#i can go on for HOURS about each character their motives their personalities its just something i love to DO and its so hard when stories

[mania-sama]

A Look into Mental Health: Jujutsu Kaisen Analysis

"Being a child is not a sin." (Nanami Kento, Jujutsu Kaisen)

With the release of Chapter 251, I've seen many horrible takes from dudebros saying that Megumi has "sold" the team. This makes me unreasonably angry because of course it does, so obviously my next plan of action is to take all of my hour-long rants about the mental health of JJK characters and put it here, where said dudebros will never see my (correct) analysis in their entire life. Oh well.

One thing Gege is really, really good at is creating believable, undeniably human, and complex characters. Every character has a different set of motivations, beliefs, ideals, and especially mental states. The constant theme of Jujutsu Kiasen has been "Strength vs Weakness". While the clearest interpretation can be seen through the physical attributes of the characters (Gojo being the strongest sorcerer of his time due to his abilities, and Miwa being one of the weakest, again, due to her abilities), it is also directly applied to the mental strength of characters. No two characters are able to withstand the same trauma and come out the exact same, just as no two real people can process the same trauma. Not only is it a result of nature, as people are genetically different and therefore process information differently, but a product of nurture - in other words, character motivation and environment.

This is where we come to the current state of the manga, Chapter 251. The fated Yuuji vs Megumi debate. I keep seeing people wildly misunderstanding these two, and why it's so important that Megumi isn't standing up to fight, why he isn't able to handle his trauma, when Yuuji can.

Gege writes phenomenal characters. And I want to express just how well done they are, making Jujutsu Kaisen actually kind of deserve its popularity, because some people only care about power scaling. I'm going to touch on Megumi last, because understanding all of the other characters' makes his visible struggle that much more impactful.

1. Geto Suguru

I want to start this mental health analysis with Geto. He is the best representation of depression I've ever seen in Shonen. It doesn't take a hundred chapters to showcase a character's downfall. It doesn't take a hundred significant events to cause a character to break down. Gege shows the best, realistic mental breakdown using only a handful of chapters, and still makes it slow and painful.

Depression can start because of a big event, but it doesn't take more for it to worsen. Untreated, depression runs a vicious course that eats a person through slowly but effectively. It isn't one screaming session, hands clutched over the head and cursing God and the world. It's everything piled onto each other. It's coming to the end of that pile and realizing that nothing will ever change.

This is Geto Suguru's story. He has a big event: the fight with Toji and the failure to save Riko. But his mental health journey was fated to decline, even without the fight and failure. The root issue of his depression came from his ability: Cursed Spirit Manipulation. As long as he kept devouring the embodiment of every vile, human emotion, the more he would lose himself to that vileness. He wasn't changing anything; he couldn't help but continue to swim in negativity because that's all he could do.

Gege wasn't making a commentary on Geto's ability. He was talking about people, as they are, and how staying in a bad situation will not always make you stronger. It can, and most likely will, make you worse. A direct comparison to the sixteen-year-old Geto would be a sixteen-year-old at school, surrounded by people who bully and pick on them with harsh words. The kid will eventually consume all of that bullying, all of that negativity, into their being, because there is simply nowhere else to go. School is mandatory; they can't just leave. They eventually feel isolated, with all that vileness piled on. Even if they have friends, those people could never understand what it's like to put up with humiliation and cruelty day after day.

It's not rational to push away a support system, but who said human beings are always rational? People make mistakes. They don't make the right decisions. Geto didn't. He saw someone offer him a chance at change, a possible light at the top of his pile and twisted it to match his overwhelming negativity. He left and swore to destroy the world that made him the way he is, just as that bullied child may turn away from school and society in whatever form that may take.

I want to touch on the physical aspects of Geto's depression, too. I noted this in a previous analysis I did on him (his character is just that amazing, what can I say?), but Gege knew that the mind can't be affected alone. Geto was drawn with deep eyebags, a nod to an inability to sleep or needing to sleep all the time. Depression makes you tired all the time. Everything becomes difficult. He sits with his back hunched, resting his weight on his knees, like sitting upright is too hard. When someone speaks to him, he blinks and takes a second too long to look over or respond, like speaking takes too much energy. To me, it even looked like he was becoming thinner. It's extremely difficult to maintain a schedule of exercise and mealtimes when your mind is fighting an active war against itself.

Again, a beautiful representation of depression. Geto means a lot to me in this aspect.

2. Gojo Satoru

In comparison to Geto, Gojo's horrible mental health is a lot subtler. Depression isn't the correct term, but you don't have to be depressed to be sad. Sadness is his stagnant state; he has moments of bliss, goals to work towards, a reason to keep going, to continue living, to continue chasing the sun over the horizon, but he does return to the same place he is always at when the lights turn off and he's painfully reminded of this one fact: he is isolated.

All of Gojo's problems start and end with isolation. From the moment he was born, everyone knew he was different. He knew he was different. Through glimpses of his childhood and honestly reading between the lines, it's obvious he never played with kids his age. People don't just develop a superiority complex with their only drive to be better than literally everyone else for no other reason than to get better. It comes from somewhere, and in Gojo's case, it's from his young childhood. It seriously messed him up; even now, he can't shake the lesson that "Strength is the only way to success and happiness".

This is what made Geto so important. Geto was somebody who could share the burden of being the strongest. Geto was someone his age who understood him in a way Shoko could not, though they both were able to see Gojo beyond his capabilities as a Jujutsu sorcerer. Gojo then had somebody to base his moral principles on. Because he couldn't connect with anybody else, he had no basis other than strength. Geto taught him why it was important for the strong to protect the weak.

Then everything went wrong. Gojo became isolated again in his strength and lost the only person who could plausibly stand with him. "Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest?" Gojo was young, then, and fresh-faced into his newfound godhood. He didn't kill Geto in that moment because he wanted to deny the claim that he is nothing without his strength, that he isn't as shallow as he was raised to be.

But he knew better. He grew older, he killed his best friend, and he realized that he was nothing without his strength. He never got over Geto. In order to cope with the guilt of being unable to save him when he left, he adopted a whole kid, thinking that if he wasn't strong enough to save Geto, maybe he could save Megumi. But there it is all over again - he never broke from the cycle of strength defining his worth. Saving Megumi would define his strength, right? It would prove Geto wrong, right? He raised Megumi under the same logic (that the only way to save his sister is to be strong), only ridding the boy of the crushing isolation.

In this way, Gojo isn't mentally weak. He didn't abandon society and everyone who loved him, instead choosing to hone the trauma of his isolated childhood into a weapon and teach the next generation to be better than himself. He isn't depressed, but he isn't happy. You can't be happy if you're alone all of the time. He hoped Megumi could be someone to stand by him, but in the end, he failed to save Megumi. His strength couldn't save him, just as it couldn't save Geto.

He isn't mentally strong. He isn't weak, either. He is horribly, painfully average. He's not weak enough to be saved, but not strong enough to save others. His childhood plagues him, but not to the point where it prevents him from living. He killed Geto but was unable to bury the body. Gojo is everything he never wanted to be.

As it turns out, strength can't buy you happiness. Gojo may have understood that, but he couldn't abandon it, even to the bitter end. Just as a human struggles to shed their conditioning. Not everyone can break the cycle, but we are always trying our best to work with what we've been dealt.

3. Okkotsu Yuuta

I'm putting Yuuta in between Gojo & Geto and Itadori & Megumi because he is, in a way, a bridge between the two. Geto and Gojo have lived their lives; their stories are complete and ended in tragedy. Itadori and Megumi's are not. They are still actively struggling and fighting their physical and mental battles; their stories have yet to be completed.

Yuuta's story isn't technically completed (ignoring everything that happened in the recent chapter with him for the sake of MY mental health), he is still a success story. He is the average protagonist who started from the bottom and ended up at the top. Only he, as Gege has done time and time again, has a slightly stronger focus on mental health than most other Shonen. He is success where Gojo & Geto failed, and the success that Itadori & Megumi are narratively striving for.

At the beginning, Yuuta was depressed and suicidal. He was bullied at school and involuntarily hurting others. Instead of becoming resentful of the world, he pushed all of the vileness inward. His guilt caused him to try to take his life, presumably multiple times, but Rika stopped him before he could succeed. His life was effectively out of his hands; he felt powerless with all of the bodies stacking around him, and he couldn't atone for "his" actions.

His mental health, as it was, was in shambles. Gojo then offered him a way forward. Yuuta's mental health did not improve overnight. It was when he made friends at Jujutsu High, and developed a support system, that he was able to relieve his anxiety and realize that life is not so bad after all. That all of this pain and suffering and loss - it will pass.

The most important thing to acknowledge when it comes to Yuuta is the sheer fact that he was not alone, nor did he allow himself to be alone. Unlike Gojo, who still had Shoko and Nanami after Geto left but refused to connect with them, Yuuta allowed himself to get close to those around him. They didn't know the suffering he'd undergone for so many years. They didn't know what it was like to be him, but that was okay. He knew that they had empathy, that even though they could never experience his life, they could still be there for him now when he falls.

When given the opportunity to surrender, Yuuta stands in the face of one Geto Suguru and swears to protect his friends and fight with Rika. He's so far removed from the boy who tried to kill himself at the beginning of the manga, and that's because he let himself be changed. He did not succumb. He had friends, he knew. People that would miss him if he left, and people whom he would regret leaving.

This stays consistent with his character. He doesn't let himself become isolated in his strength or his experiences. He's much stronger than everyone else in the room, he's a special grade and he knows that, but he still treats everyone like they are equals. Like they are his friends, like they are people who could share this burden of existence with him. This is something that Gojo couldn't accomplish, which lends to the fact that Gojo had a very off-hand teaching method when it came to mentoring Yuuta. Instead of influencing him under this idea of strength conquers all, he let Yuuta develop far away from the ideals of the Japanese Jujutsu Society.

And, in the end, the fact of him being physically strong - a special-grade sorcerer from the get-go - never helped him in his mental health. In fact, it made him miserable until he learned to get a handle on Rika. His winning or losing that fight with Geto wasn't the point of his character, it was reckoning with the fact that he is okay now. That he can embrace the ugly part of him with dignity instead of guilt.

4. Itadori Yuuji

Itadori's entire character is that he has an unbreakable spirit. As the only one who can bear the soul of Sukuna, he started off like Yuuta, only on the opposite end of the mental health spectrum. When we first see him, he's happy, spending his afternoons with the Occult Club and watching movies.

... What happened?

Like Geto, everything piled on very slowly. So slow that I'm not even sure he felt the true effects of everything he experienced up until the fall of Shibuya. It starts with the death of grandfather, whose parting words "Just save as many people as you can" haunt him even now during the final fight with Sukuna. He was never given time to properly grieve his grandfather, just as he never had time to grieve the brother curses, Junpei, Nanami, Nobara, Gojo, Higurama. At the end of it all, when the fighting is over, I have to wonder what will become of the boy that realizes he's lost most of the people he loved.

The one time he did try to process it, when he realized that he couldn't control Sukuna, was when he broke down in Shibuya. Sukuna leveled an entire city. For the boy who never wanted to kill another human being for fear of devaluing life, the weight of his weakness killing thousands was crushing. Then Nanami died. Nobara died (still hanging onto that unknown status but I digress). Both are right in front of him, and powerless to prevent Mahito from disintegrating their bodies. So, obviously, Itadori broke down. The boy with the unshakeable spirit, the only person who could contain the King of Curses, has his psyche completely shattered.

He laid on the ground, and he wouldn't have gotten back up if there wasn't somebody to help him, to be there with him. Todo pulled him back together, stitched back up the broken into somebody who has allies and people to fight for. Itadori has the success that Yuuta had, only Itadori did not come out of it with better mental health.

After the breakdown, his unshakeable spirit was nothing more than the will to keep fighting. He cares little for himself, and he tries to distance himself from people to prevent them from dying from his cursed hands. He is jumping, quickly, down the same rabbit hole that Geto fell down. One big event, and they realize just how tall the pile already is, and that it will never stop growing. Unlike Geto, however, he continues to get overbearing support from those around him. Against his will. He can't push them away, for they refuse to leave his side. Yuuta, Choso, Megumi, even Higurama. They won't let him fall. This makes him better off than someone alone, in a sense. He can withstand his trauma when others may not.

Even so, even so, there is only so much support, the lack of self-isolation, can do when the traumas keep actively repeating. When he says that he will gladly die to defeat Sukuna, it is not said with the same tone that another Shonen protagonist would say it. Take Naruto for example. If he were to go into a battle to protect, say, Sasuke, he would scream, "I'll die to protect him." We understand that his willpower is stronger than his self-preservation, but we don't get the idea that he actively wants to die. He'll die if he has to. Now, Itadori says the same thing, but about saving Megumi. He says, "I'll gladly die." There is something different. His willpower is leaps and bounds stronger than his self-preservation, but that's not only it. There is an undercurrent of severe suicidal ideation prevalent in Itadori's tone. It's not that he will die to win, it's that a part of him wants for this to be his final fight. For it all to be over. To save Megumi, then atone for the sin of being too weak to save Shibuya, or being unable to stop the Culling Games, or letting Megumi get hurt when all he wanted was to keep him safe.

I'd call it more along the lines of passive suicidal ideation. He doesn't plan to kill himself, but what would it mean for him to go into dangerous situations without protection? What would it mean for him to succumb to his wounds after he wakes Megumi's soul and kills Sukuna? To not even try to seek medical attention? He's guilty. He believes everything that happened in Shibuya and after is his fault. When faced with the executioner's sword, he was ready to die for his sins, if not for the goal of ending the Games. There is a fine line between willing to die for those you love versus wanting to die for those you love.

Right now, Itadori is fighting to save one person, like his grandfather said. He is not fighting to survive. And that's what people fail to understand about Itadori when they compare him to the other members of the cast. These power-scaling dudebros don't understand that their favorite OP main character has fallen apart at the seams, that his unshakeable spirit to save people doesn't include himself.

5. Fushiguro Megumi

Here we finally come to the question: Why can Itadori take it when Megumi can't? There is a very similar quote that you probably think of whenever you hear this question asked. It's from The Outsiders: "Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can't?" The answer to this question that Ponyboy gives is the same we can attribute to Megumi. "And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone."

The entire reason Megumi became a Jujutsu sorcerer was to protect his sister. When he was five years old and probably too young to understand most of the words Gojo said, he accepted the offer of training to become a sorcerer in exchange for Tsumiki's happiness. Every day, he fought to protect her. He only had one goal in entering the Culling Games: to prevent Tsumiki from having to participate.

It's easy to attribute Megumi's constant attempts at summoning Mahoraga to a lack of will to live - suicidal ideation, the same that Itadori now experiences. On one hand, I do understand that he has a fundamental lack of care for his own life, but on the other, I don't think that he intends to throw it all away every single time. He just didn't know any better. Ignorance can lead to death as easily as intentionally seeking it out. That's why he changes his habit after Gojo gives him a lesson in risking death versus dying to win; Megumi still has someone to live for, after all.

Megumi's mental health was already rocky from the start. Not that it was in shambles like Yuuta, but he wasn't fully stable. Like a lot of teenagers, he's moody, somewhat reclusive, and only really likes one or two people maximum. Teenagers aren't known for their sunshine mental health anyway.

Megumi was given time to grieve Itadori after he first died. This trauma of losing him in front of his eyes stuck with him, but he was allowed a grace period of two months to grieve with Nobara. He experienced Shibuya, too, but he still had that one important person to protect. His mental health was alright at this point, all things considered. As long as his sister was alive, he would be fine.

Sukuna knew this. So Sukuna killed Tsumiki using only the Ten Shadows Teqchnique. The one person Megumi spent his whole life dedicated to, was killed by his own cursed technique, his own failure to suppress Sukuna.

In the void of his soul, Megumi was alone. Truly, utterly alone. The only person nearby was Sukuna, the murderer of his sister, the murderer of thousands upon thousands of people. He drowned in the ceremonial bath of crushed curses to hold his soul down in the depths of despair, literally drenched in all of the vileness the world has to offer. Sukuna killed Gojo using Mahoraga's adaption ability, and before that, Megumi was forced to take several of Gojo's mind-altering domain expansions.

Already, he had given up. He gave up when his sister died, but the rest ground a pointed spur into his neck. When Itadori shakes his soul, Megumi is repeating, "That's enough." He was at the end of his rope a long time ago. What more is there to keep living for? He doesn't want to live with the blood of his sister, the blood of the man who practically raised him, and the blood of countless others drenching his hands.

Sukuna killed all of these people, not Megumi. But then, Sukuna killed of those people in Shibuya, not Itadori. Why can Itadori take it? Why can he keep fighting when Megumi lays broken on the ground? Itadori wasn't alone. And Megumi has never been known for his unshakeable spirit. That is the one thing that Itadori can hold over everybody else, the one trait that everyone admires. He was born to shoulder the burden of the world. Megumi wasn't. Megumi wants to die. He is not passively suicidal, for he has no goals left to complete, a plan to die within the body no longer inhabited alone. He is suicidal. He would drive a stake through his heart if it meant relieving his pain. He doesn't want to do it anymore. He's had enough.

And Itadori was in this position once, too? Perhaps not as directly, but he was there. Here is the moment that the protagonist gives the motivating speech to will someone to keep fighting, that life is worth living. I realized today that this is not something Itadori has done yet. He hasn't had a grand speech that's not been about his own willpower. He's never encouraged someone else to keep living in the way that you would expect from the main character. This is his moment, I suppose. He needs to be the person for Megumi that Todo was for him. He has to show Megumi that he isn't alone.

He needs to save Megumi when, all those years ago, Gojo couldn't save Geto.

I don't think some of this fanbase understands how horrible Gege has to be at writing if he just. Let Megumi get up to fight in Chapter 251. All this time, he has shown how Megumi has been defeated. He showed him crumbled on the ground, unmoving. It shouldn't be a surprise that all of the measures Sukuna took to ensnare Megumi's soul worked. Megumi is suicidal after the people he loves have all died because of his technique. God forbid a sixteen-year-old is unable to cope with his trauma alone.

Honorable Mentions:

There are a lot more characters in this story that represent/show mental illness that I didn't go into depth on but are worth mentioning. It was easier to only talk about the major characters since we spend so much time with them and I can fully flesh out everything that should/can be said about them. Anyway, here are a few more that are notably well-written in their mental struggles:

Yoshino Junpei. His story arc follows very similarly to Geto, except he is the bullied student I was making a reference to. Depressed, alone with a mother whose habits he can't stand, he turned to someone he thought could provide him a better life. Interestingly, he is a good representation of the type of children that tend to be groomed. That's surely what happened to him. Mahito used him, then discarded him for his own gains.

Ieiri Shoko. Her main struggle can be seen through her smoking habits. She's been through a lot, lost so many people, and has to keep healing sorcerers only for them to die. Eventually, she was able to come to terms with this. She kicked her smoking habit at the same time she kicked the vicious mental cycle of caring too much about the patient on her table. It's no wonder she picked up a cigarette, for the first time in a while, when Geto led the phantom parade.

Zenin Maki. She works as a very good contrast to Megumi. They both lost their sisters, the people they loved the most, but she turned all of her grief to killing the Zenin clan and gaining Heavenly Restriction. But this, this is because she could do so. There is simply nothing Megumi can do as a soul trapped in his own body. Her grief made her stronger, while for most, it made them weaker.

Inumaki Toge. He isn't seen a lot, but his story is ultimately quite compelling. A boy who hurt many when he was young. He turned his guilt into kindness, a will to protect. He tends a garden to raise plants healthily, for God's sake. He's one of the examples that shows Yuuta that your past actions don't define you, but instead, what you choose to do going forward.

I am not proofreading any of this before I post it. Sorry if it is borderline unreadable with spelling / grammatical errors.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen rant #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk yuuta #jjk itadori #jjk yuuji #jjk megumi #jjk fushiguro #jjk satoru #jjk suguru #jjk okkotsu #itafushi undertones i won't lie #but it's not about them sigh #friends or not everything still applies #jjk analysis #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jjk character analysis #jujutsu kaisen character analysis #jjk 251 #jjk chapter 251 #jujutsu kaisen 251

[interlacrimas]

hm, i guess its time for headcanons!! (Since its been a while since ive been here or on tiktok, i thought maybe it would be fun!

Hajime is allergic to peanuts, he never tell anyone because he just assume that it was unnecessary info, till when he ate something kazuichi made to him and he fell on the ground, almost dying

Fuyuhiko HATES yakult, as lactose intorelant, he had to drink it very often, mostly as a child and he absolute hates it

Hajime hates physical touch, but he pretend to like it, Fuyuhiko loves physical touch, but he pretend to hate it

Fuyuhiko can tell if izuru is the one talking easily, sometimes people go and say things like "hajime is acting so different today", he stares and just say "probably because it isnt fucking hajime"

hajime smells just like those baby soaps, he rarely uses perfurme, fuyuhiko like those expensive perfumes, he really likes those, specially the strong ones, but he rarely uses them either, because he is embarassed to

Both have shitty families on different ways (btw, this isnt fully headcanon, most of this topic is in fact canon) fuyuhiko's family is violent, they often fight, to the point of death threats between his parents, he had to grow up in an extremely hostile enviroment. Hajime on the other hand had parents who were neglectful, they probably just didnt care about him, his urge for feeling special probably came from this, hajime's parents wanted a trophy, not a child, and they probably let hajime do a LOBOTOMY because, 1 - he would finally be useful, and 2 - his presence wont be missed

Hajime and fuyuhiko both have a hard time sleeping, they spend the night awake talking to each other, sometimes they fall asleep in the middle of the chat, other times they just spend the whole night awake

hajime loves talking about his interests, but never got the chance to do that, once fuyuhiko found out about this he made hajime talk to him about it for hours, fuyuhiko actually make good commentary about it and seem to actually care and get his excitement, which makes hajime happy

Hajime and fuyuhiko are both overworkers, and always call out for each other, even thought they do the same mistake

Fuyuhiko is totally Japanese, hajime isnt, as thought as he is Japanese descendant, he is also latin American, specifically brazillian, he was on brazil between the age of 0 to 10, he then moved to japan, even if it was pretty early on his life, hajime likes the dishes from his homeland and make fuyuhiko try them, fuyuhiko fell in love with the brigadeiro, which was sweet just like he likes, hajime makes them often for him, sometimes when fuyuhiko is alone at his Office he eats them

Just like fuyuhiko like sweet things, hajime doesnt mind food, but he like bitter and spicy food, like REALLY MUCH, fuyuhiko thinks he is insane to drink Juice without sugar or to eat so many spicy things without a cup of water, i guess hajime's favorite bitter thing is...fuyuhiko! I love this analogy, like hajime is a sweetheart and fuyuhiko like sweets, its only far for the opposite to happen!

hajime when he gets mad he often stop talking and just ignore the person he is mad about, fuyuhiko not only mock him and his angry mood, but he often treat the person equally bad, he didnt even care about the motive, he just did, fuyuhiko didnt ask why he was mad thought, he knew it was frustrating hearing this type of question, but still he says things like "just say how much of a bastard this piece of shit fucking is! I have no idea what this mother fucker done but if youre mad it must been pretty mess up"

They like to watch EVERYTHING togueter, hajime is the type to say "no...please dont do it *character* dont do it youre gonna to die dont do it" for the TV, fuyuhiko is the type to "STOP GOING THERE ASSHOLE YOURE GOING TO DIE, COME BACK. COME BACK." In the end the character die and they both stop talking, but probably thinking the Same thing, that it was the most obvious thing ever

Fuyuhiko relationship with izuru is...weird, they often dont talk, they spend their time in silence, which is often more comforting then scary, fuyuhiko sometimes Braid izuru hair, fuyuhiko is aware izuru is just a repressed version of hajime, even if people try to make them different persons

And for the final headcanon, izuru wakes up early at 9:00 to watch mikudayo show, for some reason he likes it, he watched it in the past, and had a few memories that he didnt remember, so he started to watch those episodes everyday, the first time fuyuhiko saw him doing it was like "huh, hajime what are you doing awake right now" to realize it was izuru, he then see the mikudayo program and gets confused, how could izuru like it, he just silent watched too, fuyuhiko now likes the mikudayo program, he just dont admit to anyone

I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED!

#fuyuhiko kuzuryu #hajime x fuyuhiko #kuzuhina #super danganronpa 2 #interlacrimas #hajime hinata

[organ-market]

Unconventional Detective Games

Return of the Obra Dinn, 2018

The maritime mystery game Return of the Obra Dinn by Lucas Pope is almost entirely subversive for a detective game. Everything in the game from its core premise to  hyper stylized presentation, is all ambitious and experimental. Every person aboard the Obra Dinn has mysteriously died and you assume the role of an insurance investigator piecing together the horrific events using a magic watch that delivers to you a front seat viewing of a vignette of each person’s demise. Using these dioramas of death, you are charged with recording the manner of death of each and each crewmember and passenger aboard the ship.

Return of the Obra Dinn and its addictively satisfying detective puzzle gameplay left me hungry for more. Playing the game instilled in me a deep love for a good mystery and a desire to solve them. While I love games like Disco Elysium, which stars detectives as its protagonists, the investigation was never really the point. Moreover, a love for the unconventional detective was entrenched in my heart and as an interactive medium, video games are perfect for aspiring would-be detectives.

Overboard! , 2021

The year is 1935, aboard the S.S. Hook, Veronica Villensy throws her husband overboard under the foggy shade of night. In Inkle’s devilishly clever puzzle/visual novel, Overboard! you have eight hours before reaching the ports of New York and in that limited time you must relieve yourself from suspicion and guilt for your husband’s death at any cost. It’s a sort of anti-detective puzzle about getting away with murder which forces you to learn your fellow passenger’s schedules, plant evidence, and be consistently careful with your language lest your words betray you much later.

The DNA of time loop games such as Majora’s Mask and The Sexy Brutale is woven into the gameplay loop of Overboard! It’s a fairly short game taking around 2-3 hours to finish the story but at the benefit of allowing an immense amount of player agency. There is a wide variety of solutions to evading the mighty hand of justice, you are free to travel around the ship on a whim with no direction from the game itself. The only hint system is visiting the chapel and praying to God which is both cleverly diegetic and hilarious.

The nonlinearity of your objective incentivizes logical thinking and experimentation. The puzzle is rewarding much like learning each map and NPC routines in the Hitman: World of Assassination trilogy is. At first you clumsily trip over your words when Major Singh interrogates you but eventually you can get away with murder in style along with netting some pocket money from the life insurance if you pull it all off just right!

The nonlinearity of each puzzle in Overboard! is incredibly refreshing, it just feels organic and natural. Going achievement hunting in this game is its own little puzzle and I still haven’t figured out some of the little secrets it hides from us. It’s a game I can’t put down and haven’t yet been able to stop thinking about and I really recommend giving it a shot since it’s only $15 and only $6 if you catch it on sale.

Pentiment, 2022

Obsidian Entertainment’s Pentiment was my favorite game of 2022 and enraptured me for long nights as I obsessed over its rich dialogue and gorgeous medieval illumination manuscript inspired art. So much love and research was put into the historical setting, it takes place in 16th Century Bavaria within the town of Tassing is filled with life and character. You play as Andreas Maler, an artist working in an abbey on a hill and whilst attempting to finish your masterpiece, your co-worker and friend, Brother Piero, is falsely accused of the murder of a wealthy Baron who was staying in town. You are sprung into action as you only have a limited amount of time to clear Brother Piero’s name.

You are given a limited amount of time to wander around town, attempting to conduct interviews, deduce motives, and eventually gather enough evidence to bring the culprit to justice. Because of the impending trial, time is ever so precious in Pentiment and you will never have enough time to do everything you want at your leisure. Every moment dwelling on conversation or recreation is time you could have spent digging for answers. In order to pin a suspect you must hone in on what you think is most beneficial for your case like a true detective.

Brother Piero’s freedom is always at the cost of another’s conviction, in Pentiment you must push the blame onto someone else. During your investigations, you find that Sister Matilda, a nun at the abbey, had been assaulted by the late Baron many years ago. This is one of the clearest motives in the game but most physical evidence points in other directions, all the while every nun in the abbey will assure you of her innocence.

Saint John's Eve Festival Bonfire

Convincing the archdeacon (the head of the trial) of Sister Matilda’s guilt is perhaps the easiest of all the suspects to accomplish and Pentiment will not tell you outwardly that Matilda didn’t do it but it doesn’t have to. In a clever subversion, the game never tells you if you caught the culprit in the end. Pentiment, brilliantly, left me to wonder if I made the right choices as the totality of the lethal consequences of my actions weighed on my mind. You can easily convince the archdeacon of someone’s guilt but are you able to convince yourself?

The brutality of the executions should not be understated. You look on helplessly as someone you convicted meets an unwieldy end as they plead, cry, and eventually die. The executioner’s sword rises and falls as it lodges itself into the neck again and again until the head breaks free from the neck. Whether you like it or not, your choices matter in Pentiment and the consequences stare you down with a harsh disposition.

While playing Pentiment I was continually reminded of a line from Rian Johnson’s murder mystery film Knives Out. The titular detective Benoit Blanc (he’s so me by the way) notes that, “...the complexity and the gray lie not in the truth but what you do with the truth once you have it.” The complexity of truth is captured beautifully by Pentiment. In many regards it is a conventional mystery but by weaponizing the player’s need for clear answers it infected my mind for many hours after the credits rolled along with the minds of many others. There are fierce debates and chatter surrounding who really did the killing. Pentiment wasn’t as well talked about as it deserved, with all the games releasing it was overlooked by most. Well, it isn’t exactly for everyone but for the price of $20 it gave me a wealth of dialogue to mull over and wonder about.

Phasmophobia, 2022

A multiplayer ghost hunting spookfest is not exactly what you’d think of when discussing detective games but Kinetic Game’s Phasmophobia is deeply investigative by nature. Intense inspection is at the beating heart of the game with an important twist. Where ordinarily a detective chases after a suspect after the fact, here your suspect is reacting to your every move and can (and will) kill you on a whim. In the game you and up to three other friends venture into a haunted house and gather evidence and clues to determine which of the twenty four ghosts in the game is currently residing in your location. 

You and your team will wander out of the safety of your van and into cold, darkened rooms to find clues by checking thermometers, speaking into spirit boxes, and throwing salt all over the floor in hopes of getting the ghost to step in it. Not only can you gather evidence with your camera and UV lights but another layer in your investigation is the behavior of the ghost. Knowing how aggressive each ghost is or how fast it is, is a tremendous asset in your deductive arsenal. The more you know, the more you can whittle the possibilities down until you have your culprit.

But finding the ghost and gathering evidence is just one thing, surviving the ghost is another. Being in the dark and bearing witness to paranormal activity will deplete your sanity and eventually the ghost will target you for a hunt. The front door slamming shut marks the beginning of a hunt, the ghost will manifest physically and chase you down and kill you if you don’t hide in time.

Corpse of my friend, deceased. Moments before I run out of the house in terror.

Phasmophobia is a dangerous balancing act of facing your fears by delving into the darkness in order to find clues and trying desperately to find the ghost type as fast as you can so you can get the hell out of there. The reactivity of the ghost keeps you on edge as you wander the halls gathering data. Speaking into the spirit box may prompt a raspy whisper into your ear or the candle you just lit may be blown out moments after. More interestingly though, is the voice recognition AI that takes advantage of the communication players rely upon. Everything from saying you’re scared to a simple curse word can lead to the ghost favoring you as prey. Even players who stay in the van for too long get targeted by the ghost!

Within Phasmophobia is one of the most unique investigative experiences on the market and definitely a one of a kind multiplayer experience. The comfort of having a buddy to share your terrors with is stripped away when they stop responding to your radio! It’s truly unlike anything I’ve ever played and the developers are constantly updating it, two big thumbs up from the afterlife. 

The satisfaction from my first time getting away with murder in Overboard! and the despair when I find out I had the ghost type completely wrong in Phasmophobia are some of my most memorable experiences in gaming! And Pentiment proved to be one of the most well written games I’ve had the pleasure of reading. I sincerely hope you check them out if you haven’t already! They’re all pretty cheap anyway. And once again begging for recommendations in the comments/reblogs so if you know any good, and hopefully weird, detective games let me know! Thanks in advance everyone and I’ll catch you on the flip side :P

-Ghost Emoji 👻

#organmart #om-ghostemoji #writing #video games #video game recommendations #detective games #return of the obra dinn #overboard! #overboard game #pentiment #phasmophobia

[lonelycowgirls]

Staying Afloat aka yachtie!harry

Here we go... part one of Scarlett's story!

I can't wait for ya'll to read this and what I have in store for these characters. This is mostly self-indulgent because I LOVE Below Deck, but I hope you all love it, regardless.

Click here for the Character List if you want to really form a picture in your mind.

Please like, reblog and follow if you enjoy it!

My asks are also open for feedback and ideas to how this universe can continue.

Nel xo

~

Warnings: swearing Word count: 4.2k

~

Intimidating moustaches and pretty boys...

Scarlett

"Buongiorno, signora."

"Buongiorno." I handed the man with a very intimidating moustache, sitting behind the immigration inspection desk, my passport. My new bright orange floral leather sleeve sat in the crevice between his thumb and forefinger as he fingered through the pages to find the photograph page. I smiled genuinely at him before looking back to my phone to check the text that told me where I would be meeting my taxi driver. Normally the broker would arrange for the drivers to meet me with a sign in the airport arrival area, but this time it looked like I would have to meet them outside the airport in the taxi rank. Not that I minded, I just enjoyed the usual more - it made me feel famous.

"Business or pleasure, signora?"

"Business," I responded, tossing my hair over to the other side and hoisting my carry-on bag further onto my shoulder. "I'm working on a super-yacht."

The man nodded once, looking completely unimpressed, before stamping my passport and passing it back to me, waving me through to baggage claim. I smiled again at him, ignoring the fact that he looked past me with a blank stare. I got it, his job looked incredibly tedious. Having to deal with people like me; ignorant people who didn't speak the language and, worse still, refused to learn, entering his country every day. That's us Brits for you.

I wandered to the baggage claim area in pursuit of my bag. Before the upcoming season, I'd just completed a winter season sailing in Australia. My phone buzzed with the familiar 'Welcome to Italy' message from Vodafone. It buzzed again with a text from my mum.

Mum: Hope you're alright, hun. Text me when you land. Dad's still upset that you aren't coming home. Have fun. Mum x

My dad never got it, my ambition to travel. Probably never would. He hadn't been out of the country since he and Mum had split up when I was seventeen. He was happy with summers spent in Skegness and Blackpool. As soon as I found yachting I was on the first bus to Cornwall, where the training took place. My nanna had been an air hostess, so I like to think travelling is in my blood. She was brave and bold and was the first person to defend me at family gatherings for my life choices. I kept an album of her photos from her travelling days under my bed at home and kept a small Polaroid of us together in my purse. It helped when I was second-guessing myself in my job or if I was having a wobble about life. It was all the motivation I needed to keep going.

Walking through the bustling airport, I checked the screens above each luggage belt for the correct one. Amsterdam... Paris... London... Sydney. As I approached the Sydney belt, I pulled my headphones out of my bag to continue listening to the podcast I'd had on during the flight. I was in the middle of being lectured on why we were all wrong about Anna Nicole Smith by a pair of millennials - who were most likely barely birthed when she was actually alive - before the plane began to land.

The belt moved around and around for almost half an hour before any bags actually made their way out to its impatiently awaiting audience. I watched as a little boy ran to jump onto a giant black suitcase that was bulging at the sides, his dad rushed to pick both the boy and the suitcase up off the belt before they both found themselves winding back out to the mysterious place where the bags were handled. No one ever really questions where they come from or who handles them, they simply just appear. The boy's mum was in the middle of breastfeeding a very young baby but wasn't deterred from chastising the boy loud enough for me to hear over my headphones.

I watched a young lad from a group of tatted-up blokes, who I assumed were on a stag do, help an elderly man hoist his very large leopard print suitcase off the belt once he'd seen he was struggling. I then watched the elderly man wheel the case and its matching carry-on over to another elderly man who grabbed his hand to guide them both towards the arrivals exit.

I spotted my Gucci (T.K Maxx Special) monogrammed suitcase as it came steadily around the corner and stepped to pick it up, dragging it to land heavily on the shiny marble floor, being careful to not drop it on my sandalled feet. Then I just had to wait for my dad's old navy-blue duffle to wind its way through.

Walking out from the arrivals exit, the heat hit me straight in the face, but with a pleasantry that only came from the Italian Riviera. I sighed happily and slid my Dior sunglasses over my eyes. They were a gift from my last boyfriend, but for that price, there was no way they'd be going to the tip like the rest of his stuff.

Before looking for my taxi, I stepped to the side to toss my curls into a high bun. There was no way I'd make it through a hot taxi ride with probably no air conditioning with my thick black locks hanging around my neck and face. Once I was satisfied with the look after a quick check in a nearby parked car window, I lit a cigarette and checked my phone again for the licence plate number of the taxi I'd be taking to the dock.

Glancing around, my eyes landed on a sleek black Tesla. My eyebrows raised, sliding the glasses down my nose, I double-checked its plate number with my phone once more. If this luxury travel was anything to go by, this charter season, I was in for a treat.

"Grazie mille." I said as the kind man, who I learned was named Tullio, tried to carefully remove my heavy bag from the boot of the car. "It's okay you can just drop it." He smiled and wiped his brow and began to wheel it up the dock. I rushed to stump out my second cigarette on the top of the nearest bin, then trotted to catch up with him, attempting to take the handle from him. "Oh, please, um, per favore, I can take it from here." He waved me off and gestured for me to lead on. I blew a few stray curls from my forehead, smiled tight-lipped at him and stepped to start making my way up the dock.

Mega-yacht after mega-yacht passed by as I searched for the one I'd been hired on, Andiamo. I felt the awkwardness creep up my spine at the thought of meeting the crew and captain alongside Tullio. I didn't want them to think I was one of those stewardesses. I already knew that I'd give that impression with my choice of designer bag - even if it was a knock-off. I didn't need a small, sweaty Italian man in a too-tight suit trailing behind me with it to make that worse.

