occasional pain shooting up your chest, why he saved your life, and anything about him at all. But there’s none of that, only you munching away on pizza with a satisfied grin on your face. He doesn’t know if he should be thankful you’re not asking questions about what had happened, or worried because of the exact same reason.
“Quit staring already and eat, Mark,” you say, pausing from your bites to point out he hasn’t eaten since the pizza had arrived. “Is there something on my face?”
Mark shakes his head after blinking himself out of his trance. “N-no. There’s nothing there.” He finally reaches for a pizza slice and you resume on satisfying your crying belly. “How’s the pain?”
“Really bad when I move around,” you admit, swallowing your last bite. “But okay if I stay still.”
“I have some painkillers if you want,” Mark replies. “They’re not as strong as the ones Johnny gave you but hopefully it’ll help.”
You nod and smile again, a gesture that has Mark staring at you for a second too long. “I’ll take whatever you have,” you say.
You continue to munch on your food, the fatigue and the pain combined lulling you into exhaustion some time after you talk about random things with Mark. You ask him about his loft, the weather, the guitar tucked away in the corner of the living room but never anything about your situation, about who’s behind your shooting, about who’s out for your life, about who he is. You believe trusting Mark is enough for now and the way his lips curl into a small smile whenever you say something irrelevant and random, makes you feel content despite the lingering questions in your head.
“Tired?” Mark asks when you try hard to suppress a yawn, not wanting to be rude in front of him.
You give him a sheepish smile with a nod of your head. “What time is it?”
Mark pulls his sleeve up slightly, revealing the watch wrapped around his wrist, “A little over four in the afternoon.” He’s already getting up from his seat on the couch opposite yours and you watch him curiously, your eyes trailing on him until you find him standing in front of you in no time. A soft expression adorning his features, he holds out his hand to you, “Come, you must be exhausted.”
Your eyes fly to his hand and then back up to his face. Then you remember how he practically carried you almost all morning, desperate to get away from whoever came uninvited. You take his hand anyway, realising just why you needed assistance once he pulls you up; it still hurt to move. Mark moves his body so that he’s standing right behind you, his shoulder touching yours and his free hand landing on the small of your back to steady you. A huff leaves your mouth, inhaling deep breaths until the ache settles ever so slightly.
“I think I’m gonna need that painkiller,” you mutter, gripping his hand tight.
Mark nods behind you, letting you lead the way to somewhere you don’t even know, “Okay, I’ll get it after I send you up to bed.”
You pause in your shuffling, looking back at him, “Oh? You said there’s only one bed. Where will you sleep?”
“I can stay down here.”
“But it’s cold down here.”
“No it’s alright.”
“Mark—“
“I need to watch the door too. Staying down here will make that easier.”
You fall in silence, Mark’s jaw rigid and eyes hardening at the thought of an intruder coming for you. You blink three times, pursing your lips shut and look away, no longer pressing on the matter, realising you didn’t have a better idea anyway.
Mark is patient with your slow steps, and even slower steps as you climb the stairs. Once you’re settled on the bed, you watch him walk over to what you presume to be his wardrobe, coming back to you a second later with a fresh white shirt in his hand.
“Here, change into this,” he instructs as you retrieve it from him, noticing the way the shirt Johnny had clothed you in, sustained small stains of blood here and there. Mark doesn’t spare you a glance before he’s leaving to go downstairs again and you take his absence as an opportunity to change into his shirt.
The first thing you realise is Mark’s scent, the moment the clothing is on your body fully, its size making it cling onto your body loosely, stopping just above your knees. He smells good; of summer, of warm happy days. It’s a scent that calms your senses, especially from being on edge for so long. And for the first time, you feel at peace, your shoulders drooping at the relief, your aching muscles suddenly untying their own respective knots. All merely because of Mark’s scent.
Mark catches you standing by the edge of the bed, playing with the soft material of his shirt. He’s about to climb the last stair when he stops to revel in the sight. You’re catching him off guard for the second time today and he’s unsure how many more times he has to make himself stop and stare before he’s finally able to train himself to look away because in his eyes, you were beautiful. And that’s you not even doing anything. He regains his composure when you look up and find him, forcing his limbs to move.
“Your painkiller,” he mumbles, setting a tablet by the bedside table with a glass of water. “Have a good rest, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Mark is about to leave just as fast as he came, his slight change in demeanour grabbing your attention when he doesn’t look your way.
“Mark?” You call out, his figure freezing. You see him turn his body, his eyebrows shooting upwards and a forced smile plastered on his face. You smile at him, suddenly second-guessing yourself but push through anyway.
“Thank you.”
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“Where have you been!”
Jaemin is quick to almost yell when Mark enters through the door, catching everyone’s attention, heads snapping towards the door.
“Mark what the fuck!” Donghyuck shouts, getting up from his seat, immediately scowling at Mark. “Why haven’t you answered your bloody phone for the past two days?”
“Sorry,” is all Mark could say, avoiding all of their gazes while he holds his head high, walking over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water in a manner that makes it seem he hadn’t just left his comrades in the dark.
There’s an incredulous look on Donghyuck’s face as he waits for Mark to re-emerge from the kitchen and we he appears, he crosses his arms across his chest, “Well? Where the hell have you been?”
“Sleeping,” Mark replies, unbothered, though nervous inside.
“See?” Renjun reiterates, mostly at Donghyuck, trying to prove a point.
“For two days?” Donghyuck mocks, still glaring at Mark.
“For two days,” Mark confirms.
Jaemin and Renjun exchange glances, Jeno continues to stare at Mark in silence while Donghyuck exhales a frustrated sigh. “And what about y/n’s body?” Donghyuck asks, his tone dripping with accusation.
Mark’s grip on his bottle tightens a little bit, the thought of you in his loft all alone suddenly making him anxious, “Gone.”
“See?” Renjun repeats again, his voice raising in pitch to emphasise Donghyuck’s unnecessary worry.
Donghyuck only rolls his eyes, trying to mask his defeat, his mere assumptions finally coming to rest with Mark’s presence. Renjun smirks at the sight, somehow satisfied for proving Donghyuck wrong and for justifying his adamant beliefs through Mark’s consistent laid back behaviour after every one of his shoot.
Donghyuck suddenly tosses a duffle bag towards Mark to which he catches skilfully with the help of his reflexes. “Delivery to Japan in two weeks. Taeyong wants you and Jeno to go.”
Mark glances at Jeno who’s looking up at him from the couch. Jeno nods at Mark, the gesture bringing Mark to two days ago before driving away from the scene of the shooting. Judging by the weight of the duffel bag, Mark can already pinpoint the contents he’ll be expecting to find inside.
“Nakamoto Yuta is his name,” Donghyuck says, finally tearing his eyes off of Mark and onto the laptop that’s resting in front of Jeno on the table. Jeno slides the laptop so that it faces towards Mark, a picture of a man, who Mark presumes to be the one Donghyuck has just mentioned, displayed on the screen. “Leader of Japan’s biggest mafia. Jeno’s done some research and from what Taeyong has said, this won’t be a straightforward transaction.”
Mark sets the duffel bag onto the floor, his interest peaking when he studies the man in question’s picture. Jaemin and Renjun have already huddled around Jeno, examining the screen of his laptop. “How come?” Mark asks curiously, hands resting on either sides of his hips.
“Yuta has a lot of men. And connections. And drugs. You name it. And he’s notorious for blackmailing. A lot of people he’s dealt with have lost far more than what they’ve signed up to gain,” Donghyuck explains, the atmosphere immediately shifting into a chilling one. “He doesn’t hesitate to kill either. You offend him even in the slightest, he won’t think twice of shooting you on the spot.”
Mark raises a brow, “Sounds like every single guy we come across.”
Donghyuck shakes his head as Jeno presses on a button on a keyboard, revealing another page. “No, Yuta is the worst. You’d think that with the severity of his crimes that public people actually know about, he’d be in jail. But no. Jeno reckons he has connections within the police that’s why he’s never been caught.”
