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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

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Lost & Found - 3

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.4K

**read this first!**a/n: be sure to read the newspaper article at the end of Jimin’s POV, it’s important to the story! if you’re unable to see the words b/c they’re too small, please comment/let me know and I’ll fix it! If you’re on mobile, you should be able to click on it and flip it to horizontal. That should make it easier to read.

Chapter 3. Fake Smile

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Jimin fiddles with a loose thread hanging off the end of his sleeve, minding his business as hushed staff members bustle around the room. He’s wearing a pristine white jacket over his button down shirt. It feels like it’s been years since he’s last dressed up for anything.

“Ok, we’re ready to go,” someone in the distance says. Jimin sits up a little straighter, trying his best to look overjoyed to be here. A familiar makeup artist rushes forward, dabbing at his face and giving him a warm look.

“Oh, let me get this for you,” she mumbles, noticing the loose thread that Jimin keeps twisting and pulling. Taking a pair of small scissors from the bag around her waist, she goes to cut the string.

Jimin tenses up, a strangled noise coming from his throat. “No, leave it,” he mumbles. The makeup artist doesn’t hear him, thinking he’s just being polite.

Suddenly Jimin jumps up, backing away as fast as he can. “Leave it be!” He sobs, bringing his hand close to his chest.

Everyone freezes, looking to the idol with a mixture of worry and confusion. The makeup artist from before is the first one to put two and two together, bowing low and profusely apologizing.

It takes a few minutes for Jimin to come back to his senses, finally going through some breathing exercises and assuring the worried staff that he’s fine. When he finally settles back on the stool, the same makeup artist hurries over, keeping her eyes averted as she hurriedly touches up his makeup.

The guilt hits Jimin like a brick wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes perfectly reflecting how horrible he feels for his outburst. “You just took me by surprise. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the young woman mumbles. “I should have known better.”

Before Jimin can respond, the woman scurries away and it’s time for Jimin to film his short message to be shown at the concert.

Jimin has worn a few fake smiles in his lifetime, however as he lies straight to the camera, claiming that his muscle spasms have returned and that he’s working toward a speedy recovery, he can’t recall the lies ever hurting this much.

“Please wait for me,” Jimin says, his close-lipped smile hopefully countering the look in his eyes. “Enjoy the concert! Fighting!” He goes to raise his hand in a fist, but stops as he catches sight of his red thread in his peripheral.

Once the video is cut and Jimin is given the OK to head out, he slips out of the room immediately. A part of him would love to just go ahead and disappear into one of the empty rooms within the Bighit building, but he knows that he has to attend the meeting that Bang Sihyuk called for him and all the members.

By the time he makes it into the conference room everyone else is already there. He feels a bit more relieved when he enters the room and they don’t immediately halt in their conversation. Instead, Taehyung pulls Jimin to sit down beside him, giving him a boxy smile.

“Alright,” Bang Sihyuk sits at the head of the table with a soft look in his eye. “Are we ready?”

A round of agreement goes around the table, Jimin folding his hands on the table and doing his best to keep his eyes on the wall behind Hobi’s head. He definitely was aware of the line of red threads that trailed into the conference room, fighting the pang of hurt that was bound to arise.

The meeting starts off normally enough, going over a quick review of their upcoming schedule and making sure everything is prepared for their next concerts in Japan. The boys occasionally make comments or express concerns with the schedule, and everyone works together to resolve any issues that may arise.

For the first time all week, Jimin feels...normal.

That feeling comes crashing down when Bang Sihyuk’s voice rings out, calling Jimin’s name.

“We have a few options for how we can move forward,” he begins. “But I just want you to keep in mind that we’re in this together. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles.

Sitting back, Bang Sihyuk claps his hands. “That being said, we have a few options. I’m not sure what you would feel best about, so please weigh in with your opinion.”

With that being said the entire room begins to delve into the separate ideas. Of course the company sending out a statement is one of the first ideas to be discussed, however Jimin can’t shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies it.

“I know that we can’t just pretend that nothing happened,” Jimin states, sitting forward in his seat. “But isn’t there a way that we could just...I don’t know…” He trails off, unsure of what he was even trying to say in the first place.