"Ah, here we are, grazie, Tullio." I smiled widely, stopping outside a random boat. He looked at me, one bushy brow raised in question, then shook his head and continued up the dock. My face fell and I followed him sheepishly. He must have thought I was barmy.

As we approached the end of the dock, I spotted a tall man, arms folded, looking sharp in a uniform. He was standing at the stern of a boat that the closer we approached became clear to be named, Andiamo. I couldn't see how many stripes were on his uniform but my guess was that he was the captain. The rattling of my suitcase along the creaky wooden boards of the dock grabbed his attention and he opened his arms wide, laughing sharply before clapping his hands twice.

"Ciao, bella!" The man on the boat exclaimed loudly in a very American twang, making poor Tullio jump slightly and mutter incoherently in Italian. The dock was so quiet otherwise. I smiled and brought one hand to shield my eyes and the other up to wave at him. He jogged around the side of the huge ship, practically skipped down the passerelle and hopped onto the dock as we met in the middle. "Welcome, Scarlett!" He yelled, even though we were barely two steps apart. Americans.

"Ciao, you must be-"

"Captain Bobby, a pleasure to meet you." He held a hand out for me to shake, which I did with gusto - always eager to make a good first impression and wanting to match his energy. He turned to Tullio who stood beside me. "Signore, grazie, I'll take it from here." Bobby nodded, but Tullio didn't move. "Oh, right." Bobby jumped into action, patting the pockets of his trousers in search of his wallet. Pulling it from the back of his very tight white trousers, he plucked out a note and handed it to Tullio who saluted us both and meandered back up the dock. Bobby sighed awkwardly while putting his wallet back, but he recovered quickly. "Alright, let's get you on board." He clapped his hands again, rubbing them together before hoisting my suitcase onto his shoulder with surprising ease. My eyes wandered to the bulging muscle of his upper arms in his smart white shirt and epaulettes, but only for a second before I shook it off and followed him up the passerelle, kicking off my shoes in the process.

"She's a beauty, Captain." I said, glancing around the gorgeous boat before me.

"Yeah, we've got ourselves a looker, that's for sure!" He shouted again, leading me into the bridge.

"So, Scarlett-" He said, placing my suitcase onto the pristine burgundy carpet and rolling it to sit in the corner.

"Oh, please, call me Lettie. It's what all my other boats called me." I corrected with a shrug and a smile. He nodded.

"Alright, Lettie. I've obviously read over your resume many times, but please, tell me a bit about yourself." He leaned back against the arm of the big leather captain's chair and folded his arms across his chest. He smiled and I noticed how kind his eyes were, with the way they crinkled at the corners. He was a pretty young captain from my experience, I hoped that that fact would bode well.

"Well, I'm 27 years old, I'm from Liverpool originally but I've been travelling and yachting since I was 19. I've just come from a season in Oz which was a 74-footer, and I-"

"ROBERT?!" I jolted slightly at the loud interruption that sounded like it came from the dock. I whipped around whilst the captain clapped his hands again and laughed as he squeezed my shoulder, darting out of the door. I frowned as I watched him leave and moved to look at what all the fuss was about.

"Hey hey! Harold! You're looking fresh, my man!" I leaned against the small entryway to the bridge to watch the captain jog to meet a long-haired man at the end of the passerelle. The man had round black sunglasses on, a patterned shirt that was undone to just past his chest, and loose brown shorts. He'd brought half his wardrobe if his baggage was anything to go by. I counted four black duffle bags that were bursting at the seams resting on the dock. It's a good job Tullio only had to pick me up from the airport...

"You're telling me?! Get in here you handsome bastard." The two men hugged closely, clapping their hands on each other's backs. I rolled my eyes at the bro fest and stepped back into the bridge to wander down the stairs and through to the interior of the boat. It was beautiful; varnished wooden surfaces, a luxurious curved sofa as a centrepiece, all leading to wall-to-wall double glass doors that led out to a stunning view from the aft deck, and loads of vast space. I ran my finger along a windowsill and lifted it to see a coat of dust. Sure, it was stunning, but it was fucking filthy. I sighed and looked out the window, I imagined who I would be working with and hoped that they were ready to put in some hard work because I wanted to make good money this season. I heard the low timbre of male voices approaching again and turned to see them coming down the winding stairs, still chatting and catching up.

"Ah, there she is! Harry, this is Scarlett- oh sorry, I mean Lettie. Our chief stewardess for the season." I smiled at the men and stepped to extend my hand to shake.

"Great to meet you, Scarlett. I'm the bosun." He said, smiling around a deep British accent. As he took my palm in his, I noticed how rough his hands were, the classic sign of a deckie.

"You too, Harry. You're quite young for a bosun, eh?" He shrugged and smirked.

"Maybe I'm not as young as you think."

"Harry's been my first mate for three years now, we were on another boat though. I trust you guys will work well together to figure out everything on Andiamo." I nodded dutifully and hoped that Harry wouldn't be what I suspected he'd be from first impressions. But something deep inside me secretly hoped that he would. I supposed that only time would tell.

We walked further into the interior and on down to the crew mess. The captain led the way through to explain where the crew quarters were. I was surprised by how big the space for the crew was, my previous boat had had tiny living quarters. "So, Lettie you'll have two stews under you, a girl and a guy, if I remember correctly." I nodded. "And you've actually got the same under you, H."

"Nothing new there then," Harry smirked to the captain, who rolled his eyes playfully.

"I don't wanna know, man." Captain Bobby put his hands up in surrender and wandered back out to the mess. Harry glanced back at me and I quirked a brow in his direction, before moving past him to check where the uniforms had been stored.

Just as I started sifting through the laundry room and placing uniforms into piles for everyone, I heard the captain yelling again above. The crew mess was normally very soundproof, due to all the debauchery that usually took place there - he was really that loud. I guessed that more crew were arriving.

"Hey, Harry what size t-shirt are you?" I called out to him.

"Depends, is it Fruit of the Loom?"

"Um, no. They're unbranded." I looked at the label on the neck of the bright teal-coloured shirt in my hand. I walked back out to the mess to see him sprawled out on the bench seat, munching on an apple. He'd put his shoulder-length hair into a bun that didn't look much different to my own. "They're soft though. This one's a large? What do you think?" He jumped up from where he sat in the mess and bared his chest, holding the apple in his teeth. I scoffed a laugh and held up the shirt to his chest, he nodded with a smirk, his dimples poking through each side of the apple.

"This'll do, Scar." He took the shirt from me and put it over his shoulder as he took another bite of his apple, moving past me to go into his room. My move to return to the laundry room was halted by a girl coming down the stairs.

"Hi! I'm Marnie!" The girl exclaimed, her blonde hair whipping to catch up with how quickly she'd bounded down the stairs. She pulled on the straps of her enormous backpack to readjust it on her tiny shoulders.

"Oh, hi Marnie, I'm Scarlett. But you can call me Lettie." I smiled and shook her hand and tried not to be blinded by her perfect white teeth, bared in a bright smile. "I'm the chief stew."

"Great! I'm a deckie." She explained, her strong Australian accent caused a ripple of warmth through my veins. I already missed Oz. Hearing footsteps, I turned back to see Harry jogging through the narrow corridor towards us.

"Is that a deckie, I hear?" He said, still chomping on his half-eaten apple. "Hey, I'm Harry, bosun" Marnie didn't miss a beat, opening her arms up to signal a hug, which caused Harry to hesitate slightly before accepting.

"I'm so excited for this season! Is anyone else here yet?"

"Just us and Cap so far."

"Oh, pick of the rooms then!" Marnie winked, if her speech was written down, every sentence would be finished off with an exclamation mark. I loved her already. I led her to the bedroom next to Harry's, which she'd be sharing with the engineer, who, I was pleased to see, was also female.

I continued sorting through the laundry, placing fresh uniform packs onto each of the free beds. Each pack had a pair of white shirts with epaulettes, corresponding to each role, a pair of teal polo shirts, and a pair of shorts or a skort, depending on the person. Then I started unpacking in my room.

I was in the middle of organising my knickers and bras neatly into a drawer when I heard a crash. Rushing out into the hallway I was met with Harry's confused face across from me. We looked at each other for a second before he tilted his head for me to lead the way towards the crew mess.

I gasped, "Oh, Christ, are you okay?" I reached to help the girl that was trying to lift herself up off her enormous, metallic silver, hardshell suitcase that was lying flat on the polished wooden floor.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I'm so embarrassed."

"Did you fall down all those stairs?" I asked, Harry moved the suitcase to sit back on its four wheels, rolling it to the side of the crew mess table. The girl nodded, rubbing her elbow.

"Why didn't you get Cap to carry your suitcase down here for you? Or he could've radioed me." Harry leaned against the table, folding his arms across his chest. I took her arm in my hands and turned it inspect the possible damage.

"Wanted to do it myself." The girl said in a smaller voice. She was so petite, but I could see the lines of muscles in her bare arms, she probably could have done it herself if the stairs weren't so narrow. "I'm fine, honestly. I'll just go to my room." She shrugged her arm out of my grasp and moved towards her case. I frowned in her direction and caught Harry's eye as she moved down the hallway, he smirked, confirming that we'd both had the same thought. She was a stew.

"Um, hey, I can let you know which room you're in, what's your name?"

"Molly," she sighed in an accent I could tell hailed from either New York or Boston. "I'm second stew, I think." She stopped and glanced to look at me expectantly.

"Oh, yes. I'm Scarlett, but you can call me Lettie. I'm chief stew." I smiled slightly, I felt like I was treading on eggshells around this girl. "You're in with me," I said, beckoning her towards our room. "I hope you don't mind the top bunk, I just prefer to be on the ground." I laughed lightly. Molly smiled tight-lipped at me and lifted her suitcase up onto the top bunk with minimal effort. I knew it.

We continued to unpack in silence, I hoped that this frost that had come to rest upon the beginnings of our relationship was temporarily caused by her unwanted trip down the stairs. I'd just finished making my bed when I heard another voice, this time deep and masculine, I counted my lucky stars as I left the room.

"Hi!" It was my turn to say everything with an exclamation mark. The man jumped as I rushed towards him. He had dark shades on and just a large backpack slung over one shoulder. His megawatt smile made my belly flip - he was fucking gorgeous. "Sorry, I'm Scarlett, I'm the chief stew." Stepping forward, I collected myself and held a hand for him to shake. His bulging muscle flexed as he shook it, before lifting his shades to sit on his head and slinging his backpack to the floor.

"So nice to meet you Scarlett, I'm Jesse. I'm a steward." I quirked my brow at him, but inwardly rolled my eyes at myself for assuming that he would be a deckie.

"Nice to meet you, too! Looking forward to working with you this season. Let me show you where you'll be staying." I led Jesse to where he'd be staying with the male deckhand and left him to settle in and unpack.

I looked at my Apple Watch and decided to take a smoke break before heading up to start organising the boat. I let both of my stews know to be ready to help within the hour and headed up to the aft deck.

The sun was just beginning to set over the line where the sky met the steady waves of the sea. I sat on the teak and slid my legs through the bars to dangle over the edge of the boat. Taking a cigarette out of the personalised case my Grandma had given me and lit one. I sighed the smoke out and swung my legs back and forth in front of me, leaning an arm back to rest on. I thought about quitting every time I left a boat - smoking that is. But every time I boarded a new one all I could think about was having a ciggy out on the deck. It was just too easy, the culture was smoking and, to be honest, I'd find myself desperate for one after a hard day on charter.

I took another deep drag and brought my gaze to the crystal-clear water below me. I watched two bright blue fish swim in circular patterns, one of them chasing the other. I smiled softly, leaning my chin on my arm on the metal rail. The warm breeze blew through my curls and made me feel content for a few moments.

"Hey, mind if I knick one of those?" I jumped slightly at the interference of my peace but recognised Harry's low timbre. I turned to face him, his figure stood in the golden sunshine, making him look rather yummy. I nodded and passed him my case and lighter. He flicked it open as he swung his legs through the bars to sit beside me. Lighting up, he looked closer at the metal case, turning it in his hand. He ran his thumb across the raised imagery and wording. "Is this supposed to be you?"

I laughed, blowing another puff of smoke through my lips and nostrils. "What do you think?"

"I think if it's an accurate portrayal, I can't wait to see you in a bikini." I laughed again, taking the case back and looking at it myself. On the front, there was an illustration of an extremely voluptuous woman, naked apart from the flames engulfing her intimate parts. Her head was tilted back, eyes hooded and mouth agape sensually. But her flowing dark curls were where our similarities ended, I could assure him that much.

Yeah, nana wasn't your average grandma.

"I bet. Shame I only brought one-pieces, then, isn't it?" I said, side-eyeing him as I blew more fumes from my lips. I moved to put the case to my side on the teak.

"Ah, I'm sure I've got something you can borrow." He rebuffed casually, looking out to the sunset before us. I side-eyed him harder.

"You've brought bikinis?" I questioned, running my tongue along my the edges of my top teeth in curiosity, a slight lift in the corner of my mouth.

"One or two may have ended up in my suitcase, comes with the territory." I scoffed and rolled my eyes playfully at his cocky wink in my direction. He was one of those guys who had a permanent smirk on his lips. I always got on with guys like that, at least at first. I was never one to take to people who took life too seriously. They usually ended up taking the joke a step too far though.

I decided to chance it and give him a once over as he looked out to sea. His hair was still pulled back in a hair tie, with wispy baby hairs dancing in the warm breeze. Green eyes, squinting in the sunlight but still glittering in the reflection of the ocean beneath us. He had a prominent nose with large nostrils, but it only served to enhance his distinctive face. He interrupted gruffly, a slight cough directed into a fist brought to his mouth. "You should know that. Been in the industry for an age, haven't you."

I glanced back outwards, lining up the tip of my cigarette between my two fingers with the edge of where the sky met the sea. "Certainly feels that way," I mumbled slightly, closing one eye as the scorched tip continued to sizzle away. "Yachting years are like dog years. My body would definitely agree." I decided not to question how he knew the length of time I'd been yachting, it wasn't uncommon for staff to read each other's files before a season, especially the bosun.

"Your body definitely speaks for itself." Harry side-eyed me again, taking a long pull from his cigarette over smirking lips. He was going hard, but I couldn't afford to let my imagination run too wild. He was the bosun and as the chief stew, we needed to have a strong relationship onboard. Which meant avoiding a catastrophic relationship off-board. Although, I let my mind wander to all the ways I could make him feel catastrophic.

Shaking my head and ridding myself of the thoughts, I stubbed my cigarette out in the crystal ashtray I'd found behind the bar in the main salon and moved to stand.

"Alright, pretty boy," I said, before leaning down to speak into his ear, hands squeezing his broad shoulders. "I think it's time we did some work, yeah?" With that, I left him with a parting tap, but I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away. Looking into my reflection before the double glass doors began to slide open, the suspicion was confirmed with a glance at him behind me.

This was going to be one hell of a season.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #lhh!harry #yachtie!harry #harry styles fic rec

[apotatomashedbybts]

Eleutheria

or The Exit Part II

皿 Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk × OC (Park Sowon) (reader) / Jung Hoseok × OC (Lee Ji-a)

皿 Genre: Horror; Angst

皿 Trope: speculative horror, supernatural au, established relationship

皿 Word Count: 27.7k+ [sorry (^人^)]

皿 Trigger Warning: description of demonic entity, loss of loved ones, anxiety, injury, suffocating environment, deception, death

皿 Rating:PG13

皿 Banner: apotatomashedbybts

皿 Beta Reader: @theharrowing [my darlingest, Harrow! No matter how much I thank you it won't be enough! Thank you for being so patient with this piece and helping me bringing it to how it is now! Thank you for leaving so many compliments and reactions throughout the story and for putting up with my queries! They mean the world to me! And I feel like I haven't told you enough how amazing you are! Thank you for being the absolutely amazingest! Love you （づ￣3￣）づ╭❤️～]

皿 Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction. Just go with the flow, baby~

皿 Author's Note (I): It's finally here! Omg! It took me so long to complete this part... And idk if I should be proud or embarrassed to say that this isn't the end. There will be multiple chapters coming! Honestly, when I started writing this part I thought the entire story will end in this BUT the more I thought about this story the more it extended, more characters appeared, the story in my head got kinda complicated (?) So I thought I must write whatever's hotchpotch cooking inside my hot head! And it feels like it's just the beginning.

皿 Author's Note (II): It'd mean the world to me if you not only like but also REBLOG and let me know about your thoughts on this! ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠). Your feedback gives me the motivation to keep on writing ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ I would love to hear any thoughts! Even if it's an incoherent screech or just a "nice"!

皿 Taglist: @here2bbtstrash ; @sahazzy ; @minisugakoobies ; @sailoryoons ; @kiara-ish

皿 Crosspost: AO3 | Wattpad

皿 Sketches for better understanding: The Sketches

皿 Series Navigation: The Exit ⇰ Eleutheria ⇰ The Balam Manor (Upcoming)

皿 Summary: Jungkook not reaching home when he was supposed to doesn't sit right with you. You set out in search of him, only to find yourself in a mysterious manor with even more mysterious people who somehow don't seem too willing to let you go.

You couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling since you last talked to Jeongguk. 

The network on the main road remains intact throughout the way. So it was weird that there was a network disruption even when the weather was fine. 

Your mom and step-father tried to reason that things like these can happen sometimes and told you to just accept the odds. But it was too much of an odd that you couldn't connect to him once even after trying his number innumerable times and that he hadn’t arrived even by dawn when it hardly takes half an hour to forty-five minutes from where Jeongguk last called you - De Ville's Crest. 

Being a detective, you had seen the worst of what not taking action in time could do to a person. So without wasting any more time you took your car and went out to search for Jeongguk as soon as dawn gave into its first moment of morning. 

After getting out of the De Ville’s Crest, you continued to drive on the main road towards the city.

Throughout the way you looked for any sign of accidents and to your relief there weren’t any. 

Asking each and every store and commercial places on the way didn’t give you any desired answers either. 

It generally takes about two and a half hours from De Ville’s Crest to reach the junction but today it took you almost four hours. 

The grocery store at the junction of the main road and the shortcut, which barely anyone used, to The Moore Estate,  caught your attention. 

You had been traveling on this road as far as your memory took you back, but in those memories there was never a grocery store like this in this lonely intersection. 

If it wasn’t for the board hung up on top of the door saying “Taehyung Groceries”, you would have mistaken it for a greenhouse with its clean glass exterior that sparkled in sunlight and the numerous plants inside that made the products kept inside hard to notice. 

That’s a rather fancy grocery store. You thought to yourself. 

But what intrigued you the most to approach the store were the CCTV cameras placed outside the store — one facing the main road and one to the shortcut. 

Maybe one of them caught something…

You stopped your car in front of the store and went inside in hopes of getting some information. 

The air that greeted you upon entering carried a subtle scent of fresh rain and the forest at dawn that you sometimes visited with your step-dad, mixed with a light soothing scent of sandalwood incense and you found it extremely easy to breathe, as if you could sense the air get in and out of you.

Behind the counter you saw an old lady who looked 60-something. With a soft smile adorning her face she almost looked like she was glowing in her white full sleeve cotton shirt, white straight-leg trousers and white straight hair that flowed effortlessly reaching her hips. 

As soon as you crossed the threshold you heard her say, voice just above a whisper, “You are here!”

“Sorry?” You asked, surprised at her unusual greeting. 

“Nothing, my dear. Tell me what you want.” She smiled and walked out from behind the counter. 

You were quick to accept her explanation as you didn't have any patience to ponder about a greeting that she might have uttered whimsically. 

Hurriedly taking out your phone you showed her a picture of Jeongguk and asked, “Can you please tell me if you have seen him some time yesterday?” 

She took the phone from your hand and looked at it with squinted eyes for a couple seconds and then while passing it to you she said, “Oh my! Yes! I saw this gentleman yesterday. He bought a bottle of water from me a little after midnight. He asked me about the shortcut to The Moore Estate.”

Your eyes looked hopeful for the first time since last night but it was quick to give up that glint as soon as you heard about the shortcut. 

“Are you sure that he actually took the shortcut?” You enquired, trying to hold on to the possibility of him not actually taking it. 

The old lady pondered for a couple seconds before replying, “Well, we can always check the CCTV footage.” 

“Really? Can you please check? That would really help me a lot!” You exclaimed, both hopeful and grateful. 

“Of course. Why not?” The old lady answered and went back to her counter where her computer was. 

After a couple minutes of impatient waiting, you got called and you almost ran the short distance. 

The footage was from the CCTV facing the shortcut and it was showing Jeongguk’s car entering the shortcut at around 12:30 am. The footage wasn’t able to record much since it seemed like as soon as Jeongguk’s car entered that foreboding road it was swallowed by an impenetrable darkness. 

You covered your face that contorted in fear and helplessness. Your legs felt like jelly. As if sensing that the lady offered you a tool to sit down. 

“Why? Why does this keep happening to me?” You whimpered.

The strange string of incidents surrounding you resulting in the disappearance of your loved ones seemed to pull you at the throat, keeping you suffocated. 

First your dad, then your best friend Hoseok, and now Jeongguk. 

You felt like you were stuck in a terrible horror game and you were failing every level. 

The shortcut was famously infamous for being one of the creepiest and most dangerous areas in the state. And only people who didn't know about this route’s fame went in it. 

There had been numerous reports of people going missing over the years after taking this road at night. 

The authorities tried to investigate the place in search of potential criminal activities behind missing persons but found none — adding to its reputation. 

But what terrified you the most was your dad's repeated warning that still echoed in your ears, “Never ever take the shortcut to The Moore Estate at night. Not even in your dreams.” 

Thinking about your dad's ceaseless warnings and what could have happened to your boyfriend, your head felt light. 

“If I hurry I can still stop something bad from happening to him, right?” You thought and got up to leave. 

But the lady held your hand and said with that kind smile intact on her face, “You are my first customer today and it’s time for breakfast, you must be hungry. Have some sandwiches before you leave.”

She was right. No matter how much of an emotional wreckage you were, your body had its demands and the low grumble in your stomach was a definite whistle-blower. 

You sat down obediently and the lady brought two fluffy egg and bacon sandwiches on a plate for you. You told yourself that you must shove these down your throat and get going but these were hands down the best sandwiches you ever had, and God knew how hard you were trying not to relish on the taste or the relaxation that spread throughout your frazzled back instantly after you took the first bite.

As you were paying for the food and taking back the change in the counter, the lady asked, “Are you going to find your boyfriend?”

“Yes! I must hurry.” You nodded. 

The fact that you didn't mention to her about Jeongguk being your boyfriend had totally gone out of your mind. You also brushed off the fact that she used ‘find’ instead of ‘search’ in her question.

She lightly caressed your hair with a single stroke and smiled, “I hope you do. Here take this,” saying so, she handed you what seemed like a cookie the size of your palm, wrapped in a bluish silver wrapper, “for when you need it. This is on the house so don’t worry about paying. Now off you go.” 

Maybe it was because of the overpowering soft glow of hers that prevented you from noticing her eyes thus far which were so deeply pain-stricken that you couldn’t help but hug her and mentally said, “Everything’s going to be fine.” 

You wondered why you even said that when you should be the one to be told that instead. 

The lady gently patted your head and you felt a gentle whisper inside your head, “I know.” 

You couldn’t pinpoint but something about that and her hug cooled your nerves. 

Thanking her for the info and the food, you hurried outside and sped into the forbidding shortcut. 

The sun was bright above your head and you have been driving for almost an hour now at your topmost speed. But you hadn't come across any turning. The road went straight ahead without branching.

After another hour of driving you reached The Moore Estate, without noticing anything unusual.

I must be doing something wrong. 

You let out a frustrated sigh and ran your hand through your hair while turning your car around and starting again towards the road that you came from. 

But you were left disappointed again when even after reaching back at the junction you couldn't find the turning or any sign of Jeongguk's car. 

Stopping your car at the junction, you lowered your head on the steering wheel and tried to clear your mind.

Then as if suddenly having an epiphany a memory from eleven years ago played inside your head. 

Due to an emergency at home, your dad was taking you home from your boarding school late at night. You were fifteen then. 

Time in hand was short so your dad had decided to take the shortcut. You faintly remembered seeing a gas station but what you clearly remembered now was what your dad had said after crossing them at a speed of 130 km/hr. 

While keeping his sharp eyes on the road and never going down under the speed of 100, your dad had told you, “Do you wanna know a fun fact? Did you see that gas station that we crossed a while ago? It only appears after midnight. In the daytime you can never see it.” 

You remembered your dad’s tear laden face with which he had made you promise, “Promise me, you'll never take the shortcut after midnight! And even if you do, you won't stop anywhere in the middle. And no matter what happens, you won't take the road to Devil's Crest!”

Even though you didn't believe him back then, counting it as his way to scare you, you never took the shortcut - until today. 

And before the curious-you could ask him about what he said that night, your dad had disappeared from your life without a trace.

“I am sorry dad. I have to break the promise today. I have to find Jeongguk.” You whispered as you felt your tears trying to push their way out of your throat. 

Shaking off the sadness and the tears from your eyes, a technique that you had learned from Jeongguk and had countlessly teased him about, you looked at the time - it was 2 pm. 

You had 10 hours in hand.

You closed your eyes to think. You have to utilise the time properly and so you decided to go back home and come back with a few things that might come in handy. 

After reaching home, needless to say that you were bombarded with questions. 

You couldn't tell them that you would have explained everything to them if things were that easily explainable. But it wasn't, so you just told them to trust you and that you were going to find him. 

The last bit seemed like a reassurance to yourself. You were not sure if what you were thinking was right or not. But you ardently hoped it was. 

Packing your bag with warm clothes for both you and Jeongguk, a power bank for your phone, a strong fully charged flashlight, several water bottles, a first aid kit, your fully loaded desert eagle gun, and a compass, you started on your journey to find Jeongguk after having dinner. 

When you reached the junction, it was already dark and the moon was in the middle of the sky. 

The almost full moon was enthralling and you couldn't help but sigh and pray to it to look after Jeongguk and help you find him as quickly as possible. 

As night turned into midnight the number of vehicles on the main road decreased exponentially. The coldness started to settle onto the ground more rapidly and the surroundings were gradually getting abandoned by the signs of the city. The only trace of human civilization was the dim light coming from the old lady's grocery store. 

It was time to go but just before you were about to start your engine, your stomach growled loudly. 

You clicked your tongue disapprovingly and with a short sigh opened your bag to look for some snacks, but were quick to curse yourself when you realised that you had forgotten to pack any. 

But just then you remembered the cookie that the old lady had given you. You thanked her mentally and opened it. Was it your eyes playing tricks or did the dim light of the grocery store shine brighter for a second before going dim again?

The cookie was big - enough to defeat your hunger for now. The aroma of it was instantly appetising and after you tasted it, you regretted not getting more from her. You didn’t know whether it was just your luck or a weird coincidence that the cookie tasted of your favourite flavours — butter, orange, cashew — mixed to perfect ratio. But now there wasn't any time. So you quickly started munching on it. 

When you reached the middle of it you found a piece of paper inside and exclaimed, “Ah! So it's a fortune cookie!” 

Putting the rest of the cookie in your mouth in one go, you started reading it in the car light. 

The writing was written in golden block letters on a black paper and it read — 

WHEN ROADS ARE MISLEADING AND FALSE WORDS ARE SPOKEN

IN THE RULING DARKNESS SOMEONE'S TREASURED THING MUST BE BROKEN 

“Hmm...?” You were confused. It seemed more like a riddle than a fortune. 

You read it a couple times more and then kept it in your cargo trouser pocket with a shrug because you couldn't understand what it could mean. 

Before starting your engine you looked at the moon and prayed, “Please dad, look after Jeongguk for me while I get there.” 

••• 

The road was unsettlingly dark and your car headlights couldn't pierce further than a foot through it. 

The moonlight that was brightening the surroundings with its light just a while ago seemed to have disappeared. You couldn't even see the moon anymore. 

As if it was a sign that you have entered the forbidden shortcut now.

You drove really slow in order to avoid hitting something. 

And after driving for about twenty minutes you saw it - the gas station. 

Your fuel meter's arrow was almost near empty even though you had filled it full near the junction just before leaving. 

Your brows knitted themselves together but you decided not to stop. More so because you remembered your dad’s warning. You didn’t have any business in there anyways.

While driving past it you saw a lanky old man standing at the edge of the gas station as if waiting for you to enter. And when you crossed past it you saw him in the side mirror of your car - staring right at the mirror. 

You felt like he was staring right back at you as if he knew you were looking at him. 

You felt a chilly feeling run right through your spine and you pressed onto the accelerator to get out of the vicinity of the station as soon as possible. 

Has the road always been this long? 

Your doubtful gaze wandered over to your phone and you saw that it was almost 3 in the morning; that meant you had been driving for nearly three hours now. 

You were supposed to reach The Moore Estate by this time but you couldn't seem to get out of this seemingly never ending dark road. 

Another strange occuring caught your eyes that you had forgotten all this while - your fuel. The arrow which was near the empty mark near the gas station was now hovering in the near full section, right where it should be. 

Was it your eyes playing a trick with you again or was it really a deception caused by the negative entities present there to make one enter the gas station, you wondered. 

Fearing that you might miss the turning again you slowed down even more and stopped yourself from zoning out, but just then your phone alarm went off making you jump. You had forgotten that you had set an alarm at 3:03 am - when Jeongguk had called you. 

And then you saw it - Devil's Crest. 

An arrow-shaped wooden signboard with the name etched on it in a deep red colour, that almost gave the impression of dried blood on rotten wood, was pointing towards a road that had magically branched, creating a turning — leading to an obscurity.

You stopped your car and took a deep breath. A few slow breaths later, the fear of encountering something vicious began to settle on your shoulders. 

The repeated voice of your father telling – “never take the road to Devil's Crest, never take the road to Devil's Crest” – began to reverberate inside your head so loudly that you had to sit down, hold your head and pray for it to go away. 

Why now? Why now of all times? You felt miserable as tears started wetting your lashes. 

Jeongguk! You have to find Jeongguk! You slapped your ears in an attempt to make the voice go away and started taking deep slow breaths to calm yourself down. 

That seemed to work and a few minutes later the voices inside your head had died down. 

Parking your car off the road, you took your backpack and with the flashlight in your hand you stood in front of the signboard. 

The road ahead was iniquitously eerie, and not to mention, dark just like the rest of the area. It made you uneasy and your legs revolted to move. 

You took out the phone from your pocket to see the time but just then something fell off - it was the paper from the cookie. 

You picked it up and in the flashlight you read it again instinctively - 

WHEN ROADS ARE MISLEADING AND FALSE WORDS ARE SPOKEN

IN THE RULING DARKNESS SOMEONE'S TREASURED THING MUST BE BROKEN

“When roads are misleading... Never take the road to Devil's Crest…” you mumbled a couple times. Something told you that these two sentences juxtaposing like this was not a mere coincidence and that there must be some connection and intention behind them. 

“What could it be? What could it be?” You asked yourself and swung the flashlight haphazardly around the road and then your eyes and your flashlight loosely hovered over the overgrown bushes and the trees by the side of the road to Devil's Crest and you thought, 

What if I don't take the road and still enter the Devil's Crest? 

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, your legs felt light and a small amount of fear transformed into relief. 

You made your way through the overgrown weeds and grasses in between the trees and thought to go on a parallel line along the road but as soon as you struggled your way through the undergrowth and entered the woods you couldn't see the road anymore, as if you had mistakenly entered a whole different area.

You went back to where you entered and there you saw the Devil's Crest turning and the road. There was no way you were mistaken. 

“It must be because of the darkness,” you told yourself and re-entered the doomy forest. 

You stood there for a moment, worried that it’s going to be difficult to reach the destination, no matter how unknown, if you couldn’t see the road. What if you get lost in this darkness without any way out? 

But this awry feeling at the back of your mind telling you that this was the only way was too heavy, and so with the flashlight being the only source of light, you started walking straight ahead. 

You have been walking for a while now and except the occasional hooting of the owls and a constant chirping of the crickets there was nothing to keep you company. 

You didn't know where exactly to look at since this indomitable darkness was swallowing the light of your flashlight which resulted in you seeing only about a foot around your steps, nothing more. 

You called out Jeongguk's name constantly at regular intervals but with your calls dissipating in the woods, what came back to you as a reply was the annoyed chirps of the sleepy birds. 

You avoided swinging your flashlight around the woods in fear of witnessing something scary and you cursed your brain for reminding you all the countless horror movies you have ever watched right at the moment.

Disappointed and tired, you stopped for a water break and looked at the time. You had been walking for 45 minutes now and with you walking slowly because of the protruding branches and thorns grabbing onto your pants, there seemed to be little to no progress. You looked up and the moon and the stars were still absent, the sky was still black. 

Refusing to give up or take a break you dragged yourself forward with slow steps, on an energy saving mode. 

But then you saw it. Clearly. You were not surrounded by darkness anymore. You had reached a clearing from whose center four clear trails were going four ways and everything was grey, like a black-and-white movie. The moonlight illuminating the area after appearing so suddenly took you by surprise, making you come to an abrupt stop. 

You rubbed your eyes and looked back where you just came out from — it was still lightless. 

Everything around you seemed like something from a fever dream. 

I haven’t fallen asleep in the car, have I? You pinched yourself hard and you felt it quite realistically. 

What the fuck is this place? You glanced around while rubbing the area you pinched. 

Up until you were inside the forest area it smelled like any other woodland - a little musty and damp, rotten woods, several sweet fragrance coming from trees and moist earth. But as soon as you stepped into this part there was a drastic change in the odour. It smelt like cold steel and it set a little heavier on your nose. And then you noticed another weird thing in this already weird environment — a crossroad signpost with four wooden arrows pointing at four different directions making an X, where the trails met. 

Generally, a crossroad signpost at an intersection was something that is very very normal. But here, what made it strange was its heads not pointing towards the trails, instead the areas in between. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to the post. You looked at it intently with your flashlight. They were simple wood cutouts with nothing written on them. 

What are they even pointing at? You directed your flashlight at the grassy areas and each one of the trails. The trails were wide enough for three people to walk side by side and their condition indicated that they were used for regular commute. 

Something felt off. As far as you knew, people avoided taking the shortcut altogether. As far as its bad reputation goes, it seemed highly unlikely that there would be people using these isolated areas to travel. Also, the part of the forest that you came out from didn’t have a trail going in its direction. You were standing in one of the grassy areas just like the areas in between the other trails. That could also mean that one of these trails was connected to the road to the Devil’s Crest for it to at least take the travellers somewhere closer in this area. 

Earlier, just before entering the forest you had checked on your needle compass that the road to the Devil’s Crest was headed south. It was a complete wild guess, an arrow in the darkness, but you decided to take the trail that was headed south. 

You took out your compass from your jacket pocket and faced the southward trail. 

This should be fine, right? You took a long deep breath that made your shoulder go up and down. 

You stared at the road ahead but a heavy feeling in your gut made your body immobile. It made your heart scream to your mind, “I don’t wanna go there.” Your body was stiffening itself in its place, refusing to move forward — an instinctive stance to avoid whatever danger that might be lying ahead. 

You didn’t know how many minutes had passed with you just standing there. As if to give you a nudge, a chilly wind started to blow and a gauzy fog began to settle on the ground. 

To avoid the cold you hung the flashlight on your shoulder by its strings and put both your hands in your puffer jacket pocket. 

Inside your jacket pocket you found the wrapper of the cookie that you ate earlier. You took it out and as soon as you did a gust of wind blew it out of your hand. 

The wrapper, oddly shining in this dull grey environment, flew over to the grassy area to the left side of the southward trail. Along with the wind, the still-motionless fog began to mobilise. Instinctively you dashed towards the wrapper, passing the crossroad signpost, to retrieve it. But before that, for a split second you were quite certain that you noticed the fog through your peripheral vision floating on the trails, mobilized by the wind, moving towards where the trails lead to and there was no trace of them on the rest of the areas.

After grabbing the wrapper you turned around to confirm what you just saw but what you witnessed made you falter backward and you tripped on your own foot and fell on the ground. 

I must be going crazy! What in the Alice In Wonderland shit is this? 

You broke into a cold sweat. You felt the remaining energy from your body leave like a sheet that was covering you, gliding away from you. You were nothing but an object now. 

And your surroundings were nothing but empty now.

It was as if in those past fraction of seconds you weren’t looking, someone had erased everything — there was no crosspost signboard, neither were there any trails. It was just a vast field covered in small grasses, all nothing but grey.

Sitting there you forgot that you had to be somewhere. Your numb brain couldn’t say anything to your body and you sat there staring blankly at the now-empty space in front of you. You could hear a faint constant ringing inside your ears and a slow darkness gradually took over your eyes. 

A yellow light on your eyelids, shivers all over your body and the noise of accumulated chirping made you sit up with a startle. Still heavy with sleep, you rubbed your eyes to wake yourself up properly. 

The first rays of the sun were just touching the area and you discovered the reason behind your shivers. You were sleeping on the ground, under the open sky and needless to say the dews had settled upon you alongside everything. 

You looked around your surroundings - it was the same field that you saw before passing out, except it was now full of colour. The steel-like smell was long gone, instead the air was filled with the smell of wet grass. The sun rays fell upon the dark green leafy trees of the forest that surrounded the field covered in grasses, some plump green, many golden yellow and a few parched brown. Flocks of birds flew across the sky in search of food and the wetness under you seeping through your clothes was making its presence more prominent to you.

The normality of it all made you question whether what you witnessed just a few hours ago was even real. Maybe you had dreamt all of it, you wondered. And that made more sense to you. It definitely was a dream, you concluded. You had been traveling all day and night yesterday without any proper rest and the constant anxiety, along with the trip through the forest must have taken a toll on you. 

Lying down for such a long time in such an uncomfortable position on your side with the haversack still on your back had made your body sore. You took off the haversack and stretched your limbs and massaged your shoulders to make some of the soreness go away. Rubbing your face to remove the leftover haziness from your mind, you got up to get a better view of your surroundings. You were on a comparatively higher ground, which merged to a plain with a gentle slope and you noticed in the far south which seemed hardly a kilometre away from where you were — a mansion built in the old English style. 