“He probably has ties with politicians too,” Jaemin suggest, earning a nod from Jeno.
“He’s a drug lord,” Renjun points out, scanning the screen. “Man, this guy is filthy rich.”
“Then what does he want from us if he’s already that powerful?” Mark inquires.
“Yuta is looking to expand overseas. He has no links with Korea yet and he’s looking into building connections with us,” Donghyuck starts. “But of course, not without testing the waters first. So he’s asked Taeyong to send a couple of his men to bring what we could potentially offer.”
Jaemin tears his eyes off the laptop and gazes at Donghyuck with a confused glint, “And Taeyong wants to bet his entire mafia on this guy? Sounds like a death wish to me.”
“Because of money,” Donghyuck says flatly. “A lot of money.”
Renjun runs a hand through his hair out of frustration. “And I thought killing y/n was the hardest task yet.”
Mark’s ears perk up at the mention of your name but does a good job of hiding his interest.
Jaemin shrugs his shoulders, “Guess not.”
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What you planned as a nap lasting an hour or two, ends up stretching to the next day. With the sun’s rays gently shining on your face, it brings you awake, shuffling around the bed until you freeze in your spot when you feel pain, a gentle yet prominent reminder of the recent events. Carefully and with much caution, you leave the bed, taking extra precautions when you slowly descend the stairs. The house is quiet and within your area of vision, you don’t see Mark anywhere, even from an elevated height.
“Mark?”
The clock on the wall reads eight and when you don’t hear any footsteps or Mark answering your call when you reach the last step, you begin to ponder his whereabouts. There’s a blanket neatly folded on one end of the couch on top of a pillow, but it looks as if it hadn’t been touched at all.
Your ears perk up to the sound of the lock in the distance, the tingling of keys being muffled on the other side of the door. You freeze for the second time in a span of five minutes, your feet firmly planting themselves onto the cold marble floor, an icy chill running up your spine, making the hairs on your skin stand eerily fast. You wearily turn, to the direction of the door, a heavy flood of memories suddenly crashing into you like turbulent waves on a stormy night. The overwhelming train of thoughts sends you into a shaking panic, your pulse picking up its pace, your breaths becoming short and uneven. You shut your eyes closed in dire attempts of ridding the ugly images in your head, your hands unknowingly balling into fists until your knuckles are turning white.
The seconds seem long and unending, the quiet ringing of keys and the low echo of the doorknob turning gradually ringing frantically in your ears. You’re sure you’re going to pass out. But the worst doesn’t come when you hear a familiar voice.
“Y/n?”
A series of hurried steps resonate throughout the loft after. And in no time, there’s palms on either side of your arms, gripping you firmly.
“Y/n?”
It’s Johnny.
And his voice along with his touch calms everything that you’ve sent into overdrive not too long ago. You open your eyes finally, the shaking of your body beginning to cease, finding Johnny with raised brows and eyes wide.
“What happened?” Johnny asks, his shoulders falling in relief when your eyes soften at the sight of him. He’s pulling on you weakly to sit you down on the couch behind you and you comply without resisting.
You stay silent for a while, trying to conjure up words that could possibly make sense to describe your panic. Johnny’s fingers are grazing your wrist as he examines you from head to toe. “Your heart’s racing. Did something happen?”
Johnny’s comforting presence and patience calms you down completely until you’re able to come back to the world. “Y-yeah. I uhh.. I think I just panicked a little.”
“Oh okay,” Johnny nods, understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”
You’re quick to shake your head and Johnny is even quicker to get up and pretend like nothing had happened once he’s sure you’re okay. He’s heading over to the kitchen and that’s when you realise a brown paper bag is sitting on the counter, one that he had probably brought with him.
“Mark asked me to come over and keep you company,” Johnny says, his tone friendly. “And knowing Mark, he doesn’t— no he can’t cook. I hope pancakes and a little bit of maple syrup is okay?”
You nod, rising from the couch slowly and making your way towards him. “That’d be lovely.”
Johnny grins and puts on an apron, “Prepare to be blown away.”
You don’t remember the last time a stranger has made you feel comfortable and that’s probably because you’ve never come across one. It’s only been a short hour with Johnny, yet you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve broken out into a laugh, occasionally having to suppress it inside when you feel your wound cause you discomfort. His good nature oozes in the way he smiles and in the way his eyes smile along with the curve of his pretty lips. Johnny’s black hair falls onto his eyes occasionally when a laugh bubbles through his chest, the thought of your jokes being the very cause, making you feel good about yourself.
“I’m taking it that you enjoyed your breakfast then?” He asks, as if it wasn’t already obvious.
You nod with a grin, “I did. Very much. Best pancakes I’ve ever had.”
Johnny smiles, pleased with himself as he collects the empty plates to put in the sink. “Glad to hear.” He wipes his hands on his apron and turns to you, “What did Mark even feed you last night? His utentils look like they haven’t been used in years.
You chuckle, your memories coming back to yesterday, “Is he that bad?” The question earns a nod from Johnny, exaggerating the severity of the fact with eyes as big as saucers, as if you had just asked the most ridiculous question ever. You chuckle again, “Pizza. We had pizza.”
Johnny begins on the dishes, turning his back to you, making you hop off the swivel chair. You’re beside him in seconds and he abruptly stops the motions of his hands, “What are you doing?”
“Helping you with dishes,” you reply innocently.
“No it’s fine,” Johnny prods, shaking his head. “Go back and sit down, you’re injured.”
You shoot him an are-you-serious look, “Johnny I’m pretty sure I can do this much. Let me help. I want to be useful.”
Johnny blinks at you a few times before finally dropping the matter when he sees you grabbing a nearby towel so that you can dry the dishes he’s washed. “Speaking of Mark, where is he?”
“Oh. He didn’t tell you where he was going?” Johnny asks in return, eyes glued on the dishes.
You shake your head, “No. He wasn't here when I woke up.”
“He had some business to attend to,” Johnny says indiferrently. “He should be back soon.”
“What does Mark do?” You ask too quickly, without really thinking about it, your whole attention trained on drying the last plate Johnny had just handed you.
Johnny turns the tap off, dries his hands by patting them dry in his apron and hangs it into the hook he had found it on earlier, “I’m not the right person to ask.”
“What—“
“Come on, I’ll check your wound.”
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Mark comes back early evening, sporting a white shirt underneath a black leather jacket. Johnny’s sitting idly on the couch, reading a newspaper he picked up from the coffee table. Mark’s eyes immediately dart around the place, but find you nowhere in sight.
“She’s showering,” Johnny says, without even looking up, seemingly reading the boy’s actions from the corner of his eyes.
Mark slumps on the couch beside the elder and runs a hand through his hair, exhausted and drained from the occurrences of his day, “How is she?”
“Pain wise, good. She’s tolerating well, but I left her regular painkillers just so she’s comfortable,” Johnny sets the newspaper back on the table and leans both of his elbows on his knees, craning his neck to look at Mark. “Her wound is okay, healing. Changed her dressing and fed her too.”
Mark lets out a quiet chuckle, “So you worked your charms on her.”
Johnny grins, leaning back on the sofa, “So you finally acknowledge it, that I’m charming.”
Mark rolls his eyes, a crooked smile painting on his lips, “Whatever you say.”
Johnny nudges Mark’s side with his elbow, Mark shifting in his seat to dodge his continuous jabs, “Come on! Admit it! Tell me I’m charming!”
Mark laughs, the melodious sound bouncing off the walls, the stresses of the day slowly becoming drowned out by Johnny’s antics. “Come on Mark!”
Mark laughs some more, using both his arms to shield himself from Johnny who’s tickling him in all parts his hands could get to, “Well Ari seemed pretty smitten—“
Johnny immediately stops, his hands freezing mid-air, just about to attack Mark once again. Mark realises a second too late, his eyes widening at the recognition, the name slipping past his mouth too easily, “Oh shit— sorry. I’m sorry.”