Namjoon, who Jimin notices hasn’t even looked at him in the eye during this entire meeting, clears his throat. “We can always just take the ‘no comment’ route. I mean, there’s sure to be a lot of rumors that accompany that, but there’s going to be rumors no matter what.”

“No comment?”

Bang Sihyuk nods. “That’s basically just us refusing to ever shed light on the situation. Honestly...we might have to take that route anyway, because we really don’t know what happened. Instead of scrambling for some sort of explanation, we could just allow people to wonder. I’m not sure if Jimin would feel comfortable with-”

“Sounds great.”

All eyes turn to Jimin, who is sitting on the edge of his seat, fiddling with the severed thread.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “Like Namjoon said; there’s going to be rumors no matter what. Let them wonder. Frankly the idea of offering up some sort of patched together explanation every time people ask me about this,” he holds up his hand for emphasis, “sounds exhausting and never ending. Which, all of this will be, but I’d like to just keep this for myself.”

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone takes in this information, and Jimin waits with bated breath for the verdict. In the end, it’s Jungkook who ventures to speak first.

“I think you have a point,” he says, shooting his friend an understanding look. “People are going to be asking about it nonstop and spreading rumors, so I’d feel better if what we answer is on our terms. People can so easily twist our responses.”

After a couple more minutes of discussion and debate, they settle it. Deciding to take the ‘no comment’ route for now, Jimin feels a wave of relief come over him. Namjoon, too, appears to be relieved with this decision.

Once the meeting is over, Jimin doesn’t miss the way Namjoon practically hurtles out of the room.

“Where’s he headed to?” He asks the others. Jin shrugs.

“I think he said he had to meet with Chung-hei.”

There’s a pang of pain at the mention of Namjoon’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it might have the day before. “Oh.” Before the others can dive in to make him feel better, Jimin changes the subject. “Have you guys already eaten?”

Taehyung’s eyes light up at the possibility of his best friend joining in on a meal with them. “Nope. Let’s go!”

The boys surround Jimin as they head down into the small cafeteria area, a few staff wandering around. The makeup artist from this morning keeps her head down, shooting Jimin a sheepish smile before scampering off. Jimin winces, recalling the events of the morning. How he’d lost complete control-

“Who even reads the paper anymore?” Jungkook asks aloud, grabbing an abandoned article from off a table. “I didn’t realize that they still delivered hard copies.”

Jimin wanders over, forcing a half-smile to his face. “Is it a real newspaper?” Before he can grab it, Jungkook drops the paper almost as though it burned his skin.

“Er, no,” he stutters out, earning a confused look from everyone around the table. “I think it’s a fake, I’ll just throw it away-”

Jimin reaches out and grabs the newspaper before Jungkook can do anything, eyes widening as they glance over the front page. Everyone else gathers around, falling eerily quiet. In the end, it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence.

“I’m sure it’s just some dumb misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “You know how reporters get.”

Jimin can hardly find it in himself to nod, rereading the article again and again.

For the first time in his life, Jimin wishes that the gossip column were true.

✂

Typically, the second I’m done with work, I do my best to not think of bread for the rest of the day. Today, however, is different.

My tiny apartment has been transformed, the kitchen dusted over with a thin layer of flour. On the counter sits an old wooden slab, a chunk of dough sitting atop it. And then there’s me.

Hands cracked to oblivion, hair pulled back in what can only be identified as a bird’s nest, panting as I flatten the dough again and again. It’s the same process that I’ve been doing for years, my shoulders hardly aching anymore with the constant practice.

Punch.

Press.

Repeat.

The sound of me beating the dough to a pulp is ringing in my ears, and when I finally step back with a huff, it takes me a moment to hear something scratching at the door. Shaking my head to rid myself of the ringing noise, I listen closer.

“Who’s there?”

A quick glance out the window shows my empty porch, however the scratching continues. Now that it’s steadily growing darker, I can’t tell if there’s anything out there.

Am I being haunted? Is this my punishment for cutting the thread?

Slowly, I open the door, wincing at the white mark I leave behind from my flour-heavy hands. “Hello?”