“Have I wandered into someone’s private property?” You wondered, even though you were pretty sure you hadn’t noticed any warnings or boundaries on your way here.

Many people didn’t like strangers wandering inside their property and the residents of this mansion could very possibly be one of those, but in this situation your best shot was to risk the chance of getting kicked out with profanities and ask about your missing boyfriend, a way out of this forest to some nearby locality and if they were kind enough, then a moment’s proper rest. 

You put on your haversack and picked up the flashlight that was lying on the ground, luckily unscathed, by your side. 

The valley was uneven like waves which could go unnoticed unless walked on, making it strenuous to cross, but the weather in the morning was really soothing, which made you feel like everything was gonna be alright, and occasionally you stopped to take a brief breather by soaking in the sun with your eyes closed. 

Before your clothes could dry up in the breeze on the way, you found yourself standing in front of the main gate of the mansion. 

The mansion, even though built in the old English style, hardly seemed historic. It was well-cared with a similarly pampered garden.

The latch of the iron gate was unclasped and a stone slab to the right of the gate on the low boundary wall read - The Balam Manor. 

You felt like you had heard the name somewhere before but you couldn’t trigger that particular part of your memory.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” you whispered before letting yourself in through the gate. 

Another sixty metres walk and you were in front of the main door. It had one of those ropes attached with a bell system instead of electronic doorbells. 

You took a deep breath and rang the bell thrice and for the next several minutes you stood there with rapid tapping feets and drifting eyes.

A very tall old man opened the door who you could swear to have seen somewhere before. You looked up and stared at his face trying to figure out this odd sense of knowing but you were soon pulled out of your rigorous digging through your brain by his question, “Yes? How may I help you?” 

“I am sorry for disturbing your perfect morning, good sir, but actually I have come looking for someone and I was wondering if you have seen that person somewhere.” You smiled awkwardly and hoped for your flattery to work to a certain extent. 

The old man scanned you once from head to toe then back to your eyes. Then turning his neck to give a quick glance inside he turned back to you and replied, “Please wait a second. I’ll be right back.” 

Hardly a minute had passed before he came back and he said, “Please take your footwear off and come inside. Our ladyship has permitted you to be invited in.” 

Wow… I never thought I would hear this type of sentence in real life. Do I have to talk like that too? You thought but all you could really say was - thank you. 

The old man led you through a short hallway whose walls were decked out with paintings varying in sizes but all equally gorgeous and weirdly had the same theme — water. 

Midway through the hall room there were two majestic curved staircases leading to the first floor, merging into one platform overhead. 

You were guided into a large lavish living room crossing the staircases, which justified the mansion of such grace. The theme colour of the room was dark navy which adorned the couches, the fireplace, the walls, the curtains and was perfectly balanced with hints of gold and light brown. 

You were mesmerized and couldn’t stop admiring the space you had entered with your mouth agape. 

“Please take a seat. Her grace will be here shortly.” Saying that, the old man disappeared into the right wing hallway of the house. 

You nodded and sat there with fidgety fingers but your eyes were still busy praising all the ornate stuff decorated meticulously.

The room, greatly flooded with sunlight seeping in through the large windows, somehow smelt cold, as if the window was just opened prior to your entrance. But soon it was overcome by the smell of a perfume that felt like a lot of flowers mixed together, almost too sweet for your delicate nose, that seemed to have drifted in earlier than its owner could. 

With the mystery not remaining in hiding any longer, the owner appeared from the right hallway and you found yourself immediately standing up in the presence of an overpowering aura. 

The lady, standing almost at a height of 6ft, was wearing a solid black mermaid gown with a side-buttoned velvet blazer that hugged her slim torso so firmly that it seemed to be doing the work of a corset instead. Her black hair was made into a 50s starlet style and her makeup, in contrast to all the darkness in her dress-up, was light peachy. 

You thought it would be rude to cover your nose in front of her but the smell of the flowers was almost dizzying. Then a second smell hit you. It was of burnt wood. It was lingering subtly in the air and there was no way for you to know where it was coming from. 

The lady gestured you to sit down and she herself sat on the single seater sofa opposite to you. 

“I heard from Duri that you came here looking for someone?” 

“Yes. Let me first apologise for inconveniencing you like this. A complete stranger showing up at your doorstep early in the morning must be bothersome.” 

“Oh, not at all. We get visitors once in a blue moon. So seeing new faces around here is actually a treat for us old souls.” 

Her amicable mood made you feel relieved and your shoulders relaxed visibly. 

“Us old souls? Ma’am, you are far too young to be called an old soul.” Your compliment made her blush.

She smiled shyly and said, “Then I guess my makeup is on point today.” 

You opened your mouth to protest with some more compliments but she started talking. 

“So who are you looking for? We actually might be of some help.” 

With hopeful eyes, you briefly told her about your boyfriend going missing on his way to Moore estate and how you had been searching for him. Intentionally you kept all the help and the supernatural things to yourself. 

“We may have good news for you. We rescued a young man yesterday around dawn at the border of our property. Would you like to visit him and see if he is the boyfriend you mentioned?” The lady asked you with a sympathetic tone. 

You jumped at the possibility and stood up, “Yes! Please! Let me see him.” 

“Sure.” The lady stood up. “Follow me.” Saying so, she started walking towards the left hallway from the entrance. You followed her gliding steps. She stopped in front of the last room, and with a quick yet heavy exhale she opened the door. 

You entered behind her and rushed to the king size bed when she made way for you. 

It was Jeongguk. It really was Jeongguk. He was lying on the bed on his back with the lower half of his body covered in a comforter. He had a white cotton henley shirt with lace string on which you recognised wasn’t his. He was breathing slowly and he had a bandage going around his head which ran through the middle of his forehead. 

You sat by his side on the floor and held his hand. You couldn’t begin to express how grateful you were. The heavy stone in your heart was finally melting and you gave in to the urge of crying that you had been holding since yesterday. 

“Thank you. Thank you for being here.” Holding his right hand, you rubbed it gently against your forehead and placed a long kiss on it. 

Seeing no response from him, worry started to settle in your mind again. You turned towards the lady and asked, “Excuse me, ma’am, what happened to him? Why isn’t he responding?” 

“Oh dear.” The lady briskly walked towards you and reached out her hand towards you. You took a few seconds to grasp what she was trying to do and then you slowly placed your hand in hers and let her guide you up towards the small couch that was seated beside the window of the room. 

Sitting so close to her, the burning smell along with the stinging flowery scent hit your nose brutally. You let out a quick cough to ease that squeezing feeling around you.

She held your hand in a sympathetic manner and began to explain, “Yesterday dawn, at around 4 am, Duri found him near our border property in the far south. He was unconscious which seemed to have resulted from him driving straight into a tree ahead. Duri brought him to our home immediately. We have an in-house doctor who treated him but he hasn’t regained consciousness since. The doctor has informed us that he is out of any life-threatening danger. He just needs to regain his consciousness. So don’t worry. He is doing better than you are giving him credit for.” 

She smiled at you but you couldn’t help but feel anxious. You glanced at Jeongguk for a mere second and asked, “Wouldn’t it be better to take him to a hospital now instead of just waiting? I am sorry. I am not trying to undermine your doctor’s judgment but it’s just that a hospital seems to be a more efficient option. So if you don’t mind, please can you tell your attendants to show me where Jeongguk’s car is? I think it'd be better if I get going right now.” 

The room was dimly lit by a candle lamp and the sunlight was playing hide and seek with the room by seeping in through the heavily drawn curtains which were slowly quivering because of the wind trying to get inside from outside. 

In that flickering light you felt like you saw the lady’s face harden for a split second before easing into an almost condescending smile, “Oh dear, you mustn’t have properly heard what I was saying earlier. I can understand. Grief, anxiety, stress do that to people. His car had driven straight ahead into a tree so it’s severely damaged. A mechanic is currently working on it in one of our warehouses.”

“Then can I at least use your phone to call an ambulance? I think that’d be an even better option anyway. He’ll start getting treatment on the way.” 

“We don’t have cellular networks here. Neither do we have a landline connection. You must have noticed that there are no electric wires near our mansion. In case of emergencies, Duri himself has to go and bring back any expert needed. I am afraid we live an exceptionally solitary life. If we had a car we could have arranged for his transportation at the earliest hour but as you can tell we are very old fashioned so we only use horses and carriages which I daresay is not the best option to have him ride on in this condition. I would suggest you to save your worry and hope that his car gets repaired soon. I’ll leave you be until then.” 

The lady, without sparing another glance, walked out of the room, leaving you wondering if you said something that offended her greatly. 

You couldn’t understand why this household would choose to live in such helpless conditions when the world has progressed so much. What if there was a life or death situation? They wouldn’t even be able to get some help. 

You sighed heavily and dragging a chair you sat near Jeongguk. You thought it would be best to just wait for his car to get repaired then get out of here as soon as possible. The people here had already gone out of their way for your boyfriend. It was rude of you to question and tell them what would be better when they were already doing their best with everything at their disposal. 

You held your boyfriend’s hand, which felt colder than it did a moment ago and said, “I should say sorry, right? I’ll be right back.” 

You placed a chaste kiss on his hand and pulled the comforter upto his neck before leaving the room to look for the lady of the house and also for the doctor; Jeongguk’s temperature wasn’t normal. 

The living room was empty. In fact, you didn’t get the hint of anybody being present throughout your way. You felt like you were the only one in the entire mansion. 

There was an eerie feeling that sat in your gut and just to confirm that weird suspicion, you ran back to the room where Jeongguk was. You let out a quick relieved sigh as soon as you saw Jeongguk, just as you had left him. 

You let your body let itself find comfort in the cushiony chair and you decided to look for others a little later. You told yourself that no matter how detached this place was from the rest of the world, the people living here still have work to do. They couldn’t loiter around some unannounced guest all the time. 

•••

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the atmosphere was quite grim for Lady Ruth Livingston and her loyal servant Duri. 

This kitchen was located in an extended part of the mansion, outside the main building and could only be accessed through a secret passage built along the rear side wall of the building. Apparently, according to her husband, Mr. Yi Jaejoong, kitchen inside a home ruins the vibe of the home. The secret passageway, while serving as a regular route for the servants for accessing the different parts of the manor like the kitchens, the laundry rooms and the servant quarters, also served the role of an escapeway and had a backdoor for emergency exit if there was any danger. Although, there was no way of telling the back door from the outside since it was camouflaged with the entire wall — much like the windows that were lined up with the windows of the main living room, creating optical illusions of a singular wall in place of two. 

After leaving you alone inside the mansion, Lady Ruth had immediately made her way towards the kitchen with a grave expression on her face. As soon as she neared the kitchen, Duri, who was preparing meat for jjigae, brought the cushioned mahogany chair that was only used by his owner and kept it near the entrance, outside the kitchen — for the lady had a deep distaste for heat.

“Are you quite done with the preparations?” Lady Ruth asked after taking her seat. 

Duri, who had immediately taken his position near his lady’s feet, sat kneeling down while supporting his hips on his ankles for some comfort. 

He slowly shook his head and answered, “Not really, milady. It seems preparing physical food is quite the task.” 

“Then summon some minions and get it done at the earliest. The lass is getting on my nerves. I can’t figure out how she ended up here!” 

“Surely, milady.” Duri gave a polite nod. 

“Are you keeping something from me?” Seeing his owner leaning towards him, Duri gulped and then stuttered, “I- I saw her last night driving past the station.” 

“Did you do what you were supposed to?” With her face awfully close to Duri’s, she ran a single line with her cold index finger from near Duri’s ear across, over his jaw line. 

“I d- did, milady. But she never stopped for gas!” Noticing the little tremors running through Duri’s hand, Lady Ruth smirked. 

“Must I remind you that your job is to lead people into the Devil’s Crest no matter how! You must feed them or their belongings. If you don’t do your job properly how am I supposed to take care of myself? You are not supposed to slack off, Duri. See what happened, just because you let someone off the hook and they didn’t stop at your stupid little gas station! This must mean you have let a good number of souls just go by without me knowing!” 

Duri’s lips trembled. “I… I- I am extremely sorry, milady. It won’t ever happen again. P- Please I beg for your forgiveness.” 

“Oh, Duri… I wish it was this easy for me to forgive. One must punish disobedient pets to make sure they don’t repeat the same mistake twice. You have been ignorant while knowing what I feel. And more times than you should be forgiven for. I think I must remind you again what it feels like to be me so you could be more diligent next time.” 

Lady Ruth Livingston snaked her left hand behind Duri’s neck and held his jaw firmly with her other hand and placed her lips on his. In her firm hold, Duri couldn’t protest. He closed his eyes as he felt her tongue touch his and her fingers pressed on the binding emblem on his neck. Duri winced as a fast burning sensation spread across his entire body. The mild sensation soon turned into a blazing fire all over his body. Duri’s screams got lost somewhere inside Lady Ruth’s mouth. 

By the time it ended, Duri had no energy to even stay seated. In barely a minute, he was half his usual body and his skin developed new wrinkles.

Looking at Duri’s wheezing body on the floor, Lady Ruth wiped her lips and said, “My husband would have been so heartbroken if he saw me shoving my tongue down some other man’s throat.” She smiled and gently stroked Duri’s hair, “I am so glad that he is dead.” 

Duri weakly glanced at her but couldn’t say anything. 

Seeing him like that, Lady Ruth got up and said, “My poor Duri. I’ll summon the minions in your stead to have the lunch prepared in time. She has a strong aura. Her distress will ease my pain like no other.” 

•••

“When do you think you’ll be able to come and visit my parents?” You asked and smiled bashfully, imagining Jeongguk asking your parents for your hand in marriage. 

“I seriously can’t wait, babe. I just want to run to you right now and take you in my arms and kiss you until you get tired of it!” Jeongguk exclaimed, hardly being able to contain his happiness or excitement.

“You mean until forever ends?” You replied. 

“Mhm. Yes, that’s exactly how long I am planning.” You could feel Jeongguk’s smile through the call. 

“You have to get here first though.”

“I’m getting out right now! How am I going to wait for seven whole hours? Hm? My sweetest wifey?” 

“Woah. Not yet, mister.”

“Soon to be. Soon to be~.” 

“Yes… Very soon. But you don't have to rush. You can just come here on the weekend. Otherwise your boss will give you an earful.” 

“But-” 

“No ‘buts’. I promise I'll be fine. And it's just three days anyways.” 

“Hmph. Okay. Fine. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

That fateful morning everything in your little world in Moore Estate changed when you found out you were pregnant. When you called Jeongguk to let him know, he reciprocated the same happiness as you felt. You felt like a large part of your empty heart was filling up. 

But soon everything took an upsetting turn when you received a call from Hoseok’s sister that same evening about Hoseok going missing. 

A couple of months ago Hoseok had moved into a mansion in the outskirts that a long-distance uncle of his had left for him in his will. Hoseok had been in a hurry to move out and get married so he had leaped at the offer and wanted to move in as soon as possible to remodel the mansion. After that, communication with him gradually became scarce which you just ruled out as him being busy remodeling the house. 

You wanted to visit his mansion right away but when you called Jeongguk to let him know about the situation he strictly opposed it and insisted on accompanying you there. 

Your estate fell on the way to Hoseok’s new place, though it was still a considerable distance away. So you had suggested to Jeongguk to pick you up from your estate and then both of you could go there together. 

Now all of it screamed wrong decision and you blamed yourself for not warning your boyfriend beforehand. 

•••

“Excuse me, milady. Her grace is waiting for you in the living room. Please let me lead you. We have prepared some refreshments.” Your remorseful revisitation to that day was interrupted by Duri who was standing at the door. 

“Sure.” You got up. You looked back at Jeongguk and said, “I’ll be right back.” 

You followed Duri — who appeared a bit worn out and definitely older than he seemed that morning — to the living room. You sat on a two seater sofa opposite the lady of the house; the ornate low table in front of you was filled with a huge variety of cookies and a cup of ginseng tea was kept in front of you. 

“I am really sorry. I feel like it was really rude of me how I talked to you earlier. You are not obliged to but you are still helping us so much. I can’t even begin to thank you. Please tell me how I can make it up to you?” You said, thinking it was only fair to apologise since she only offered what she thought was best. 

“We can start with introductions. I am Ruth Amelia Livingston.” Lady Ruth took her cup of tea from the table and signalled you to take yours before taking a sip. 

You stammered before answering, surprised at her instant acceptance of your apology, “S- sure. I am Park Sowon.” 

“That’s a beautiful name. I have never really liked my name, so my husband always lovingly called me Balam. He used to say that I am ungraspable like the wind.” Putting the hot cup on the plate in her left hand she smiled sadly. 

“Used to? He doesn’t anymore?” You asked without thinking.

“Well, yes. I wish you could meet him. He was a jolly man. When he was alive, this building felt alive too. He took its life with him when he left for the afterworld.” 

“I am sorry… for your loss. It must be really hard losing the love of your life… I can’t even begin to imagine how I am going to continue to live on if something happens to Jeongguk.” Your voice cracked remembering the fact that you almost did. 

“Well, you learn to live with the pain… I loved him alright. But he… loved me more. I daresay I am rather thankful that he didn’t live to see my death.” Her nonchalant words left you momentarily speechless. 

Before the atmosphere could get awkward you said, smiling thinly, “Accepting to be in sorrow rather than letting your loved one live in that situation is an act of tremendous love in itself. I think you love your husband as much as he used to.”

“Oh my, aren’t you a charmer? Thank you, dear. You are the first person whose words comforted me so deeply since my husband’s passing.” She kept her right hand on yours and looked at you with a warm smile, unlike her frigid hands; you noticed her tears staying at the edge of her eyelid margin. 

“I think I should apologise too.” She continued after sitting straight. 

You looked at her questioningly while picking up the third cookie from the plate. 

“As I told you earlier, we live in a completely different world than yours. And I was inconsiderate of your feelings, quite shamefully so. You were right in getting worried. And I only thought of how I have always handled things here. I am sorry for that.” 

“No please, it’s alright. I can see your point of view now. Thank you for being so kind again.” You paused. Something stirred inside you, like a big sadness that had been dormant for a long time at the bottom of your heart seeping out slowly. 

“Actually, I have lost someone precious to me too, a long time ago, in a very similar incident. Perhaps that’s the reason why I have been so sensitive.”

You glanced at her as if you needed a moment before uttering the words, “It was my father.” The last word got mingled with the sadness stuck in your throat. 

“Oh dear, what happened to him?” Lady Ruth kept her empty cup on the table and looked at you with concern. 

You looked at her but your eyes couldn’t see her anymore — you were taken back to the time that you hated remembering the most. 

•••

Winter was just beginning to settle itself in the early October air when one night your dad had suddenly showed up at your boarding school and filled out a form requesting your emergency leave for a week. 

Be it for his whimsical nature or his adventurous mind, on numerous occasions he had taken you to many such impromptu trips. Despite being so used to such endeavours of your most favourite person in the world, your fifteen year old self couldn’t help but take notice of the anxiousness that his face wore that night. You knew almost instantaneously that this wasn’t one of your trips. 

After an hour-long train ride from the city, you got off at the nearest train station from your locality. But as soon as you did so, your dad took you directly to the car parked in the parking lot of the station — which was unusual since your dad always bought you pretzels from a particular store after getting off there. 

Luckily, unlike other times you didn’t feel hungry as an old lady with long white hair who was sitting on the opposite seat to yours offered two cookies each to you and your dad, but your dad being too anxious to eat had given you his share as well. 

“We don’t have much time so I am going to step on it, alright? Hold tight.” Your dad had said before racing straight into the shortcut that no one knew the name of and no one bothered to keep one either — for everyone it was just a shortcut that everyone should avoid. 

Why is dad taking this dark road? You couldn’t help but feel concerned. 

The only things that provided little comfort were that it was your dad you were with, and the speed at which he was driving to take you home soon. 

Soon you had passed the very same gas station that you had no idea that you would be crossing again eleven years later. 

Your dad had told you some things about the gas station that you took as nothing more than a joke to lighten the atmosphere. 

When you reached home at around 2am, the churning feeling inside your gut gave away its reason for being. 

You saw your mom, your aunt-in-law, your grandparents and all the people that worked in your estate gathered in the hallroom with grave expressions. As soon as you entered the room your grandmother had taken you into her embrace and weeped. 

“What’s going on?” You had asked. 

Before anyone could answer you, you felt your dad’s hand on your shoulder and you turned around. He sat you on the sofa and crouching down on his knee he held your hands, “Sweetheart, your uncle is missing along with his friend… And I must go find them and bring them back.” 

“But what about the police?” 

“It’s my responsibility… I must be the one to go. The police won’t be of much help anyways. Don’t worry, I will surely bring them back. You just have to be the absolute sweetheart as you are and stay with your mom, alright?” Saying so, your dad stood up and with a slight nod at everyone, he walked out of the house. 

You couldn’t stand watching him go away like that so you yanked your hand out of your mom’s and ran after him. 

He was just about to get into his car but he stopped when he heard you call him. You ran and hugged him tightly, “Take me with you, please dad. It will be faster if we look together, won’t it? I am sure we will be able to spot them quicker and be back home even before dawn breaks. Dad? Please say something!” 

Your dad broke himself out of your hug and sat on the car seat. He gently wiped the tears off of your face and kissed your forehead and murmured, “My sweet angel… I have already put your uncles in danger because of my foolishness… How can I put you in a similar situation when I know what might lie ahead…” 

His words sent an uneasy fear down your spine but he didn’t let you question him. Instead he immediately held your arms and looked into your eyes with a serious expression, “Promise me, you'll never take the shortcut after midnight! And even if you do you won't stop anywhere in the middle. And no matter what happens you won't take the road to Devil's Crest!” 

You shook your head, “Only if you promise to come back by morning.” 

Your dad smiled sadly and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

You wiped his tears gently and as the other family members started to come out, you quickly whispered, “It’s not your fault, dad.” 

Seeing the others, he hurriedly got into his car. He placed a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and before driving off he said, “I love you, sweetheart.”

Your “I love you too” subsided in the ground with the descending mist. 

•••

You lowered your face into your palms trying to stop the streaming of warm tears into your warm hands.

You had no idea when Lady Ruth had sat beside you but when you felt her hand gently stroking your hair and back, you looked up at her and wiped your wet cheeks, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to bawl my eyes out like this.” You chuckled, “It’s just that I suddenly miss him so much.” 

Lady Ruth smiled awkwardly, “Do you know why people avoid the shortcut?”

You shook your head.

“There’s a rumour that plagues this area… that a witch haunts the shortcut road and its surroundings. That she takes people's souls to feed herself. Many people have gone missing over the years, fueling the rumour, eventually forcing people to avoid this area altogether.” 

“Have you seen that witch?” You asked as goosebumps lined your skin. 

Lady Ruth scoffed, “No, I haven’t. Though Duri has witnessed some gruesome murders by poachers who come to the forest to hunt for the rare pangolins but encounter humans instead. Sometimes one or two lucky humans make it out of their harsh luck…” She paused. Then looking in your eyes she said, “Eleven years ago one such human sought refuge in our home. He was badly injured and he did his best to hold up for a week. But we couldn’t avoid the misfortune. His… name was Park Yunseok.” 

For a moment you felt like there was a heavy stone placed on your head and you were drowning. You couldn’t breath and your ears rang a constant tone. 

Your face contorted as you dug up the word from inside your throat, “D-Dad?” 

“I am afraid so…” Lady Ruth said. “Would you like to visit his grave?” 

Did you? You didn’t have the courage — neither to find the answer to your question, nor to face your father’s resting place. 

But I should. Otherwise how would your dad feel that you came this near and didn’t visit him?

“I should.” You replied. 

“Yeah.” Lady Ruth smiled faintly and stroked your hair one more time before getting up. 

You walked behind Lady Ruth and Duri as they led you to the south-east part of their property. After walking for a few minutes through their immaculately taken care of and beautifully designed garden, you reached a small perfectly mowed yard. At the end of the yard, there was a small patch of land that was covered in gerbera daisies and in the middle you saw your dad’s grave housed in marble and an epitaph - rising a foot above the ground - that said — 

HERE LIES THE MAN WHO GRACED THE EARTH WITH THE SMILE MOST BEAUTIFUL

PARK YUNSEOK

PUT TO REST - 17 OCTOBER OF YEAR 2131 

You sat beside his grave and smiled looking at the daisies surrounding it, “He must have told you about his favourite flower..” You looked up at Lady Ruth and said, “Thank you. I know he… likes it here.” 

You looked down immediately to hide your fresh batch of tears and requested quickly, “Can I have a moment with him alone, please?” 

“Of course, my dear. We’ll be going back to the house. Take your time.” You didn’t look up as you nodded but you could feel them leaving. 

A few minutes passed with you staring at the ground then you slowly looked to your back to make sure they were far enough. 

You slowly looked back and touched the grave — first with just the tip of your fingers and then with your palm. Despite the sun over your head the stone was cold and you started stroking it gently. 

“Dad… Is it cold in there? I am sorry… I couldn’t arrange for your cremation or hold a proper funeral for you. Still I am glad that you met some decent people to be there for you in your last moments and they made you a nice place to rest. Don’t worry. I’ll be a good girl and thank them properly.” 

You paused to take a deep breath and as it slowly left your lungs in a shaky exhale, your chest hurt as if thousand hammers were going off at once. 

The fatigue of all of the years you were looking for your dad came crashing down on you all at once — the memories of going through the tireless four years of nosebleeding university life, becoming an official detective, tolerating the prejudices, swallowing the scoldings for trying to gather information about your dad’s whereabouts, being told off for using police resources and time for personal use and finally quitting the job to look for him independently — like a tsunami.

“Dad…” Another shaky breath escaped your lungs and you couldn’t control your tears anymore. “I am… I am sorry dad… I should have been there for you. It must have been so hard for you to not see any of us in your last moments. I am sorry dad. I wish it was me instead of you. Dad, I miss you so much…” You didn’t care if your voice was going to disturb the noiseless peace around here, you wailed calling your dad and hugged the grave as much as you could. The tears streaming down your cheeks mixed with your running nose wetted the grave and the coldness of the stone felt a little warm. 

“Dad.. dad… can’t you ask God for a second chance? Can’t you beg him to send you back in time? That way you could prevent that awful night from happening and you could see me grow up and get married to Jeongguk and play with your grandkids… That way mom wouldn’t be sad and mom wouldn’t marry Jiho and I wouldn’t have to call him ‘dad’... I hate it when mom forces me to call him dad in front of others… I hate it. He is not my dad. No one can ever take your place, dad. Please come back, dad. And tell me that you are proud of me and I grew up just the way you hoped I would. Dad… Dad? Please say something. Call me and wake me up from this nightmare… Dad…” Your breath hitched and you started having trouble breathing because of your blocked nose. The pain in your chest increased and you felt sick in your stomach. 

You stood up and ran outside the flower patch and vomited everything that you had eaten a while ago. You felt dizzy and a burning irritation shot up from your throat to your nose to your brain. With weak steps, you reached the grave and hugged it to get some rest and a much sought comfort. 

••• 

From the window of her bedroom, which was located at the far south-east of the manor, Ruth Livingston was watching you with her vintage brass binoculars. Her lips twitched at its corner and her eyes gleamed in ecstasy. 

Never peeling her eyes away from you she addressed her loyal servant Duri who was standing upright by the door and exclaimed, “Tch tch. Poor thing. Crying, wailing, writhing in pain… all on a grave that’s not even real.” 

Her laughter resounded throughout her bedroom and she felt an unparalleled joy, “If just watching her like this is this satisfying, then imagine how wonderful I am going to feel when she becomes a part of my collection? She should be ready by now. Go, bring her. I can’t wait anymore.” 

“Right away, your grace.” Duri replied and turned to leave. 

But right then her shout compelled Duri to turn back around instantaneously, “NO! No no no! Don’t! Don’t ruin my happiness, you disgusting vile little rat! Duri! Look at her! She is vomiting all the feeds! She is emptying her guts on my beautiful flower beds! Bring her back at once!” 

•••

You must have fallen asleep after getting tired because of the physical and emotional toll all the crying took on your body. When you woke up you found yourself lying down on the couch in Jeongguk’s room. 

You sat up slowly and softly placed your palms on your swollen eyes. The darkness of the room made you wonder how long you have been out of it. 

Jeongguk was still unconscious. As you watched him from your position it was hard to even tell whether he was breathing or not. 

You got up and sat near Jeongguk. His body temperature was still on the colder perimeter; the only thing that somewhat assured you was his slow breathing. 

You held his hand as tears accumulated in your eyes again. 

I don’t think I can survive losing someone again.

••• 

“Ah! This is so amusing! Ha ha ha!” Swaying in her armchair, Ruth Livingston laughed like she hadn't in a very long time. 

“Duri, you never told me it was this enthralling to catch prey! I am thinking of joining you from now on. On that note, prepare a scrumptious feast for her. I want her to be well fed so that she has the energy to cry a little more! Ah! I didn't expect her to react like that… Now I have to make another miscarriage potion, which is going to take a while. It’s a little setback that I cannot have her with an untainted soul living inside her but that only means I can play with her a little longer. Prepare that thing beforehand so I can give it to her after lunch.”

Duri bowed deeply and silently left the room to carry out the order he was given. 

•••

When you were at the hospital, a few years back, because of appendix surgery, the nurses and the doctors constantly came to check up on you and feed you medicine at designated times. What reminded you of that time was the fact that it had been almost seven hours since you came here and you hadn't seen the doctor — that lady Ruth doted on so much — visit Jeongguk even for once!   

It was worrisome. You didn't want to keep Jeongguk in such a neglectful situation when you didn't have any idea how severe his injuries were. 

His body was getting colder by the minute and his appearance turned paler; it didn't even feel like a living person's body anymore. 

I have to pressure the mechanic myself to repair Jeongguk's car within today, preferably before the sun sets.

You kept Jeongguk's hand down by his side gently and got out of the room. Duri was standing right outside the door which startled you. As soon as he saw you he politely said, “It’s time for lunch, milady. I have come to escort you.” 

“Oh! Thank you, sir.” You replied immediately. 

Tch! I should have denied and asked him to lead me to the mechanic.

“Please call me Duri. I am not to be addressed as ‘sir’ by a guest of this manor.” Duri said in his usual stoic manner. 

You didn’t want to argue on ways this household worked so you just decided to ask him about the whereabouts of the mechanic instead, “Oh… Okay. By the way, Duri, can you tell me where the warehouse is where Jeongguk’s car is getting fixed?” 

There was a moment’s pause before he replied, “I must have her grace’s permission before taking you there, milady. You can ask her for yourself at the table.” 

“That I shall do then.” You replied and nodded your head to yourself. 

You were led into the dining room where Lady Ruth was already seated. The long and finely polished Indian rosewood dining table with a capacity to seat fourteen people, in the middle of the room, painted in a combination of matte orange and Carolina blue, had long fallen from its prime with only Lady Ruth being its sole user. 

It was indeed a surprise to you — you didn’t know what you were expecting but it was certainly not her words being true about the only three residents of this vast mansion.

I would be out of my wits if I had to live alone like this in a single place. 

After you took your seat, Duri started bringing in dishes one by one and it felt like his trips from the food trolley to the dining table were never ending. Before long, the table was filled with delicacies, most of which you were seeing for the first time. 

“Please dig in. Duri here is no less than a Michelin chef.” Lady Ruth said with a proud smile. 

Your eyes travelled over all the dishes that covered the table and you couldn’t imagine how Duri managed to prepare all these single handedly in such a short time especially taking into consideration the fact that it took you at least one hour to prepare only three dishes. 

You took a bite from the savory appetiser placed right in front of you. Your head immediately turned towards Duri who was standing by the food trolley and you exclaimed with big eyes, “Duri, this is seriously so delicious! With this skill you should consider becoming a professional chef! You would totally kill it!” 

A bewildered expression flashed on Lady Ruth’s face which you luckily caught instantly and you corrected yourself immediately, “I mean not literally kill anything. It’s a figure of speech that people use nowadays to say that someone would be outstandingly good at something. Ha ha. Please don’t misunderstand.” 

There wasn’t much of a muscle movement on Duri’s face and you were relieved when you saw the proud smile on her lips returning, “That’s a dangerous figure of speech. Anyway, I told you so. Though I don’t know if he’ll be wanting to leave me alone here.” 

You quickly glanced at Duri, then to Lady Ruth and said, “I am sure he isn’t willing to.” 

Lady Ruth didn’t say anything but the smile did grow a little. 

You waited for a moment to pass before asking, “By the way, your grace, if possible I would like to meet the mechanic to know how the repair is going. Gguk’s… I mean Jeongguk’s condition is worsening and I am sorry if I sound rude but I haven’t seen your doctor visit him even once since I arrived…” 

Lady Ruth swallowed the food in her mouth and looked at Duri, “Duri?” 

“Doctor Jung stopped by twice to check on Miss Park’s boyfriend since morning — once when your graces were having tea and the second time when Miss Park was not conscious. He also checked up on Miss Park while he was there and said that he’d talk to her when she is awake.” All this while Duri answered looking at Lady Ruth and his eyes never wavered your way, not even when he mentioned your name in front of you as if you were not present in the same room. His behaviour was telling you how insignificant you were to a mere servant of this manor and that you should watch how you speak with the master of this very manor. You couldn’t refute, as the guilt of your own words felt heavier on your tongue than the insult on your chest. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t know.” You managed to raise your voice a notch higher than a mumble. 

“Please don’t worry about it. People behave in a lot of ways when they are not informed about certain situations. Especially when they are desperate. So I can understand you. Duri will take you to the warehouse after lunch. Please finish your meal.” After saying this to you with her voice as calm as ever she went back to eating. 

Both of you ate silently, and soon you had finished everything that was served to you, which was, considering your regular eating capacity, quite excessive. 

After the table was cleared, you were led to the living room. Duri brought an envelope on a small tray. Lady Ruth took the envelope and handed it to you and said, “Your father… left this with us.” 

Even before you could open the envelope, tears accumulated in your eyes. You sat down and wiped your wet eyes before taking out the note. 

It was a short letter written on a torn diary page. 

My sweet angel, the light of my life, 

Please forgive this cruel dad of yours for not keeping the promise he made. I am sorry that I had to leave like that and now… I am leaving again… I wish I could see you one last time. 

The letter ended abruptly. You flipped to see if there’s anything more but there wasn’t. You checked the envelope and found a polaroid inside it which was a picture of you and him, that was taken on your fifth birthday picnic, that he always kept in his wallet. 

The heaviness inside your throat was back again and you found it hard to breathe. Not wanting to put the burden of consoling you on your hosts, you said as your voice trembled, “I’ll excuse myself to Jeongguk’s room. Sorry.” 

You darted out of there and couldn’t notice the slight nod that Lady Ruth gave you, nor the light crooked smile that formed on her lips. 

Entering the room, you closed the door behind you and let yourself slide down its length. Your chest hurt. The pain hung on your rib cages like rotten branches and no matter how much you pounded on them to make them go away, they didn’t. Defeated, you hugged your knees close to yourself and cried on them and there was only one thought that reverberated throughout your brain. 

Dad, please come back. 

In search of comfort, you went to sit on the chair kept beside Jeongguk. Holding his cold hands you kept your head on the bed. Your fingers fiddled with his pale ones and your unceasing tears wetted his bedsheet. You wished he would wake up any time now and would hug you until you felt better. 

Your tears slowed down as minutes went by and your line of vision got clearer. But the person who came in after swinging the door open with all his might made you rub your eyes for a good moment to get the clearest view because how the hell is Hoseok here?

You sat up straight but you were too dumbstruck to stand up and react in a way you would when you saw him normally. 

“Wonwon! Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Wonwon speak to me!” You could faintly hear him enquire you while checking your pulse. You were too busy processing the sense of familiarity that you had been seeking all this while to answer him. The sound of his nickname for you — that he had given you when you two were just little kids with runny noses in preschool because pronouncing ‘Sowon’ was too much for him — fell on your ears like holding a warm mug of cocoa in a freezing winter evening.

When the layer of daze wore off you hugged him tightly and exclaimed, “I am… totally fine… now! I am just so so happy to see you, Hoba! So happy! Are you even real? I am not seeing things, am I? How are you even here in the first place?” 

Hoseok sighed in relief and breaking out of your hug he smiled, “What do you mean ‘how’? I live here!” 

After he made you sit back on the chair he sat on the floor and said, “I sent you my address, don’t you remember?” 

Hearing him say that, you finally remembered the text he sent you with his location just before moving in — The Balam Manor, Witch’s Cradle.

No wonder the name seemed so familiar when you read it initially at the entrance. 

But you still had many questions that needed to be answered so you asked him, “I remember now. But your sister called and told me that they couldn’t reach you for many days. You must have sent them your location, haven’t you?” 

“Really?” Hoseok looked puzzled. “I have sent them my location, I remember for sure. Have they gone to the wrong place? And moreover, I couldn’t reach them for a few days now, so I was thinking of visiting them, but we found Jeongguk and I couldn’t just leave him like this.” 

“Wait, Hoba! You said you inherited this mansion and you were going to renovate it… Then what’s Lady Ruth doing here?” 

“Oh… that?” Hoseok smiled awkwardly; you thought he even looked a little sad. “There’s been a mix up. I did inherit it kind of but Aunty Ruth, my uncle’s wife, is still alive, and even though uncle had written it off to me, aunty still has some right on it so it was decided that this floor will be aunty’s for as long as she lives. And the remaining floors above, that is, the first and second, are mine.” 

“Are you okay? What about Ji-a? Is she okay with this?” You asked. 

“Well, you know her. She is a bit taken aback. But the good thing is that she said she will prepare her mind about this situation and join me in a few days and help me with the renovations.” 

“Well Ji-a has always been a sensible one!” You smiled. 

“Just like her boyfriend.” Hoseok smiled smugly. 

“Yeah, of course.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“So you are the in-house doctor that Lady Ruth mentioned!” You squinted your eyes playfully at Hoseok.

“Is that how she talked about me?” He asked. “Well, can’t blame her. She didn’t know that we knew each other. Not gonna lie that I don’t feel a little bad though… She still hasn't fully accepted me. That’s understandable as well. Imagine someone you never heard of comes and says that your dead husband has given your home to them! I would totally go berserk. She still is willing to cooperate.” 