Johnny settles back in his seat, sinking in the comfort of the couch. “No, don’t be. It’s okay.”
Mark is about to say something but chooses to drop the subject instead, knowing Johnny wouldn’t want to talk about it further. So he changes the topic, falling into conversation about what Johnny had to say about spending the day with you. Their exchange of words last for a good half an hour before Johnny takes his leave and calls it a day, just the same time you come out of the bathroom, towel resting on your shoulders, hair still damp.
“Mark,” you say, taking in the sight of him in today’s clothes. You quietly admit to yourself just how good he looks in that leather jacket. But you don’t notice the way Mark’s eyes fall on your entire figure until there’s noting but silence for what feels like minutes. “Oh— I borrowed your shirt again,” you look down and tug at the black shirt, the size hanging onto you like a dress just like the one from last night. “Sorry I should have asked.”
Mark shakes his head, “No. It’s okay.”
He’s contemplating again, wanting to tell you that you can borrow as many of his shirts as you want, that they suit you way better anyways. But he lets the silence stretch on instead.
“Johnny told me something earlier...” Mark says after a while, breaking your trance. “Could we maybe umm, talk?” Mark feels nervous all of a sudden because he’s convinced the impending conversation will only turn out for the worst and though he needed a little extra time to prepare himself, the unspoken things needed to be addressed now. Before it’s too late.
You catch your lower lip between your teeth, the shift in the atmosphere making your heart drop a little. “Yes. Of course, sure.”
Mark reassures you with a smile before he’s walking away, gesturing you with a nod of his head to follow him. He brings you to a part of the loft you haven’t ventured to, a secluded corner that leads to a place you didn’t expect would exist in a place like this; a conservatory encased in glass, giving you access to the view of the moon and the stars. You lose yourself for a while, taken aback by the simple magnificence of the cloudless sky. Living in the city all your life, there were never views like this.
From the corner of your vision, you see Mark take a seat on what appears to be a couch, the only furniture you notice in the room and you follow suit, eyes never leaving the stars. You don’t get the chance to comment on how beautiful this part of Mark’s loft is when he breaks the silence first.
“This morning, y/n,” Mark starts carefully so that he doesn’t scare you. “Johnny mentioned something about you having a panic?”
You nod nonetheless, knowing all too well questions needed to be addressed in this conversation. “Yeah. I did.”
Mark glances at you, “Can I ask why?”
You realise no one really ever knows about what you’re about to share, and never in your wildest dreams did you even think you’d be telling someone you barely even knew. But you were sure, deep in your heart, that you trusted Mark, him saving your life more than enough reason for you to believe so.
You fiddle with your fingers and keep your eyes to the distance, recalling the memories you wanted to so erase from your brain. “Years ago, I was in my apartment waiting for my parents who were supposed to visit me that weekend. They have their own keys to my place since there were times they’d come briefly to leave me food,” you lower your head, swallowing thickly before continuing.
Noticing your behaviour, Mark leans forward, trying to search for your expression, “Y/n, if it’s too hard, you don’t have to—“
You shake your head, reassuring him with eye contact and a small smile, “No. It’s alright.” Taking a deep breath, you look away again, the ministrations of your fingers never stopping. “I heard the keys on the other side and eventually the lock turning and I waited by the hallway to greet them. But it wasn’t them.. It turned out to be someone else, someone I didn’t know and.. he had a knife with him. I was so sure I was going to die that day. If it wasn’t for Taeil.”
Mark’s fingers have a mind of their own when they come together to form a fist. He bites down hard, his jaw becoming taught, “Someone was out to kill you?”
You nod, “Yeah. The death threats came after that too in letters.. Sometimes in calls and texts from unknown numbers.”
“The police weren’t involved?”
“At some point they were. But there was never enough information to track the sender down. And I don’t remember much of what that person looked like, his cap was covering his face.” You pause for a second, recalling all the failed attempts of putting a stop to your worries concerning your safety. “My parents eventually hired a personal guard to keep me safe. Wasn’t pleasant.”
Mark doesn’t say anything, silently trying to pull the pieces together, coming to a conclusion that there were other people out for your life other than them. 
“My guess is that it’s the same person who shot me,” you suddenly say, interrupting his chain of thought.
Mark’s stomach lurches.
“I watched the news with Johnny on the television earlier and people do really think I’m dead.” There’s a slight pang in your chest when you remember how real those articles looked. “And I guess–  I’m somehow kind of relieved they think so.”
Your words catch Mark by surprise, highly convinced you’d be out to seek revenge and justice for what you had suffered. “How come?”
You exhale a breath and shrug your shoulders afterwards, tilting your head upwards to gaze at the stars, “Ever since my parents were killed a year ago, I was dumped with responsibilities I didn’t want. I didn’t know anything about running a business and the people around me weren’t so willing to help either. They all thought I wasn’t fit to be CEO especially since I was appointed overnight. And I agree with that, just wished they gave me more time to learn. The death threats didn’t stop either. They became more frequent and I was always on edge being in public and at home since I never really felt safe anywhere anymore.”
A sad smile creeps on your face and Mark sees a part of it from staring at your side profile. “I guess you could say it’s been tiring. But I feel like it’s finally over. Only I get to live in peace now. No one to follow me around, no one threatening to kill me, no one to try and please,” you turn to Mark, a full smile now grazing your features. “I’ve felt the most calm in the last twenty four hours than I ever have in years. Though it would have been better without the pain but hey, I shouldn’t complain.”
Mark’s heart shatters but his blank expression doesn’t give him away. “So what’s your plan?”
Mark can literally see your eyes light up as you turn your whole body towards him, clasping your hands together, “Well, I was hoping you’d let me stay here for a while just until I’m finally not the headlines of the news anymore and until people forget about this whole fiasco. And then I’ll find a place and move out eventually. I’m thinking going to this house my parents bought that no one knows about.”
Mark loses track of your words when he becomes absorbed completely with how excited you look and sound, loving the way your eyes twinkled with delight. He knows he has to tell you the truth. But the thought of taking away your tiny hint of happiness after being put through so much for so long changes his mind. You’re smiling at him right now and he didn’t have the heart to rob that from you.
“You, you.. trust me?”
Your smile falters slightly but a nod follows after giving his question a ponder.
“Of course. You saved my life.”
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When the sun’s rays runs past through the glass of the windows in Mark’s loft, you find him downstairs by the kitchen, his back facing you. He’s scatching his head eyes fixated on the stove below him. There’s a faint smell of burnt food lingering in the air and you chuckle at the thought of Mark’s attempts at breakfast. The sound you make catches his attention, making him turn immediately, greeted by the sight of you trying to suppress a laugh.
“Good morning,” you greet and make your way beside him to examine the damage. You raise a brow when you fail to determine what dish he was trying to make.
“Nothing good about this morning, no,” Mark grumbles and studies the mess he’s made once again. “Eggs. How does one even burn eggs?”
“How does one manage to break the yolk too?” You add playfully, earning a slight scowl from Mark.
“Not helping,” he says lowly.
You laugh, “Mark, did you put oil before cracking the egg onto the pan?”
The silence answers your question.
“That’s why.”
“I forgot. And then I realised halfway,” Mark defends. “But by the time I realised, it was too late, the egg was already on the pan.”
You bump your hips with his to scoot him away, intending to take over his unfinished job. “Grab me the ingredients, I’ll make breakfast.”
Another silence. And it makes you halt cleaning the mess. You look at him inquisitively only to find him scratcing the back of his head again.
“Well.. That wasn’t exactly my first attempt.”
“What?”
Mark gestures to the bin not too far from where you both stood and there your eyes take in the endless egg shells threatening to gush out of the metal cylinder.
“Yeah there’s none left,” Mark finally admits, although with shame dripping his words.