I get a meow in response.

Looking down, I meet eyes with a pristine white cat that sits on its back legs and looks up at me with unwavering annoyance.

“What?” I ask the cat, that simply blinks up at me. “What are you so annoyed about? You’re the one that knocked, not me.”

Nearly rolling its light colored eyes at me, the cat stretches before looking back up expectantly. From the white fur that doesn’t have a single spec of dirt, to the look it’s giving me, I feel like I just stumbled upon the queen’s cat.

“By all means, come in,” I croon, stepping aside and watching with no small amount of amusement as the cat leaps inside. It immediately heads toward the couch, jumping atop it. “Make yourself comfortable,” I mumble.

Ignoring my visitor for now, I go back to the counter and stare down at the dough. I’ve been kneading this for a while now, it’s flat enough that it might never rise. That’s not what I got it for, though. There’s already some bread baking in the oven.

Half-heartedly throwing one fist at it, I find that I’ve completely lost any energy. Instead I just stare down at the wooden slab, and wonder.

It’s the same thing that I’ve been wondering about all day. My thoughts go in endless circles, always coming back around to the same thing.

Park Jimin.

After Chung-hei appeared at the shop a couple of days ago, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about what I’ve done. When I told her my reasoning, recalling the awful experience she had and admitting that I was a coward and didn’t want to go through the same thing, Chung-hei looked at me with something akin to realization.

“Jolie,” she had muttered, stopping me from hitting the dough again. “You know that he would love you, right? You’re enough. More than enough.”

Which led me to this moment, pulling out the wooden slab and spending my entire evening beating some dough and trying to beat out my emotions as well. It still hasn’t worked.

“What’s your name?”

The cat’s ears twitch a little at my sudden question, however it just continues to stare at me like I might be insane. Judging from my recent actions, I’d say it isn’t wrong.

“Are you planning on staying the night, or…?”

A swish of its tail and the cat is sinking lower into the couch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Finally abandoning the dough and washing my hands off, I meander over to my new roommate. “What should I call you? I have a feeling you won’t take kindly to just being called ‘cat’, right?”

The cat gives me a death glare, confirming my suspicions.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, raising my hands in innocence. Settling down beside the white cat, I admire its fur. “But I wonder why you’re here? You look like you’re well taken care of. And no collar?” Hesitantly reaching out, I double check that there is no collar hidden in its long fur. “Don’t think so. I’ll let you stay the night,” I concede. “But tomorrow you’ve got to find your way back home, ok?”

The cat swivels its head to look at me, looking offended that I would even say such a thing. It lets out a woeful mewl.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Another mewl. “Huh.”

Running my hands through its long fur, I lean my head against the wall, watching the evening turn darker and darker. The cat also joins me in my silent watch, never moving an inch as it emits a soft pur.

“I’m lost, too.” The words tumble from my mouth, a little broken. I keep my eyes ahead, watching the outside as though it will disappear at any given moment.

From the corner of my eye I see a bundle of white fur scooting toward me until the cat lumbers up into my lap. Chuckling through the unshed tears, I sniffle and adjust so we’re both comfortable.

“Should I call you ‘L’ for lost?” I ask abestmindely. I nearly jolt out of my skin when the cat hisses up at me. “Ok, ok. You’re a lady, I get it. What about ‘Elle’? You know, e-l-l-e. That’s like a princess name. Very pretty. We’ll be the only ones that know what it really means. ‘Elle’ for lost.”

I receive no further objections.

Snuggling down into the sofa, I keep my eyes open for as long as I can until they drift shut against my will.

✂

When I awake, the world is still dark. Not unusual, considering that I tend to wake up around this time everyday, but something is off-

“Elle!”

The cat in question jumps off my lap, bolting toward the door. Groaning, I rub at the back of my neck.

“Good morning. What time is it?” A quick peek at my phone that’s nearly dead has me groaning a second time. It’s already time to get up. Waddling toward the bathroom, a loud meow makes me pause.

“What?” Elle scratches a little at the door, giving me a withering gaze. “Oh. Right.” I hurry over to open the door. “Well, thanks for visiting, feel free- aaand she’s gone.”