“Yeah…” Your voice trailed off. After Hoseok’s comment about ‘dead husband’ you could barely pay attention to what he was saying as your eyes wandered to Jeongguk and the ache in your chest was back. 

Hoseok followed your eyes and held your hands, “Wonwon… don’t worry. He has made it out of the most critical phase. Just give him some time, he will get better. I am taking care of him.” 

“Hoba…” Your voice trembled as you looked back at your best friend. “I don’t doubt your skill but look at him… How much more time do you think we should spend on just letting him lie down here like this? He is getting paler and colder. If it wasn’t for his slow breaths I would have thought I had lost him… Please Hoba, we have to get him to a hospital!” 

Your words put Hoseok in deep thought. After a brief moment of silence he sighed and said, “You are right. No matter how much effort I put in it won’t be enough. There’s no suitable equipment here as there would be in a hospital. I heard Jeongguk’s car is in the warehouse. Do you want to go check on its status?” 

You stood up immediately and said, “That’s what I have been trying to do since before lunch! Let’s go at once!” 

“Let me lead you there, milady.” Hoseok smiled. 

“I see Duri has rubbed off on you.” You laughed. And Hoseok laughed back and tried to mimic Duri, “Is that so, milady?”

The warehouse was behind the manor in the north. It was a big wooden building, or one could say a humongous room with a slanting wooden roof that could house at least twenty SUV cars with enough space to open doors fully in between them. It seemed like a total waste of space to see a single car with a tattered front being repaired at the side. 

When you two walked up to the car, a person wearing a grey vest and black mechanic pants emerged from under the vehicle. 

Seeing you two, he got up and waved at Hoseok, “Hey, Dr. Jung! Good to see you!” 

His accent was of the city that suddenly felt so out of place here and no matter how much you tried to shake it off, you couldn’t help but think that he looked like the Korean version of Vin Diesel. 

Hoseok extended his hand for a handshake but he refused, showing his hands laced with car grease and oil. Then he asked Hoseok with a smile, “And who this pretty lady here might be?” 

“She is the girlfriend of the owner of the car you are fixing, Park Sowon.” Hoseok answered him.

“Ouch! There goes my chance for a date night. Anyways, it’s a pleasure to meet you Sowon-ssi! This humble man’s name is Lim Seokga. But you can lovingly call me Seok.” He smiled and bowed like a gentleman. 

“It’s nice to meet you too Seokga-ssi.” In reality all you wanted to say was - You are a mile away from humbleness Mr. Lim, like you should be from me.

You bowed back slightly and smiled awkwardly. You looked at Hoseok and pleaded with your eyes to rescue you from these unsolicited flirtations. 

He seized your signal like a spy would from his fellow in espionage and he grinned at Seokga and pretended to whisper as if he was trying to be his wingman, “Seokga-ssi, Sowon-ssi is a bit tense right now. Why don’t you show off your skills and explain the condition of the car to her?” 

Seokga gave Hoseok a smirk of approval and turned around to face the dinged up car. You noticed a symbol that almost looked like a fancy tattoo branded on his neck that started at the top of his neck and ran a couple inches along his spine. The burnt mark seemed sizzling fresh as if he had it done a few minutes ago and somehow you could feel the pain that it must have inflicted to come into existence.

Seokga kept his hand on the bonnet of the car and started explaining, “Anyways, Sowon-ssi, date night or not, I must do my job. You have come to know about the condition of the car, right? In short terms, it’s not really good. I am quite embarrassed to say this but it can only be repaired at the showroom. It’s not a one person job.” 

You felt anger bubble up at the pit of your throat. You felt like you had been standing in a long queue for half a day in front of an empty shop. 

You tried to sound as calm as you could, “So you're telling me you have been working on this car for a full day knowing that you can’t fix it?” 

“Full day? I arrived just this morning! And I never said I can’t fix it. I said I need manpower and the facilities.” Seokga tried to defend his honour behind his cheeky answer. 

You knew better than to argue with a man like him.

“Ridiculous!” You muttered under your breath and gritted teeth before leaving the warehouse with hurried strides. 

When you walked in, Lady Ruth was in the living room instructing Duri about the arrangement of your stay for the night. 

“I am afraid, your grace, I don’t think I can stay for the night. If I take off now I can bring an ambulance back with me at earliest tonight.” You announced. 

Lady Ruth stared at you for a good few seconds as if trying to make sense of the nonsense you just sputtered out. 

“I think that would have been for the best. He needs better care but I am afraid I have some bad news for you. It seems that a tempest is expected this evening. I don’t think it would be wise to set out now.” She said calmly. 

The bewilderment from a moment ago hadn’t yet dissipated from within you and hearing this now, you felt terribly angry, as if you were being held captive. You looked out the window and exclaimed, “The weather seems totally fine to me! There isn’t even a single dark cloud in the sky yet! It didn’t take me long to reach here. I am certain if you don’t stall me further I will be able to make it out of here before the storm catches up!” 

You looked at Lady Ruth, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression. It was as if she wasn’t present there at the moment. You stood there like you had just yelled at your mother and couldn’t decide whether you should apologise or not.

You felt a light jab at your side and you looked at Hoseok who was signalling you to apologise, which made you realise that you had strangely forgotten about his existence for the past few minutes. 

It’s like someone put several ice cubes on your hot head and the fizzing sensation urged you to apologise for your unnecessary rudeness to the lady who was everything but helping you. 

You turned to look at Lady Ruth whose expression gave the impression that she was back to this room. 

“I- I am sorry, your grace… I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s just that the mechanic really got on my nerves and I involuntarily took out my frustration on you. I apologise for being an impudent brat.” 

You waited for her to reply and a few seconds passed when suddenly an intensely bright lightning struck the ground outside followed by a deafening sound which made you jump out of your skin and you felt goosebumps all over. 

Heavy rainfall soon followed, accompanied with mad gusts of wind and roaring thunder. Duri, with quick steps, closed all the windows and disappeared down the right hallway to probably close the rest of the windows. Seeing him, you ran to Jeongguk’s room to close the window. 

Rain was wetting the curtains and there was already a pool forming on the floor. You scurried over to close the window sills. There were a number of things you should consider when walking on a wet floor and the first one was to never hurry, which you did, and the next thing you knew was that you slipped and hit something real hard — the pain at the back of your head was the last thing you felt before blacking out. 

Your consciousness started coming back to you slowly, like a weekend morning after a good night’s sleep. You pulled the blanket closer to you as you let yourself stay like that in the comfort of the bed. In the back of your head, you felt like you were forgetting something. Then it dawned upon you like a weekday morning after a late night’s sleep. You sat up abruptly and stayed like that for a couple minutes to let your brain return to normal from the sudden dizziness. 

You slowly got out of the bed and noticed that you were wearing an off-white lace full-sleeved midi nightgown. The back of your head hurt and you had a bandage wrapped around your head. Instinctively, you touched your head while looking around the beige and sage green themed bedroom — it was well-lit with candles and it didn’t have any windows so you couldn’t tell what hour of the day it was. The shock made you run into the bathroom attached to the room. In the mirror you saw yourself and thought no wonder your head felt so light — there was not a single strand of hair on your head. 

What the fuck! How could they?

You left the room to find Hoseok to get an explanation behind your shaved head, and you noticed that you had been in the room next to Jeongguk’s. The hallway was lit with fire torches, and through the window at the end of the hallway you could see that it was already night and the rain was still falling, although its vigour had lessened a lot from before.

You slowly walked into Jeongguk’s room. The floor was dry and in the light of the candles Jeongguk’s pale body looked livelier than he looked that afternoon. His breaths seemed more stable now. 

You sat near him and softly brushed his hair with your fingers and whispered, “Please wake up soon. I can’t do this without you.” 

You walked through the torch-lighted hallway to find Hoseok. You passed the living room and entered the right hallway. The very first room had its door open and it seemed like a study. You saw Lady Ruth in a dark green silk maxi nightgown half-lying on a dark brown wool sofa reading a thick book. 

You thought that it would be better to ask her about Hoseok’s whereabouts than wandering these colossal halls yourself. You knocked on the door to get her attention and she immediately looked at you and sat up, “Sowon, you are up! Please come in!” 

You entered the room and sat on one of the two single-seater sofas. 

The room was brown themed and smelt of old books and wood. Three of its walls, including the one that had the entrance, had ceiling-touching wooden shelves full of books. The fourth wall opposite to the entrance, was filled with framed photographs, a fireplace and an olive coloured small door at the far left that was smaller than any door you had seen so far in the house. It was almost head-to-head with Lady Ruth. 

“Why did you come all the way here by yourself? You should be taking a rest now. Hoseok would be upset if he sees you out of your bed.” She said with concern. 

“I was looking for him actually…” You murmured, unable to talk in your normal volume. 

“He went to his room a while back and said he will be down for dinner. Duri is still not done yet, it seems. Are you hungry? Can you wait a bit more?” 

“Yes.. I don’t mind..” You murmured again. 

You couldn’t figure out the strange nervousness that you felt and you noticed that you were fidgeting your fingers and your legs were shaking and the air sat heavy on your upper body as sweat droplets formed on your forehead. 

“I must say you don’t look all that bad with all your hair gone. When Hoseok suggested shaving your whole head to stitch the wound, saying that you would hate having a bald spot on your head I couldn’t really agree. After all, a lady's beauty is in her hair!” 

You were not really paying attention to what she was saying so you just smiled awkwardly and wiped the sweat on your forehead with a shaky hand. You couldn’t form an answer as you were completely taken over by the weirdness you felt in your body, and you felt strangely attracted towards the wall that had the small door. 

You stood up abruptly and asked, “Can I look at the photos on the wall?” 

“Sure. Go ahead!” 

Getting the permission you swiftly went over to the wall and slowly started going through the pictures. The pictures ranged from old sepia to black and white to evolving coloured ones to aesthetically edited high definition ones — it was as if you were going through the history of photography. The photos were taken in various parts of this very property and most of the pictures were of Lady Ruth, many were of her with a middle aged man that she introduced to you as her late husband, and a few had Duri with her in it. In one such photo your eyes stopped — it was comparatively small, almost the size of your face and it was the only photo with only Duri in it. In it he was looking at a mirror hung up on a wall — he looked much younger, probably in his 30s, and he was looking at his reflection with a smile as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing but he was happy nonetheless. The photo was taken from his back and a similar searing brand was clearly visible on his neck that you saw this afternoon on Seokga’s neck. The photograph was old - perhaps the oldest one here - so you had no way of determining the freshness of the wound. 

With a shaky breath you asked, “Wh- What’s behind this door?”

 Lady Ruth stared at the door for a moment and mumbled, “My lifeline.” Then she looked back at your puzzled face and said, “Let me give you a tour!” 

The door didn’t have a lock nor did it have a handle. Lady Ruth pushed it and it slid open swiftly. Upon crossing the threshold you came upon a scenery which made you feel more speechless than when you visited the Guggenheim museum for the first time. 

The wooden shelf that started from the immediate left wall of the door touched the ceiling and when you looked up, its height went on for at least twice the height of the ground floor ceiling. 

“Come.” Lady Ruth held your hand and you followed her spellbound. 

The shelf ran along the walls and continued in a circle till it couldn’t bend anymore. It was like a mosquito coil but quadrilateral. There were candle lanterns placed at regular intervals so it wasn’t that difficult to see things. The shelf was filled with two different shapes of glass boxes — rectangular and square — and they were innumerable. Each glass box — approximately two feet in length — was separated from the other by a thin wooden ply. 

“Wh-What are these?” You asked. 

“My collection of miniature places. I make these location miniatures from scratch and Duri brings the glass boxes from outside and I store them in here. I only create two places though. One is the Devil’s Crest and another one is the entire property of this manor.” 

“How many exactly are there? They seem countless!” You couldn’t help but express your bewilderment. 

“Not quite. There are exactly twenty-seven thousand six hundred and sixty-six worlds!” 

“Wow… I am stupefied to say the least!” You exclaimed, feeling your shoulders getting burdened by each step towards the interior. 

“I would say that I am proud of myself too. They really help me live.” She smiled and looked at her collection.

When you reached the centre of the room, the shelf ended and there was an ivory table on which an approximately 15 cm tall snowglobe was kept, and it was covered by a tall glass box which reminded you of the rose covered in glass in The Beauty And The Beast. 

It was the most breathtaking snowglobe that you had ever seen in your entire life. You went closer to it to take a good look and it made you gasp. Inside the place seemed way too familiar — it was the shortcut road that started from the junction, leaving the actual junction area out of it and ended right before reaching the Moore Estate. The woods surrounding it were in it as well, and what seemed like very tiny versions of a gas station, the Devil’s Crest turning and the entire property of the Balam Manor. What surprised you the most was that it was drizzling inside it just like it was outside. 

Lady Ruth could probably tell what you were thinking by your shocked expression so she said, “I know it seems like an unusual piece but it’s nothing really surprising. The snow globe has a mechanism that lets me set its weather inside and I like it when it matches.” 

“Can I touch it?” You asked while pointing at it.

Lady Ruth almost jumped at you and grabbed your hand and nervously laughed, “I would rather prefer if you don’t. You see, it was gifted to me by an extremely important someone and it’s very precious to me. It’s what inspired my hobby, ha ha. I don’t let anyone touch it. But you can look at the ones I made! Please.”

Her eyes were pleading you to move away from it. You didn’t want to overstep your boundaries, so you glanced at it one last time and moved away to look at the ones on the shelf. 

The shelf had no space left for a new one so you said, “Seems like you have to make space for your future miniatures.”

“Not really. There are always some that end up as no joy for me and when they are discarded new ones fill that space!” 

“Oh…” You replied, pretending to understand fully what she said and went back to observing. 

The miniature boxes had tiny silver tags at top right corners of each of them and had numbers written on them which seemed like dates followed by letters with no space in between them. 

On the bottom shelf there was a miniature of the Devil Crest inside a rectangular glass box whose dimensions were 2ft×1ft×1ft. For some reason you felt attracted towards it, so you squatted down and looked at it intently. 

“Here.” Lady Ruth took out a lantern from its holder and handed it to you. 

“Thank you.” You replied showing a small smile and went back to observing.

The silver plate on its top left corner read: 21421002306JJ. 

It was a bluish dark kind of atmosphere inside as if it would dawn there soon. There was a straight road that ran lengthwise from one end to the other and its entirety was surrounded by woods on both sides that became denser the further it went from the road. 

On the right end of the road, placed at least two inches above its base, on the glass case was a neon exit sign. 

Right before reaching it the road took a turn and formed a circle of red colour. Something felt off about it so you leaned in closer to take a better look. Then you saw the pitch coloured road that was there from the starting but as it neared the circle it bent left slightly as if making room for the red road and ghostly moved forward towards the exit sign. 

The position of the roads were so close that if the roads were the same colour, one might think that the red road was the straight continuation and the pitch road was just another lane, or that the road just got wider. 

Then you noticed another weird thing — there was a car on the red road that stood facing the exit sign and it looked exactly like Jeongguk’s car. 

“Th- That’s Jeongguk’s car!” You blurted out and looked at Lady Ruth. 

“Hm? Oh yes!” Lady Ruth bent forward to look at the miniature and then looking at you she smiled, “Your boyfriend’s car gave me the idea. I think adding this detail puts more life into it! Don’t you think so?”

You nodded reluctantly. It’s making me sick, if anything. 

If you were in a bustling place then you would have thought you were hearing things, but the room was so quiet it could hardly be passed as a mistake; you clearly heard it - Jeongguk calling you. 

It was very faint but you were sure it was Jeongguk’s voice calling out, “Sowon!” 

Multiple times.

You stood up abruptly and exclaimed, “Did you hear that? Jeongguk’s calling me! He must be up! I must go at once!” 

You kept the lantern on the floor and ran out of the room.  

•••

Jeongguk wasn’t feeling himself. He felt detached from his body. His exhausted body was working under the directions of an adamant mind. A mind that felt itself going crazy and couldn’t register the tired body that was carrying it.  

How long had he been walking on this godforsaken road, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to reach an ending. The unchanging environment surrounding him clutched his throat but wanted him to go on still. 

He couldn’t remember how many times he had already passed his car. 

He didn’t know how many times he had broken down in the middle of the road.

He finally stopped to take a sip of water that he was rationing in case he had to stay longer. He sat on the back seat and drank one sip and lied down. 

His brain was starting to finally acknowledge the worn out aching body. And along with it a sense of hopelessness, that he was avoiding. 

Drops of tears glided down from the side of his eyes — some entered his ears and some detoured into his black hair. 

Just then, something unexpected happened - he heard your voice. 

It was as if you were talking to somebody not too far from him. And when you spoke his name, he heard it loud and clear. 

He sprang up and ran outside and called out your name, with all the strength in his body, “Sowon!” Multiple times. 

Jeongguk heard his name one more time and then everything went silent, again. 

“No no no no no. She can’t be here. She shouldn’t be here.” Jeongguk mumbled to himself, clutching his hair. 

“I must find her at once.” He knew full well that you weren’t on the road. The only option was the woods that he was avoiding until now. 

Without any hesitation, he ran into the woods. The hovering fog followed him. 

•••

As abruptly as you had left you came to an abrupt halt at the door of Jeongguk’s room. His taut body seemed loose as he was sitting on the bed, trying hard to do the same. You ran the short distance and hugged him. 

“Oh god! Thank you so much! You are up! How are you feeling, Gguk? Is there any pain?” You asked. 

He just smiled tiredly. 

“Let me call Hobi.” You tried to get up but Jeongguk held you in his hug. 

He softly sighed into the crook of your neck, “Let’s stay like this for a bit. I thought I won't be able to see you anymore.”

A slow discomfort crept up from your gut and spread its supple branches to the places Jeongguk’s body touched yours. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Your hardened stress was supposed to melt away from his touch instead of tightening like cooling stones. 

Despite the fire blazing at its full capacity in the fireplace, Jeongguk’s body was unusually cold to the touch. You couldn't figure out the reason for your discomfort, so you pulled yourself out from his grip and rubbed your hands up and down his cold arms over the thin fabric. 

“Oh my god! You are freezing! I have brought some warm clothes with me. Let me bring them to you.” You walked over to your haversack that had been abandoned by the couch since morning. You took out a white knit sweater that you had once borrowed from him. 

“What happened to your hair?” He asked in a raspy voice. 

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later. A lot has happened since you got lost…” You sighed and started putting the sweater on him. 

“Really? Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it?” He said and you noticed his raspy voice getting raspier. 

Knowing your boyfriend, you thought it was weird for a worrywart like him to not ask you about how you were feeling yet, especially now that you were pregnant. Brushing it off as his sickness side effect, you quickly went to his backside to roll down the sweater on him properly that got tucked upwards, and while doing so, your eyes flickered momentarily on his neck. 

Your hands froze in their place. You felt like all your red warm blood had turned into white cold icy water seeing the same sizzling brand mark on his neck. Only one thought made itself loud and clear in your consciousness — you had to get away from the man sitting on the bed in front of you pretending to be your beloved. 

With trembling hands and shaking pupils you touched the silver water jug kept on a bedside stand near his head and tried to sound completely normal but failed to control the stutters completely, “Oh- oh my! G-Gguk, you must be thirsty! Huh? Oh n-no! There’s no water in it! Let me go and bring some water for you!” 

You hoped that whoever it was in the room didn’t notice the cold sweat on your forehead nor that you were trying to run away from it and hurried out of the room with the full jug in your hand. 

Outside, the torch-lit hallway in your eyes appeared to continue forever and so gargantuan that the darkness at the end of it felt like you were looking down in an endless well and you could fall down in it if you looked any further.  

Your legs felt weak and inside your head you felt a buzzing that made you nauseous. You dragged your body into the next room in which you were resting in the evening and locked the door after you. 

Slowly you climbed the bed to find some comfort. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and sat there staring blankly at nothing. 

Steadily enough your thoughts began to gain a coherent form and the buzzing started to die down. But even after that, you couldn’t make sense of what was happening around you. 

Why do Duri, the mechanic and that person have the same brand? Why did I feel so sick in that room? Why do I feel so trapped? If that isn’t Jeongguk then where is he? Why did Lady Ruth have Jeongguk’s car inside her miniature? 21421002306JJ… 2142/10/02… October 2nd - the day Jeongguk went missing… His last call was at 3:03am. Could 306 be the time when these people found him? Wait… JJ? Jeon Jeongguk? 

You felt your nerves shudder as your thoughts spiralled. I have to get out of here and find the real Jeongguk.

You slowly got out of the room and tiptoed along the hallway even though you were barefoot. There was luckily no one around when you slipped into the study. You couldn’t risk getting out of the main door and getting caught — you remembered the way the metal door made a loud creaking noise when Duri opened it this afternoon when you went to visit your father’s grave. 

At this point, you were beginning to doubt whether it was even your father’s grave. There’s something really fishy going on here. 

In the vast array of books, you weren’t sure if the blueprint of this house would even be kept, and even if it was, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Moreover, you had to look for it before someone walked in or looked for you. You frantically started scanning the bookshelves, you opened the cabinets underneath and looked in them while trying to avoid making the least sound but to no avail. It was indeed a needle inside a huge pile of hay. 

Tired, you decided to stop and think carefully. It helped, for your eyes landed on something anomalous - all the shelves had uniform partitions except one in the right wall whose one partition ran wider than others. You knocked on it lightly and figured out that the inside was hollow. You hurriedly checked and noticed that it had no opening from the front. You started to take out the books slowly from the shelf at your eye level that was at the right side of the partition - there was nothing. 

You kept the books in their place and instead of moving upwards or downwards, you decided to go to the left side of the partition and check. 

Yes! You found it! 

There was a thin rectangular line that said that it could be moved. You slowly pushed it and it slid open. Inside it was dark but not wanting to waste anymore time to bring a light source, you shoved your hand inside — not your best decision because you were instantly greeted with an unpleasant handshake of sticky cobwebs, and you definitely felt a few small things crawl by your hand. 

You shut your eyes and mouth tightly and began to fumble your hand around until it touched something that felt like a thin book. 

Bringing it out you cleaned the thick layer of dirt and crumpled cobwebs, that made itself a part of it, with your nightgown. 

You opened it and realised that it was not a book but a parchment paper that was so big that upon folding the way it was, it gave the impression of a book. 

When you fully unfolded the paper, you realised that you had found just the thing you needed. The blueprint which was a detailed drawing of all the floor plans and designs of the manor on its aging parchment paper could hardly be called a blueprint since it was nothing that you were used to seeing, but you decided to refer to it as the ‘blueprint’ anyways. It took up a large area of the floor and there was a browned photograph kept in the middle which in the spur of the moment you kept aside to look at the drawing instead. 

In the all-familiar ground floor plan, you found something that was unfamiliar to you. There was a built-in secret passage along the back wall of the entire ground floor whose left end led to the kitchen in the basement and a backdoor marked as “the exit” was built in the middle of it. It had two entrances marked —  one on the wall facing the room in which Jeongguk’s doppelganger was and another one was in the wall facing the master bedroom at the end of the right hallway. It was convenient, you thought. You just had to wait for everyone to retire for the night and then you could make your great escape.

At the top middle of it there were several things written which you assumed were its construction period, name of the head architect and the owners, respectively — 

1589-1596

Jaejoong Yi

Jaejoong Yi & Ruth Amelia Livingston Yi

What the fuck… 

You read it again and instinctively reached out for the photograph that you had kept aside earlier. The yellowing photograph showed two people standing in front of the main gate of the Balam Manor and they were smiling - one of them you could recognise from when Lady Ruth introduced to you earlier, Mr. Yi Jaejoong, her husband and the other one, you could recognise all too well because it was none other than Lady Ruth herself. Behind the photograph, there was a congratulatory message written that read, “Wishing all the happiness for your new beginnings. Much love, Rich Moore.” 

Answers began to fold themselves into more questions the more you sought them out. You couldn’t comprehend all the information laid before you. You thought you were in some kind of an elaborate prank video. Why was there a photo of Lady Ruth that’s supposedly taken in 1596 when you could interact with her now in 2142, exactly 546 years later? 

The flickering candle lights painted something ominous on the walls around you and you found it hard to breath. You wanted to get out of there as soon as possible but there was something that you must check before you go — a miniature labeled in your dad’s name. 

There was no handle on the olive coloured door as you had seen before so you tried to push it open but it didn’t budge. You looked for anything that could be indicative of an opening but there was none. 

You considered taking the pictures off the wall to look for some kind of key as they showed in movies but just then you heard footsteps outside. You hurried towards the door which you had mindfully closed after entering. 

You listened to the footsteps carefully and instantly recognised them as Hoseok's. 

You knew your best friend all too well to know that if you made any noise from behind in this darkness or simply call out his name he was gonna freak out and most probably would let out a pterodactyl shriek, hence alarming everyone present in the vicinity. He had a terrible distaste of darkness and the creatures that he thought resided in it. Now, it was making you wonder how he was even managing to live in this manor that nests this creepy darkness in it once the sun goes down.

You waited for his footsteps to fade enough to follow him without scaring him. Once you were sure he was far enough you got out of the room slowly and you saw his silhouette entering Jeongguk’s room, probably to check up on him. You increased your speed in order to stop him before he started to fuss over your disappearance. 

Once you were in front of the door your speed reduced to a halt and you hesitated to enter as the two people inside — one with his hair wrapped in towel ready for a hair commercial checking the pulse of the other one with a weak posture and uninviting aura — turned and stared at your paused body with an expression that asked ‘why aren’t you entering?’ 

A staring competition ensued which lasted less than a minute and whose ending was marked by Hoseok’s question, “What are you thinking so hard about standing there?” 

Startled, you entered the room as if you had to after his question and while walking towards Hoseok you asked him nervously, “How is he doing?” 

“Better than I expected. Why didn’t you call me as soon as he woke up?” He asked while sitting down on the chair that you had dragged a lot earlier nearer to the bed to sit. 

You stood right by your friend and answered, “I was going to but his voice was raspy so I went to bring some water.” 

Hoseok looked at your hands and commented, “But I don’t see any water.” 

“Ah…” Your voice trailed off as you brought your two hands forward and looked at them unbelievingly. Fuck! I was too careless.

“I… couldn’t find water in the dining room. Come help me find it.” You grabbed Hoseok’s hand and pulled him trying to get him up. 

And when he finally got up you practically dragged him out of the room with the force of pulling a loaded cart uphill. 

You stopped only when you reached the dining room. You looked behind you, and once you confirmed it’s only you two there you whispered, steering it loud enough to be considered as a serious matter, “Hoba, that’s not Jeongguk!” 

“What?” On his face you could clearly see his disbelief in the fact that you just told him what you did. 

“I am serious.” 

“Aha! I know you are trying to pull a prank on me!” He cheerfully ended his investigation behind your weird claims. 

“I am not. Hoba, please you have to believe me now.” You begged to be taken seriously. 

He stared at you for a few moments as if looking for sincerity in your words and once he found it he asked, “Why do you feel like that? I didn’t sense anything off though.” 

“I… I could just sense it. He makes me uncomfortable. My Jeongguk would never make me feel that way.” You said. 

Hoseok pretended to vomit and said, “Okay. Stop. I get it.” 

You slapped his arm and retorted, “You should see yourself when you talk about Ji-a!” 

He laughed, “Sorry, sorry. My bad. But seriously it must be just your injured head talking! Who else it would be other than Jeongguk in the flesh! You have seen him. I have seen him. He is exactly like we know him.” 

He was right. There was no visible evidence of him not being Jeongguk - except for the brand mark on his neck! 

“Wait! Hoba, there’s…” You got interrupted in the middle by Duri, who entered the room and with his signature bow, he said, “Your graces, dinner is ready to be served.” 

He then proceeded to pull two chairs one by one and waited until both of you sat down. Once he went out to bring the food you told Hoseok, still using the same hushed tone, “I have something important to tell you. Let’s talk after dinner in your room.” 

“Alright, ma’am. I also have something to ask you. By the way, aren’t you going to feed Jeongguk? You used to do that whenever he got sick.” Hoseok’s voice was back to normal volume. 

“Ah, right…” Your voice drooped. He is not Jeongguk though.

When Duri came back with the dishes Hoseok asked him, “Duri, have you prepared the soup that I asked you for Jeongguk?” 

“Yes, milord. Earlier I came here after delivering the soup to him. But…” He paused and after a quick glance at you he looked back at Hoseok, “He said that he’ll wait for milady to finish her dinner.” 

Ever since you hugged him, your mind was constantly telling you that he wasn’t Jeongguk and you should stop caring and stay as far as possible from him, but Duri’s last sentence put an uneasiness inside you like coarse sand between your toes, and your fingers hesitated to grab the chopsticks. 

Unable to clean away the sand, you stood up and said, “Duri, can you please put away my food for now? I will have them after feeding Jeongguk.” 

“Wait wait wait!” Hoseok stood up as well. “Have your dinner first. You have to take medicine. And Jeongguk will have to take meds too after dinner which I haven’t brought from my room. Let’s just finish our dinner quickly then you can feed him with all the love you want to give him, hm?” 

Duri probably noticed your hesitation so he said, “Milady, I have put his soup back in the kitchen and his grace said that he wasn’t feeling like eating yet, so you can enjoy your dinner peacefully.” 

You let out a heavy sigh and sat back down. You didn’t have any appetite but any excuse seemed better than seeing the man in that room right now. 

At this point, relief seemed to be a far-fetched dream as one fear after another caught up to you. Putting the first nibble inside your mouth, you asked Duri, “Duri, won’t Lady Ruth be joining us for dinner tonight?”  

After the discoveries of this evening you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your inner dread from her. 

“Her grace has retired for the evening. She told me to relay the message that she regrets not being able to be your host for dinner tonight as she has some urgent business to attend to. She hopes for your understanding.” Duri answered. 

“Ah! That’s completely fine! Please tell Lady Ruth to not worry about it all. Ha ha!” You didn’t expect to be spared the dread but you were thankful nonetheless. 

You finished all that you were served quite quickly and after taking the meds, you requested Hoseok, “Hoba, please sit with me while I feed him. I really don’t want to be alone right now. And when I am done feeding him, tell him that you have something urgent to discuss with me, okay?” 

You sat on the chair by the man’s bed and Hoseok sat on the couch. Duri brought in the soup and a small table that could be kept on the bed for convenience. 

You had only fed him two spoons when the man asked, “Babe, are you okay? Your hands are shaking!” 

“Oh?” You didn’t notice how much your hands were trembling as you were solely focused on feeding him so that you could leave the room as soon as possible.  

“Ah… It’s nothing. I am probably cold, wearing this thin nightgown and all. The fire isn’t helping that much I guess. Don’t worry. I have brought warm clothes for myself too. Once you finish eating I will wear it.” You smiled nervously and held another spoonful of soup in front of his mouth. 

Slowly — probably too slow for you — he finished the bowl and Duri came and took away both the bowl and the table as if he was just waiting for it outside. 

You wiped your hand with the wet washcloth that Duri had brought and he brought another one which you used to wipe Jeongguk’s mouth. 

After you were done, you put on the sweater that you had brought for yourself. You made the man lie on the bed and pulled the blanket over him, quite reluctantly so. 

Despite there being three people in the room, all of whom happen to be best of friends, an awkward silence roamed inside its walls, and the only sound that could be heard loud enough as if it was happening inside one’s body, was the crackling of fire in the fireplace.

You looked at Hoseok and squinted your eyes which signalled both annoyance and a reminder to do his part. Hoseok, who had apparently zoned out, came back to his senses and abruptly started talking like a wannabe actor giving an audition, “Wonwon, I have something to talk to you about. Come with me. Jeongguk, please don’t fall asleep. I’ll bring your meds right away.” 

You were in no position to criticise your best friend’s acting skills as you replied in the same amateur manner, “Oh, okay, Hoba. Let’s go. I’ll be right back, b-babe.” 

Once you were in Hoseok’s room on the first floor, you could take the breath long needed. You released your body on his soft king-sized bed with a thump. 

You looked around the maroon and gold themed room while lying down and said, “This room is huge! Probably twice the size of the room Jeongguk is in. Maybe even more! Ji-a is going to go absolute nuts over this space!” 

Hoseok smiled while going over to a big glass shelf blocking one of the windows completely. That modernish furniture was certainly a misfit in this room preserving its classic medieval aesthetic. 

Seeing that hopeful and shy smile on his face you couldn’t help but mumble, “But probably you won’t be able to live here after all.” 

“Hm? What was that?” Hoseok asked. And you replied with the typical, “Nothing.” 

“By the way, where are the workers for the renovation? I haven't seen anyone or heard anything since this morning.” You asked. 

“I gave them a few days off. Seeing Jeongguk’s condition, some silence would do him good.” Hoseok explained, to which you just replied with a ‘hmm.’

The illusion that was relief came to an end as almost instantaneously you felt the nauseousness appear like a wave inside you just like this afternoon. Asking for the direction of his bathroom, you ran and vomited all that you had eaten for dinner in his sink. It was a gruesome sight. 

“Wonwon? You okay in there?” You heard Hoseok asking from outside the door of the bathroom. 

“Yea- Yeah I am fine. I’ll be out in a minute.” You replied, and letting a heavy and slow sigh escape from your lungs, you started cleaning the sink.

After returning the sink to its previous state, you washed your face. Your head hung low as you stood there to take a breather and let the water droplets fall without wetting your dress. Your whole head and throat felt like it was on fire, and you wanted to drink a shit ton of water. 

You couldn’t understand why you were throwing up so much. If your pregnancy was the reason then you were fine yesterday even after barely eating anything and travelling the whole day. Then why was this happening today when you had full meals and ample rest? 

Wiping the water from your face with your hand you looked up and saw yourself in the mirror that was fitted right above the sink which you had completely blindsided until now. 

The reflection in the mirror looked more miserable than the reflection that you saw a couple or so hours ago. Your eyes were red and watery and you could see the stress taking form on your face clearly. 

I have to get out of here.

You got out of the bathroom and saw your best friend standing there with worry cemented on his face. You gave him a faint smile and tried to reassure him, “I am fine! It’s just pregnancy sickness. Nothing more. I’ll be fine after a good rest. But first take off that towel! You’ll ruin your already balding hair!” 

“I am not the bald one though.” Hoseok sing-songed the mockery with a smirk on his face and slightly grazed his hands over your bald head. 

“Why you!” You chased after already running away Hoseok who stopped near his bed and nearly started wheezing and falling down because he was laughing so hard. 

When you reached him he started saying, “Time-out, time-out,” with panicky hand gestures and squeaky voice - his face red as a tomato. 

You stopped and sat on the bed - laughing hard yourself that brought tears to your eyes. 

After both of you had calmed down, you instructed Hoseok to sit on the carpet near your feet, “Come, sit here. I’ll wipe your hair dry. Why did you even wash your hair at this dead hour of the night?”

“Ah! I went out to talk to the mechanic. He said that he’d leave for the city once the rain lets up and bring a tow. And on my way back I got poured on so I had to wash my hair.” He explained. 

“And let me guess, you forgot that you can’t use a hair dryer here and you kept the towel on and forgot about it too.” You unwrapped the towel and let his long brunette hair that went well past his shoulder blades fall freely on his back. It still kept droplets trapped between its locks, so you began to make small partings in his hair and wipe them thoroughly. 

You didn’t have to see it to know that your best friend was smiling sheepishly knowing full well that you had stepped on his deeds with right footing. 

You held his hair up to wipe the wetness off his upper neck. 

At the police academy they taught you how to not to trust even the most innocent looking person while investigating a crime. But they didn’t teach how to apply the same doubtful glance on your loved ones. 

Your hand paused and so did your whole body. The same brand mark was on his neck. You felt deceived. Helpless. And suddenly, alone. 

You gulped hard in an attempt to swallow the fear. 

Play it cool. Play it cool.

“Y- you were telling me you had something important to say.” You asked.

“Ah! Yes. I was putting your clothes to dry on the clothes rack and I found a note in your pocket with some kind of a riddle on it. What is it?” He asked.

Shit! You had totally forgotten about the fortune card! 

You felt your vision blur for a moment. And as abruptly it blurred, it became clear too. 

“Oh, that? I bought a fortune cookie on my way here and it was inside that cookie. Honestly, I was pretty disappointed to see a weird note instead of a real fortune.” You huffed in disappointment. 

“Just that? I thought you were on some treasure hunting shenanigan this time without telling me!” He pouted. 

“As if!” You scoffed — the little playful push dissipated halfway before reaching his back. 

“By the way, you said you have something important to tell me. What is it?” He asked after closing his eyes as you started back again to wipe his hair but this time more gently. 

Noticing how you weren’t answering, he quipped, “Come on! Stop zoning out.” 

“Huh? Ah yeah… Well, the thing is, Hoba, I discovered some really disturbing things today and I think you shouldn’t live here anymore. In fact, you should run away with me as I am planning to do so tonight.” Your hands stopped once again and your voice gained a serious tone. 

If you want to play this game, let’s play this game.

“What?” He exclaimed loudly and turned around to face you, which made it apparent how shocked he was. 

“Hoba… You have to listen to me very carefully.” You got down from the bed and sat in front of him on the carpet. 

“Do you remember that I told you that I went to get water for Jeongguk this evening but couldn’t find any?” 

He nodded.

“Actually, I didn’t go to bring water. I was in Lady Ruth’s study.” He gave you a ‘are you mad?’ look. And you instantaneously began to justify your action. 

“I know. I know this sounds like I was trespassing, which technically I was, but hear me out! There I found this manor’s map along with a photograph of Lady Ruth and her husband. And the strange part is that their photo and the day they entered this mansion was dated in the year 1596!” 

“You sure you saw it right?” He asked doubtfully. 

“Are you seriously questioning a detective if she saw it right? The audacity.” You faked taking offense. 

“You forgot to mention ‘private’.” He chirped back. 

“That doesn’t make me any less of a detective. I would say I would be better if anything. So stop turning the conversation into the wrong lane!” 

“Okay. Okay! I am sorry.” He laughed. “But seriously though, it could be Lady Ruth’s ancestor with the same name and face! Things like that happen sometimes.” 