You stifle a laugh. Seeing Mark still eye the bin that’s close to overflowing with his futile attempts at breakfast, a thought comes across your mind; Mark was cute. Endearing. Silly.
You lean against the stove, a teasing smile permanently etching on your face. “Well I guess we’re both starving then.”
Mark turns to you with raised brows. “No. Johnny said that the better you eat, the faster your wound heals.” You purse your lips together at his inability to see through your sarcasm, responding all too seriously at something so small. “You’re okay to walk right?”
You momentarily look down to your legs and feet and then back up at Mark, “Yes I’m pretty sure I can.”
“Let’s get breakfast outside. There’s nearby markets around and we need to get you clothes too,” he replies. “Also, Johnny mentioned that getting fresh air and walking about is good for healing too.” 
“Is that a good idea?” You ask, suddenly worried. “I mean, going outside in broad daylight? What if someone sees me?”
Mark contemplates for a second, blinking once or twice before finally shaking his head. “It’ll be okay. We’ll just have to be careful.”
“You sound unsure.”
Mark looks at you square in the eye, the firmness in his orbs leaving no room for second guesses, making all your doubts go away all at once
“Trust me. I’ll make sure no one sees you, okay?”
You find yourself traipsing along the markets beside Mark, your shoulder touching with his upper arm, the mere contact making you feel a little safer. You’re glad Mark had convinced you to venture outside; you’d almost forgotten what the outside world really looked like, despite only having been cooped indoors for a few days. Today felt different to all the other times, even compared to all those times before the shooting happened. You remember always feeling on edge stepping outside, security always following your every move. And even though now would be a time where you’d be fearing for your life more than ever, you feel oddly placid, in serenity. And you marvel in the way the air feels fresh under your nostrils, the way the rays hit your skin, the way the distant mumbles of people selling their products fill the atmosphere in a cozy way. You’ve never been to this place yet you feel good. Maybe because Mark is right beside you, keeping an eye on everything when you unconsciously get distracted by your surroundings every now and again.
Mark’s hiding under a cap just like you and you can’t help but feel not so alone for the first time. Because Mark didn’t have to hide himself the way you did. You think you’re thinking too deeply into it, but the possibility of the thought he’s keeping himself hidden to make you feel even an ounce of normalcy, makes your insides warm.
“Craving anything?” Mark asks lowly, his eyes darting around the different stalls you encounter along the way.
Your eyes scrutinise the area, the aroma of fresh bread being made attracting your senses. Once you spot the stall responsible for the churn of your stomach, the excitement pushes you to jog towards the end of the rows, catching Mark offguard but catching up to you nonetheless in no time.
“This one,” you say, without even looking at Mark, your eyes completely enamoured by the countless types of bread.
The two of you sit yourselves by the tables beside the bread stall after choosing your breads with much debate with yourself on your end, the variety of delicious looking baked goods taking up so much time for you to finally make up your mind while Mark settles with one in no longer than a second. You devour your food, your eyes almost rolling back when you realise how heavenly it tastes, coming to a conclusion that it’s the best bread you’ve had in your whole life ever. And Mark watches you while he munches on his, secretly enjoying you bask in the little joys of life.
“Holy— this is so good!” You exclaim, pausing for a while to swallow and gulp some water after having eaten too fast. “Mark we need to come here more often!”
The word “we” shouldn’t have as much effect on Mark at it should right now, but it does, the short one syllable word inevitably colouring his ears a tint of red. “S-sure,” he stutters before bringing his head lower, his cap completely hiding his face now.
The rest of the morning passes by like that, consisting of you pulling Mark to various different stalls to explore things you wouldn’t usually see on a daily basis. The sense of community you feel from being around vendors who more or less know each other, elicits a homey feeling in you even when technically this wasn’t even your home in the first place. Though, this place felt the closest thing to home ever since you lost your parents.
Mark notices your sudden change in demeanour, tilting his head towards you only to see your eyes distant. “Everything okay?”
Mark’s voice brings you back, “Yeah. Just remembered my parents..” You smile at him to push away the sodden atmosphere. “I think we have everything. Should we get going back?”
Mark wants to ask if you’re really okay, but nods instead, seeing how you’ve changed the topic so quick. “Okay.”
You’re about to turn away from the last stall you and Mark visit when you feel his strong arm suddenly land across your shoulder to pull you into him in the process. You crash into Mark’s chest, the unexpected manoeuvre raising your pulse and provoking an uncalled for pain from your wound. Mark’s arm travels from your shoulder to the top of your head, gently pushing it lower, your face completely hidden in his chest.
“Keep still. Don’t say anything,” Mark warns lowly.
You calm your fears by focusing on Mark’s scent; the very scent you’ve been drowning in the past couple of days from having worn his shirts. You hear a group of people conversing in a rather boisterous manner as they walk past where you’re both rooted and only when they’re out of earshot does Mark loosen his grip on you until you’re no longer in his hold.
“You okay?” He asks, searching your face.
“Y-yeah,” you answer weakly, still stunned.
Mark prepares himself to answer your impending questions but he doesn’t get any of that even today.
“Coast clear?” You ask calmly, as if that thing didn’t just happen.
Mark is caught by surprise again.
“Coast clear. Let’s get you back.”
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In the next coming days, you see Johnny a lot more often than you see Mark, waking up to an empty loft and falling asleep without seeing even his shadow. Today, Johnny cooks pasta for lunch and the two of you converse over the kitcehn counter about trivial things. You liked Johnny’s company. He had a great ability in making you laugh and teased your small personal habits in a way a big brother would to his younger sister. 
“So Johnny, do you believe in soulmates?” You ask out of the blue when the evening comes, the television playing in the background. The two of you are seated on the couch as Johnny carelessly switches from one channel to the next.
“Mhm,” he hums, continuing his pursuit of landing on a perfect channel with somewhat a good enough show to watch for the night.
“Oh?” You confirm. “Really?”
Johnny sighs and sets down the remote, giving up eventually when his search is unsuccessful. “Why is that hard to believe?”
You shrug your shoulders, “It’s not. It’s just that you’re the first person I know who believes it them.”
Johnny’s brow shoots up, leaning back on the couch, “Well who have you asked?”
“A couple of my friends from before, they all said no,” you reply.
“That’s probably because they haven’t met their soulmate, no?” Johnny asks.
You nod.
“Ah, exactly.”
Your brows furrow, almost meeting in the middle. “I don’t know if I believe in it or not. I haven’t heard of anyone who’s met theirs.”
“What about your parents?”
You shake your head. “Nope. My dad’s soulmate is someone else that’s not my mum. I can’t remember what exactly happened but the mark on my dad’s ankle didn’t match with my mom’s. My mum’s was on her wrist and their illustrations were completely different. My dad’s was a tree while my mum’s was a cloud.”
Johnny nods slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Wow, I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”
You purse your lips together, “Yeah. Though they loved each other, just goes to show how sometimes you don’t really end up with your soulmate.” A chuckle from your lips follows after that, “If they really do exist.”
Johnny smiles a small one, diverting his eyes downward to the floor.
“They do exist. I met mine.”
Your eyes widen, growing all too excited at the new discovery. “Really?! No way!”
Johnny lifts his head and meets your eyes, “Yeah. Two years ago.”
“Oh my god!” You half exclaim, jumping on the couch and lifting your legs so that you can fold them in a comfortable position. You twist your body so that you’re facing Johnny completely, standing your elbows on your thighs, resting your chin on your hands. “Tell me more about it!”
Johnny chuckles at your behaviour. You’re too adamant to know his story to even notice the sadness in his eyes. And Johnny almost doesn’t want to share the story he’s been stowing away since forever but the way your eyes are literally oozing with excitement makes him feel guilty for even considering saying no to you.
So he takes a deep breath and prepares for whatever bits of the past wounds him this time. “I met her during Spring, purely by chance, in a coffee shop I frequented. She was in a hurry and I’d just come in. She ended up spilling scalding hot coffee on me as she was trying to run out. I think she was late for something.”