Laughing quietly to myself, I head into the bathroom to get ready. Making sure to not even look at the mirror until I’ve scrubbed my face, I get straight to it.

I’m nearly running late when I finally leave my apartment, but thankfully the shop isn’t far from here. It allows me to walk there most mornings.

The world is still asleep as I walk down the street, admiring the dull grays and blues of the early morning. There’s a hint of a chill in the air, but it’s nothing that a brisk walk won’t take care of.

It’s in these moments of quiet that I feel like the world is pressing down on me so heavily. Unafraid of people gawking and seeing my cut thread, I let my hands hang out of my pockets.

There’s nothing to be afraid of this early in the morning. It’s only when the sun begins to rise is when trouble begins to stir up. So I take advantage of the peace that settles over me as I make my way to work. No doubt my shoulders will resent me a bit today as I spent all of my free time yesterday beating dough.

As the sleepy world continues in its quiet vigil, my thoughts return to the exchange I had with Chung-hei a couple of days ago.

“You told me you wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

Chung-hei sighs, suddenly looking utterly exhausted. “I was foolish. It sucked, of course it did. Suddenly I had a target on my back. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what-”

“The only way I was able to get through that and am still able to, is because of the people I have surrounding me. I have you! I have Namjoon! As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I really need. It was difficult, but I learned to quit worrying so much about what other people expected or wanted from me. I know who I love, and that’s all that matters.”

“Good morning sleepy-head.”

Nearly jumping into the street, I can’t help but yell a little as Chung-hei appears before me. She’s standing in front of the shop, a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, clutching my chest. “Why are you trying to scare me so much?”

My friend laughs. “It’s too fun, honestly. What? I can’t come to visit you at work anymore?”

“Weren’t you just here a couple of days ago?”

Chung-hei clears her throat. “Ah. Right.” She rubs at her arms. “Should we go inside, then? Fire up the oven? It’s chilly.”

Giving her a long look, I glance down at my thread. Despite being fully aware of my decision, it still shocks me a bit whenever I see the frayed end. Still a dull red, the thread looks so out of place now.

“Sure, I guess.” I grab my key out of my pocket, heading toward the front door. “Actually, I could use some help. I think I nearly beat the life out of some dough yesterday, I can hardly move my arms now.”

“Yeah. Namjoon can help.”

I stop with the door halfways open. “What do you-” Glancing over my shoulder, I nearly lose all ability to speak as I watch my friend rounding the corner of the building with none other than Kim Namjoon in tow.

He’s taller than I imagined.

And somehow able to make me what to run for the hills.

I stare at the man, forgetting all sort of courtesy or manners as he looks down at the ground sheepishly. Slowly, I turn to my friend.

“What.”

Chung-hei has the good sense to look a little apologetic. “I...you never got to meet him.”

I stare at her a moment longer, struggling to read whatever emotions are in her eyes. My heart catches in my throat. “He knows, doesn’t he.”

At this, Namjoon looks up with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“Don’t even try to lie,” I hiss out. “I’ve known your soulmate for much longer than you have, and I can tell when she’s trying to fix all my problems. Looks like she brought some help from the outside this time.”

Namjoon’s mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. I turn back to Chung-hei, who looks like she’s fighting against chewing me out for insulting her soulmate. Despite feeling a little bad for being so rude, I can’t help the anger that boils inside me.

My best friend, I realize, is no longer my confidant. It’s something I thought of before. Once we found our soulmates, it was only a matter of time before those roles shifted. However it doesn’t stop the pain that comes with seeing it firsthand.

The urge to turn and lock them out of the shop is overwhelming, but I stand still for a moment longer. The blue of the early morning is turning gray, almost matching the dark circles under Namjoon’s eyes. I see now just how much he must have gone through to get here.

Regardless of the circumstances, I still cherish my friendship with Chung-hei. Years of experiences and heartbreak can’t get washed away so easily.

“Can you work the dough?” I ask a little roughly, fighting against the lump in my throat. Namjoon blinks, looking shocked.

“Ah, see. I told you she’d come around.” Chung-hei drawls, grinning at me. I can’t quite find it in me to return her smile just yet. “I’ll help him,” she promises.