“That’d be a far stretch if we consider a few things - firstly why isn’t there any other of her ancestors’ pictures in the manor? Secondly, why do both of their husbands, as Lady Ruth has introduced to me, look the same and have the same name? And thirdly, she herself told me that her husband used to call her ‘Balam’ and this manor is named after her, which she had made obvious a few times. What other proof do you need? Hoba, I am telling you there’s something really wrong with the people here! And both you and I have to get out of here. Tonight!” You took a long breath after your long explanation to convince him. 

“But Wonwon… all the things that you are saying are just theoretical. We don’t have solid proof! I have been living here for months now! And trust me, I haven’t seen anything out of place!” He looked at you as if you were trying to forcefully prove something that wasn’t even there. 

“Hoba…” Your voice mellowed down and strangely, even though he wasn’t your best friend, you felt disheartened. “This isn’t like you at all… What changed in the last months that you are trying to imply that I am in the wrong? You used to be my number one supporter!” 

“Wonwon…” He held your hand in an attempt to put balm on the bleeding wound in your heart. 

You softly tugged your hand out of his cold ones and sniffled hard to stop your tears from coming out, “Fine! You want proof? I’ll give you proof! You remember what I told you about Jeongguk, right? In her collection room, I saw a miniature that was dated the day Jeongguk went missing and it even has its initials and Jeongguk’s car in it! I may be going crazy, like you think, but I know too damn well that it takes more than a day to create something as detailed as that. Come with me to the collection room. And look for one with the code starting with 21311017 and ending with PY. That’d be my dad.” 

“Wha- Alright, let’s go!” He stood up and extended his hand to help you up but you ignored his waiting hand and stood up yourself. 

“Where did you keep my clothes?” You asked. 

“It’s in the bathroom of the room you were sleeping in. And your phone is in the drawer of the bedside table. You go first. I’ll see you in front of the study in ten minutes.” He replied solemnly and sighed a quick sigh. 

You didn’t say anything back. On your way back, the steps of the stairs were darker than when you ascended it with him. Your steps felt heavy and the stairs and the hallway seemed to go on forever.

Finally entering your room, you went straight to the bathroom. The bathroom was almost the size of a big bedroom in any high class apartment in the city, and you found another smaller room within it where there was a small fireplace and several clothes racks. 

You took your clothes and searched your pockets and let out a relieved sigh after finding the note in one of your pockets. 

You changed into your previous outfit and sat on your bed to read the note again.

WHEN ROADS ARE MISLEADING AND FALSE WORDS ARE SPOKEN

IN THE RULING DARKNESS SOMEONE'S TREASURED THING MUST BE BROKEN

This time you could understand that it wasn’t a riddle rather a clear-cut instruction on what you have to do. 

Who is that old lady? And why is she helping me like this?

No matter what, you decided to follow the path that you saw as your only way to escape and your single shot at rescuing Jeongguk. 

You took out your phone from the drawer — it still had 15% battery but no reception yet — and kept it in the inside pocket of your jacket.

You inhaled and exhaled deeply and went to the man’s room. 

He was lying down in the exact position you had left him. His eyes were closed and he was taking slow and steady breaths. 

Your plan was to quietly take your haversack and get out of there. Before taking your haversack, you hesitated for a moment and contemplated whether you should take the sweater off of him since it was one of Jeongguk’s favourite ones and it made you sad seeing it on somebody else. 

Get it together, Sowon. It’s not the time to be materialistic.

You gave yourself soundless slaps on your cheeks and picked up the haversack.

You looked at the person lying on the bed one last time before turning to leave, but your eyes made contact with each other. His emotionless eyes were looking at you directly and that startled you. 

“O-oh Jeongguk! Did I wake you? I was just leaving! Rest up.” You laughed nervously. 

“Where are you going, babe?” He asked; his voice was groggy - the voice that had made your insides feel like jelly on many mornings. 

But tonight it made you sick. 

“I am just going to give Hoseok a few things that I brought with me. Why don’t you go back to sleep? It may take long.” Come on! Say ‘okay’.

“It’s fine. I’ll be waiting. I want to sleep with you by my side tonight.” He smiled. 

“But Jeongguk… You are sick!” You make me sick! 

“It’s not like we’ll be doing something strenuous! Plus the bed is so big… I’d feel lonely by myself. With you here, why should I sleep alone?” He smirked. And you thought if he was real Jeongguk you would be in his arms already.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” You gave him a stiff smile and got out of the room. 

The man pretending to be Hoseok was waiting for you outside of the study. When he noticed you with your haversack, he asked in bewilderment, “Are you already making a run for it?” 

“Hush! Not yet. But who knows when I have to. You should have been prepared beforehand as well.” You whispered and entered the study. 

The candles inside were halfway through their lives and the room was slightly darker than before. 

“I couldn’t open that door earlier. Can you?” You whispered pointing to the ominous olive coloured small door on the photo-cluttered wall. 

“I’ll give it a try.” He said and went straight to the door. 

With his slight pull the door slid open leaving your jaw to hit the floor. 

“Wow, Jung Hoseok! You are the mvp!” You praised him and gave him a light pat on his shoulder. 

He held your arm and turned you around to face him before you could cross the threshold, “Listen, if I don’t find what you told me then you are going straight to bed. I am not going to go along with your fantasies any longer. Understood?”

His sudden declaration of terms and conditions startled you but you just nodded. 

“Good! Also we must hurry! Duri will be here to change the candles before they run out completely! So you better hurry!” He whispered in an urgent tone and closed the door behind him after both of you got in. 

It was your second time seeing the colossal structure but it didn’t fail to make you feel insignificant and amazed yet again. This time though the added dimness poured black ashes inside your stomach and you felt nervous. 

You brought out the flashlight and walked ahead, “Hoba, I am gonna walk ahead and take a look at the miniature I saw earlier once more. You look for the one I told you.”

But the next second you paused and said, “Wait! On second thought, I am going to look for my dad’s miniature. I’ll make a sound once I find it. You stand guard here. Make a sound if someone comes.” 

“Wait! Wonwon, what are you planning to do if what you said turns out to be true?” He asked. Even in the dim candle light you could see his expression — he was concerned and was feeling lost. 

Nice acting.

You kept your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him perhaps, or maybe yourself, “We’ll figure something out… as we always have.” You tried to smile. 

You didn’t wait to see or hear his reaction and soon you were out of his sight, in the maze of shelves, towards the center. 

Once you reached the heart of the room, you exhaled long and took a few quick breaths as if preparing yourself for the next step. You indeed came to look at the miniature Jeongguk was supposed to be ‘in’. But that was only a part of a bigger plan. You glanced at the snowglobe inside the glass cover. The rain had stopped inside the snowglobe and it was basking in the shining full moon light. 

You quickly put your haversack on the floor and opened its mouth. You held the glass cover carefully and started lifting it. It was heavier and thicker than it looked. You had to be careful not to drop it. Keeping it on the table right beside the snow globe you quickly smuggled the snow globe inside your haversack. You slid the glass cover to the middle, since it was closer to the edge of the round table, in fear of knocking it over and making a noise loud enough to bring the whole mansion, i.e. just four other people, in this space. 

Putting on the haversack you flashed the light inside the never-changing 21421002306JJ miniature. Gguk, I promise I’ll save you.

You looked at the other miniatures of recent dates and found the one that you didn’t mention to him about — 214204161001JH carved on the silver tag of a miniature of Balam Manor. 

Hoba… 

With hurried steps you went to the outer wings of the structure where you hoped you would find a miniature with your dad’s initials. You felt grateful that everything was managed serially so you just had to scan through the years quickly. 

In the second wing from inside you found dates from the 2100s, and on the third rack from the bottom in one of the shelves — you couldn’t determine on which wall it was — you found what you were dreading until now - what if I can’t find it?

The 21311017333PY silver tag shone brightly as you looked up at it. 

You whistled a particular tone that you had always used as a signal for your best friend since childhood, but it came out rather weak since you were trying to keep the sadness at the border of your throat. 

He was by your side in an instant. He looked at the tag you were pointing at and gasped softly, “Oh my god… You were right. What should we do now?”

“Can… Can you lift me up, Hoba? I wanna take a look inside of it…” You softly whispered and looked at him with teary eyes. 

He didn’t say anything but just knelt down so you could climb on his shoulders. 

You quickly swiped off the tears, and keeping the haversack on the floor, you climbed on his shoulders. 

With wobbly steps he stood up. You chuckled at that and chirped a quick apology to him. 

The atmosphere inside the miniature was just as unmoving as Jeongguk’s. The woods were the same, the road was the same and the exit sign too was the same. There was a car in it as well. The only tiny difference in it was that it was your dad’s car that you had seen him drive off in for the last time. 

“Hoba, I am done.” You whispered a little loudly. 

He slowly lowered his wobbly body down and you got off. You got off and couldn’t get up from the floor. You wanted to ugly cry but all you could do was whimper while swallowing the sounds and bearing the pain inside your chest and throat. 

He sat down beside you and hugged you. You clutched on the sleeve of his sweater anchoring yourself and buried your face in his chest.  

The exhaustion that you were keeping at bay, trying not to let them overwhelm you, came crashing down on you again - taking you violently, drowning you mercilessly. But this time, you felt relief. You had found him. Now all that was left was rescuing him from that still, unnatural world controlled by evil. 

“Wonwon!” He whispered. “I think someone’s here. It’s probably Duri. We have to get out of here!” 

“What? But how? There’s only one way out!” You said sniffling as quietly as you could. 

He thought for a moment and said, “You wait here. I’ll distract Duri and once he is out of the way I will come and get you, alright?” 

You nodded. He gave you a reply-nod and went out. You swiftly and stealthily went behind him and hid by the door. As he closed the door behind him after getting out, you heard Duri’s voice, “Your grace, I believe I have already informed you that this space is off limits in her grace’s absence.” 

You heard his cheerful voice, “I am so sorry, Duri! It totally slipped my mind. It’s just so fascinating. I was going to return now anyways. By the way, before you change the candles here, can you change the ones in my room? I have some work to do! Hm? Pretty please?” 

You pictured Duri sighing and rolling his eyes in defeat, which you were sure wouldn’t be visible on his face. 

“Yes, your grace.” You heard Duri say. 

“I’ll be there in a sec!” He replied. 

A few seconds passed and he opened the door. 

You scrambled on your feet and quickly got out. 

“Listen!” He held you by your shoulders. “Stay in your room for now. I’ll come at midnight and we will make an escape through the living room window.” 

“But Hoba!” You said for no particular reason. 

“Don’t worry. I know Duri’s surveillance pattern. We will make it. Together!” He gave your shoulders a light shake as if to transfer his resolution into you. 

Taking your nod as a yes, he went to the first floor where he had sent Duri earlier. 

•••

You entered the room and saw Jeongguk sitting on his bed. 

“You sure took long. I thought you abandoned me.” Jeongguk said with a blank expression. 

You didn’t have any excuse ready. With a sheepish smile you went towards him. 

Strangely, you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all anymore. Rather you felt a very familiar feeling that you were so used to, that you were so craving for. 

Reaching him, you hugged him - his head on your belly. 

“I am sorry that I was gone for so long. We will be home soon.” You said softly and slowly ran your fingers through his soft curls. 

“No.” 

Jeongguk’s words confused you. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

“As long as you have this I can’t go anywhere.” His voice sounded cruel. 

He put his hands on your belly, and your belly started growing, and in the blink of an eye it was the size of that of an eight month pregnant woman. 

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Jeongguk’s hands grew claws and he ripped your belly apart and yanked out a bloody lump of alive flesh. 

•••

You woke up with a startle. You didn’t realise when you had fallen asleep on the bed of your room while waiting to get out. 

You rubbed your face - it was covered in cold sweat. You touched your belly and felt relieved. 

You quickly checked for the time on your phone, desperately hoping it wasn’t midnight already and felt relieved that it was still forty-five minutes away.

You took out your desert eagle and the holster and tied it around your waist in case you had to use it.

Putting your haversack on your back, you slowly poked your head out of the room to check if there was anyone. 

Relieved to see the empty hallway, you got out. With soft steps you reached near the next room’s door and peeked inside. Jeongguk's doppelganger was lying down but you couldn’t figure out whether he was asleep or not. 

With similar soft steps you scurried and crossed his door and reached the end of the hallway. 

According to the blueprint, there was supposed to be a door leading to it, and the only possibility you saw was the 6 foot long and 4 foot wide painting of the waterfall that was fixed on the wall at the very end. 

You slowly started pushing it from one side but it didn’t budge. You tried the other side and got the same result. 

You felt panic slowly starting to settle in the pit of your stomach. You looked at the torchlit yet dark hallway and hoped no one came now. 

You looked up and down the painting, illuminating it with your flashlight. You began to feel its sides with your hands as far as it reached and looked for anything out of the ordinary. But there was none on either side. 

You sat down on the floor and began inspecting the underside of the frame, and there you found a groovy pattern made for four fingers. You put your fingers except the thumb in it and gave it a push upwards. It made a clicking sound and the painting slid upwards opening a cavity its size. 

You clenched your fist and pulled your elbow towards yourself as a victory celebration and stepped into the cavity. 

You entered and turned to your right. The long hallway stretching ahead was lit with smaller fire torches than the ones in the main hallway. The unwavering shadows underneath them had the impression of lurking entities waiting to pounce. You looked behind you and saw a dark and narrow passageway that, according to the blueprint, led to the kitchen outside. 

Logically, it was the shorter path to escape to the outside but there was also a bigger possibility of Duri being there. 

Your escapeway was lying right ahead in the middle of the hallway — a door where the staircase in the main building was. 

You saw a thick rope attached to the bottom of the painting from inside and its end was hung on an iron hook on the wall. You pulled the rope and closed the painting behind you, locking yourself inside the restricted passage. 

Carefully you trod ahead — fast enough to get there quickly, slow enough to not make any noise, your barefoot helped. 

The air in the hallway was dense and heavy with the smell of burning wax. The lights flickered subtly as you moved past each of them shifting the air. The more seconds you passed there, the more difficult it became for you to breathe properly. There was no visible outlet to let the air move freely and the years of trapped air latched onto your nose and lungs and was squeezing out more than you could take from it. 

Not being able to tolerate it anymore, you ran the last bit and took a longer breath once you reached the door. 

The garlic-like odour of phosphorus hit your nose sharply. You looked up and it became clear to you how the neon sign above the door was working when there wasn’t supposed to be any electricity in the manor. 

You should have immediately unlatched the door. You should have immediately walked out instead of staring at the shining bright green neon sign nailed above the door that said - The Exit. 

You should have made your escape before the voice so familiar to you could call you and say, “Wonwon, I told you we’ll make it together. So why are you leaving me behind?” 

Your body stiffened as you stared right at the door refusing to acknowledge the source of the sound. You could hear his footsteps approaching.  

You felt unnerved. Your eyes frantically looked for the latch. Once you found it, you dared to look at the direction of the dim hallway that you had crossed a while ago. You saw your best friend’s figure walking towards you. The monster lurking in the shadows turned out to be the wolf in grandma's skin. 

Keeping your shaking finger on the latch, you yelled knowing full well it’s of no use, your voice hoarse in fear, “Stop right there. I know you are not Jung Hoseok.” 

A sinister smile cut through the figure’s cheeks. 

A hot tear drop trickled down your cheeks as you tried to stand your ground. 

“Here I thought I was putting up a perfect act. But you fooled me. Anyways, I am glad I don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s annoying.” The figure said. 

His voice distorted and you witnessed the most horrifying scene unfold in front of your eyes. 

The slit that had occurred on the figure’s cheeks while smiling widened and you saw your best friend’s skin getting ripped apart - first the face, then the skull, then the full body in half through the middle - slowly, like a flimsy cloth. 

You desperately tried to open the hundreds of years old latch. Duri freed himself from Hoseok’s skin that fell on the ground like a wet rag and dissolved into Duri’s body like slime.

The skin on your palm started burning. 

Duri started running towards you and his body began to disfigure in a gruesome manner — his back hunched, his arms grew longer, crossing his knees, his legs bent like an animal and he grew claws on both hands and feet. His hairless body was grey in colour and there was pure cruelty in his glowing lidless eyes and lipless mouth where only long and sharp teeth were visible. 

Your mind couldn’t focus on anything else except for the impending danger and the latch that needed to be opened. 

The moment you fully unlocked the latch, you found yourself flying. Duri had grabbed your haversack and had flinged you to the opposite wall. 

Your side hit the wall and you fell on your back. You realised you’d have broken a few bones if you had been thrown any harder. Due to the impact, your flashlight broke, leaving shattered glass pieces on the floor. 

A series of coughs escaped your lungs and you sat up only to see that Duri was holding your haversack. 

No no no no no no. 

Panic spread across your body like a wildfire. If Duri got his hands on the snow globe then all of this would be for nothing. You quickly took out your gun and aimed at Duri. 

His face didn’t have the opportunity to show much expression but you could imagine that he was smirking mockingly at you while he said, “Your father didn’t teach you stealing is a bad thing?” 

He took out the snow globe. 

You gritted your teeth and aimed at his head and fired. It hit right above his temple, but to your horror, his skin absorbed the bullet as if you had just shot a viscous substance. 

“You need to do more than that to hurt me.” His distorted voice echoed in the hallway. 

You shot another round which hit his eye. 

You didn’t hope for much and were ready to shoot another round, but it seemed to have an effect on Duri. It took him a second to come near you and the next second you were grabbed by your collar too tightly to even breath. 

He smelt like swamps and rotten vegetables, which made breathing in his vicinity even more difficult for you. 

“Humans.” Duri growled. “You are all so fragile and insignificant, yet you stop at nothing to prove your dominance over things that you can’t control.” 

You coughed and struggled to get out of his clasp. 

Duri’s grip on your collar lightened but he didn’t let go. 

“You know what, your father probably thought of the same thing when he willingly entered the Devil’s Crest to rescue your uncle. Such a prideful little bastard. Leaving his family behind with the confidence that he will be able to get out. Aren’t you the same as him? Prideful, overconfident and rude.” Duri inched closer as his hurt dimmed eye began to regain its glow. 

“Do not dare to speak of my father with your stinky mouth.” You barked. 

At your retort, Duri laughed maniacally and let you go. 

“You have got some nerve. Do you think your nerves will save you from the repercussions of hurting my eye?” 

He took your hand and kept three silver tags on your palm that magically appeared in his big clawed hand. Those three tags belonged to Jeongguk, Hoseok and your father. 

You looked up at Duri and he said, “Choose one of them that you want to save. I’ll spare his life. Choose very carefully. Because the unchosen ones aren’t going to have the most merciful deaths.” He started singing ‘eenie meenie miney mo’ and placed his index finger on each silver tag with each word. 

You closed your eyes and took a sharp breath.

“Are you saying that my father is still alive?” You asked.

“Very much.” He replied. “Now tell me which two tags do you want to return?” 

“What if I don’t?” 

“Then one of them loses the chance to leave.” 

The silver tags in your palms suddenly felt like they weighed a ton. They wanted to drag you down and bury you under the earth. 

How were you supposed to make a choice that you had no right to make? How can you knowingly push someone to their demise? But…  

But how can you deny someone their one chance at escaping this hell?

You longed to see your father. 

Would I be able to see him if he gets to leave? You didn’t know. 

What if I couldn’t escape? What’s gonna happen when he gets home and sees mom in the arms of another man? How will he react when he will know that I haven’t returned home in two days? Will he spend the rest of his life searching for me just like I did for him?

Jeongguk… How will Jeongguk live after knowing that I went missing while searching for him? How will he live after losing both his love and child? 

A memory from a couple years ago hit your head. Both of you had gone on a foreign trip to New Zealand. On the second day, you were going to the Bay of Islands by bus. When you reached there, your keychain fell off and went under the seat while you were standing up to get out. You had told Jeongguk to go ahead and get the luggage from the bus bunker while you got the keychain. But the keychain had rolled off quite far. And the bus, not knowing you were still inside, had driven off as soon as both of your luggage was off of it. 

You managed to get off at the next stop just ten minutes away and take the return bus. But even though you had consoled Jeongguk over the phone that you were fine and you were returning, when you reached where he was, he hugged you so tightly as if you would disappear if he let you go. And his silent tears wetted your dress. He had always been such a worrywart. 

Would he be okay?  

You wondered how Hoseok was doing inside the cage called the Balam Manor. He was probably on the verge of losing his spirit. He had always been good under pressure but never good when he was lonely. 

How would Hoseok’s parents feel about losing their son? How would Jiwoo cope with losing her brother? How would Ji-a live with shattered dreams in an empty home? Can I face them after pushing Hobi to certain death? What about Jeongguk’s parents? Can I face them if I do not choose Jeongguk now? 

What would dad have done? He probably would have chosen the one with the better chance at a good life. And at this moment, it seems to be… 

You picked up Hoseok’s with your other hand and silently gave back Jeongguk’s and your father’s tags back to Duri. 

“That was fun. Though I was expecting a stream of tears, these few drops are good too. You are a smart one, aren’t you? Now you won’t have to go back and answer your boyfriend's family and your mom why you didn't choose their son and husband. Now sit here like a good girl until I come back.” Duri said and turned back with the snowglobe. The sigil on his neck was bright like burning coal.

“Are you really going to let Hoseok leave?” You shouted behind him. 

“Of course, since we need an empty space anyway for you. But I can’t guarantee if it’s Hoseok or his body that’s going to lea—” 

Duri couldn’t finish his sentence as you hit his neck with the fire torch that you had taken out of its place by flinging your haversack at its bottom. 

You emptied the rubbing alcohol bottle from the first aid kit on him that you had taken out from your haversack before flinging it. 

Duri screeched an ear piercing cry in pain as his head caught fire, and he tried to put it out by slapping his hands profusely on his head. 

Taking the opportunity, you grabbed the snowglobe that had fallen on the floor and ran for the door. 

Despite being in pain, Duri ran behind you to catch you, but you had already crossed the threshold of the exit. Judging by the fact that the snowglobe didn’t get a single scratch on it even after falling on the floor with such an impact, it could only mean that it needed even more brutal force to break. There should be a field past the door and if you could just enter the woods beyond it somehow, then you would be able to find enough time to break the snowglobe. 

You shut the door behind you and looked ahead. 

What?

You were back in the hallway that you had just ran out from a moment ago. You had entered through the door that you had just left through. 

You looked around yourself and found only yourself in that empty hallway. Duri wasn’t there. Then you noticed the fire torch that you had flinged a while ago — it was intact in its place. 

Your haversack wasn’t anywhere to be seen either. 

You looked back at the door. It had the same neon exit sign on top of it. 

Is this the missing exit sign from the Balam Manor miniatures?

If I go back through this door then Duri will surely catch me. I have no choice but to run inside the manor.

Without wasting any time, you ran towards the painting through which you had entered. But when you got out of it, you found yourself in complete darkness. You went back to the secret passageway and shot at one of the fire torch holders. It fell loose and the fire torch fell on the floor. You took it and reentered the mansion’s main hallway. You were taken aback upon noticing you were in the right hallway instead of the left one. 

But that wasn’t what surprised you the most. It seemed like you had entered a different mansion altogether. The interior was in ruins and was covered in years of dust, dirt and cobwebs. You slowly walked through the filth. You had nothing on yourself except the snowglobe and the gun. You must find an instrument to break the snowglobe soon. 

You came across rooms that you hadn’t seen before and it all seemed haphazardly placed. The paintings on the walls had lost all their glory to silverfishes and moths. Your feet left deep prints on the innumerable unsweeped layers of dust on the floor and your bare feet wiggled in them. 

After walking for a few minutes, you reached where the living room was supposed to be, but there was just an empty space and a rectangular opening in the floor through which a staircase went further downstairs. 

Is that the basement? 

You noticed a faint light coming from inside it. Conflicted on whether you should go check out the source or not, you stopped short on your track. 

It could very much be Duri or… a survivor. 

You decided that you would just take a peek and run back if you sensed any danger. 

With careful steps you descended the stairs.  You ended up in a well-lit and short hallway through whose middleway there was an arch-like structure that led to another hallroom with no door. 

You saw a figure kneeling on the floor in a defeated position with his head hanging low. 

His outfit, his short hair was all too familiar to you. 

You kept the snowglobe near the arch just in case and approached him cautiously. 

His bare neck had no branding on them. 

You gasped in a struggle to breathe as tears welled up in your eyes and you called out- 

“Hoba?” 

— © 2024 apotatomashedbybts, all rights reserved. Reposting or modifying of any kind is not allowed. Translations are not allowed.

#bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #networkbangtan #bangtanoasis #btscreaturescoven #thebtswritersclub #fic: eleutheria #jeon Jungkook #dailybusans #busanboys #bitemeval #libraryen #jungkook #monfics #useryoonqiful #eoieopda archive #useromy #usertaeyungie #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook ff #jungkook horror #horror au #jungkook imagine #jungkook series #jungkook scenario #jungkook×reader #Jungkook fanfiction #original writing #demonic entity

[mqfx]

unfortunately my most prominent jyl thoughts start with the soup. & im no expert on ancient chinese kitchens, but given that lotus root & pork soup is something that simmers for hours, i think that as much as the soup is an act of service & a tried and true "we dont have to talk about it" comfort tactic, its also... a great excuse to duck away from everything going on. the kitchen being the safe space, so to speak! and overall jyl seems more avoidant than confrontational? i havent read mdzs for the details in years can you tell but i think theres a good chance under the right circumstances she could have become jfm 2: shijie edition, in which she can read emotional cues fairly well and she doesn't want anyone to be unhappy, but how proactive she might be about resolving a situation is entirely based on how secure she feels. im not forgetting her valiant defence of wwx "i take insults against him seriously" moment! but theres a difference between an eroding stagnant unhappiness & a situation that is more clear cut. im just not confident about how she would raise jin ling in the whole (waves hand) jin situation if she had not been collateral damage. is this making sense 😭

this is all true but let me make clear that my problem with how the fandom conceptualizes jiang yanli is NOT the soup. I'm not mad about the soup and in fact since it's one of basically three things that we even know about her at all, it stands to reason that when we think about her we're Gonna Have To Mention the Soup.

and one can (if one cares enough about her, which I'm sure you do anon) draw reasonable conclusions about her character based on this thing that she does. after all, everything is (supposed to be) important in a given text. I don't disagree with anything you said. she is a careful, conflict-avoidant person due to her tumultuous childhood with abusive/neglectful parents; despite this, she possesses strong morals and protective instincts. I don't think she would've been bad at raising jin ling because unlike her parents, she and her husband actually loved each other and communicate instead of willfully misunderstanding each other then bottling it all up (if she had married someone she didn't love, then yeah she might've been jfm 2. either way we'll never know because guess fucking what mxtx did)

my ISSUE, which fandom can barely acknowledge let alone address, is that "soup" has become a convenient shorthand to refer to her, but it's not a quality. it's a thing that is associated with her, not her personality. this isn't fair! "avoidant" is a trait, "comforting" is a trait, "kind" is a trait, "average" is a trait, soup's not a fucking trait! and some of that is just the general fandom trend of flattening characters in fanon, but the fact that she's a woman and therefore not paid as much attention compared to the ~Complexities~ of the men doesn't help

and I get that sometimes it's not that serious, sometimes it's for Joaks, but why is it that even when joking people can come up with all sorts of qualities for the men but when it's her it's just that she cooks soup? and in more serious discussions, why is her sole purpose apparently to be emotional support or tragic motivation for her brothers? (because mxtx herself wrote her that way!)

why did mxtx not delve into her reactions or point of view (mdzs is the only one of her novels with switching pov, so she could have)? or even just written more scenes with her? (CQL notably gave the women more scenes. the book is abysmal on this regard.....and in others)

tl;dr mxtx did a shit job of developing her character and that of the other women, and fandom makes this problem worse by not giving a shit. the feedback loop continues. your ask and my answer combined are already more words and effort than mxtx spent on writing her

#hewwo #asks #anonymous #mdzs #jiang yanli #jyl #which is why someday im gonna write a book with mostly women so people have no choice but to think about them #but with a couple shippable twinks in the background so i can still grift money from fujos

[rutadales]

Do you not think cDream is the villain? Sorry this is not at all meant to be agressive or anything, I just have trouble understanding that interpretation. I’m genuinely interested in what you think bc I’m not as well versed in lore as many dsmp fans but from what I’ve seen, cDream is a pretty unequivocally bad person. I think few of the characters aren’t to be fair, but though cDream is more complex than the common interpretations, he doesnt necessarily seem to be morally better? Again, don’t mean to sound rude or anything!! Just kinda trying to understand :)

So this question kinda expands into several branching off points for me, but I'll try to keep it simple and break it down into sections as best I can. this is going to get long

So do I think c!Dream is a villain? Depends on what definition you're using first of all but also in what context, in which storyline, and from whose perspective you're consuming the story from. A strength of SMPs as storytelling devices is that the concrete plot and hard facts of the story are often pretty fluid; what happened when, who was there, who saw what, and who is a villain or a hero is all dependent on which stream you chose to tune into at the time. But as much as this is a strength, it's also a detriment. Entire character beats and motivations can be missed or obfuscated by simply not tuning into a creators stream. A big example of this is how many people missed the Staged Finale reveal, anyone who didn't watch Punz stream will still be operating under the belief that everything Dream did in the disc finale was his true nature, and not an act. Completely changes how to interpret those characters and the entire finale as a scene.

The nature of stream based storytelling is audiences are consuming completely different stories, simultaneously, and there's no hard copy of this story. It's not a book you can go pick up at Barnes and Noble or a movie you can stream on Netflix. To get caught up and engage with the fiction you either have to go back and rewatch hundreds of hours of live content (with dead space and parts that have been completely ret-conned), watch recaps edited by third parties who are at liberty to cut out anything they deem irrelevant to the story, or get it exclusively word of mouth by the audience. A character being more loved by the audience now means that character's narration is given higher value in contrast to other characters. Even supposedly non-biased sources, like the fan wiki, meant to lay out bare bone facts of the story are riddled with un-sourced fan interpretations of the media. Look here

Now, reading a characters unreliable narration as reliable isn't a failing as it is more just engaging with the media as intended. The intent of utilizing unreliable narrators is often to "trick" the audience or to showcase how that character sees the world. Its fine and is used is a lot of different mediums, I'm actually a huge fan. Love me some bitches who just lie. The thing is, due to everything I've laid out above, having a character who is unreliable, like c!Tommy often is, in this medium means fans who only consume the content via world of mouth are getting an unreliable narration without the context that its unreliable. This completely changes entire swaths of the fiction and more, to our point, who is the villain.

A really, kind of neat phenomena in the fandom is how fans bought into c!Wilbur's lies about L'manberg the same way the characters he was manipulating did. Fans became part of the narrative in a strange way. Which is actually a perfect example for how other characters shape the narrative around Dream, both within the fiction and within the fans trying to engage with it.

With that in mind, I don't even read the dsmp as a story with "villains" or "heros", its a story with a lot of different perspectives that clash with each other. Those terms don't really lend themselves to the kind of questions I'm asking about the story.

I think the question you're really asking is "Do you think c!Dream is a good person". You bring up being "unequivocally bad" and moral a couple different times, which to me flags as a question about fictional morality. Because the question of who is a villain in the dream smp is completely dependent on who you watch, which streams you've watched, and whosever narration you decided to subscribe to-- and is why I find the label villain in dsmp analysis fairly mute. It's kinda a pointless exercise to try and determine who earns that label and who doesn't. Not the kind of analysis I'm interested in.

But to answer the question I think you imply here, no I don't think c!Dream is a good person. I don't think anyone on the smp is. Maybe Michael? Well he tried to break into a prison for information, so by some moral standards, absolutely not! I'd certainly agree with you that Dream is more complex than common interpretation would lead us to believe, but that complexity does lend itself to morality in some cases.

Is Dream wrong to want to prevent his home from being split up into countries and thus filled with conflict? Is it worse to threaten, torment, and assault someone because you're pathologically obsessed with them or because you have a larger goal in mind and find those actions beneficial to the goal at hand?

To me, that's it's just pointless hole to get sucked into. I am personally uninterested in ideas of a character possessing or gaining moral purity and much more interested in characters learning to move on from the harm they've caused. C!Dream is interesting to me, not because he's a good person, but because hes a complex one. TL;DR: I am uninterested in using villain as a term within the context of dsmp and find the discussions of the moral goodness of characters reductive.

If you have any other questions feel free to shoot me an ask! I actually quite enjoy breaking down how I think about characters and media and am always open to (friendly) discussions on the matter. <3

#root talks #dreblr #c!dream #hopefully this helps you understand #i tend to be long winded but i really did try to keep myself on track here #dreblr moots feel free to chime in here as well if u want #ask #anon

[uncle-dusknoir]

camp worry seed could have just been a movie

ten episodes at just over a half-hour long each. a watchog streaming original.

During the Munna-Munna Forest Camp Dreamseed's off-season, a group of 12 teenagers sneak in to celebrate the start of their Journeys and investigate rumors of a rare Pokemon that's been spotted around the area. Their excitement turns quickly into a nightmare as members of the group keep going missing.

Despite its well-worn premise and surprisingly unique villain, Camp Worry Seed doesn't do anything unique or honestly even memorable with its large cast or just under six hours of runtime. It does little to no work to make you care about most of the cast other than the three that make it to the end. So much of its runtime is wasted on the villain's perspective, which really just kills any tension that they thought they were building up, especially by episode 5.

This doesn't make it all bad, thankfully. A star is redeemed for the acting, which was refreshingly competent despite the lines that they were fed. Unfortunately, these actors really cared about the series they were telling, which shows in the care they put into it. I hope that next time they'll be able to find themselves caring for a better show.

You can check here for my full review with spoilers.

OOC cut baby. yeah originally I was going to write a full review with spoilers but I lost motivation as soon as I realized i was going to have to make up 10 entire episodes. but for the sake of RP and my own record, here's the basic extended plot!

Cast of characters, in order of importance (how long they survived basically. first three made it out alive)

Tobias and Lillipup; Sarah and Purrloin; Melody and Snivy; Marcus and Patrat; Daisy and Munna; Archie and Sandile; Thomas and Pansear; Delia and Oshawott; Valerie and Tepig; Occa and Darumaka; Persim and Panpour; Jacob and Trubbish.

Jacob was the 'bully' archetype and was taken first so that the teens weren't that offput. Occa and Persim are siblings and were taken at the same time. Delia and Valerie were rivals; their fighting got Valerie taken, and Delia was guilty and went to find her. Thomas and Archie were taken offscreen at different times to up the tension. Marcus killed Daisy because he thought she was committing the murders, and the last three left Marcus behind when they were escaping because he murdered Daisy.

The actual killer was a were-person Houndstomb that ate human souls who had an army of Greavard. The special effects for him were really good. They focused on him a lot, though, which killed the mystery.

A lot of the dialogue was very cliche and cheesy.

#basilblogging #basils movie reviews #((FAKE SERIES IT IS NOT REAL))

[hopeymchope]

DanganLike, Ahoy: 'Inescapable' is a rollercoaster of highs and lows

I've previously laid out what "Inescapable: No Rules, No Rescue" is about and how its gameplay works, so I'm not going to reiterate that here. Right now, I'm going to focus on explaining what's great about it... and sadly, why it ultimately disappointed me.

You might say that Inescapable left me a bit 'upsetty spaghetti.'

It's blatantly obvious how much time and effort were put into this game... not only because the art is gorgeous and there's clearly a lot of love poured into the dialogue, but mostly because each of the game's four "routes" contains so much unique material. You spend the first half of your playthrough making the decisions that wind up deciding what the second half will be, meaning that the entire second half — 50% of a given playthrough's runtime! — can be completely different on four different runs. Although plenty of visual novels have alternate routes/endings, few I've encountered do it to this extent. And even when they do contain such extensive differences between routes, they don't usually do this MANY routes; consider 'Steins;Gate 0', which has only two major routes once it breaks off.

Literally the first line of the entire game is a reference to another piece of media. It will not be the last. And I say that with affection! I found these references fun.

In essence, the devs at Dreamloop games have scripted, directed VAs, and made distinct CGs for 2.5 complete runs of a a story that tkes roughly 12 hours on the first pass, giving you well over 30 hours of playtime... provided you want all that. Some of the routes even have unique gameplay mechanics JUST for them!!

Searching 3D environments where our characters stand as 2D cutouts... seems familiar.

Dreamloop's European team wear their affection for Danganronpa on their sleeve, too. Early on, the characters participate in a pretend murder-mystery where they are challenged to find "the Blackened." When/if blood is spilled, it's usually bright pink. Someone breaks into Monokuma's signature laugh at one point... these devs are people of refined tastes. :)

One of many overt references to the devs' love for DR.

And oh god, that voice acting. Most major scenes are fully voiced in English, but of the four routes in the game — Greed, Lust, Suspicion, and Trust — it's the Suspicion route that really shows how excellent their VAs can be. They will break your fucking heart in that storyline. Highest possible kudos for those performances.

But let's dip deeper into those four routes, because their presence is both a big brag point (tons of content!) and also the game's biggest downfall. The main problems with them are twofold:

If you're going to have four different second-halves of your game, they ALL need to align with that first half. But because the game uses such arbitrary reasons for why it slots you into one of its four routes (I'll circle back to that), the player character — Harrison — can suddenly come off as being WILDLY different after doing very fucking little to justify it. Two of the routes just... don't feel like you're playing the same character any more after the transition into the back half; Harrison goes from being well-meaning but nervous and full of self-doubt to suddenly being defined and dominated by some new trait that has NEVER existed before then.

But there's an even bigger issue with the four routes. See, most visual novels with multiple endings/routes keep the characters consistent across all the story branches; it's only your choices that change what storyline you wind up on. Even in Danganronpa, when you play any bonus modes or side games (Island Mode, UTDP, Danganronpa S), the characters remain inherently the same people. 'Inescapable' doesn't adhere to this logic, though; the personalities, behavior, and background motivations of the characters are completely different on different routes. And I don't just mean "In one route they are mean and in another they are nice." I mean they are so FUNDAMENTALLY different that you just have to accept that this person containing the same name, VA, and sprites is a completely different character. If the same person opens up/reveals more of themselves to you (i.e., Harrison) on two different routes, then one route could have that person reveal their fears, insecurities, and innate kindness... while the other route reveals them to be a sociopathic, Machiavellian figure (sorry for the bad rap, Nic). If you a character see fall from grace into becoming basically a Nazi on one route, another route might show you that same character as someone who holds onto their best ideals even in the face of brutal hardship. It's hard to even explain how INCREDIBLY different these characters are between routes. In one route, a quiet character is just a shy sweetheart waiting to be brought into the light... in another, they're a complete sociopath who tortures with detached curiosity. These people are ALL-FUCKING-OVER the place!