“How romantic,” you murmur.
“Being burned and sustaining second degree burn injuries? No not really,” Johnny laughs. “But that’s how we met. She happened to be wearing a dress that day and I got a glimpse of her mark which was just below her collarbone, right where mine is.” Johnny tugs at the collar of his shirt and pulls it down, revealing a small mark of what appears to be a tulip. “Her one was exactly like this.”
“Woah. It’s so beautiful,” you coo. “And then?” 
Johnny chuckles. “Someone’s too eager.”
“Tell me!”
“Alright alright. I just kinda blurted out she was soulmate then, even though I was basically hissing in pain and she wouldn’t stop apologising about her spilled coffee. At first, she didn’t believe me. But then I showed her my mark. And she smiled at me. God— that was the most beautiful smile I have ever seen in my whole life.”
“Naawwww!”
“We began spending time with each other then, going back to that exact café again and again and getting to know each other. We’d sit in that café for hours on end until the employees eventually had to kick us out because they were closing,” Johnny smiles at the memory and pauses to think of what to say next. “She.. she was just the most beautiful person inside and out you know? There was always something to learn about her and from her everyday and it never ceased to amaze me.”
“Well when can I meet her? She sounds so lovely,” you coo again, tilting your head to the side at the sight of a smitten Johnny.
Johnny catches his lower lip in between his teeth, darting his eyes to the floor again. He’s fiddling with his fingers, lying on his lap. And a sick feeling takes over your stomach in the way his smile disappears so fast.
“She- she uhm,” Johnny pauses, blinks once and continues, “She passed a year ago.”
Your heart drops. Johnny, the nicest person you know, his soulmate, is gone forever. “I’m so sorry..” are the words that leave your mouth, the syllables dragging, though you know they won’t offer much comfort to him. After all, you’d imagine nothing would ever compare to the feeling of losing the person you were fated to spend the rest of your life with.
But Johnny smiles at you gratefully. And now that you’ve taken a closer look and with the knowledge of his story, you begin to see the sadness in his eyes, hidden so well beneath his smiling orbs when he laughed. You feel it’s something you can’t ever unsee now.
It’s been so long, Johnny realises, since the last time he’s ever talked about the love of his life. All the seasons that’s passed should have been enough time for him to heal, yet the scar was still so raw, still so delicate, threatening to give way any minute. Johnny hasn’t cried since she left for good and he thinks that maybe tonight would be a testimony of everything he’s repressed inside all those years. He can feel his vision blur and he tilts his head upwards in futile attempts to prevent the tears from falling.
He just really missed her extra hard today.
The sight breaks you, and so you consciously scoot closer to Johnny. You slowly lean towards him, until your head’s resting on his shoulder, until you’re close enough to bring a hand to rub his arm. Out of all people, you knew best how it felt to lose someone so close to your heart, having lost both your parents in a day and though Johnny’s situation was slightly different, two things were still there: grief and loss.
“You would’ve gotten along with her really well y/n,” Johnny mumbles. “She’s similar to you in a lot of ways.”
You smile, continuing the motions of your palm on Johnny’s sleeved arm. “It would’ve been like meeting my sister in law.”
“Sister in law?” Johnny quirks.
You nod your head against his shoulder, staring into blank television screen. “Yeah, you’re like the brother I never had, John.”
“John?”
You laugh. And so does he.
“Feels nice to have a brother,” you say, peeling yourself off Johnny and meeting his eyes. “You cook for me, treat my wounds, make fun of me too. That’s what siblings do right? I wouldn’t quite know since I don’t have any.”
Johnny melts and reaches his arm out to ruffle your hair, messing it up in the process, “Especially the last one.”
You roll your eyes playfully but silently feel grateful nonetheless at his indirect acknowledgement of your claim. The atmosphere shifts then, to a lighter one and in no time, Johnny’s cracking jokes again, both of your laughs bouncing off the walls of the loft. You momentarily forget about Mark when Johnny begins to talk about his life, his mom and the little house they both live in by the beach. His life sounds like the ideal one you would’ve wanted to live yourself; normal, quiet and happy. Johnny finishes the conversation by promising to take you to his house one day when you admit you haven’t visited the beach in years, the last recollection of dipping your feet in the waves going back to when you were just a child.
You’re expressing your excitement at the thought of visiting the beach soon when Mark enters the loft, the sound of the door shutting close echoing through the place. Your head snaps towards the door as Johnny does the same and you get the fright of your life when you take in the sight of Mark; bruises on every inch of skin possible, a busted and bleeding lip and an open slash to his eyebrow. Your eyes widen and you’re quick to jump to your feet, jogging over to him in a hurry, ignoring the sting in your chest.
“Mark! What happened!” You exclaim, your arms landing on his upper body to assist him in stabilising himself when you realise he’s limping.
There’s a pained expression on Mark’s face with every step he musters, “It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” you snap, examining everywhere else for any signs of injuries. You think back to the day in the markets, to the exact moment Mark hid you in his arms from a bunch of people. Could they have been behind this? Or? 
Johnny looks unfazed at the sight of Mark, standing by the couch, patiently waiting for the two of you with his arms crossed across his chest. You help Mark carefully sit himself on the couch to which he does with a low groan. You stand beside Johnny and there’s a moment of silence when Mark shifts in his seat under your gazes and Johnny decides to break it.
“You good?” Johnny asks nonchalantly, his voice indifferent yet stern.
Your eyes dart to Johnny, an incredulous look grazing your face at how uninterested he sounded. “Johnny, he doesn’t look good!”
But from the corner of your eye, Mark nods.
“Johnny you need to check and treat him! What if he’s bleeding internally somewhere or—“
“Y/n, can you ge me the first aid kit,” Johnny cuts you off, eyes still trained on Mark who has his arm draped across his stomach.
“In the kitchen,” Mark mumbles, his eyes closing when he leans back on the couch, a heavy breath leaving his lips.
You don’t waste a second longer, dragging your feet towards the kitchen as fast as you could. You search the area in a frantic, closing and opening drawers, wishing the next one you’d open would contain whatever you were looking for. You’re panicking and you hated it because you couldn’t focus on whatever task that was asked of you, no matter how simple. And you didn't even know why you were panicking.
“I’m okay— but the others..” you hear Mark in the distance as you continue to frantically rummage for the first aid kit. “Johnny, you need to help them. I— Renjun and Jeno— they’re hurt.”
You finally find what you’re looking for when you open a cupboard in the corner. But Mark’s words linger in your ear.
The name resonates in your mind, searching the depths of every crevice in hopes of even a tiny memory of the name that sounds unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time.
Then it clicks.
Jeno?
Your security Jeno?
The day of the shooting Jeno?
When you return to Mark, Johnny is nowhere in sight. You crouch down, your knees hitting the carpeted floor in front of Mark, setting the first aid kit on the couch. “Where’s Johnny?”
“He left, just now,” Mark mutters.
You barely hear Mark’s reply when you focus on picking out the necessary items to treat Mark’s wounds. When everything’s set and ready, you tug on Mark’s arm, pulling him forward so that you have easier access to his face. Your actions startle him, his face ending up way too close to yours, his eyes widening in the process.
“I— I can do it myself,” he tries to protest quietly, pulling his head back slightly.
You stop him midway, landing a palm on the back of his head, his hair under your fingertips for the first time. Soft, his hair is soft. You cluck your tongue and frown at him, “Stay still.”
And you begin to work away, tending to each and every cut you come across, gently and skilfully cleaning and applying cream onto it before covering it with plasters you’ve cut into smaller pieces to accommodate their sizes. Mark avoids your eyes, focusing on anything that isn’t you and you’re too concentrated to even notice his desperate attempts of not giving into the want of staring at you. He doesn’t even hiss in pain when you apply a little extra pressure by accident, all too distracted by the heat creeping on his ears.