Sighing, I nod. “Come in, then. I hope you can talk and work at the same time. I have a feeling you prepared a speech.”

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zirkkun-uthcs · 3 years

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Could i request some headcannons about UT Sans and Paps, UF Sans and paps, and US paps with a S/O or friend that has tourettes? Or they just muscle spasm a lot.

It's fine if you wont write for it due to not understanding! It's not a very usual disorder.

(maybe) shockingly enough, I actually do know a bit about tourettes! Not a large amount, but I think enough to write a little drabble here anyway ^^/

&&&

Undertale!Sans - Sans doesn't really worry about it that much. He doesn't really pose much judgement over people for things like this, he's more concerned about who someone is as a person and what actions they've done to define themselves more than anything else. He probably won't even mention it even when you first meet -- hey, everyone's got their thing, everyone's different. He definitely won't realize it's a human medical condition until you tell him, and even then his only reaction will probably be a rather nonchalant "oh. cool. nice to know." or something of that regard. But let it be known that if anyone tries to say something about it, he'll immediately come back at them by pointing out the first noticable "obscurity" about them, with some sort of ending moral to the extent of "maybe don't bother commenting on something you don't know about," after the person will most likely be hypocritically offended.

Undertale!Papyrus - Papyrus, while he doesn't mean any harm in asking, will most certainly comment on it the first time he notices it, more than likely in concern, but with some explanation he'll be sure to keep that in mind and not really bring it up in such a way ever again. But, at the same time, he'll probably still be a bit observant of it, and begin to notice potential patterns or correlations you might have between emotions and tics. He won't say anything, but if there's any reason of him to be suspicious of you not being in a good mood based off of this, Papyrus will quickly act on it by doing something for you to try and help compensate, like getting you a gift or making you dinner. Maybe by him not saying anything, either, you'll be even more happy, because you won't see it coming!! A greatly selected plan, he assumes.

Underfell!Sans - Straight up, he does not care. Fell doesn't really bother with other people's business, and he most certainly doesn't bother with worrying over people's appearances or speech. He won't really say anything unless you do, but it's not like he'll have much opinion on the topic. At the same time, however, he doesn't tolerate other people being rude to someone else purely by how they look, so you can expect him to be right by your side if anyone tries to mess with you or make fun of you. Then he'll probably do something really silly and simple like buy you some ice cream to get your mind off of it, even if it didn't bother you. Maybe it's a bit more for him at that point.

Underfell!Papyrus - Edge is a little more judgemental about people's outward appearances, as he holds himself to high standards, but he can accept things pretty quickly when he finds out they're outside of the person's control, no matter how socially "negative" they might be. He's more likely to prod and question it than the others due to this, and partially because he has his own curiosity about tourettes himself. Various human medical conditions are still difficult to grasp, and more than likely, this is his first exposure to it. Hopefully you'll be patient in understanding he doesn't mean any harm in asking, even if he may come off as judgemental or rude.

Underswap!Papyrus - So long as you still give him hugs that's all he cares about. Okay, it's not all he cares about, he does care about you as a person as well. Of them all, Swapap is the most likely to tease you about it from time to time, in the most playfully intentions possible, but will also stop if it bothers you too much. He doesn't wanna be an asshole about it, but he does tend to resort to jokes when he wants to be a bit more positive about things. Though, no one else can make jokes. Only he can. He'll shut down anyone who even tries. Only he gets this special boyfriend privilege. His job is to keep you happy and he'll be damned if it doesn't happen.

#undertale #undertale headcanon #undertale x reader #underfell #underfell headcanon #underfell x reader #underswap #underswap headcanon #underswap x reader #undertale au #undertale!sans #undertale!papyrus #underfell!sans #underfell!papyrus #underswap!papyrus #uthcs headcanon #zircon answers #anonymous

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crowsstories · 4 years

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Drowning (PART 1)

The pain stabbing into my eyes, the pressure popping in my ears, made me regret the whole thing almost immediately. I didn’t know it would be like that. I didn’t know my whole head would feel like it was splitting open as I lost air. I was so, so fucking stupid.