Mia is Harrison's closest confidant and ally throughout the first half of the game. And the sprite shown here is giving major Chiaki vibes.

I can truly say that I've never seen another visual novel take that approach before... and this break from the norm only helps to make it clear WHY we established that norm. It's hard to embrace and love a character who winds up an important, trustworthy ally on one route when you've already seen the same person be your most aggressive, duplicitious nemesis on another route. It serves as a powerful deterrant to establishing much emotional attachment to these people. Everybody I loved in the first half of the game eventually became people I no longer cared about, because the routes make it clear that they can each suddenly become ANY type of character at ANY time the writers demand it.

There's some commentary on modern politics as well as representation of gay, non-binary and asexual people in here. But is it still desirable representation if those characters only reveal their sexual preferences on ONE story route — and worse, they're evil on some other route???

As long as we're talking about routes, though, let's break them all down in regards to how you reach them. (Yup, this is the time for that circle-back I promised y'all earlier.) The game does NOT provide any hints or insight into how you get onto the routes, but people who've brute-forced the game and looked into the files have figured out quite a bit. And boy, these triggers are... some bullshit.

You get Greed by winning competitions or playing built-in mini-games. I wound up on this route during my first playthrough SOLELY because the game includes a daily (in-game daily, that is — and a 'day' in the game is usually around seven minutes) Wordle mini-game, and I played it regularly. I also played the three Arcade cabinet mini-games (an Asteroids clone, a side-scrolling infinite runner, and... Seagull BBQ, which is by far the most fascinating/weird one IMO). And playing mini-games apparently means you're greedy, because it tosses you onto this route where your character suddenly values money over all else. (????) Other stuff that leads you down this path includes winning any games in the story, such as when the characters do a tug-of-war or host a trivia quiz about each other. YEAH, playing the quiz well evidently is a sign of Greed... THIS is the kind of shit that makes these triggers so frustrating.

You get Lust by talking a lot to any characters the game deems "scantily clad" or possibly, uh... fetish-ize-able. That means spending time with the innocent maid (Annika) counts for this ending because she's dressed as a maid, and that's a potential fetish, so fuck you. :P Talking to Giovanni the Italian 50something dude ALSO counts, because his shirt is hanging open to reveal his musculature. The twin-tailed teenage heir to a fortune? That fuckin' counts, too — she's young and small, ergo it's now a "lust' point. Talking to Eva, the excessively flirty social media diva in small clothing? OBVIOUSLY counts... but that's really the only one that legitimately makes some sense. (Weirdly, spending time with the huge-boobed Portuguese mechanic who always sports her midriff seemingly does NOT count towards this route. Is it because she's in her 30s? Is this sexist ageism shit?) Other triggers for this one are thankfully more obvious: Choosing to play around with or be alone with any girl (even if it's part of a meta-game, such as when the cast are playing 'Caverns & Wyverns'... yeah, that's a thing), going to the sauna alone with a girl, etc.

Off-brand Fast & Furious movies are somehow a plot point on MULTIPLE routes. Starring "Bill Petrol"!

You get Suspicion by spending most of your time talking to your most trusted confidant (Mia) and/or to the most suspicious/secretive person around (Sasha). Also eavesdropping on conversations or spying on people to learn what they're up to will get you here. Oh, and when the producers tell you that you can use in-game points to unlock bits of "Dirt or "Gossip" that will reveal secrets about the other contestants? Yeah, going for "Dirt" whatsoever will ABSOLUTELY get you on this route. This is the route that most heavily caters to Danganronpa fans, because this is the one that leads to you solving a series of murders on the island. And yes, you'll be investigating crime scenes, collecting evidence, and presenting it at opportune times to corner the killer! Unfortunately, the ultimate thesis is pretty much the opposite of Danganonpa: There's no hope to be found on this route. Instead, this is the perfect route for those oddballs who mostly liked Danganronpa but really felt Despair should've won. :P

Like I said, the hardest route to get is definitely Trust. You have to be RIDICULOUSLY pure and avoid ANY/ALL of the triggers for the other three in order to wind up on "Trust." In other words: Spend almost all your time with Daan, Lumi, Francisca, and/or Isak (because these are, for some reason, NOT triggers for other routes). Refuse to ever look at the unlockable "Dirt" or "Gossip." Never eavesdrop and never spy, no matter how sus a character is acting. Refuse to participate in as many in-story games as possible — even when you are prompted by the game to enter an answer or choose from a set of choices, try to find a way to refuse or to enter blatantly fake responses. Like, if the game says "Guess who the answer is to this question"? Just say "Nobody" or some crap like that. :P Don't play mini-games, because Wordle and Asteroids are somehow vaguely evil for reasons I don't get. At one point, there's an in-story competition where you have to choose to either take money (Greed) or expose someone's secrets (Suspicion), and you either need to know which characters to speak with in order to avoid BOTH options, or you need to keep them both as balanced as humanly possible.

It's unsurprising, I'm sure, that Trust is basically the mega-happy ending. But because Trust is easily the hardest route to access, you'll probably see these characters spiral into some shitty behavior on those OTHER routes well before you see them settle into something more peaceful. Which means that unfortunately — due to what I said earlier about the characters being wildly different people on different routes — this happy ending feels pretty unearned, maybe even unwanted. Because no matter how much of a pal they are on the "Trust" path, someone with the same name who looks and sounds the same was willing to go full fucking psycho on you with VERY little provocation on another route. So do you really think these people deserve this mega-happy ending? (It doesn't help that "Trust" also runs pretty long without much happening for 1/3 of it... it can turn into the most boring of the four, imo.)

The story supposedly takes place in 2017, but it sometimes makes references to things that didn't yet exist then. Oh well.

None of these routes are free from writing issues, unfortunately, Where the game excels at making very distinctive characters who are initially interesting despite their Choose-Your-Own-Adventure personalities, the actual overall plotting are where things always seem to fall apart. For example: In "Trust," a character disappears to go work secretly behind-the-scenes to free the group. And this staged disappearance of a major ally is probably the BIGGEST plot point in the final act of this route. Yet, ultimately, said ally... does nothing. They just vanish for most of the story, only to show up at the end and be like "Oh yeah I'm fine but there was no reason for my disappearance, I didn't do anything." It's not even clear why or how the whole 'Inescapable' broadcast/game ends on this route! It just... STOPS, after the characters are told multiple times by the producers that it WON'T, without any explanation. In "Suspicion," on the other hand, we have one major murder case where no motive for the premeditated brutal killing is ever established. This perpetrator isn't some maniac, but... I guess maybe they are, because the game never establishes ANY reason for why they did the horrible thing they did. It just... kinda happened. THESE are what I mean when I say there are big PLOT issues. On more than one occasion, it's just like "This shit happened for some reason. We either don't know or won't say why."

And I get that maybe my expectations/demands are just really high. There's a LOT that goes into high-quality writing, after all - you have to develop characters that are interesting, you have to have consistent characterization for them, you have to write dialogue that feels engaging, and you have to create coherent and intriguing plotting throughout. To its credit, Inescapable's writing absolutely succeeds in TWO of these things. But one of them, it fails in. And one of them? It doesn't even TRY to do.

I think you get the picture by now. I was ultimately let down by this latest attempt to recapture the magic of titles like Danganronpa, Zero Escape, etc. In the past two years, my favorite "Danganlike" attempt remains Yurukill — I still think about that one fondly and with surprising regularity. By comparison, Inescapable is a much longer/more complex game ... that I sadly have a markedly lower opinion of.

Both Yurukill and Inescapable ultimately end with a tease for a potential sequel. I would ABSOLUTELY play a Yurukill 2, but I feel like that's not looking too likely right now. Would I play an Inescapable 2, though? .... Eh. Maybe. If I was in the right mood or I heard/read something about it that sounded good, I may risk it.

#inescapble #visual novels #inescapable: no rules no rescue #screenshots #review #visual novel reviews #danganlike #danganlike ahoy #danganronpa

[seth-shitposts]

How do you come up with titles for your fics? Because especially The Aphelion Waltz is such an awesome title!

Thank you!!!

Naming works is something is not too difficult for me at least a good 80% of the time? Maybe more.

I usually go with either whatever the vocal point of the fic is or something having to do with whatever inspired the piece in the first place. Sometimes its just blatantly what the fic is about, other times it's a song lyric, sometimes a concept/word with specific definition. Mmm symbolism as well!

I have a few suggestions that may help, but we've never greatly struggled with naming pieces (don't get me wrong, there's been quite a few that have kicked us in the ass, but in general this is an area we do somewhat well in). But I believe that these listed below have definitely been what helped us build this skill.

Go through Story Name Generators and write a story based off of something that calls your attention. I think that this may help kickstart sorta a reverse learning thing. By doing it in reverse, it may help you in figuring it our the otherway around.

Have confidence in names you pick. Even if you don't think it's good, go with it anyway. Some of my favorite names for pieces from other writers have been titles that they didn't particularly have full confidence in. Naming a piece is a skill that gets better in time and practice.

Alex and Haimo are 100% under the impression that reading poetry improves this skill. And I don't have any reason to doubt them, so I say go for it. Maybe even write some poetry yourself. You don't have to be the next Robert Frost or Emily Dickenson, you just have to be the next you and thats a process. A beautiful one :) you got this!

Smush words and concepts together. Take two or three things from completely different fields and put em together.

For pieces you've put together, answer some questions like this: What is this about? Who is in it? What is the plot? What is moving the plot forward? What conflict is there? What inspired this piece? What have I used continously through this work? What motivated me to start and keep at this piece? What is motivating the character(s)? What ties these characters together? How does the plot affect the character(s)? [We've found that sometimes our title can be found in these questions, so maybe it'll be of help to you?)

If it takes you awhile, that's okay. If it's still frustrating, that's okay. This is a skill, a skill takes time and constant nurturing to build. People build skills at different rates from each other. Doesn't mean that one person is better or worse at that skill than another, it just means that they learn these skills differently and have differing skill sets. Just keep working on building that skill. Because I believe in you, friend :)

I am going to be proud of The Aphelion Waltz until I die. It took me a few days to come up with it after Seth and I officially started compling notes for it.

For The Aphelion Waltz, Aphelion has actually been a concept I've been wanting to use for months (and to be honest I do plan on using it again for a canonverse fic). For this fic itself, it's idea had been rooted in the enjoyment of instrumental music, and Seth and I knew that we were going to build the fic up around a theme that included music, as that is a main vocal point.

The thought of the fic was originally a Hehe-Haha Sebastián made about my enjoyment of listening to orchestra. He said that Kallus was definitely the type to manage to sneak into one of Coruscant's orchestra houses to get away from everything, even if for just a couple of hours. And then added in the thought of Zeb being an aristocrat and is definitely, secretly a huge nerd who will take any chance to info dump about the history or significance of a scholarly thing. So then we just kept going back and forth with ideas until we started writing them down. And then expanded upon the notes until we had some rough guesstimate of a plot.

I needed us to have a name so we could stop kriffing referring to it as "That AU" or "The Orchestra AU". I kept thinking on it for a few days. At one point I had been listening to one of my personal favourite songs (that I relate quite a bit to Kallus with actually) called The Forsaken Waltz by Joshua Kyan Aalampour. Something that I do frequently, as Alex, is that I listen to Orchestra songs and imagine the story that is being told or a story that would follow along with it. I picture Kallus a lot in this song when I listen to it. And I really love the triple time pace of a Waltz, as the definition of a Waltz is a dance performed by a couple in triple time. With this song I loved how it's pacing sped up or eased back into a lull only to feel as if the protagonist had to keep going again. And at this point, Seth and I had created quite a good chunk of the story and to me, I thought that we could very much fit it into what the written version of a Waltz might be like, with the pacing that that had been planned thus far for Kallus and Zeb. So then all that was left was to name the Waltz. If this Waltz of a story had a name, what do I think it would be? Since much of the story and of Kallus’s life thus far had taken place so far away from the stars, that they were unobtainable, and that Kallus would very much view Zeb as the same; a rare and precious thing that would remain out of his reach, would Starlight Waltz work? And I very much could have gone with that, but I wasn't satisfied. So I wrecked my mind a little more, pulling for more astronomy references and words for how the world worked and the beauty continously seen in it so often that we name them. But then I remembered that Aphelion is something that I was shelving. I still plan on using it for the idea I had intended to attach it to, but I decided to give it a try. And thus, the creation of The Aphelion Waltz.

The Aphelion Waltz

Aphelion: an astronomical term referring to the point in orbit of which an object is at its furthest from the sun.

Waltz: a dance between a couple performed in triple time.

This is a three word summery of what the story is about, in both the most vaguest and most indepth way possible.

I hope this was of help! If there's anything else we could maybe help with or give possible advice, do feel free to reach out!

-Seth💚 & Alex💙

#Writing advice #Naming a story #Writing #Writer #fanfic writer #star wars rebels #swr #alexsandr kallus #kalluzeb #garazeb orrelios #zeb orrelios #the aphelion waltz #Making a title #Coming up with a title

[random-iz-stuff]

Invader Zim Deathmatch:

ROUND 2, FIGHT 9:

Zim vs Minimoose!

The rules are as follows:

1. We’re assuming that both participants actively want and are willing to kill each other unless actively specified otherwise (for example: Chammy Wamboo).

2. The fight must be one on one so no outside help is allowed, but prep time is allowed.

3. The rule for prep time is that if one contestant gets prep time, the other contestant gets an equal amount of prep time as well.

[Masterpost]

Information about both contestants (who they are, powers and abilities, etc) can be found under the cut.

Contestant Stats:

Zim:

“HE IS ZIM!”

Note: due to me doing a LOT of different analyses of Zim’s combat capabilities, intelligence, and competence in general, this section goes way further into detail than with any other contestant, to the point where I can say almost exactly HOW Zim fights along with his general abilities, which gets its own section.

Appearances:

As Zim is a Main Character, I’m not going to list where he appears. He’s everywhere

Tactics:

Zim is a very environmental fighter that uses his mind and the environment around him a lot in combat, quickly setting up traps, leading his opponents into bad positions and using anything he can get his hands on to gain an advantage.

Zim also uses his PAK a lot in combat, mostly for the extra maneuverability it provides. Leaping around and dodging attacks with it and using it to quickly climb and move around.

Zim also knows how and when to briefly get into his opponent’s head, confusing them by briefly putting on an act to seem dumber than he appears (Take his fights against Hobo 13 and Pilot Dib for very good examples). Once his opponent is distracted or thrown off, he strikes fast and hard.

Powers and abilities:

Irken physiology (Zim can lift over 3 times his body weight and is extremely durable. More specifically, I’ve estimated in the past with some calculations for Zim’s height and weight that Zim can lift about 612.8 pounds, but that’s just estimation and theories)

PAK (PAK legs, PAK lasers, shield generator, all the things an Irken PAK can do)

Elite military training (Zim is an Invader, meaning that he went through irken military training and became an elite soldier before going through Invader training. This means that Zim has the combat skills of an elite soldier)

Invader training (as an Ex-Invader, Zim is trained in espionage, stealth, sabotage, and other invader-related things)

Throwing Knife Mastery (Zim has a 99.7% accuracy rate with throwing knives, and it’s very likely that this accuracy rate also applies to other throwable things)

Superior Intelligence (Zim is the single smartest Irken we’ve ever seen and is a lot smarter than he appears, being able to build things in less than an hour that artificially enhanced irkens take days or even weeks to build. This significantly reduces or even removes the amount of prep time Zim needs to create something. Zim is also capable of manipulating people by playing dumb, a tactic he sometimes uses in combat to throw his opponents off their rhythm (take his fights in Hobo 13 and the Pilot for example))

Shock Spear (as seen in Nickelodeon All Star Brawl of all places, Zim owns, knows how to use, and always has on his person: a unique Shock Spear. This Shock Spear can presumably do anything a regular Shock Spear can do, including shocking anyone hit by it and discharging energy from the blades for a ranged attack)

[Weakness] No common sense or impulse control [Averted] (Zim normally has little common sense or impulse control and seems to struggle with motivation, a fact that usually leads to him defeating himself. HOWEVER, in the right situation where Zim properly focuses on the task at hand (usually either when he wants revenge or when he thinks his life or his mission is in danger), Zim completely loses this weakness and not only becomes completely motivated, but also starts thinking things through, becoming far more dangerous. A fight to the death like this competition definitely fills those requirements, meaning that Zim in this situation would be completely focused at basically all times)

[For This Fight Only] Past Knowledge (Since Zim built Minimoose in the first place, he has full knowledge of how to disassemble Minimoose)

Fun Fact:

Both Mark Hamill and Billy West were candidates for the voice of Zim. Mark Hamill was deemed to be unsuited for the role and Billy West voiced Zim in the Pilot episode, but ultimately Richard Steven Horvitz was chosen to voice Zim.

Minimoose:

“Been here the whole time”

Appearances:

Minimoose’s only TV appearance is in the episode “The Most Horrible Christmas Ever”, but we would have seen them a lot more if the show wasn’t cancelled, including an episode called “Nubs Of Doom” where we would have seen their creation. They also appear in Enter The Florpus and make consistent appearances in the Comics

Powers and abilities:

Telekinesis

Energy Blasts (Minimoose can fire powerful blasts of dark energy from themselves. We never officially see it so it’s impossible to say for sure, but it’s most likely that Minimoose’s “deadly weapons” we hear about in “Nubs Of Doom” are actually these energy blasts at max strength)

Teleportation (Minimoose is able to manipulate dark energy to teleport things. HOWEVER, we won’t be counting Minimoose teleporting the entire Earth as something they can do, as they needed a very specific setup involving everyone on earth holding hands combined with the Membracelets and a blob creature Zim created. Minimoose’s actual limits with teleportation are most likely just teleporting themselves and whatever is holding/around them)

Fun Fact:

Minimoose is canonically confirmed to be non-binary, making them one of two canonically confirmed non-binary Invader Zim characters with Recap Kid being the other one, and one of four non-binary Invader Zim characters if you also consider Invader Tenn and Commander Poki, who are heavily implied to be non-binary but not explicitly confirmed.

Additional Thoughts:

Does anyone actually read these? They’re kind of important for judging how powerful some characters are.

#invader zim #invader zim deathmatch #polls #Zim #Minimoose

[time-is-restored]

more whinging bc i got negative hours of sleep last night and i need to stay awake somehow lol

cw: discussions of misogyny + abuse

god the more i think abt it the more exhausted i get by the gender politics of ted lasso.

like god i do genuinely think that rebecca's arc in s1 is one of the best depictions of a mean + cruel woman ive ever seen on TV specifically bc it manages to thread the needle so well? like they never tilt her balance too much and doom her to being either totally fucked up + evil OR totally soft and sweet and harmless. and ted's 'divorce makes u crazy' response to her apology STILL makes me crazy wrt the sheer. understanding and empathy there, and she's just. given so much more depth than ive come to expect, especially for an ensemble cast sitcom w a (then) p short run time.

but my fucking god. we literally don't learn a fucking thing about michelle. im pretty sure the one (1) concrete thing we know about her comes in the fucking finale, and it's that she's a teacher for... something. the two most important people in ted's life and we don't know anything abt them! they're literally just empty symbols representing the importance of Family™, and that vacancy does nothing but weigh ted's storyline down!

like, i liked michelle's episode/storyline in s1, bc the blinding novelty of a woman instigating a divorce not being the Actual Devil, as well as a just. generally very empathetic + nuanced take on how divorce shakes out between two ppl who really care for each other, was so 'WAIT TV CAN DO THIS??' that i felt satisfied with that being Her Arc™. divorce happens, life happens, people fall out of love, and it hurts but its ultimately okay. the show, at the time, was ultimately abt a football club and how caring abt that football club helped everyone around it.

but then the show sticks around, and her continued absence just... raises a lot of questions? how did the conversation abt ted going overseas happen? what conversations did they have abt henry? how long term was it intended to be? did money really not factor into it all? like it's one thing for a character's backstory to be vague when it's not really the focus of attention (s1 was ultimately rebecca's story before anyone else's), but when it's the load bearing stone of their '''''''arc''''''' in s3...????

like. god. and then it fucking infects every other woman on the show!

sassy + nora? well sure we'll give you a softball - you can have one (1) scene where a woman is able to resolutely and firmly reject a man asking her out without immediately being seen as cruel or gameplayey (not that the audience will see it that way! she's already a lecherous temptress for them!), but neither of them will ever be able to speak to rebecca onscreen again, even after the heart-wrenching scenes in s1 CLEARLY establishing them as a beating heart of rebecca's arc.

shandy? nope, don't even think abt her motivations/drives, just forget her. simi? LMAOOO imagine a black woman getting a personality beyond righteous anger. jack? three-four episodes, and we learn so little abt her that her conflict with keeley - which SHOULD'VE have been a huge emotional beat - just feels like a kick in the teeth (and while, yes, i absolutely agree that in a real world context, jack's rejection of keeley would be largely motivated by class, in Ted Lasso Land™ rebecca is just as rich - if not richer? - and we're never once encouraged to interrogate her priorities).

barbara's the one that really makes me miserable, bc i feel like on a show with less run time, she could've played REALLY well. she's a great contrast to keeley, has an amazing delivery, and the scene where keeley + her first discuss the snowglobes shows that she has the potential for some really moving vulnerability + pathos. but instead they give SO many of keeley's scenes to characters who ultimately get written out, so when barbara stays it's like... okay? sure? like, i was so stoked that barbara survived the Mass Exodus of side characters that i didn't wanna look the gift horse in the mouth but... wasn't the last thing we saw of her and keeley's relationship like. general resentment + distrust abt the shandy debacle? when did that improve? how???

i don't think i'll ever have enough mental real estate to explain how disappointed keeley + rebecca's 'arcs' in s3 made me, and at least there's the saving grace that. virtually no one other than jamie got a coherent arc this season, so at least it was on some levels an egalitarian screw up. but fuck dude. keeley was just forced to react to bad things that were happening to her, and we got to see her do her job (which, unbelievably, does actually involve things other than being an awkward manager!) precisely one (1) time.

i even like rebecca's arc on paper - i think it's really cool to see a character backslide so intensely in terms of obsessing over and struggling to come to terms w a past relationship, especially an abusive one, bc like. yeah! that shit sticks with you for longer than a season! and beyond that, seeing her regain her sense of self and what SHE actually gives a shit about was oftentimes just as sweet as s1. but her scenes were poorly connected, and she had to carry WAY too much of a burden as the Resident Speech Giver for any of her internal characterisation to make sense. like, sorry, but it's kind of hard to believe a character's Going Through It™ when they have to spent near 100% of their screen time giving Take It From Me, Kid, speeches. and then she's not even given a real opportunity TO fuck up + sabotage her relationships, even when she starts getting really weird w ted! it's all just so meaningless and like nothing that she does is ever going to matter. she never speaks to zava again, we don't get to see her interact w bex or kate, her pleas to ted get COMPLETELY shut down...

but the thing that REALLY makes me sick is this complete lack of interiority absolutely butchers the characters of jade + jane, who are otherwise RIFE with potential. like, jade is a completely unflinching, unapologetic asshole to nate + his family, and that's never interrogated. even in Sitcom Land™, it's more than reasonable to view jade's actions as racist, especially when she doesn't give the same treatment to others (at least not as i recall? honestly i usually watch the taste of athens scenes while peeking out behind my hands, so i could 100% be wrong here). and yet, suddenly, and completely inexplicably, she's charmed by nate. she wants to give him the time of day. she finds him attractive, and wants to date him, and generally take control of his life and force him into a decision that is literally the exact opposite of what he expressed wanting to do. except even that LAST thing isn't allowed to be interrogated, bc god FORBID a woman is enough of a fully realised creation to actually be culpable of the terrible shit they do!

and fucking jane??? beard's so head-over-heels for this woman that the emotional abuse + extremely controlling tendencies don't even make him bat an eye, and we don't get to know anything about her? she's literally just the suggestion of an alluring woman! good at sex! good at chess! fuck you if you wanna know more, even though the show ENDLESSLY hits you over the head with how painful their relationship is for beard - beard who is given virtually no other storyline. like, i literally can't read brendan's refusal to label jane as abusive as anything other than like. that bio-essentialism shit where ppl 'women are better than men <3' so hard that they end up genuinely and wholeheartedly arguing that someone's sex defines their morals - or worse, that their sex is a deciding factor in determining whether someone's actions are good or bad. not context, but a legitimate 'add points if woman, take away points if man' variable.

like that's so feminism 101 it's legitimately almost worse than nothing. that's like getting as far as 'hey so you know how we're all inundated with both implicit + explicit messaging abt what is Valued and Good for women vs men to-' before shoving ur earplugs in and going 'if you are oppressed by society we'll automatically stamp a 'good person' label on ur head and now we don't have to think abt any of our biases + internalised beliefs ever again <333'. the most useless and fucking pointless stand against the patriarchy ever, especially coming from the same show that ENDLESSLY slots characters into the 'loving gf/wife' archetype and then give them Literally Nothing Else. my comrades you have literally just done madonna/whore 2: oops all madonnas! this is not liberation!!!! this is a miserable cage!!!!!!!!!

im just. higgins' wife. mae. trent's daughter and anonymous 'her'. the women at the hotel and the restaurants and the firm and the fucking physios, fuck - dani's gfs! who are they? what do they want? where do they go when the camera stops rolling? can anyone hear me?? hello??? hello???? brendan hunt i am OUTSIDE YOUR HOUUUUUUSE

#ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso meta #ted lasso critical #dead girls by p.enelope s.cott has been stuck in my head for approximately a month bc of this fucking show #its so fucking nuts being treated to rebecca + keeley in s1 and then slowly realising w dawning horror that its literally only down from #here. and also listen nothing but respect to my comrades out there who can take michelle + henry as written #and immediately + painlessly extrapolate from their significance in ted's life to viewing them as like. important figures narratively #but to me they literally never got beyond the carboard cutout stage? like. yes thank you if u love ur family its sad when u leave them. #why'd he leave them then lol. #LIKE. if both michelle AND henry are just these. passive vessels who are neither invested in ted staying OR leaving london #and the only motivation we're EVER given for ted's move is 'michelle wanted space'. like sorry for wanting an actual deconstruction of ted' #motivations rather than the worst mystery box of all time! if i wanted a story abt 'man misses family :( please don't ask any questions abt #the family in question-' i could just close my eyes and imagine a stock image of a sad business man. #wagh. ted bud they gave you so much potential + so many demons and then just wiped them away w no exploration outside of like. two #scenes w sharon. u are also in this cage king but at least u got a good two seasons of mc character energy before they locked the door :( #something something sorry for having an ace attorney witness stand breakdown when the show i liked Was Bad. do u still want to be mutuals

[dont-call-me-baby-posts]

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Chapter 37

Blacking Out and Breaking Hearts - Master List

Word Count: 19K

Warnings: sex drugs and rock n roll baby!! But on a real note there's also some mental health stuff in here so be warned!!!!

Summary: Y/N is a successful musician, trying to navigate the world of stardom along with her complicated feelings for her best friend, Harry.

Alternatively: The one with some closure.

A/N: Hey guys :) Long time no see.

This chapter is starting to tie up all of our loose ends; we need happy endings for everyone! I kind of flip between alllllll the characters in this chapter so we can see a little bit of what they're all doing. Sorry its a little long! As always, please let me know what you think!

Here's what we've got lined up for the rest of the story:

chapter 38 will probably be around 16k of straight smut, plus an ending. 39 and 40 will be the epilogue and then we'll have as many blurbs as y'all want! thank you again everyone who still loves this story! I can't wait to finally see it through with you guys :)

Chapter 37

Rachel wasn’t a confrontational person.

She couldn’t tell if it was just the fact that she’d been born and raised to sit still, look pretty, and be pleasant, or if that was just the personality she’d been cursed with. Either way, she had been soft for as long as she could remember. She was kind and nurturing and never raised her voice, but that also meant she was constantly being stepped over, talked over, and told exactly what to do. She felt like a show dog who never learned to play fetch; all she was meant to do was sit, or speak, or jump. 

That was one of the many, many reasons she loved Logan so much. She was almost the complete opposite of Rachel; She never held her tongue, she never let anyone step on her toes, and she said what she meant with her chest. She was everything Rachel wanted to be and couldn’t. She was strong and brave and also soft in her own way without being weak. 

For some reason, the news of Harry and Y/N’s inevitable rekindling didn’t bring Rachel the same warm, sappy feelings it did for everyone else. Sure, she was happy for them… But she had to fake the excitement in her voice while she listened to Logan go on and on about how amazing it was that her best friend had finally “gotten the balls” to open up to Harry and fix the “good thing they had”. 

Instead of the nice, bubbly feeling Rachel knew she was supposed to have, she felt something else entirely. Something wicked and foreign and almost sinister. Because you know what? Rachel and Logan had a good thing, too, and yet here they were tiptoeing around and lying and covering up every track they left behind them. Here they were, going on nearly two months without having seen each other. Here they were, happy and in love and almost entirely secret.

She didn’t talk to Logan before she did what she did next. It was almost like she was possessed by someone else, someone like her beautiful, talented girlfriend who was brave and bold and decisive. She hung up the phone, after having spent a better part of an hour insisting that she was over the moon for Y/N when in reality she was feeling quite bitter and jealous and angry, and sat motionless on her bed for another 45 minutes. Then, as if someone else had come to rest their hand on her shoulder, she stood up and walked down the stairs to where she knew her parents were enjoying cocktails and fancy little finger foods. 

(She, as she marched down the marble stairs, thought how interesting it was that her parents were still having guests over in the height of a global pandemic but insisted it wasn’t “safe” for her to go see Logan. Funny, she thought to herself. Hilarious, really! If Rachel didn’t know any better, she'd suspect they had different motives keeping her away from Logan! Imagine that!)

And then, still guided by some outside force completely out of her control, she found herself in the middle of the expansive kitchen of her parents enormous house, surrounded by at least 20 people she only sort of knew. People who ran companies her parents invested in or directed movies Rachel never bothered to watch or owned record labels that fucked over people like Logan and Y/N. She, in her pajama pants and hair undone, face bare of any makeup whatsoever, slapped her palms on the cool of the island counter and found herself smiling. Cheesing, actually. Nearly giddy with excitement. 

Her mom noticed her last, letting out what could be considered a gasp as she turned to see her perfect, hand-moulded daughter in front of all these people looking the way she did now. Hair thrown up on top of her head, not clean. Logan’s oversized t-shirt over her narrow frame, covered in various stains. (The stains were an homage to the exciting, vibrant life Logan had lived before they met, one that Rachel would never experience or understand. Stains from house parties in basements and 9-5 jobs and public school. Rachel loved the spots where the material was stained blue or purple with paint, or slightly torn from a fight Logan had gotten into with some girl from Junior year. None of Rachel’s clothes had stains. Not any of them. It was almost as if she’d never existed at all.)

It was after the gasp that Rachel’s mother said: “Oh! Oh, wow! Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed and you can join us for dessert?”

Rachel, quick with a response she hadn’t taken any time to think over or plan, shook her head. Her smile didn’t falter. 

“Actually, mom, I don’t think I will.”

Nervous laughter, from everywhere. It came in small spurts, someone else’s uncomfortable chuckle filling the silence one after the other. 

“Okay, well…” Her mom started, letting out her own high pitched chortle. “Why don’t you-“

“I’m going to see Logan.” Rachel interrupted. (She couldn’t remember one other time she had ever cut someone off while they were speaking, but she was already far from her usual self tonight). Rachel looked around at the confused faces around her, “Logan is my girlfriend.” She clarified with a smile. Her mom laughed tightly again. 

“Oh, no, she’s-“

“Yes, mom. Logan is my girlfriend and I’m going to go see her. I think I might stay there a while, actually. With the virus and everything, you know, I figure it would be safer than staying here with all of your lovely guests.”

Now she’d done it. Her mothers face changed shades three times over, going from pink to red to a stark white that for some reason made Rachel feel even better than she already did. Her mom, after a quick excuse to her friends, walked herself up the stairs, knowing Rachel would follow. 

When she got to Logan’s house later that night she didn’t recount the events of the evening. She didn’t tell her what her mom had said, all the threats she’d whispered under her breath. She didn’t tell her how she’d cried the whole time packing her bags, or how her dad had run out after her telling her to think it over or sleep on it. She didn’t tell Logan that her mom had, in her own words, told her she wasn’t welcome back in their home if she did anything “unsavory”. She didn’t tell Logan that she’d essentially been cut off by her parents when she told her mom she was going public with her relationship. She didn’t feel that she needed to, not yet at least. 

Rachel didn’t need her family's money. She was successful in her own right, and the whole pandemic had given her a chance to start thinking about careers other than modeling, anyway. She didn’t take time to think it over. She didn’t have to. 

///

Logan was snuggled in her bed when Rachel knocked on the door. At first she wasn’t sure what she’d heard, knowing she had already had her daily DoorDash interaction and wasn’t expecting anything or anyone else. The second knock came once Logan had sat up in bed, ears perked and skin prickly with nervous goosebumps. 

To say she was surprised was a massive fucking understatement. She’d never been so happy. She threw herself into Rachel, whose arms were slung with bags, and didn’t notice the way her cheeks were still a little puffy. She tugged her inside and she sat her down on the couch before running to the kitchen to whip up some of Rachel’s favorite cookies. 

Rachel could’ve cared less about the cookies, but she knew Logan wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, she sat backwards on the couch, gazing into the kitchen just watching the love of her life pant and stress and measure and stir. She’d never looked more beautiful, Rachel thought. Never ever ever. 

They stayed on the couch the rest of the night, catching up and kissing and saying over and over how they’d missed one another. Next to a half eaten tray of cookies is where Logan helped Rachel pick out all their favorite photos together for Rachel to post on Instagram. A post dedicated to her girlfriend. And in a way, a post dedicated to herself. 

And it was that easy. After so many months of lying and hiding and longing desperately for what all these other couples had, Rachel had it. She was free. She was cut-off and angry and hurt and scared but before all of that she was free. And, now, she was out. 

///

You didn’t see Rachel’s post, or Logan’s texts, or the countless tweets breaking the internet. You were… preoccupied. 

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like that.” Harry praised, running a hand through your hair to rest on the back of your skull. “So fucking pretty. Fucks sake.”

You hummed around him, running your hands up the length of his thighs to rest on the soft part of his hips. Harry was laid back against the headboard, body at a slope while you nestled yourself between his parted thighs. Your head bobbed softly around his length, his hand applying no extra pressure but still making your scalp tingle warmly. You weren’t in any hurry, your movements slow and sleepy and delicate. Harry hummed softly above you, telling you again and again that you were so pretty, so pretty, so fucking good. 

The last few days had gone pretty much like this. You’d wake up wrapped up in Harry’s gangly limbs, kiss his eyelids open, and stay in bed until one of you was desperate enough to go pee or eat. You’d sometimes lay in bed and talk or make out or, on days like this one, you’d shuffle yourself down the length of Harry’s body and take him into your mouth like you were starved. Harry would do the same for you, usually pulling you by your hips up his torso and onto his face or bending his leg just enough so you could situate yourself on top of his tiger tattoo and curl into his chest until you came. 

Life was so good. Everything was perfect. Harry was an angel, as usual. The weather was just right for leaving the windows open. No one texted you or called you about meetings or bothered you. It was just you and Harry and a kind of calm contentment you hadn’t felt in years. 

You still hadn’t had sex, but after listening in on Harry’s conversation with Anders you decided not to push it. You thought maybe if you just proved yourself to him, he’d be ready. You didn’t mind giving him time, even though you secretly hoped each night you curled up next to him that he might take you right there and press your face into the mattress until you couldn’t think or even speak. You would never ever want him to do something he didn’t want to, and he was giving you more than enough to hold you over. In fact, the amount of affection and love and attention he’d showered you with the last few days had been enough to last a lifetime. Not a second went by that you didn’t know with every singular cell in your body how much he loved you. He wouldn’t allow it. 

Even when you had a nightmare a few days before, Harry had been awake and alert the moment you needed him. You didn’t even have time to get to the worst part of the dream and startle yourself awake before he’d pulled you on top of his body and began whispering in your ears. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and his legs around your thighs, tying you to his front. You weren’t scared when you woke up and didn’t pull away from the touch. “I’m right here.” He’d whispered, shifting his weight to rock you slightly. “I’m right here. It’s okay, flower. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

He must have heard you mumbling his name in your sleep, the same way you always did when you had these nightmares. You called his name like always and he was there. You were calm and back to sleep in a matter of minutes, something you wouldn’t have even thought possible a few months ago. 

And now, on another beautiful morning, you were leaving the half-moon indents of your nails on the inside of Harry’s thighs. Feeling more alive than ever. On top of the world. Like the luckiest girl alive. 

///

Anders wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

He’d not been doing his weekly therapy sessions like he was meant to, and hadn’t been for weeks. Talking about his feelings with some stiff old man was bad enough, and doing it over a Zoom call was just downright unbearable. He’d rather do anything else, and so he did. He crocheted and wrote songs and annoyed his parents to no end practicing his trumpet from middle school. He painted and talked to Harry and Y/N and learned the dances from three separate Justin Bieber music videos to a fucking T. He kept himself busy by any means necessary, because he had to. He even built a tiny house for a lady bug he found on his window still out of a cereal box. The ladybug died the next morning, but Anders liked to think it died comfortably at least. 

But on this day, Anders was inclined by some outside force (perhaps the same force that had moved Rachel all the way in LA) to find his laptop under all the dirty laundry and half-finished projects on the floor and open up the stupid fucking website and message his stupid fucking therapist that he was actually going to show today. 