“Johnny told me about his soulmate today,” you say to break the ice and to divert your thoughts away from Jeno’s name.
“Yeah?” Mark repeats.
You nod, applying an ice pack you had picked up on the way, on a bruised area on Mark’s forehead, “I didn’t believe in soulmates at first since I’d never heard of anyone meeting theirs. But—“ you pause, meeting Mark’s eyes halfway your sentence. “I think I’m starting to believe in them after hearing Johnny’s story.”
Mark blinks and you take note of the shine in his eyes. Even with all the bruises peperring his skin, his eyes still stood out best. “Yeah?” he utters quietly, at a loss for words.
“Mhm,” you hum, staring way too long, growing too fascinated with the way his eyes held way too much depths. “I— I think so.”
Mark holds your gaze and you don’t look away.
Not until the ringing of Mark’s phone startles the both of you back to reality. In an instant, you’re leaning away from Mark, clearing your throat and looking elsewhere that happens to be his phone lying just beside where he’s seated
Donghyuck, the name ID reads, alerting an incoming call.
Mark snatches his phone away quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the name. He’s off the couch in seconds and leaving you alone to go off somewhere so that he can answer the call.
Donghyuck? Your security Donghyuck? That day before you passed out Donghyuck?
Your skin grows cold and your head begins to spin. Jeno and Donghyuck. The names repeat in your head like a broken record, prompting you to close your eyes to collect yourself, to calm yourself hopefully.
A sick thought forms in your mind and you hope with all your might that it’s not true.
When Mark comes back a few minutes later, his eyes are masked with worry with a tinge of nerves, brows raising upwards in preparation for whatever you were to say next. He knows you saw Donghyuck’s name and he knows there’s questions burning at the back of your mind. But he finds you calmly putting away the first aid kid instead.
“Mark you’re sleeping upstairs.”
“Huh? No— I’m okay down here.”
“No, you’re taking the bed.”
“But—“
Mark stops mid sentence when you rise from the ground, eyeing him from head to toe. He could barely stand, judging by the way he’s uncomfortably shifting his weight on his right foot.
“You’re hurt and the bed is way comfier than this couch,” you reply firmly. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
And that’s how Mark finds himself being wedged under the warm sheets of his bed with you taking the time to ensure his comfort by shifting the sheets in the way he seemed to like. He’s watching you again silently, enthralled yet worried by how unhealthy it’s been for you not to be asking questions.
Mark’s fatigue lulls him into sleep in the midst of watching you still. When you notice his eyes shutting to a close, you pause in your movements and take in his bruised features. You recall the sheer worry taking over you when he set foot through that door earlier, the way your heart dropped at the sight of him in pain and the fear you felt when the worst case scenario somehow formed in your head. You think Mark is way stronger than he seems and that there’s a lot more things hidden under what he shows you, way more things left to be discovered.
You didn’t know Mark at all.
You lower yourself on the floor beside his bed, silently allowing your eyes graze the sight of him in his most peaceful state and begin to wonder what Mark really was like. What he does, where he goes when you don’t find him in the morning, who he talks to on the phone in a hushed voice. But more importantly, you wanted to know what Mark was really like. His hobbies, his favourite food, if he believed in soulmates or not.
Leaning your chin on your arms that’s somehow found their way to rest on the bed, all the wonderings of Mark pulls you to sleep, slowly fluttering your eyelids close, the thought of getting to know Mark being the last thought in your mind.
Mark awakes some time after midnight. He stirs and halts when he finds you beside him, soundly asleep in a position that seemed uncomfortable to him. But nonetheless, he makes no haste movements just so you don’t wake. Studying your features secretly, he swipes a strand of hair away from your face as gently as he could. His mind’s blank, utterly enthralled by your beauty. And right then and there he wishes things didn’t have to he so complicated— but that’s how his life always was, complicated and messy, everything he wishes it wasn’t.
He’s careful when he gets up from the bed after a while, biting his lower lip to suppress a groan when he feels an ache in his abdomen. When he’s off the bed, the soles of his feet meeting the wooden floor, he pads over to where you’re sleeping, pushing aside all of the discomfort surging through his body when he bends down to pull you into his arms. When he’s sure you’re secure in his hold, he stands, lifting you up with him. He feels you stiffen briefly, your eyes shooting open in alarm.
“It’s just me,” Mark whispers softly.
You relax then, his face coming into your view before closing your eyes again, reaching upwards to circle your arms around his neck. The gesture makes Mark freeze for a moment, realising how close you were to him for the second time tonight and he has the urge to pull you even closer but he decides against it when he places your sleeping figure gently on the bed. He tucks you in, in the same manner you did to him earlier and he’s about to leave when you stretch your arm to grab his.
“Sleep here,” you call out through closed eyes. “It’s cold downstairs.”
Mark should protest, he wants to protest. But the desire to stay with you tonight was bigger than what his conscience was screaming. His eyes falls on your hand and then at you and then makes the conscious decision to settle back into bed beside you, but not before making sure there was a safe distance between the two of you. There’s a smile playing on your lips, in your half-awake state, when you feel the bed sink beside you, content that Mark had agreed.
Mark does what he does best for the last time tonight and that’s to stare at you without your knowledge. It seemed as if there was always something new to be mesmerised with even when he’s gazing at the same features of your face.
“Y/n?”
“Mhm?”
“Why, why— have you not asked me questions?”
You open your eyes then, Mark’s inquiring ones greeting you. He’s genuinely curious, eyes imploring yours but never in a way that pressures you to respond. You’re not sure what takes over you then, maybe the stillness of the night or the fact that Mark’s here with you for the first time in days, but you suddenly feel compelled to let your vulnerability show.
“I’m scared, that’s why.”
It takes a few seconds for Mark to reply, your words registering in his head a little too slowly for him to form a coherent response.
“Of what?”
Mark’s voice is low and velvety, warm and reassuring.
You close your eyes again, letting sleep take over your senses, shifting in your spot until you find yourself in your most comfortable position.
“Of finding out you might be someone I thought you wouldn’t be,” your voice has come down to a whisper now, your words expressing what’s been lingering in your mind for all the times he’s been gone. “That, you might be one of them too.”
Silence. 
“You saved my life—And I, I want to hold onto that for now.”
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lucysuniverse · 3 years
Text
Someday
I already miss Hui so much and I can’t tell how much I’ve been missing Jinho all this time, so here is a fanfiction inspired by their song ‘Someday’ which always makes me cry. Hope you enjoy it! 
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I should admit that I was also influenced by the movie ‘The Vow’ so if you find any similarities, that is the reason why. 
Pairing: Hui x OC/reader
Genre: ANGST, romance
Word count: 3,793
I knew something was missing. I always felt like people are hiding something from me. But I could never find out. Everything was alright. But my heart was aching. And I only later realized why.
---
‘We should get going’ He said.
‘Jinho, look I really appreciate how you want me to help fit in, but I guess I need time. I just recently moved here.’
And just like other times he said nothing but nodded all-knowingly. He was always way too patient. He never nagged, he never disagreed. It was weird. He was the only person I’ve known from my childhood. But still when we had these conversations it felt like I didn’t know him that well.
‘Are you ready then?’ he asked.
‘Look, thank you for doing this for me, but you don’t have to try so hard. After all it is my life. It’s my problem if I don’t make new friends. And I know this sounds selfish, but I have you. And that’s all I need.’
And he did the same thing again. A huge sigh, no answer just an all-knowing nod in response. I was really getting annoyed by it. But I knew how hard he tried to help me, how he was cancelling all his other programs just to spend more time with me. So, I never complained.