The moment came when I couldn’t hold my breath any longer, and I involuntarily breathed in, a spasm of the lungs I couldn’t control. My chest hurt, my entire abdomen, my lungs burning, trying to pull in air that didn’t exist and breathing water instead. It was like fire, deep inside me, worse than fire on my skin.

I thought the pain was a good sign, at first. I thought it meant I was dying, finally. After all, of everything I’d tried so far, this was, by far, the most painful. My body couldn’t heal itself quickly from this, like it had with my disastrous attempt with fire.

I was drowning, over and over, just like I had been for months, only literally, now. And I just wished I had thought this through a little harder before jumping into the lake with chains twisted around my legs.

It wasn’t my fault, though, was it? Being immortal meant living forever, it meant healing from anything. It didn’t mean I was any fucking smarter than the next guy, apparently.

As I floated there, at the bottom of the lake, chains around my legs to keep me submerged, drowning painfully, I had a surprising moment of clarity. Or maybe not that surprising. Fuck, I was so stupid. Also, it was kind of hard to think when my brain was being damaged from lack of oxygen.

As it turned out, I wasn’t taking the whole immortal thing very well. “Thank you, Captain Obvious”, right? Well, excuse me for having a hard time accepting the loss of my true love and my apparent immortality, all in the same week.

James’ death killed me. Or, I wish it had killed me. Nothing could kill me, I guess. As it turned out. Not even the head on automobile collision that had killed James. Not even a broken heart. Not even the bullet I’d put in my brain three days after I’d woken up in the hospital. Or starving myself. Or jumping off a roof. Or…

Anyway, back to my moment of clarity. Other than how stupid I was.

I wanted to be with James again, so bad, and I couldn’t, so I just kept torturing myself, as if I’d eventually find the one thing that could kill me. But there wasn’t anything. Nothing could kill me. That was my moment of clarity. And I was so stupid that it had taken being trapped in a state of constant drowning to realize it.

James wouldn’t have wanted this for me. He wouldn’t have wanted me to hurt myself. He had always tried so hard to protect me, to take care of me. Seeing me like this would kill him all over again.

As the spasms of cardiac arrest started once again, my mind blanked, and all that was left was James’ face, as if imprinted on my mind’s eye.

It was nice, seeing him again, even if it was just another flash of my life, before I died for the third time. I suppose that was one good thing about being stuck drowning over and over. At least I got to see James again. “Look on the bright side,” he would say. “Gotta find the silver lining somewhere.”

In hindsight, I guess my immortality wasn’t that weird. No, I mean, it was weird. Really fucking weird. I’d never heard of another immortal person before, anyway. At least, I didn’t think I had. Which brings me to the reason why I don’t find it that weird, in retrospect; I didn’t have any memories older than eight years or so.

The doctor James took me to when he found me said I had focal retrograde amnesia, but a rare kind, because I didn’t remember much from before James found me, not even my childhood. I remembered waking up being covered in blood and some other kind of organic matter. I didn’t know who I was, where I was. I spoke English, and so far I’ve been able to understand every other language I’ve heard since then, too. I knew some things, like how the world worked, like how to be a person, but other things were a complete mystery, and James had to teach me.

My vision went yellow as I started to slip away, then black as I died, then pure white as I came back. On repeat, every few minutes.

It was getting harder to remember who James was, every time, I realized. That wasn’t good. I didn’t want to forget him. If I had to go on living without him, I wanted to remember him, at least. I wanted the memories of everything we’d shared. I couldn’t bear to lose those, too.

The frequent brain damage caused by oxygen depletion was going to take them away from me, though, if I didn’t get out, soon.

This time when I came to, after the darkness had taken me for the third time, I started tugging at the chains I had secured around my legs, trying to get myself free. I only had a few seconds, to try and free myself before the agony got to be too much. I wasn’t making much progress. My muscles were stiff, my limbs hard to move. I’d try again next time, and the time after that, until I got free.

And I would get free, eventually, and I’d never try something this stupid again.

As I came back, clinging hard to the memory of James so I didn't lose him, I had a new thought. If immortality existed, maybe other things were possible, too. Maybe I could figure out a way to get James back. That thought, that possibility, that hope, more than anything else, is what kept me going.