He found himself talking about Y/N, and Jena, and Macy from the grocery store. (She’d been the one to stop him from nearly overdosing that day he’d bought all those drugs, after all. He thought about her all the time lately. He thought about her every time he ate one of his oranges he’d bought that day, which was a lot. His mom told him he had to finish the entire bag as some sort of fucked up punishment, he supposed). His therapist, with his cable knit sweater and glasses slid half-way down his nose, had to basically force Anders to talk about his parents. 

“It sucks, man. What else do you want to know?”

The doctor, Dale, narrowed his eyes at Anders’ answer to his question about how things were ‘at home’. When he realized Anders wasn’t going to continue, he sighed and lifted his hands. 

“Could you be any more specific about what sucks so bad, man?” Dale retorted. Over the weeks that Anders had spent with him before the pandemic, Dale had learned it worked better if he talked to Anders the way Anders talked to him. Dale thought, genuinely, that they bonded this way. Anders just thought it was funny. 

“Everything about it sucks.” Was all he could think to say in return. 

By the end of the session, Dale had somehow convinced him that spending more time with his parents might help. If he didn’t put so much space between them, he said, he may feel less suffocated. So, in a desperate fucking attempt to feel a little less crazy, Anders decided to do just that. 

Every night his dad would hobble up the stairs and knock softly on the door and invite Anders to dinner, and every night Anders would decline. (Ever since the incident with the drugs, Andy couldn’t stand looking either of them in the eyes.) When Anders would inevitably turn him away, his dad would say something about how he would save some if he changed his mind and Anders would mumble a quick “thank you” and that would be that. He knew his dad was trying his best, and he believed it when he said he missed Anders and wanted to spend time with him. His mom never made any attempt to talk to him after the drug incident. Anders was okay with that, he thought.

To put it plainly, Anders’ dad was fucking bamboozled when he accepted his offer to come to dinner later that night. He’d been leaning against the door, his ear pressed to the wood to hear Anders’ response when it had been thrown open to showcase a bright-eyed and surprisingly content son on the other side. “I’d like that.” Anders smiled, feeling like this was his first big step into fixing everything. “Thank you for asking.”

His dad had followed him down the steps, even the sound of his socked feet on the stairs sounding confused. Anders spun around the corner into the kitchen, throwin’ a little razzle dazzle on his triumphant return to the family unit as he found a seat at the table. He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He felt almost excited to be here. 

“Whatcha makin’?”

His mom, at the sound of her only son’s voice, turned to face him and froze, serving spoon still in hand and dripping twice onto the tiled floor before she looked back at her husband. 

“I told you I didn’t make enough for three.” She said to him.

Oh. 

And, just like that, it was over. The high Anders had felt following his talk with Dale fizzled out and settled into an ache in his abdomen. He was stunned for a second, looking back and forth between his parents. Surely he misunderstood. 

“I’m sure there’s enough.” His dad said, an over the top sunshine in his voice. When she didn’t answer right away his dad spoke again, his sunshine feeling a bit more shaded. “He wants to have dinner with us, hun.”

“Well, there’s not enough.” She reiterated, literally throwing her spoon onto the stove. “If he wanted to eat he should’ve said something. Since when does he want to spend time with us?”

“He can have mine, then.”

Before anyone else could speak, Anders stood up. He felt so small and yet too big, like he was taking up too much space no matter how far he folded into himself. 

“It’s alright, Dad.” Anders smiled, turning to face his mom. She met his eyes, finally, though she couldn’t have looked more uninterested. “I have oranges upstairs.”

And he turned and walked back up the same stairs to his same room and collapsed on that same bed he spent all day every day in. He could hear the bickering, just like when he was a child. He covered his head with a pillow but he could still hear them. 

“That was cruel.”

“He doesn’t want anything to do with us! Why should I continue making him dinner if he never eats any? I’m tired of cleaning out the tupperwares you insist on saving for him.”

“I’ll clean them, then.”

There was a pause. Dishes clanging in the sink. 

“Why do you do this? Why do you defend him after the way he’s talked to us?”

“You’re holding him hostage here! What is he supposed to do?”

“Be grateful, I don’t know!”

Anders turned under his covers. He decided already he wouldn’t cry, but it was threatening to gurgle out of him anyway. 

“He is our son. We’re supposed to be helping. You read all those books… You- you went to classes! And now you’re not even going to let the boy eat?”

“I'm tired of the books! I'm tired of the classes, and the coddling, and the fighting! I give up. I give up, okay? I’m done!”

“You give up? Haven’t we failed the boy enough?”

“He failed us! We gave him everything. He could’ve been anything and, and, and… and look at him! You’re proud of that? I’m tired of feeling responsible for how he turned out. He did that on his own.”

“Damn right I’m proud. He may have his… struggles, but he is not a failure. The boys a goddamn rockstar!”

“He’s not a rockstar, he’s a junkie. And I’m tired of pretending that he’s not.”

Now, to anyone else hearing this conversation, there’s a few things you might miss. 

Number one:  Anders’ dad never cursed. He had, in all of his son’s life, uttered at most 4 curse words and even that was a stretch. Him using the word “damn”, and taking the lord's name in vain? Anders’ could’ve thought hell had finally frozen over! 

Number two: Anders couldn’t remember a single time in his life that either of his parents had said they were proud of him. So, even if he hadn’t said it to his face, his dad saying those words was like winning the fucking lottery. 

Number three: In all of his years as a semi-professional drug addict, Anders had never been called a junkie by anyone. He hadn’t even seen it online, and he was called his fair share of names. So, to hear his mom say it… It was like a kick in the back of the head. It was like a blow right in his chest. It was worse than going to therapy and making phone calls and being punched in the nose. It was worse than anything he’d ever felt before. 

He sprang up out of bed, grabbing his car keys and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. He sauntered down the stairs, making no attempt to hide his presence. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as both parties watched him. With a captive audience, Anders thought, it was the perfect time to put on the performance of a lifetime. 

“I’m heading out.” He said, spinning the keys around his finger. “Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Anders, when his mom said nothing, thought he might have been hoping she would stop him. She didn’t. 

“I would ask you not to wait up, but seeing as you’ve already eaten I suppose you’re about ready for bed.” He continued. His dad followed him to the door. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He said, stopping a few feet away from Anders as if he was some feral cat that might be startled away. “We can go grab a bite somewhere. It would be nice to spend some time together.”

Anders actually thought about it. His dad, who his entire life had stood by like some decorative piece of furniture, was finally doing what Anders had always wished he would.

“I’m just going to go do some shopping, but maybe we could watch a movie tomorrow, okay?”

His dad smiled, a real smile, and nodded. “Okay, son.”

“Okay.” He said back. 

Anders gave one last look to his mom, waiting. Any second now she’d say sorry and tell him not to go. She’d tell him at the very least to be careful, or be home by 10. She didn’t. 

“I’ll be home by 10.” He decided for himself. Maybe she’d hold him to it. Maybe she’d call a hundred times if he wasn’t home in two hours. Maybe she’d do what she used to and demand he be home by 9 instead. 

She didn’t say anything. She turned back into the kitchen and continued clanging against the pots and pans she had on the stove. His dad gave him a sad, knowing look, but forced a smile anyway. 

“Call me if you need anything.” He said, giving a quick slap on the shoulder. “I’ll still be up when you get home if you decide you want to hang out. Be safe, okay?”

Anders nodded and because he was possessed by some much more kind hearted spirit tonight he wrapped his arms around his father with an awkward pat-pat on his shoulder blades. His dad took the opportunity to hug him tightly against his chest, even ruffling Anders’ hair the way he had when he was only a kid. 

“I trust you.” He whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

///

The drive to Taco Bell didn’t take too long. Anders turned at the second stop light, hooked a left by the library, and took two more rights until he had made his way into the drive thru. He was the only car there, which was fitting. 

He ordered himself two soft tacos, a quesadilla, a cheesy gorrida crunch, and three spicy potato soft tacos. Instead of bringing it home he sat in the empty parking lot and ate there. He wasn’t hungry anymore after the first two tacos but he forced himself to eat the rest anyway. He kept eating and eating and even when it hurt he kept going. He didn’t need his mom to feed him when he could feed himself, he kept thinking. He didn’t need anyone when he could take care of himself. He was eating, wasn’t he? As long as he was eating it was proof he didn’t need anyone at all! He was doing just fine.

When he’d finished the last scraps of food, he nestled himself further into his seat. It was 9:55. His mom would call any minute. 

He tried to call Y/N, but she didn’t answer. He tried calling Rachel. No answer. He almost called Logan, but knew he wouldn’t have shit to talk about with her. He was about to call Harry when he changed his mind, not really in the mood for someone who was going to try to fix his problems instead of just listening. He settled on sitting and waiting instead (for what, he wasn’t sure), watching the clock change numbers. He didn’t even put on any music. 

He bent forward, picking at a spot of dried paint on his pant leg. He hadn’t even noticed the red splotch there before, the paint somehow reaching his ankle while he painted a portrait of his now deceased lady bug that morning. He kept picking at it but somehow made it worse, chips of red shoved under his nails so deeply it was starting to hurt and the stain now more deeply embedded into the fibers of his sweats. He kept trying and trying and it just got worse and worse and it hurt more and more but he needed the stain out. He needed it out. It had to come out. 

When he looked up again, it was 10:37. His mom never called. The red paint was still on his pants. 

///

You’d already cum twice before you picked up your phone that morning. After Harry had finished, he’d pulled you up onto him (as he was in the habit of doing), nestling his face against your belly as he pressed kisses into the spaces under your hip bones. 

You didn’t even notice all of the missed messages and the chaos online until Harry left to go to the bathroom an hour or two later. You were still foggy-headed and naked when you finally picked up your phone, quickly propping yourself up on an elbow when you realized that while you’d been busy apparently the entire world had turned upside down. 

You sprang out of bed, nearly slipping as you hauled yourself down the hallway and into the bathroom where Harry had just finished washing his hands and was getting ready to brush his teeth. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” You were spitting out, scaring the ever loving fuck out of Harry. He jumped almost out of his skin, smearing toothpaste on cheek. 

“What is it?” He questioned, free hand pressed to his chest in shock. “Is everything okay?”

You just shook your head, scrolling through the 40 messages Logan had sent so far that morning. (Or, really, that night for Logan). 

“Everyone knows about Logan and Rachel.” You finally said, setting your phone down on the counter and tangling your fingers into your hair as you shoved it out of your face. Harry froze mid-brush, his face flashing with panic before settling into a determined, problem-solving stare.

(Harry had been in the habit of doing that lately. Something about him just seemed so much more at ease, more sensible, more calm. He was so much slower to boil. He had a tranquility about him that you hadn’t noticed before.)

“Someone outted them?” He asked, setting his toothbrush down on the counter. He cringed for a second, shaking his head. “Do you know who it was? I can talk to my team about having my lawyers reach out to them, not that Rachel doesn’t have her own lawyers…”

You stared back at him, confused. “Oh, no…” You started, letting out a small chuckle. “They didn’t-”

“I’ll talk to Logan myself if she already said no, but I can’t just let that happen to them.” Harry grimaced again, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Is she okay? Is Rachel okay? That’s so fucked up that someone would do that.”

“Rachel did it.” You stopped him, cutting him off before he completely spiraled. “She posted on Instagram. Apparently she’s moving into the house with Logan. Her, uh, her parents…”

“Right.” Harry said, letting out a huff. He paused for a second, acting like he was about to speak again before stopping. It only took him a second for him to change his mind, turning his body to face you and resting a hand on the counter. “It’s really fucking convenient of these parents to just kick their kids to the curb like this, innit? And for no fucking reason. It’s so fucked up.”

You closed the gap between your bodies, wrapping your arms around Harry’s waist as he put his attention back towards brushing his teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, Logan says Rachel’s okay. She never liked living with her parent’s anyway, so she says they both just feel relieved.”

Harry hummed along, bending forward slightly to spit into the sink. “Are people being nice to them? Online and allat?”

You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, meeting his eyes in the mirror ahead of you. You nodded. 

“They’re being very nice.” You told him. “They’re trending on Twitter.”

///

Harry left a few minutes later, making you promise not to shower without him. You agreed, sending him off with a kiss and a promise that you’d join him on his next run. You didn’t mean it, but Harry still seemed satisfied as he headed out. 

You’d been so distracted by the whole Logan/Rachel situation that you almost forgot Anders had called you until you were snuggled up back in bed. You figured since Harry would be back soon to take a shower that you would wait to get dressed and have a few extra minutes in the swaddle of covers on Harry’s bed. So, back in your snug little cocoon, you decided to give Anders a call back. 

“HEY FUCKER.” Anders yelled into the receiver almost the second you’d pressed the call button. You giggled to yourself, pressing the phone between your ear and the pillow.

“Hey sweet pea. What’s up?” You asked, letting your eyes flutter closed. You could hear some kind of… banging on the other end, though it didn’t particularly surprise you considering who you were talking to. “What are you building a fucking rocking chair or something?”

“Its a shelf, actually.” He corrected, swinging what you assumed to be a hammer a few times before continuing. “I’ve almost got it all finished, I just need to add some final touches.”

“Oh…” You started, deciding whether or not you should even ask. “That sounds… fun?”

“It’s keeping me busy, at least. I got in a fight with my mom again so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He swung the hammer again before letting out a sigh. “She wanted to act like a bitch and not let me eat dinner so I thought, y’know, okay. I’ll go buy some fuckin’ groceries and a shelf and I’ll feed my fucking self. I got a mini fridge and everything.”

You paused, unsure what to say next. As close as you and Anders were, Harry was normally the person that he went to to talk about his family stuff, and you weren’t sure exactly how to navigate it. 

“Why wouldn’t she let you eat?”

“Because she hates me.”

“She doesn’t-”

“No, she does.” Anders stopped you, chuckling to himself. “But I’m okay with it. Kinda come to terms with it, you know?”

It got quiet for a second, both of you unsure what to say next. 

“She called me a junkie.” Anders added, instantly making your skin itch all over. You tried not to but let out an audible gasp, your hand not quick enough to stop it before it came out. “She said all kinds of stuff, actually. But it’s cool.”

What were you even supposed to say to make this any better? “You aren’t a junkie, Anders.”

“No, I am.” He brushed you off. “It’s all good though, seriously. You don’t have to make me feel better or anything. I just wanted to talk to you is all.”

“Okay.. Well, if you were wanting to talk to Harry he should be home in a little bit…”

“Harry? No, no..” Anders responded. “I just want to talk to you for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, totally.” You rushed out, realizing too late how desperate you must sound. “I mean, for sure. I can talk.”

///

Anders filled you in on the rest of his night, telling you all about how he had spent half the night in a Taco Bell parking lot before coming home and watching a movie with his dad. He said his dad waited up for him just like he’d promised he would, only to pass out less than 15 minutes into the movie.  You felt your chest swell slightly at the news but you didn’t make a big deal out of it. You’d always hoped Anders could work it out with his parents, and even if his mom still wasn’t on board, at least he had someone on his side now. 

(Anders made a point not to tell you that he’d purposefully fallen asleep on the couch, too, his head ‘just so happening’ to fall on his fathers shoulder next to him. He’d imagined they’d both wake up the next morning and laugh about how they’d dozed off. Andy woke up only an hour or so after he’d drifted, though, neck stiff. He was never, ever able to get a full night's rest, even now. Once he woke he hobbled up the steps and got into bed like nothing had ever happened. He'd already decided he’d never utter a word of it to anyone.)

When Harry got home you were still on the phone, and instead of listening in he decided to clean up the kitchen. (You’d decided to make homemade pizzas the night before, and to put it lightly the kitchen looked like a murder scene). You felt kind of guilty leaving him to deal with the mess, but you felt special being the one to have Anders’ attention for once and you didn’t want to let it go just yet. 

“And so I built the little guy a house and everything, right? I made him a little couch and a bed and all that…” Anders was going on, telling you some story about a lady bug he’d found in his bedroom. “He was dead when I woke up, though. I googled it and I don’t think it’s bad luck to find a dead lady bug but I still think it’s, like, a sign or something. Like a bad omen.”

“You sound like you’ve been cooped up too long, buddy.” You laughed, imagining the comical frown on Anders’ face when he found the bug. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“That’s all I have to fucking do these days, man! I’ve been cooped up way too long.” He spit out, exasperated. “You never wanna fucking talk to me anymore so I have to resort to desperate measures.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean I never talk to you?” You asked with a soft laugh, though you really weren’t joking. “You’re the one who never calls me.”

That wasn’t entirely true and you knew it, but it came out anyway. What you meant was that he didn’t call you as much as Harry.

“I never call you? What the fuck do you mean I never call you?” He pushed back, his awkward laugh mimicking yours a moment ago but his tone a little bit harsh. “I would call you more if you actually wanted to talk to me.”

“What are you even saying right now?” You sighed, sitting up in bed so the comforter hung off of your chest. “I always want to talk to you. You just call Harry instead.”

“You want to talk to me now but you didn’t before I left LA.” He said matter of factly. “You’ve barely wanted to talk to me for months now.”

“That is not true, Anders.” You spoke, offended. You realized once you’d said it that you had no reason to be offended; he was actually right. But that realization only annoyed you further, so you doubled down. “We hung out all the time before you left LA.”

“Well, first of all, we definitely did not. Not alone at least.” He spoke again. He didn’t sound angry, only a little bit miffed. “And second of all, you’re my best friend. You seriously think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been around me? It’s just like… if I did something, I’d rather you tell me what I did so we can talk about it.”

For some reason your blood ran cold. If I did something, he said. You could almost laugh. 

“I’m not your best friend, though. Don’t say that.”

He barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious, Anders. I love you but I am not your best friend.”

He didn’t say anything right away. “Okay then? Fucking ouch.”

“I’m just saying…”

You could hear him breathing unevenly. “So could you, like, tell me why? Or?”

“Why what?”

“Why you don’t want to be my best friend anymore?”

It was you who laughed this time, trying to lighten the mood and make your words a bit softer. You spoke like you were kidding but you meant every word. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s just that you’ve clearly replaced me. Like I just mean don’t call me your best friend when it’s obvious I’m not.”

“Replace you? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“What is not clicking here, man?” You tried to tease him.  “We’re still friends I’m just saying that you and Harry are closer than us now, and that’s okay, but don’t-“

“Harry? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Fuck Harry! What the fuck? You’re-“

“You can’t tell me it isn’t true!”

“It’s not!“

“It’s is!”

Anders let out a long sigh. “Y/N you are my best friend… I couldn’t ever replace you even if I lived a thousand life times. Don’t be crazy.”

You hated it when he called you crazy, even when he didn’t really mean it. 

“I’m not your best friend and you know that.” You let out, words coming faster than you could even comprehend them. “I can admit that I might have been distant but you’ve been doing the exact same thing as me. You think I haven’t noticed how much you talk to Harry? You call him every day and tell him all about your life and what’s going on and when we talk you tell me everything’s fine. It’s like… It’s like you replaced me the second you got back from…”

“From where, Y/N? Say it.” He prompted you. “Where’d I come back from? Hm? Could you just fucking say it for once instead of acting like it didn’t happen?” 

You frowned hard, biting your lip. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did, I was just letting you finish before I tell you how ridiculous you sound.”

Your eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of your head. “Fuck you, Andy.”

He let out a sigh. “No, I didn’t- I just meant that you’re wrong about that. About Harry, I mean.”

“Oh, am I Anders?” You questioned, free hand balling into the comforter. He tried backpedaling but you had already departed the station, the damn already split open. You were upset now and couldn’t hide it even though you wished you could. “You tell him everything. I’ve heard how you guys talk to each other. And, yeah, I needed some space from you after everything but… But I’m just saying it didn’t take you very long to find someone else. You act like I just fucked off and left you out to dry but you did the exact same thing to me.”

He was quiet for a while, thinking. “I wasn’t trying to say that at all, dude. I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other-“

“Oh, and speaking of rehab,” You cut him off, words already caught in the avalanche. “Who did you have come visit you twice a fucking week? Not me, Andy. If I was your best friend… fuck. I didn’t get to see you once, Andy, and I’m the one who fucking found-“

You stopped suddenly, chest heaving. It was the first time either of you had come even remotely close to talking about that night. You decided to do what Anders tried and back pedal, but it was already too late. You kept going.

“Whatever. I’m just saying that, to me, it seems like you've already got a best friend. I’m sorry for not being around more but-“

“Hey! Hey! I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, okay? I just wanted to know if I did something…”

Here he went with that shit again. If I did something. He could get bent. 

“I’m not either.”

“Kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m just saying! Geez!” You yelled, knowing you were just making it worse. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stop yourself. “It’s okay if Harry’s your best friend. It’s fine. I just don’t think we need to lie to each other to make me feel better.”

“He is not my best fucking friend, Y/N. I could give a motherfuck about Harry.” Anders spoke. He wasn’t often serious with you like this, so his tone made the words you wanted to throw at him disappear instantly on your tongue. “Not really, but you know what I mean. And I… I never even invited Harry to come see me at rehab, he just showed up.”

“Yeah, and you never even told me!” You snipped. 

“You told me not to talk about Harry! What was I supposed to-“

“No. You kept that from me purposefully, Anders. That’s different and you know it is. I fucking… I fucking drove you there and you didn’t even let me see you.” You caught your breath, panting. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being mean right now it’s just…”

“It’s been on your mind, I get it.” He excused you. He was so kind, even now, letting you off the hook easily as always. “It’s been on my mind, too. I’m glad it’s out in the open at least.”

“I guess.” You grumbled. But he was right, and he was right to bring it up. You sighed, admitting defeat. “You’re right, I just… Its hard for me to talk about. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He waved off. “What else do you need to say?”

You chuckled, wracking your brain. What could you say? There were a million things you’d thought to yourself over the last few months, and the last few weeks in particular, and yet nothing came to mind. 

“That’s it, I think.” You answered honestly. “I’m sorry I talked to you like that, but… I don’t know. It hurt my feelings when you said I don’t like talking to you because it isn’t true. I still care about you and I still love you as much as I always did…”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like that, Y/N?” He asked, voice wavering. “I’m sorry for spending so much time with Harry, but I couldn’t be alone, man. I… I felt like you fucking disappeared. I’m not blaming you I’m just saying I wasn’t trying to replace you, ever. I- I genuinely didn’t know what else to do. I needed someone.”

“So did I!”

“I know you did! I know! And I would’ve been there if you’d fucking let me.”

“Maybe I would’ve let you if you weren’t with your fucking boy  all the time!”

He let out a small gasping sound. “That’s totally fucking unfair. I only spent so much time with him because you weren’t around.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But it’s not just that you were hanging out with him, anyway. It’s the way you talk to him… You know when I got here he knew things about your life that I didn’t even know? It was embarrassing, dude. You call him to talk about your feelings and you tell him what’s bothering you and when I call you just say it’s fine.” You let out. “You don’t talk to me like that, and you never have. You didn’t before you went to rehab and you don’t now… And you know what, now that I think of it, it kind of did bother me how much time you spent with Harry. You could’ve befriended anyone in the world, Anders, and you chose him? I mean, part the reason we stopped seeing each other as much is because you were constantly with my ex boyfriend. It wasn’t the main reason, but it still fucking sucked for me.”

“I was trying to get you guys back together the entire time!” He defended weakly. “I wasn’t picking a side, man, I was trying to fucking help. I don’t fucking know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I spent so much time with him and I can totally understand why that would upset you. I should’ve thought about that and I’m sorry.”  He paused, sheets ruffling as he must have been laying down. “But we both know that’s not the reason you didn’t want to hang out with me. And, you know, I understand that and I’m not trying to act fucking stupid by pretending I don’t get it, but… I mean, I want to know how I can fix it. Like how long is that going to last before you want to be around me again? I know I fucked up and if there’s nothing I can do I get it but I would like to at least try before I let this fucking ruin our friendship.”

You weren’t sure what to say. He spoke again while you tried to figure it out. 

“Sorry I didn’t fucking open with that.” He giggled, letting out an exhausted huff. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that I just didn’t know how else to bring it up. I should’ve just asked you how you were feeling.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine, I just don’t…” The words you searched for still eluded you. “Why didn’t you let me visit you, Anders? When I found that out, I… That hurt super fucking bad, man. I mean, I asked you every single day… And, I mean, the whole Harry thing aside, I feel like I should’ve been the one to get to be there. I think I earned that.”

“Earned it?” He whispered incredulously. “Y/N, I didn’t want you there because I was a fucking mess. I- I- I was a fucking disaster! I had already done enough to you at that point it felt unfair to drag you into that. And I was embarrassed, man. I didn’t want anyone to see me, and the only reason I was okay with Harry being there was because I didn’t know him and I honestly didn’t give a shit what he thought. I care what you think, a lot. I always have. I couldn’t let you see me like that.”

It made sense, but it didn’t make you feel much better. You didn’t even realize how badly you’d been hurt by the news of Harry going to visit him until you’d spoken it out loud, and it was hitting you like a truck. 

“I still wanted to be there.” You replied, words like glass ready to shatter. “I wanted to be there for you the entire time, after rehab, but…”

“But you were mad at me. I know.”

“Mad at you?” You snapped, shaking your head for no audience. “I wasn’t… No, Andy. I couldn’t be around you because…” You had to stop, inhaling a shaky breath. You didn’t want to think about it. “Because every time I was around you, all I could think of… I still saw it every time I looked at you. I could see how purple your lips were, and you were so pale…”

You couldn’t continue, throat closed tight. You shook your head again but didn’t know why. Maybe to shake the sight out of your brain. 

“I’m so sorry I did that to you, Y/N. I am so, so fucking sorry.” He whispered again. You could tell he was crying. “I spend every second of every day wishing I didn’t do that. And, you know, sometimes I think that… I don’t know, if I’d only done it an hour earlier, or locked my door, you never would’ve-“

“Anders! Stop it!” You broke, cutting him off before he could rip your heart out entirely. You were crying now, too. “You can’t say stuff like that. It’s a good thing I was there. I was supposed to be there.”

“You were never supposed to be there.” He argued. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like that. And if- If I thought for a second that you’d come there and see that then I wouldn’t have… Or I would’ve done it differently, or something. And then you wouldn’t have had to see anything and you wouldn’t have had to drive me to rehab and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. And you wouldn’t have even known me that well back then to even really miss me for that long.”

“It would have ruined my life, Anders.” You clarified. He couldn’t have been more wrong, about any of it. “I never would’ve fucking forgiven myself for that shit. I still can’t forgive myself now! You can’t- You don’t get to say you wish you’d done it better, or that I’d be better off or whatever dumb shit you’re gonna say. I was there for a reason and I am grateful every day that you weren’t alone.”

“I know. I know.” Anders repeated over and over while you finished, voice hushed and tired. “I know, I didn’t mean all of that… I just feel so guilty about everything, and the only way I can think to fix it is if I would’ve-“

“You don’t need to feel guilty.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You do not.”

“You just fucking said you can’t forgive yourself for what happened! You just said that! I fucking ruined your life as it is! I didn’t need to die to do that, it’s already fucking done!” He went off suddenly, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I know what I did to you. And I’m sorry. But that is exactly fucking why I call Harry to bitch about my life, or talk about my fucking mom, or whatever. I can’t talk to you about that shit.”

“Why not, Anders? Why not?” You croaked. “That’s what friends do. I want you to know how you're doing, I want to help…”

“I can’t fucking talk to you about it! I can’t! I have burdened you since I fucking met you, I’ve scarred you for fucking life. I’m not calling you to complain about how shit my life is.” He huffed for a second, bordering more on angry now than he did upset. “As far as I’m concerned, for the rest of my fucking life I’m going to be perfectly fine every time you ask me how I’m doing. I have to be okay for you. I don’t get to complain to you, ever again.”

“I don’t want you to always be okay. I want you to be honest with me.”

“Because you’ve been honest with me, right? Like you ever tell me what’s going on with you. You hardly even talked about the breakup with Harry with me. You don’t tell me shit.” He spilled out. “Every time I ask, you lie to me just like I lie to you. You’re telling me you’ve been perfectly fine this whole time? There hasn’t been one thing that’s bothered you? Not one bad day?”

You didn’t realize just how clueless Anders was on what you’d been through while he was off dealing with his own stuff. You’d kept just as much from him as he had from you, from the breakup to the nightmares to the way you were constantly haunted by that pale, purple version of your best friend. 

“You’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, either.” You admitted. You wiped your face, frustrated tears threatening to make their way down your neck. “Can we just agree not to lie to each other anymore? I’ll tell you what’s going on with me but only if you agree to do the same. I want to be there for you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was quiet, both of you catching your breath and slowing your brains. Everything was coming at you so fast it was like you couldn’t keep up. You thought about everything, about how angry you had been and how hurt and how confused… You thought about everything that had pinched at the back of your brain for months now that you always steadfastly ignored. 

“You should’ve told me what was going on, before all of this.” You said without meaning to. “It never should’ve gotten so bad if you just told me.”

“It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is, though. I… I fucking asked you if you were on drugs, and you lied to me. I asked you all the time if you were okay. I tried calling you every single day after you broke your nose.” It was all bubbling over now, nothing stopping it. You were angry again, about everything. All at once. “I know I should’ve tried harder and I will always carry that with me, but you should’ve talked to me, man. You should’ve told me.”

“What was I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?” He snapped, a chord obviously struck. “You wanted me to tell the girl I hardly knew that I was fucking su*cidal? That would’ve gone over super well, I’m sure.”

“That’s not what I mean-“

“I can tell you how that conversation would’ve gone, actually. Hey girl I just met, do you want to hear about how fucked up I am?” He stopped to laugh. “You wanted me to tell you that I was on drugs, again? Should I have told you how many fucking times I’d already done the exact same thing since I was, like, 17? That would’ve been really comforting to you, I’m sure. It wouldn’t have totally made you lose faith in me or anything, like everybody else.” He stopped for a second to laugh, again, the idea of this imaginary conversation obviously tickling him. “Or, better yet, I could’ve told you at the hospital that that wasn’t even the first time I’d tried to fucking k*ll myself! Or the second! Or the fucking third! I’m sure that would’ve helped soooo much had you known that.”

Instead of saying anything you just cried quietly into your bent elbow, head resting on your knees. When you didn’t say anything Anders sighed sadly, speaking again. 

“I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s not what you meant, and I’m sorry. But you have to see where I’m coming from, right? If I…” He choked on his words for a second, clearing his throat. “Y/N, if I knew how to ask for help you would’ve been the first one I went to. If I knew how to ask I would have. You have to believe me.”

You did believe him. It was unfair of you to blame him for not coming to you, but you still couldn’t help how angry you were at him. It was fucked up but you just felt so… fucked over by him. It was so wrong and you knew it but you couldn't help being mad that he didn’t think more about your feelings. You knew it wasn’t about you and it never was, and yet it still hurt you. Maybe you were just selfish, you weren’t sure. 

“You didn’t even leave me a note, Andy.” Was what you decided on saying. You’d never brought that fact up to anyone, deciding it was too morbid for your mom or Logan or even Harry. But it had always been there, in the back of your mind, gnawing away at the space you used to use for your fond memories of Anders. It’s like with every second you didn’t say anything about it it just continued eating at the image of him you had in your head. Each day that passed just eroded at the soil more and more. “I called and I texted and I showed up to your house… I was the only one who didn’t think I was being irrational. I was worried fucking sick about you for weeks and weeks after the Halloween party, and you couldn’t even write me a fucking su*cide note?”

Saying it out loud like that made your stomach lurch. You were nearly hysterical but you kept talking anyway. 

“I deserved a fucking note, Anders. If you were going to leave me all on my own the least you could’ve done was write me a fucking note. And I know there wasn’t one hidden because I cleaned every square inch of that apartment after I dropped you off at rehab.” You choked back a sob, so upset the phone in your hand shook fiercely against your ear. “There was nothing there, Anders. Nothing. I know I sound selfish and I’m being a brat, but honestly Anders when you… when you took those pills I felt so abandoned by you. How do you think I felt? I know it’s not about me and I’m fucked for feeling that way but I felt like you never even cared about me at all when you did that shit. And I tried ignoring that part, I chalked it up to being bigger than me, but… but I didn’t even get a note? I wasn’t even important enough to you for a note?”

He didn’t say anything, for a long, long time. You both just cried and cried and cried and you wished more than anything you could’ve had this conversation face to face. You wanted to hold him like you did at the hospital. You wanted to play with his hair. You wanted to put a hand on him, just to prove he really was okay.

“There was a note. On my phone.” He whispered after that long, long time had passed. His voice was so quiet you could hardly hear it over your own ragged breath. “There was one for you, and for Rachel. And there was one for my mom. I thought that you guys would, like, go through my phone or whatever, after…”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You hated the way your shoulders relaxed, like something had been proven to you by that fact. You hated how relieved you felt. It made you sick.

“You are important to me and you always have been. And I don’t think you’re fucked for feeling that way. I knew you must feel that way and I thought… I thought if I just went back to normal I could make up for it. I thought I’d make it go away.” His breath rattled his chest for a second. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this sooner. If I could go back, even to February, I’d do it all differently. I swear on my life I would.”

“I’m so sorry…” Was what you said, unsure what else could fill in the silence. “I shouldn’t have even brought the note thing up, it’s just been.. on my mind, I guess.”

“No, I get it.” He spoke sweetly, voice still soft by the tears mostly gone. “I actually thought about telling you I wrote it a few times, but I didn’t know if you’d even realized and I thought it’d be weird to just randomly tell you…”

He started laughing at that, a real, genuine laugh. You started laughing too, unable to ignore how silly the whole thing was. You wished softly that you’d talked about all of this sooner, but you did your best not to think too much about it. 

“It would’ve been weird, yeah.” You snickered, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “Imagine we just went out for lunch and you drop that on me over a salad. Like a casual, hey by the way…”

Anders laughed harder, the sound healing some part of you that had snapped during the conversation. “Right like we go out to fucking Bella Vino and I just slide my notes app across the table to you.” He had to stop, cackling with laughter. “Like, I wrote this for you, just so you know.”

“Not the notes app.” You shrieked, wiping at your eyes. 

“You know what they say, right? The only thing better than a notes app apology…”

You both giggled a while longer, eventually sighing exhausted and overwhelmed but somehow peaceful. 

“You know you’re important to me, right?” Anders asked once your stomach was sore. “I mean that. You saved my life, Y/N, and I could never, ever…. I could never replace you, or stop caring, or any of that. You saved my fucking life. And I never even said thank you! I never… I’m fucked for that, I know I am. I just didn’t know how I could possibly-“

“You don’t have to thank me.” You assured him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my life, man. I owe you everything.” He choked up again, blowing out a deep breath. “Because, you know, I bitch a lot to Harry, and this has been the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but.. but I’m really happy I’m alive. I’m so happy I’m alive.“ He stopped again, giggling. He sounded like a little kid. “I got to watch a movie with my dad because I’m alive. I owe you for that, big time.”

///

The rest of the conversation went easily after that, or at least easier. You talked more about everything, both of you letting out everything you’d been meaning to. For as scared as you were of this inevitable conversation, it really wasn’t as hard as you expected once the first bit was over. 

The topics floated around elsewhere, too. Anders caught you up on how life with his parents had been and even told you a bit more about his relationship with his mom in particular. He told you stories from his childhood about being locked out of the house for a day and a half because his mom was mad at him or not being able to go on a feild trip in eighth grade because “she thought he liked his friends at school more than her”. He told you about Jena, too, more than he ever had before. He told you how she used to force him to have sex or literally push his head down to snort pills off the coffee table even when he said no. He told you how he still had panic attacks every single time he took a shower. He couldn’t wear wet clothes, either, like if it was raining or his sleeve got damp in the sink. “It makes me feel like I’m dying.” He told you. “One time I got caught in the rain and I was so upset I threw up in a parking lot.”

Harry walked in as Anders finished a story about his sixth grade band recital, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel set on your lap. You asked Anders if he wanted to say hello, but he politely declined.

“I just want to talk to you for a while.” He’d said. “I’ll call Harry later today.”

And so you told him everything, too. You told him about what happened with Christian and the nightmares (which he did not take well, by the way). You told him that you also hated taking showers at home because it reminded you of what happened. You both shared song recommendations that you used on your shower playlists that made it a little bit easier. 

///

By the time you made your way downstairs, Harry had already cleaned up from breakfast, folded your clothes in the dryer, and was neck deep in your old guest bedroom. 

He turned to look over his shoulder as you walked in behind him, smiling broadly. He had your suitcases dumped out onto the floor, though most of their contents was already scattered around the room. 

“There you are!” He beamed, setting a tube of mascara in a pile he’d set aside for makeup. “I was starting to miss you.”

“I got distracted talking to Andy.” You brushed off, sitting down next to him where you could find the smallest amount of clear floor. “We got into a fight.”

Harry furrowed his brow, setting a pair of socks into the sock pile. “A fight? What about?”

“About you.” You teased. Harry snapped his head to look at you, mouth falling open.

“Did I do something?” He asked, abandoning the t-shirt in his hands. You only smiled, shaking your head.

“No, no.. I’m just kidding.” You laughed, “I kind of told him off for calling you all the time instead of me.”

He didn’t laugh with you. “Baby, you should’ve told me it bothered you.” He began, putting a hand on your cheek. “I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay!” You insisted. “I was feeling kind of bitter but we talked about it and it’s okay. I was just jealous, I guess.”

“You were jealous?”

You paused. “Yeah, kind of.” You admitted, taking Harry’s hand in yours and pulling it off your cheek and into your lap. “I felt like you guys were closer than me and him, and… I don’t know. He called and told me I was his best friend and I kind of lost it on him.”

“But you are his best friend?” Harry responded, confused and looking guilty. “I could’ve told you that. He tells me every day he doesn’t like me as much as you.”

You smiled, maybe a little bit too satisfied. “I am his best friend.” You agreed.

Harry smiled, confused. “Okay?”

“We’re good now, though. Like, actually.” You said, picking up a pair of leggings out of the mess and throwing it in the clothes pile. “We finally talked about everything.”

Harry followed your lead and grabbed your lap top off of the floor and set it on the bed. “You did?” He beamed, nudging your shoulder with his own. “That’s awesome, sunflower. I’m really happy you guys did that.”

“Me too. He said he’s call you later today.”