Usually we tried to discover new places in the neighborhood. We both liked those little pubs were smaller not-yet well-known bands and musicians were performing live. We spent most of those nights in the pub called ‘The Black Hall’. Jinho seemed to be very close with the owner and the place itself had a very nice atmosphere. On days when I didn’t feel like going anywhere but Jinho kept on saying we should go out we usually went there. And now we were heading there again. That place was special. It was very calming and I was never frustrated there. My safe place indeed. As we entered Jinho was welcomed by many people. He was a regular there. And even though a lot of people seemed to recognize me and greet me, I couldn’t seem to remember their faces.
‘Hey man nice to see you.’ The owner said to Jinho. And then he turned to me. ‘Good to see you too. It’s been a long time, glad you are here.’
‘Your place is still the best in town.’ I said shyly.
The owner was way too nice with me everytime we met. It was really confusing. If I didn’t know he had a girlfriend, I would think he was flirting with me. He always offered us free drinks and tried to talk as much as possible. Even if other customers were around, it felt like we were special to him. But I didn’t really understand why.
‘Guys. Can I leave you here for a second?’ Jinho asked. ‘I’ll be back in a second.’
‘Sure. I’ll keep an eye on her don’t worry.’ The owner answered.
I was so ashamed, I knew that we’ve met already several times but I kept on forgetting his name. Recently I couldn’t remember a lot of things. And even though he wasn’t foreign anymore I was getting stressed about the fact that Jinho left me with him.
‘Hey Hui can you please help me with the boxes in the storage? We’ve just received a new order.’ One of the waiters asked him.
Hui. So that’s his name. I shouldn’t forget it in case I don’t want to end up in awkward situations. Hui. Hui. Hui. But why does his name sound so familiar?
‘Can you just wait a bit? We have a special guest tonight.’ He answered.
‘Oh.’
And now the waiter showed up out of the nowhere. He also greeted me by my name which was very shocking. I don’t remember ever meeting him.
‘Is she still-‘ He asked Hui.
‘Yeah.’ Hui answered with a sad look on his face.
‘What am I still? Sorry but I heard you are talking about me.’
‘Oh nothing. He just wanted to know whether you are still new in town.’
‘I see.’
Is this something to be disappointed about? What is such a big deal about that. I moved here only few weeks ago. The situation was getting a bit weird, but thankfully Jinho has just returned.
‘Here I am what did I miss?’
‘I will kill him one day.’ Hui said.
‘Did he do it again?’ Jinho asked.
‘We even asked him not to… I don’t know what is so hard to understand about that… whatever.’ Hui answered bit tempered and disappointed.
When I looked at him, I could have been scared. What could that waiter do to deserve death? But I felt like he was just so stressed about something he must have carried a really hard weight on his shoulders. He seemed to be in despair. Sometimes when we visited him in The Black Hall the place seemed so lively and energetic but times when I secretly looked at him I saw a very lost man. He was always smiling around his guests and friends but I guess he was hurt inside.
‘Hey calm down. It will be alright. We both know it will be alright. Why don’t you sing for us instead?’
‘Should I?’ Hui asked back and they were both staring at me.
‘I mean of course if this is what makes you happy.’ I answered.
Who am I to decide? Also, it was getting weird. Since when are they so close with Jinho? And is this guy also a singer? We’ve been here several times but I’ve never seen him performing. As he was slowly moving to the stage I was somehow getting excited and nervous. My body reacted like I was one of the biggest fans of this guy. But I’ve never heard him singing.
‘Hi everyone. Hmm. How do I even start this? This is quite strange to stand here after all the things that happened months ago…’ He said a bit unstable. But he continued. ‘There are some special guests here with us today, and there is a song I wrote just recently. I hope you’ll like it.’
 My heart I can’t hear it now
Even the sound of my heartbeat is like a lie
I wanna stop and turn back
Even if it ends in tears
Hope is sweet
But it’s only an outer layer that fear made
Even if it’s despair
That’s waiting for me
I wanna be the one to decide
Who am I? I can’t see
The reflection in the mirror
My face looks so unfamiliar
Who am I
Cry, I can feel it
Even one tear drop tells me how I feel
I can tell you why, I know
Pain and sadness and scars
Are reasons why I am alive
I don’t want to lose my mind
 I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I was totally drawn to him. It was the most beautiful and intimate performance I’ve ever seen yet it almost broke my heart. Watching him on stage fighting alone and crying out for help through this song, it was so painful.
‘Jinho, can we go please?’
‘Yeah, but is something wrong?’
‘No. I just rather go now.’
‘I just say bye and we can.
‘Please Jinho… Let us go.’ And I was begging him.
‘Okay.’
We went home but I couldn’t say anything. I asked Jinho to stay with me just for a while until I calm down but I couldn’t. I couldn’t explain what was going on. I hated myself for it, but I just couldn’t.
‘She must be a monster to let him alone when he is clearly in pain.’
‘Who are you talking about?’ He asked a bit surprised.
‘Hui’s girlfriend. You said he has one. It’s so obvious that he needs her. He is suffering. Why is she not next to him? What an awful girlfriend does that?’
‘Look…’ Jinho started.
‘No. Don’t even try to defend her. Even tough I’ve never met her, this is my opinion and I am not sorry about it.’
‘I just wanted to say, she is not awful. The thing is you just don’t know the whole story.’
‘Even so, he needs someone to rely on. His sad face makes my heart ache.’
‘Do you like him?’
‘What is this all of a sudden? He has a girlfriend. Of course not. I am not that type even if he deserves a way better girlfriend.’
‘I see. Do you feel a bit better now?’ Jinho asked still a bit worried.
‘Yeah. I’ll be okay. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. And sorry to make you leave without even saying goodbye. I just felt the urge to leave.’
‘Hey. No worries. You are still new here. Anyone can get anxious sometimes. Its totally okay, considering all the things that happened to you.’
‘Wait. What? What do you mean? What happened?’
‘I meant the move. It must have been exhausting. I’ll be going then.’
‘Thank you for everything Jinho. Thanks for all the efforts. I don’t think I deserve you in my life, but I am forever grateful to have you next to me. I just wanted you to know. Good night!’
‘Good night’
When I closed the door behind him, I looked out of the window just to see him leave. It was dark on the streets and it seemed to be colder than before. Jinho was slowly walking, his steps were like moving heavy mountains. He let his head down. I felt like going after him. I was such a bad friend recently. Because of the move I was in focus he was helping me continuously but I couldn’t see that he was facing hardships as well. 
Suddenly a guy appeared in front of him. From far I couldn’t see him well but he seemed somehow familiar. He was just a bit taller than Jinho. He raised Jinho’s face to make him look into his eyes. He must have asked something. Because the next thing I could see was Jinho shaking his head and then burying it into the man’s chest like a small kid. And the man pulled him closer to hug him to comfort him. Jinho’s body was shaking he must have been crying and I also felt tears growing in my eyes. 
Then I saw the man looking at the sky. As they were standing under one of the street lamps I could finally see his face. And no wonder why his face was so familiar. It was The Black Hall’s owner, Hui. And when I recognized him I suddenly fell on my knees and started to cry. I didn’t understand and couldn’t explain but again I felt an unbearable pain in my chest.
----
‘Are you sure you want to go there? We can go anywhere else.’ Jinho asked.
‘Yeah, I want to go to The Black Hall.’
For some reason, after that night we only went to that specific place. Jinho always asked back whether I am okay with it but it was always me who wanted to go there. Mainly because of Hui. I wanted to hear him singing, I wanted to see him smiling at his customers, I wanted to be close to him. And also because of Jinho. He seemed so relaxed when we were there. For some reason I even felt like he was happy to see me getting closer to Hui. But I might have been seeing visions.
Slowly but surely, I was getting used to the new place and new faces. I became a regular too. And somehow Hui seemed to become happier too.
‘Who is this man? You changed totally. I am so happy to see this bright side of yours.’ I said one night.
‘Well, it couldn’t have been possible without a precious someone.’
‘I am so glad to hear. I knew there was something going on between you two. But seemingly she finally changed her mind. So good to see you this happy.’
‘She?’ Hui asked back a little bit confused.