I wasn’t going to be able to get out of the chains, that much was clear by now. I had padlocked them and thrown away the key. I had done too good a job, and if I had been anyone else, I’d be dead for good, now. If I jerked my body hard enough, though, my chained legs dragged themselves along the bottom of the lake. It stirred up mud and all kinds of crap, and I couldn’t see at all, but I kept moving, whenever I could, though the muck.

It was slow going, with me dying and resurrecting every few minutes, and struggling to remember what I was trying to do, and my chains getting caught on underwater debris. I just hoped I was moving the right way. Toward shallower water, and not toward the middle of the lake.

When my head finally breached the surface of the water, I was very disoriented and confused. Not just because of my ordeal, either. The color of the sky didn’t make sense for a moment. I had jumped into the lake in the early morning hours, just before dawn, and the sky had hardly changed.

It took a bit more struggling, and a few more breaths of glorious air, before my brain cleared enough to realize it was almost sunset, not sunrise. That made a lot more sense. Another entire day had passed without James, and I’d spent this one drowning at the bottom of the lake. Definitely the worst day without him yet.

After spending all day drowning and suffering, though, I felt surprisingly clear headed now that it was over.

Well, not over completely. I still had to get the rest of the way to shore, and then figure out how in the hell to get out of the chains I’d locked myself into. But at least the drowning part was over, and I wasn’t keen to repeat it anytime soon. Or anything similar, actually.

I was done trying to figure out how to die. Now it was time to figure out how to keep other people from dying, and how to bring someone back from the dead. I would have James back again, no matter what it took. I’d pay any price I had to, if I could just figure out what that price was.

As I finally heaved myself ashore, and then collapsed on the muddy bank like a beached whale, to pant and catch my breath and cough up lake water, I heard an exclamation of surprise. I levered myself up on a forearm and slowly turned to look toward the noise. Three fisherman stared at me in shock and fear, and I laughed a little at the looks on their faces. I must look terrible, pale and wrinkled, muddy and covered in seaweed, gasping and wild-eyed. I imagined seeing a large man who looked like that, clawing his way out of the lake in front of you, probably was pretty terrifying.

I smiled, polite and friendly, like James had taught me, and waved. “Hi there,” I croaked as they stared. “Could you help me, please? I seem to have gotten myself stuck.” Hopefully one of them would have some tools that would help get these chains off my legs.

After a stretched moment of continued staring, they seemed to snap out of it. One ran to his truck to get some tools, while the other two helped me claw the seaweed free from my hair and clothes, and wipe the mud from my skin.

“What happened to you, dude?" One of them asked, eyes wide as saucers. He still looked scared, even though he had to know, by now, I was just a person like him.

I didn’t know how to answer him, though, or make him feel less afraid. James always told me to be honest, so I figured I’d start there.

“My boyfriend died, so I tried to kill myself, but it didn’t work,” I told him. The other one laughed nervously, like he thought I was making a joke. The young one that had called me ”dude” just looked sad now. I wasn’t sure if that was better than scared.

The other fisherman eventually showed up with his tools, and it wasn’t long before I was free of my chains. I climbed to my feet, and towered over the other three by a few inches. It wasn’t that they were particularly short, I was just a tall guy. Usually the tallest one in any room. I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my sopping wet jeans and tried to hunch a little, to make myself seem smaller. They seemed like a skittish bunch, after all. I didn’t want to scare them any more.

“I’m Tyler, this is Luther, and that’s Chris,” the young guy said. “Can we give you a ride somewhere, or…?”

I shook my head. “I’m Gabriel,” I replied, giving them the name James had given me, “and I’m okay, now. I can make my way from here. Thanks for your help.”

I turned and left, walking up into the trees and toward the road and not looking back. They’d have too many questions I couldn’t answer, and I hated questions I couldn’t answer. Best to just avoid them. Let me be nothing more than an interesting story that their friends and family would never believe.

Years later, I still sometimes wake up feeling like I’m drowning. And I don’t think I’ll ever get the taste of lake water out of my mouth.

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