‘Yeah, your girlfriend. You are together again, aren’t you?’ And now I was a little confused too.
‘Oh… her.’
He was smiling. But it was bitter-sweet.
‘I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. This is not my business.’
‘No, no its fine. It’s just hard sometimes you know. She traveled somewhere far and I miss her a lot.’
‘But at least you keep in touch, right?’ I asked trying to lighten the topic.
‘I see her a lot recently. But I guess it just makes me miss her more.’
‘But you said she is abroad.’
‘Oh yeah, I mean via videochat. It’s not like she keeps on appearing in the pub everyday. If that would happen I should have been happy, right?’
‘Seeing how much you miss her… I guess yeah. I would be happy to see her. I hope she’ll return soon. You deserve to be happy.’
‘Sometimes I lose hope you know. She might not return.’
‘What? She’s such a fool if she is not coming back to you. She’ll regret it forever.’
And I realized I said too much. It could have sounded controversial. I don’t want to take advantage of this situation. Just recently I really got to like him, but this is not the right timing. I couldn’t do this to him, to that girl, not even to myself.
‘I am sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t want to interfere.’ I said.
‘I guess I know how you meant. Sorry to interrupt but do you know by any chance where is Jinho?’
‘I guess I saw him around the stage last time.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Hui, what are you doing?’
‘You should never give up on love, right?’ He asked.
‘I don’t know, maybe not. I’ve never fallen in love before.’
And even if it took just a second, I saw that smile on his face.
‘What is so funny about it? Is it a sin?’
‘Yeah sure. You’ve never been in love.’ He said doubting me.
‘I am telling you! Laugh if that makes you feel better.’
‘No sorry… It was just hard to believe that a girl like you was never in love before.’
‘Why?’
‘Who wouldn’t want to be with you?’
‘Ehm, that’s very nice from you, but… why are we talking about this?’
‘If you’d have someone precious to you would you fight for him? To make him happy, to see him smile, to know he is alright? Would you want to spend the rest of your days with him?’
‘I guess. I am sorry Hui but this conversation gets out of hand. Are you trying to say something?’
‘Oh Jinho. You are here. It’s time.’ He said to Jinho.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Now or never. I have to try.’
I was getting confused. We were talking about his girlfriend and he was sad. Now he seems to be all excited and hoping like his girlfriend is just about to enter the door and fall in his arms. Although it was good to see him being cheerful, somehow, I felt jealous. Since I know him this girl is nowhere to be seen and she is just playing with him as she wants. He deserved so much better.
‘Jinho, do you know what is going on?’
‘I guess he is fighting for someone precious to him.’
‘That chick again. Make sure to keep her away from me, if she wants to be alive.’
‘Calm down okay? Look I wanted to wait with this, but I think I should tell you now.’
‘Hello everyone.’ Hui greeted the audience from the stage.
‘What do you want to tell me Jinho?’
‘Listen to him first then I’ll tell you later.’
‘It was 3 months ago when something terrible happened. Without any warning signs my girlfriend collapsed here.’
‘WHAT?’ I looked at Jinho askingly. But he didn’t react.
‘After the check-ups the doctors said it is nothing serious. And I believed them. But it seems to be more serious than they thought.’
‘Is she then in foreign hospital outside the country?’ I asked Jinho again. My voice trembled. I was so shocked. But again, he didn’t answer.
‘Today I prepared a song with the title: Someday. First of all, I want to thank my best friend for staying next to me in these hard times, without him I guess I wouldn’t be able to stand here. Please give a round of applause to my brother Jinho.’
‘MY BROTHER?’ I was completely taken a back.
‘And now for days when we will be able to laugh together again please give lots of love to the next song: Someday. I hope the girl I wrote this about will also like it.’
But I didn’t care about the song anymore. They were the only ones I trusted but they betrayed me. Even if Hui didn’t know Jinho must have known how hard it was to get familiar with the new environment and new faces. How could he?
Someday Something we dreamed of
It will spread out in front of you
I have to walk more for that day.
Not afraid to be together
I stopped in front of the door. As I heard him singing I had to stop. I was slowly going back to my seat. I sat back next to Jinho and I didn’t ask, I didn’t say anything.
I’ll remember today when I was tired
Precious memories
My precious memories. I remembered them.
With you guys who believed more than anyone else
Someday I’ll laugh again
Dreams to be embroidered on the sky
The day after day will shine
When our heart is added
Our dreams that have been precious
If you believe, it will happen someday
The stars embroidered in the sky
Shine our way
No longer wandering
Shining star shining on the sky
Our dreams we have
Precious dreams
It will all happen.
It will all come true
When our heart is added
Someday
I couldn’t look at them. My body was trembling, I was crying like never before. For three months I despised a girl for making Hui upset, sad and lonely. I really hated her for doing this. And in this period I never doubted Jinho’s way too patient nods, and Hui’s bitter smiles. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t even realize I was the one making them upset all this time.
The girl I hated was myself. And now I hated her even more. I hated her for being slow. I hated her for being such a bad friend. And I hated her for being the worst fiancée. I hated her for being weak and collapsing. I hated myself for everything I was. I hated the fact that they were hopelessly fighting for me without me knowing. I hate that we lost three months of being together.
Suddenly I felt a hand gently stroking my back.
‘I guess you know what I wanted to tell you. I am so sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier. We just didn’t want to scare you.’ Jinho said with teary eyes.
‘Why did you let me hurt you, why did you try so selflessly? Why?’
‘Because he is my brother, and you are my best friend. You would have done it for me as well.’
He wrapped his arms around me, but then we heard a familiar voice from above.
‘Hey, is everything alright?’ Hui asked.
And in that second, I started to cry again. His voice meant something else this time. Homecoming. Or a warm hug on a cold winter day. Being able to recognize his voice and know that it is his voice was something I was so grateful about.
‘I guess you two have some things to discuss, I’ll leave then.’ Jinho said.
‘Bro, thank you. Again.’ Hui said with a sincere smile.
As Jinho left it was just Hui and me. And I couldn’t stop crying. I was crying in his arms until everyone left. When I finally calmed down we were the only ones at the place. He was holding my hands and smiling at me with that beautiful smile of his. How could I even forget this?
‘Welcome home babe.’
‘How did you know? How could you not give up?’
‘Do you remember when you said I should open this place?’
And I nodded. Some of the memories were still blurry but I kept on remembering them.
‘You said then, if you were a stranger just passing by you might not enter this place. But then I told you that it will have live performances.’
‘And I said if only you perform too. But back then I never heard you singing.’
‘It was my first time singing in front of you. But you wanted to visualize how the pub is going to work in the future, so I started singing.’
‘If I was a stranger just passing by and listening to your voice, I would become a regular. And who knows maybe I would fall in love. This is what I said, after your performance.’
‘And this is how I knew. I had to trust you, I had to wait and hope that you’ll be able to fall in love one more time. ‘
‘As long as it’s you I would fall in love over and over again. Your voice saved me. Us.’
For a minute, we were just staring at each other. I could get enough of this beautiful view. His innocent, happy eyes, those perfect lips, beautiful teeth and amazing hair. There was nothing on him I didn’t like.
‘I am so glad to have you back.’ he said and he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.
‘I don’t want to lose you again.’
‘You will never lose me.’
‘But I want to make a promise, a promise that nothing can erase.’
‘Do I understand correctly?’
‘Let’s not wait any longer. I want to marry you as soon as possible.’
‘If you are not ready we can wait. I am not running anywhere.’ He said pleasantly.
‘You waited three months, I don’t want to keep you waiting.’
Finally, he was smiling. He was smiling honestly. As he leaned closer and kissed me gently I could feel that he was still smiling. And I couldn’t have been happier. Having his arms around me, getting lost in his touch I realized what I was missing in the past months. I knew something was missing. My aching heart was telling me all the time. But maybe this pain was what indicated that there was someone waiting for me. The one I could live with happily together. Someday.
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