Harry picked up a bottle of lotion out of the pile, revealing how it had leaked out onto everything below it. He closed his eyes, sighing. 

“You know you don’t have to live like this, right?” He nagged. “You’re lucky that didn’t get all over your laptop. Which shouldn’t have been on the floor anyway.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, well if you’re going to be living with me you need to start living like a real person.” He rasped, rubbing his brow. He stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d said. “Not that you live here now, or anything. I just mean since you’re gonna stay here for a while. You don’t have to live out of suitcases.”

You shrugged, brushing off the exchange about the living situation. “I like living out of suitcases. I’m used to it.”

“Well you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“It’s not a big deal…”

It was quiet for a second, you still helping Harry clean your disaster of a bedroom despite you saying it wasn’t an issue. Harry stopped after a minute or two. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want to move your stuff into our room?” He questioned, looking you in the eyes. You frowned, stunned. 

“I just haven’t gotten around to it.” You said honestly. Harry knew that, the two of your spending nearly every second of every day together. “You know how I am about cleaning.”

Harry didn’t laugh at your joke, just nodding along. “Feels like you have one foot out the door.” He mumbled, chucking a pair of shoes into the shoe pile with a bit of extra frustrated force. 

You looked at him, but he just kept organizing. You thought about what he’d said, realizing how it must look from his perspective. Your suitcases were literally still packed.

You thought about his conversation with Anders the other night, how Harry had told him how afraid he was that you would change your mind or leave. You picked up a pair of jeans. 

“Do you think you have room in your dresser for my stuff to go in there?” You asked, folding the pants carefully. “We could probably move everything to our room before lunch, if you think we can make space.”

Harry whipped his head around, ignoring your question. “Really?”

You furrowed your brows. “Yes?”

“You want to put it all in our room?”

“Yeah, I do.” You answered honestly. It would be nice to not have to go down the hall every time you needed socks, anyway. “Do you think it will all fit?”

Harry leaped up, a ridiculous kind of look on his face as he cheesed down at you. 

“Yes!” He squeaked. “Yeah, I can make room! I can go move some stuff right now!”

“Okay. Awesome.” You commented, just looking up at him. You couldn’t help smiling just as goofily as he was. “Do you want help?”

He looked back and forth for a second, running his fingers through his hair. “No, no, I’m good. I’ll just move some shit and you stay here and get your stuff ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t leave, though, just staring at you. His legs were wiggling with nervous excitement.

“This is great.” He said, letting out a giggle. He covered his mouth, trying to force the smile off of his face and failing. “This makes me really happy, Y/N. Thank you.”

You crinkled your nose at him. “You don’t need to thank me, you pest.”

He continued staring at you for a second, his smile now a permanent fixture on his face. He knelt beside you, pulling your face to his with a hand on either cheek. 

“I love you so much.” He gushed into the kiss, hands clammy. “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you more.” You promised, pulling away from the kiss with a smile of your own. “Now go get ready for all my junk, okay?”

He stood again, his entire body tense and excited and giddy. “Okay! Yeah, okay.. I’m gonna go do that.” He turned to leave, looking back at you every step or two to give you another grin. “I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And then he left the room, his giggling following him down the hall. “Let’s fucking go!” He said to himself, his footsteps in the pattern of a little happy skip. “Let’s fucking go!”.

///

You weren’t done by lunch time, the entire ordeal becoming much more of  a thing than you’d expected. You sorted through all of Harry’s shit, him deciding what items he wanted to move out of the closet to make room for your own. He threw sweaters you’d seen him wear in paparazzi photos onto the bed, discarded as if you hadn’t memorized the patterns staring at those pictures of him while you were broken up. “I never fucking wear this.” He said, throwing another jacket onto the bed. “Or this. Or this.”

You watched him take nearly all of his clothes across the hall to another empty bedroom, leaving them on the bed in there to be put away later. He took out things you’d seen him wear within the week, insisting he hadn’t worn them in years and didn’t mind them being in the other room. You didn’t argue with him on any of it, his mood so bubbly and excited and just about over the moon. You hadn’t seen him this excited, even the night you first got back together. He talked the entire time, going on and on about how happy he was and all of his plans for your new room you’d be sharing. 

“We can paint the walls yellow, too, since that’s your favorite.” He was saying, taking the last load of  clothes out of his dresser. “I’ve been meaning to paint the walls in here anyway.”

“You definitely don’t have to do that.” You’d laughed, thinking he was kidding. He just looked at you like you were crazy. 

“You don’t like yellow anymore?”

“I do, I just don’t want you to have to-”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off. “I want it to feel like your room, too.”

You didn’t say anything for a second, just looking at him. He looked so in love. You smiled, nodding. “We can paint it together, then.”

He grinned back at you, shoulders relaxing. “Yes! Wouldn’t that be fun?” He gushed, back to his rambling now. “We could buy a new duvet, too. We could hang up some of the paintings Andy’s done for you, too! And all your awards can go over here if we add a shelf.”

You didn’t say anything about the fact that Harry most certainly wouldn’t hang any of his own awards in his bedroom and that you didn’t want to do that, either, just letting him continue. You just listened to him talk, believing everything he said and every promise he made. You wanted to kiss him, so you did, over and over and over. Before you knew it, you had moved everything onto his room and the two of you were picking out a new silk duvet cover online. It had tiny flowers on it. 

///

You didn’t get around to lunch until after 3, the two of you close to starvation by the time you’d finished up everything upstairs. You sat on some stools at the kitchen island, scarfing down the Thai food you’d had ordered in. You were almost done with your entire plate when Bethany called you. 

“Hey Beth!” You chirped, Harry’s good mood infecting you and making everything seem a little more sparkly. “What’s up?”

She sighed. Bad sign.

“Have you been on the internet at all today?” She asked, not bothering with niceties. 

You paused, looking over at Harry who was just as confused as you. You set your phone down on the counter, turning it on speaker. 

“I haven’t really been on since early this morning.” You explained. “Why, what’s up?”

“Well, its officially happened. Cats out of the bag.”

You relaxed, realizing what she meant. “Oh, yeah. I saw everything with Logan and Rachel already.” You explained. “Logan texted me this morning to talk about it.”

Bethany let out a short laugh. “Nope, not that Peach. Try again.”

Your breathing stopped for a second, your head whipping to look at Harry the same moment his turned to face you. You had matching expressions on your faces, eyes wide and eyebrows bunched together. Harry leaned towards the phone, speaking.

“What do you mean, Bethany?” He asked, his plate pushed away with the back of his hand. 

“Harry, great. I’m glad you’re here.” Bethany went on. She had that tone to her voice right now that she always had when she was really, really pissed. Not at you, but at everything else. It was the way she talked after meetings with Tom, or when someone posted something about you online that was particularly searing. “You should be here for this so you can reiterate all of this to Jeff.”

Oh, fuck. You looked back at him, mouth opening and closing over and over again but no words actually coming out. Harry looked just as dumb and confused as you felt. Finally he spoke. 

“What happened?”

His expression changed into the kind he always got when he talked about work. (You selfishly hated that version of him, the one who was all serious and analytical. It didn’t feel like him.)

“Well, Harry, your girlfriend wore your pants on Jimmy Fucking Fallon.” She snipped, sighing. You knew she wasn’t mad at you two, but you still felt like a child being chastised. “And you have a scuff on your wall.”

“What the fuck are you taking about?” You asked, put opened on your stomach. 

“Well,” (You could envision her pulling glasses off the top of her head, sliding them down her nose.) “Aubrey on Twitter says, ‘Y/N was literally wearing Harry’s pants on Fallon tonight I’m gonna kms.’ And attached is a picture of you, my dear, wearing some black sweats and another picture of Harry last week on BBC wearing the same ones.”

You looked at each other, mouths agape. 

“How do they know we don’t have the same pants?” You asked. You were trying not to panic yet, remembering how Beth had always been the one to brush off incidents like this. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, except there’s a stain on the back.” She explained. “A big white splotch on the butt. Paint, or something.”

Harry groaned, leaning his head onto the counter and banging his fist once in defeat. He stayed like that for a second before sitting back up, his head in his hands. 

“Andy and I got into a paint fight.” He started, voice small.

“A paint fight?” You asked incredulously. “What even is that?”

“Well, babe, it’s a lot like a fight but with paint involved.” He snipped back at you. “I should’ve remembered. I was so pissed he ruined those pants…”

You just shook your head, mimicking Harry and throwing your head into your hands. 

“What about the scuff on the wall?” You asked, remembering that other detail. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well it’s in the same spot in every single interview the two of you have done the last month.”

Of fucking course it was. You grumbled, laying your head down completely. You’d spent so much time picking an inconspicuous place to set up your camera, and this was still happening. 

“So everyone has put it together, then?” Harry asked. 

“Yup.” Bethany answered. “And there’s no denying it. I mean, we can say you aren’t a couple… We can say whatever you want, but there’s no denying that you’re living together. Everyone knows it. And, now that they have that, they’re putting everything else together, too.”

Harry shook his head, eyes closing. “But is it like, a couple people saying this? Or is it, like, everyone?”

“Well you're trending on Twitter. Right under Rachel.” 

It was quiet for a second, the three of you all waiting for someone else to pipe up. It gave you enough time, in the three or so seconds it was silent, to make up your mind. 

Harry needed to know you meant it. He needed to know you weren’t going anywhere. You’d already moved your clothes out of their suitcases and you promised to meet his mom, and there was only one more thing to do. There was only one more thing you could do to prove you meant it. 

“I’m happy this is happening.” You said out loud, unsure if Harry would feel the same considering but taking a chance. You watched his face out of the corner of your eye. “I… I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. I want everyone to know.”

Harry snapped around to look at you, expression unreadable. 

“As long as Harry is okay with that.” You added, adding some cushioning in case this went sour. “I’m okay with it, though. I’m excited, actually.”

It was true. You’d spent so much time forced to keep it a secret that you’d forgotten that wasn’t ever what you wanted at all. Bethany still sounded just as stressed when she spoke. 

“You guys can talk about it. And Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to talk to Jeff. Once you guys talk let me know and we’ll go from there.”

He agreed, both of you saying your goodbyes to Beth before hanging up. You pressed the big red button, waiting a beat before looking up at Harry. 

“So…” You started, not able to get much further before Harry cut you off.

“Did you mean that?” He asked, eyes cautious. “About wanting everyone to know? You meant that?”

You nodded weakly. “We’re only supposed to say the stuff we mean, right?”

He looked at you a beat before realization set in and his face broke out into a smile, a giggle ripping through the tension around you. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He sprang foreword, kissing you firmly in the mouth. He held your face the way he always did lately, a hand on either cheek. He mumbled into your mouth, too, the way he’d been keen to do lately. 

“I fucking love you. I love you.” He rushed out, biting your lip. “I’m so happy. I’m so fucking happy.”

You kissed him back, telling him you were too. You were too. You were too. 

“We can go on a date now.” He went on. “I can take you to get that spaghetti I was telling you about, after everything opens again. You’ll love it, it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had I swear to God. We won’t have to lie to anyone anymore.”

You, out of nowhere, felt your eyes grow hot with tears. You didn’t say anything else, just continuing to kiss him. You hoped if you kissed him enough times he would just know everything you wanted to say this whole time. Your dirty dishes still sat on the counter, forgotten. 

///

A few days later, Anders woke up on a Sunday in the best mood he’d been in for days. 

Since his conversation with Y/N he’d felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders, but rehashing everything that way adding an entirely different kind of pressure. But today was Sunday, and Sunday’s were good.

On Sunday’s, his parents left the house to go to church. His parents, even in the pandemic, still went and sat with everyone else who was too stupid to stay out of large crowds, and even though that should’ve annoyed him Anders loved it. He didn’t care if his parents brought the virus home. The possibility of dying was worth the 180 minutes he got to spend without them in the house. (His mom no longer asked him to go with them. She actually still hadn’t said a single word to him since he’d gone to Matt’s house).

Anders threw open his door once he heard the car roll out of the driveway, feeling as if he had the entire world at his fingertips. He was wearing a pair of sweats, the same ones he’d had on for 6 days, not bothering to put on a shirt before bouncing down to the kitchen. 

His plans for breakfast were foiled as soon as he turned the corner. 

“Hey son!” His dad smiled brightly, standing over the stove. He was just pulling out a pan, a carton of eggs out on the counter. “I thought I was gonna have to wake you up.”

“Why are you here?”

He knew he should’ve said something else, but it’s all he could think. In the last 24 years he’d never once seen his dad skip church. Ever.

“I wanted to have breakfast with you.” He said simply. “Are you hungry at all?”

Anders just shook his head. “But it’s Sunday.”

“We can’t have breakfast on a Sunday?”

Anders laughed, deciding to sit in one of the kitchen chairs. He realized that he wasn’t actually upset his dad was here. 

“I figured you’d be at church is all.” He explained. “Im starving though.”

His dad just smiled. “Fantastic. Do you want bacon, too?”

Anders, suddenly, was bombarded by memories of Christmas morning when his dad would always make bacon after the gifts were opened. He stopped doing that when Anders was in middle school, but he could still smell it when he really tried. Back before everything was bad all the time. 

“Fuck yeah.” Anders said, knowing his dad would chastise him for that but not able to resist pissing his parents off even when he didn’t want to. It was a defect of his he couldn’t help.

His dad turned to look at him, mouth pinched to hide a grin. “Fuck yeah.” His dad agreed, the word sounding bizarre coming out in his voice. Anders threw his head back in a howl of laughter, tears accumulating.

“Did you just say fuck? My father, the Saint?”

His dad was giggling now, the sound almost identical to Anders' own laugh. He’d never noticed that before. “Fuck yeah I did.” He said, only causing them both to giggle harder. 

“Fuck yeah, dad! Let it out!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“You can do better than that”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck yeah!!!”

Anders was in fucking stitches, his sides literally pinching his ribs as he died laughing. 

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked. His dad nodded enthusiastically. 

“It feels good.” He agreed, pulling a pack of bacon out of the fridge. “Feels fucking good.”

“I'm surprised you chose a Sunday to say your first curse with me, dad.” Anders joked. “I'm surprised you’re here at all.”

“Well I am, aren’t I?”

“Just figured you’d be, like, praising the son of god right now. Or whatever.”

His dad was quiet for a second, using the same scissor he always used when Anders was baby Anderson to open the bacon. 

“I have my own son to worry about.” He said quietly, looking over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. “You ever make bacon before?”

Of course he had. Everyone had. But for some reason Anders shook his head. 

“Can you show me?”

His dad smiled even bigger now. “Yeah! Of course I can! Grab the tongs out of the drawer over there and I’ll get us started.”

“Okay.”

Anders did what he said and grabbed the tongs. He stood next to his dad, feeling awkward but also strangely good. He was almost as tall as his dad. The last time he’d watched his dad cook he had to stand on a chair. Part of him wanted to stand on a chair anyway, just for old times sake. Or maybe he just wanted to feel like baby Anderson again. Baby Anderson never had a care in the world. Baby Anderson’s parents were always crazy about him. 

“Moms gonna be pissed at you, huh?” Anders asked, laughing lightly but meaning it. His dad shrugged, turning on one of the burners. 

“She can be mad at both of us, then.” He as all he said. “So now we have to wait for the pan to get hot…”

///

“How much shit do you own?” Logan asked, a hand over her eyes to block out the sun above her. Rachel was grabbing another box out of her Range Rover, hobbling up the steps to the door. 

“You could help me.” Rachel squeaked, barely managing to make it inside before the box slipped from her fingers. Logan shut the door behind them both, coming up to take Rachel by the waist. 

“Why don’t you just stop for a while?” She whispered, pressing a kiss to her girlfriends hair. “Let’s relax. I miss you.”

Rachel only blushed, as always, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I have a lot to unpack.”

“You can unpack tomorrow.”

Rachel looked around the living room, full of boxes and suitcases and all sorts of junk. It was a fucking disaster in here. Rachel’s house, or her parents house, technically, was never dirty. Ever. 

Rachel thought maybe she liked it being dirty. She threw the bag off of her shoulder she’d grabbed from the car, letting it land right in middle of the floor. Her heart beat funny at the thought that she’d just leave it there, right in middle of the walkway. 

“Tomorrow.” She agreed, leaning into Logan. Logan chirped triumphantly, immediately pulling Rachel to the couch. They both laughed together, happy. 

The house was a nightmare, Rachel’s parents wouldn’t talk to her, and she didn’t know what the fuck she was going to do when the pandemic ended and she had to go back to work. She didn’t feel like taking pictures anymore, or doing her hair every time she left the house. She didn’t want to hang out with Margot or Kira, ever again. She had a millions things running through her head, all of them spiraling and twisting and bumping into each other until she couldn’t make sense of a single second of it. For some reason she didn’t mind though. 

“You know I was never allowed to have short hair.” She said without knowing why. Logan hummed. “I’ve always wanted to cut it.”

Logan sprang off the couch. “Babe! I used to go to beauty school! I’m, like, so good at cutting hair!”

“You did?”

Logan frowned, her nose scrunching up in the way that always made Rachel feel especially soft. “Well, I went for like a week before I quit. But I am really good at cutting hair! I swear!”

This wasn’t entirely true. Logan had enrolled in beauty school, but never actually went. And she was only decent at cutting hair, at best.

But Rachel couldn’t give a fuck if she was any good at it. “Okay.” She agreed, standing. “Do you think it’ll look good?”

Logan nodded frantically. “Of course! You know what, I’ll cut mine first so you can make sure you like it. Then you can decide.”

Rachel was objecting the best she could but Logan was already in the kitchen, scissors in hand. 

(The scissors, funnily enough, we’re the exact same pair Andy’s dad always used for the bacon on Christmas morning.)

Before Rachel could even catch up Logan grabbed a fist full of hair, lobbing it all of just under her chin. Her eyes widened as the blonde strands scattered on the floor. Then, she started laughing. And so did Rachel. 

They both laughed until they were crying, making their way to the bathroom with Logan’s hair half to her waist and half to her chin. It only took an hour or so for both of them to be made over, making eye contact through the mirror. Both with matching hair cuts, both equally as drastic. They looked fine, but not great. 

“I love it.” Rachel beamed, eyes teary again for a whole new reason. “I love it.”

She shook her head around, watching the bob swing around her face. She looked like a completely different person, someone she’d never met before. She loved it. 

“It looks amazing!!” Logan screeched, excitedly bouncing around. “This is amazing!!!”

///

“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos.” Anders’ dad said through a mouthful. 

Anders shrugged. “I did that on purpose.” He said honestly, referring to his mostly blank arms and covered chest. (Not covered, but he had a few.)

“They’re cool.” His dad said, making Anders furrow his brow in surprise. “I always wanted to get a tattoo.”

He couldn’t help snorting. This was the best day he’d had in as long as he could remember. Maybe his whole life. “I can’t imagine you with a tattoo.”

“I’ve still got time.” His dad grinned, taking another bite. “Maybe I’ll get one.”

“I’ll take you to get one.” Anders offered, saying it like a joke but not at all kidding. “You could get a face tat, dad. You’d look so fucking sick.”

His dad just shook his head. “What’s that one?” He questioned, pointing to the mysterious blob on his torso. It was on his ribs, just under his heart. 

“It was supposed to be a frog.” Anders laughed. “My friend Y/N did it.”

“With a tattoo gun?”

“With a needle.”

His dad didn’t tell him off like he was expecting. “What’s she like?”

His parents never asked about his friends. They’d always hated his friends growing up. 

“She’s fuckin sick.” Anders answered, realizing they’d both finished their plates but weren’t getting up. “She’s my best friend.”

“Maybe I can go see her show one day.” His dad said casually. “Or am I too old for that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You could totally go!” Anders gushed. He imagined it, his dad bobbing awkwardly along like dads do. “You could come see Harry, too.”

“Could I come see you?” His dad asked, making Anders’ heart skip a beat. He’d never invited his parents to a show, figuring they wouldn’t want to go. His mom definitely wouldn’t. 

“Of course you could.” Anders said. He felt his face get hot. “It would actually mean a lot to me, dad. If you came, I mean.”

His dad smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my kids a rockstar. That’s pretty cool, huh?” His dad chuckled for a second. “Sorry. That’s pretty fucking cool, isn’t it?”

The praise made him embarrassed. “It’s alright.”

“I always wanted to be a rockstar.” His dad mused. He almost didn’t even look like his dad right now. He looked younger somehow. More like a person. “Like Jimi Hendrix, you know? I used to be pretty good at the guitar. Not that good, but I think you’d be impressed if you heard it. I was never as good as you, though.”

For some reason Anders wanted to cry. For every reason and no reason. His dad wanted to be a rockstar. His dad used to be young. He used to want things. He used to have dreams. He felt overwhelmed by the realization that he’d lived an entire life before Anders was born, and part of himself hated the other for ruining his dad's plans. Maybe that was why neither of them liked him for so long. 

“I love you, Dad.” Anders said, immediately feeling the need to cry multiply at the embarrassment of saying that out loud. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

His dad smiled, speechless for a second. “I love you so much, son.” He spoke, his face growing warm in a similar pattern to Anders’. “I always did, even before I met you.”

Anders started crying. His dad stood up, pulling Anders to stand with him. He wrapped him up in his arms and baby Anderson was crying, too. 

“I’m gonna fix this. The best I can.” His dad spoke, voice sounding strained through all the sincerity. “We can have breakfast again next week, okay? It can be our thing.” 

Anders wiped his eyes. “Won’t mom start to get upset if you don’t go to church?” 

His dad wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He shook his head, staying quiet for a long time but not letting his son out of his grip. “I have done this entire thing wrong, for a long time.” He said finally. He gestured between father and son, nearly identical copies of each other. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders. They slanted at the same angle as Anders’. “If your mother wants to be mad at me for fixing my mistakes, she can be. I’m done making her mistakes with her.” He cleared his throat again. “One day she’ll come around. I know she will.”

Anders just nodded, understanding. He didn’t believe what his dad said about his mom, but he believed the rest. He was still sniffling like a child. The front door opened, signaling the end of the moment. Anders quickly rubbed his face clean. 

“I’m gonna go.” Anders told him, hating his mom extra for ruining the only good thing that had ever happened to him. His dad nodded knowingly, looking just as upset as Anders did. “I’ve got, like, four guitars in my room if you ever want to borrow one.”

“Okay, son.” His dad smiled, staying put while Anders tip toed out. Just when he was about to reach the living room his dad called his name, making him pause. “I think we should go get those tattoos. If you want another one.”

Anders laughed, resisting the urge to look to his left where his mother was setting down her purse and kicking off her heels. She didn’t look at him either. 

“That sounds fucking sick, Dad. You just say the word.”

///

On Sunday, after Anders had made his breakfast with his dad and Logan had cut her hair and Rachel had moved everything she’d ever owned into her new home, Harry was having an equally as exciting day. 

He walked down the stairs, having slept in way later than he ever did. He’d been a little miffed when he’d checked his phone, realizing you’d let him spend half his day sleeping. He’d grunted, sitting up. The windows were open, and it smelled like spring today. It felt like spring all over, really, in a way he couldn’t even explain. 

By the time he’d made his way to the stairs his bad mood had vanished. He couldn’t be in a bad mood these days if he’d wanted to. How could he be mad at Y/N for letting him sleep in when she was here? How could he be mad at anything when she was here?

Even when he’d heard the voices coming from the lower level of the house as he descended the stairs, he still wasn’t mad. Worried, obviously. But still in a good mood. 

“What is happening?” He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes. The entire house looked like it had been ransacked, things missing and random men wearing masks walking around. It was more like the opposite of a robbery, Harry noticed, seeing the boxes and random pieces of furniture scattered around. He came to his senses, slowly but surely, taking it all in. 

“Baby!!” Y/N shouted, rushing over to him. Before Harry could speak at all she’d covered his eyes with one of her tiny hands, using her other to grip his t-shirt firmly. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet!”

Harry pushed her hand away softly, looking around the room. He took in her subtle disappointment, her lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. (Upon seeing that he actually had to hop off his train of thought to take it between his own lips for a moment). He cleared his sleepy throat. 

“What is going on?” He asked again, trying to force both of his eyes to open as he squinted at his girlfriend. She sighed, frowning. 

“It was a surprise.” She huffed, crossing her arms. She shook her head, disappointed. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep long enough.”

Harry couldn’t help leaning down and kissing her again, longer this time. He kissed her until she let out that breath she was always holding, her feet relaxing off their tippy toes so she could give all of her attention to him. Harry loved the way she always did that, he thought. He should tell her how nice it is. 

Harry forgot about the commotion around them, stopping the conversation entirely for a second to tell Y/N that he loved her so, so, so much. It was true, more so today than ever before. As he continued to kiss her he whispered all the things he’d missed out on saying by staying asleep for so long. He’d wasted so much time, he thought. He could’ve had, like, four more hours with her than he did if he’d woken up earlier. He brushed her hair away from her face, deciding that he wouldn’t tell her about that little breath-holding thing she did when he kissed her just in case she thought too much about it and stopped doing it. He’d die if she stopped doing it, he thought. He knew he would. 

“It’s already 10:30.” He said finally when Y/N pulled away from him all too soon to continue pouting. “How late was I supposed to sleep?”

“At least until 12.” She answered seriously, making Harry’s eyes pinched shut with laughter. He didn’t expect her to actually have had a time in mind. “I purposefully kept you up until, like, 3 just so you would sleep in.”

She never ceased to amaze him. “You fuckin’ what?” He giggled, overwhelmed in that moment by how much he loved her. He was so overwhelmed with gratitude towards the universe that he almost felt choked up. 

“I had a whole thing planned….” She sighed, shaking her head. “Anders said it wouldn’t work but I just thought….”

Holy shit. “Did you ask Anders to call me last night and keep me up?”

“Yeah. He said he kept you as long as he could…”

Harry couldn’t fucking believe his ears. It was all too perfect. Maybe he was just so delirious with affection that he was missing something, but to him this seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Men still wandered about, moving shit here or there and yelling across the room to each other. Harry didn’t even hear them. 

“What was the master plan, huh?” Harry asked, completely oblivious but not even minding it. 

“The plan was to keep you up as long as I could before having Anders call you and keep you up longer so I could sleep and wake up early and you’d be extra sleepy.”

(Harry had spoken to Andy for three and a half hours last night. About literally nothing. Harry figured Anders was in one of those moods where he just didn’t want to be alone and he’d forced himself to stay up as long as he could so he could be there for him. Turns out it was just a silly little trick and not a mental breakdown at all, which was nice.)

“And why am I supposed to be so sleepy?” Harry asked, pulling Y/N into his chest. He looked around again, realizing it wasn’t just new furniture being delivered here but Y/N’s furniture from home. Y/N’s makeup table. Her bean bag chair she never let anyone else but him use. A box with Logan’s handwriting on the side labeled ‘winter clothes’. He looked closer, realizing all at once what was going on. “What’s happening?” He asked again before Y/N could answer his first question. He pushed her back so he could see her face, heart beating erratically. “What is all of this?”

Y/N just huffed. “It’s my stuff from home. Or some of it, at least.” 

Harry heard himself gasp, Y/N confirming what he already knew. He looked around again, and it was true. It was her stuff from home. 

“I was going to ask if it was okay, but then I just decided to go for it. It was supposed to be a surprise once everything was, like, unpacked and everything…” She grimaced, eyeing Harry nervously. “You’re mad, aren’t you? I know I should’ve asked, I just got carried away-“

“Mad?” Harry laughed, both hands coming to cover his mouth as he looked around. He let his head fall forward, his eyes closing. He recovered, looking up again. “This is all your stuff?”

“Most of it.” She nodded, looking uneasy. “Is that okay? I just thought since we’re moved in together…”

“Moved in together?”

“No, I mean- I just meant-“ Her cheeks flushed bright red, her eyes widening. Harry also loved it when she did that, when she got super embarrassed and made that face she always made. He didn’t tell her how much he loved that, either, just so she would always do it. “Like, living together.”

He couldn’t believe his fucking eyes. She’d had all of this shit brought to fucking London from LA, she’d gone through the trouble of getting her own movers and even conspired against Harry so he’d be surprised when it was all done. She brought winter clothes. For winter. He couldn’t help it when his eyes started to sting and he teared up. His throat was tight suddenly. 

“This is amazing, baby.” He choked out, smiling the best he could at her. Her shoulders relaxed, her own smile replacing the worry on her face. “I… I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I was so worried you’d be mad.” She gasped, taking a deep breath as she deflated. She giggled, relieved. “I was up all night getting ready and I almost called the whole thing off….”

“How early were you awake?” Harry asked incredulously. It was all too good to be true. 

“I told Anders to call me thirty minutes after you guys got off the phone and you were out like a light.” She admitted, looking embarrassed though Harry couldn’t for the life of him understand why. “So like, 3:45 I think. Somewhere around there.”

Harry choked on his next breath, having to turn away for a second to compose himself. He was still a mess when he turned around to face the amazing, chaotic, beautiful girl before him. He pulled her back to him, hugging her tightly. He felt like a little kid on Christmas. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, burrying his face in his hair. She did the thing she always did where she tells him not to thank her, but he did the thing he always did and ignored her. “This means so much to me, baby. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”

She didn’t say anything else, just taking his face and pulling his mouth to hers. He loved the way she kissed him, he thought. Like she was trying to tell him something. 

“Now you’re stuck with me.” She snickered into his lips, thinking she was being cheeky. But as she said it all Harry could think was that this meant she really was going to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere, at least until winter. He choked back the emotion that threatened to bring him to his knees, pushing his hands into Y/N’s hair as he kissed her. He kissed her the way she always did, like she was telling him something. And with every kiss Harry was saying to her, in his own silent way, everything he’d ever wanted to. 

Thank you for not leaving me, he told her. Thank you for being the person who stuck around. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for letting me grow when I needed to. Thank you for loving me even when you hated me. Thank you for being here. Thank you for bringing winter clothes. Thank you for making me feel like Harry, without the rest. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. Thank you for staying. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

And then Y/N did that thing she always did where she gasped for breath between kisses, thinking Harry didn’t hear the way she had to gulp for air. He thought about slowing down, about letting her catch her breath, but he selfishly liked the way she gasped like that. He liked everything about her. He liked the way she gasped and the way she said his name and the way she would say “pleeeease” when he had her really wound up. He liked the way her hands felt on his stomach. He liked the way her legs felt over his, the way her stomach moved when she breathed really hard. He liked the way her cheeks started to turn pink all the way up to her ears and down her neck. 

“Come here.” He mumbled to her, trying to maintain the kiss as he pulled her through the mess towards the stairs. They both stumbled their way across, tripping over a box they hadn’t noticed. It only took them a second to be wound together again, tumbling up the stairs like they were drunk or high or dizzy. 

“You know I love you, right?” Y/N panted, reaching for the doorknob behind her. Harry had his hands around her waist, keeping her against him. He moved his kisses to her neck, mumbling an mhmm. 

“Tell me again so I don’t forget.” He pleaded, throwing the door closed behind them once they’d made their way into the room. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.” She whispered. They bumped into the edge of the bed, tumbling onto their new bedspread that had just arrived a few days earlier. 

“Again.”

“I love you.”

Harry pushed her body down so she was laying, situating himself between her legs. His heart was pounding out of his chest, with excitement and an indescribable fondness. He was overwhelmed again by how much he liked her. She smelled like strawberries today, just like the lotion she’d gotten in the mail from her mom. Harry breathed her in, overwhelmed. Forever overwhelmed. 

“I love you, too.” He rasped to her, “You know that, yeah? You know how much I love you?”

“Yes, baby.”

“No you don’t.” He giggled. “You have no idea. No idea.”

He remembered saying something like that to her at the house party a lifetime ago. It was still true. 

Harry realized suddenly why he must have taken her up here. He must have known the entire time what he was about to do. His stomach flipped, considering it. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes extra tight as if to hide himself, though Y/N wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Baby…” He managed to force out, “Sunflower….”

“What baby?” 

He wanted to say it so bad. It was just there, behind his front teeth. His heart stuttered for a second. 

“Can I show you have much I love you, sunflower?” He whispered, not able to say it any louder. “I want to show you how much I love you. I need to show you.”

The sound Y/N made was enough to put Harry in the dirt. She chirped like a little bird, a short giggle following. Everything felt lighthearted and easy. She hummed into the kiss, letting the sound turn into a soft moan. 

“I want you to show me.” She whispered back. “I love you so much, baby. I want you to show me.”

She mumbled it all, broken up between kisses. She told him again that she loved him, saying it over and over again as the curtain next to the bed whipped around in the breeze. Harry believed her entirely, and he was scared and excited and awestruck and giddy all at once. 

He was finally going to do it, he thought to himself. It was finally happening. He thought about backing out again, but Y/N did that thing again where she slides her hand under his shirt and touches his belly. The butterflies under her fingers flapped harder and Harry folded immediately. He was so nervous he almost felt blinded by it. He took a hand and placed it over hers where she touched him, just under the tattoo. 

“I’m nervous.” He said out loud even though he didn’t want to. She tried to remove her hand but he pressed it down harder so it wouldn’t leave. 

“Sorry-“

“I want it there.” He whispered. “I always wanted to tell you I like it when you touch me like that.”

He wanted to keep that to himself, like all the other secret little things she did and had no idea about, but it just came out. He supposed she could know about one of her little things, at least. He could keep everything else for himself, which was more than enough. 

///

It was while you and Harry were whispering all these sweet little things to each other that the world, already turned upside down, flipped even further. Sunday wasn’t over yet, after all, and that same outside force that pushed Rachel to leave her home and cut her hair, the same propulsion that pushed Anders to tell his dad he loved him, the same hand that guided Harry and yourself up the stairs…. It was moving someone else, too. Right to your doorstep. The one in LA, at least. 

That outside force came in the form of a hard knock on the front door of the house you’d paid for but hadn’t been to in weeks. Logan and Rachel were already knee deep in an episode of New Girl, making it a particularly bad time for visitors, even more so than the pandemic. 

Logan shuffled to the door, annoyed. She’d been alone and totally fucking bored out of her mind with nothing to do for weeks but now that Rachel was here she suddenly had a million things that needed her attention. As minor as it was, she was still pissed. 

But when she opened the door, she didn’t know what to feel. Immediately she was hit with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. She felt everything at once.

“What in the ever living fuck are you doing here?” She asked. The visitor nearly tipped over, eyes glazed. He shrugged. 

“I came to- fucking shit-“ The guest spoke, steadying himself on the wall with an outstretched arm. His hair had grown out since the VMAs, and it looked like shit. “I came to talk to Y/N. Is she here?”

#blacking out and breaking hearts #bobh #harry styles #harry #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles self insert #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #hslot #harrys house #harry styles imagine #harry styles story #smut #fluff #angst #fanfiction #fan fiction #writing #series #one direction

[lemonmatronics]

I just got done watching Out of the Past and I don’t think I’ll ever recover omg

I cried like 5 times and it took me an hour to get through cause I had to keep pausing to freak out and compose myself

That episode…GOD THAT EPISODE

I wanna ramble so spoilers below the cut since it’s like, actually a lot

So much in that episode got revealed it’s making me insane

Aja and Shana being the first Starlight Girls makes me so insane. Idk if they had ever mentioned that before and I just didn’t notice or forgot, but GOD that adds sm to the whole band’s bond. As well as adding to them working at Starlight too. They didn’t just work there because they agreed with the dream Jacqui stood for, Aja and Shana WERE the dream. That makes me sooooo crazy TEEHEEHEE

Also the reveal of how their mom died…ough

It explains a lot about Jerrica’s whole character to me tbh. Throughout the whole series so far I’ve been here thinking, “Wow, Jerrica is awfully patient and understanding with people. She’s barely ever mad at or super upset with people she cares about, and if she is it’s not for long”

and like…after learning that YEAH, Of course she’s like that! The last time she saw her mother she acted awful to her

What if she gets upset with someone and that’s the last time she ever sees them? It makes so much sense to me and makes what was seemingly a “flat and almost always perfect” type of character a lot more compelling. Not to say I didn’t like her before, I fuckin adore Jerrica, but that layer of extra complexity adds a LOT to her.

Speaking of Jerrica I loved seeing her grieve more. Both her and Kimber both seemed to have delayed reactions to each of their parents deaths, and sure that may have been accidental (most likely was), I think it’s interesting that big events and happenstances cause these emotions to bubble up later on. It’s gives a grounded layer of realism to their characters and I like that!

I also like that Jerrica used to kinda be a brat when she was younger. She wasn’t ALWAYS so thoughtful and acted like any kid and teen would to stuff happening around her, which again I like. It’s a realistic layer to her that adds a lot for me.

Onto talking about her mom more, the insight on both parents makes me nuts. Synergy being made with Jacqui’s voice and such drives me up the wall, that reveal floored me. But I like that it doesn’t change the fact Synergy is still her own separate being, she’s not Jacqui herself, only similar.

And the earrings being the last thing their father made…ohh makes me crazy. He wanted to give them to Jerrica personally…OOOH MAKES ME CRAZY….HE KNEW HE WAS DYING AND SPENT HIS LAST DAYS GETTING THINGS READY FOR HIS FAMILY…...OOOOHHHH MAKES ME CRAZY

And Eric Raymond…Eric when I catch you Eric. I’m going to kill that man I SWEAR DJJSHX Like I knew he was fucked up but OH MY GOD DUDE

Burning them in front of her!? Knowing it’s all she really has left of her mom voice!?

Slap was DESERVED. Her crying for her mom over the fire, her straight up reaching INTO the fire!? Should’ve beaten his ass.

Side note I fuckin love how much they slap men in this show. It’s not so much it loses its shock and impact when it happens, but enough to where you can say “yeah they slap guys a lot” and it’s true.

I also really like that The Misfits aren’t really active antagonists in this episode either. For multiple reasons.

The most they do is help Eric look for those tapes, and they don’t even know why they’re so important. Even after asking, and Eric is the one that finds them anyways so they don’t ever find out. And they’re left at that, no other appearance.

The Misfit’s rivalry with Jem is very petty and spiteful, as much as it may feel personal for them, it’s really not. It’s simply a band rivalry, an extreme one, but it’s formed out of very juvenile motivation.

Eric’s rivalry is not, his beef with Jerrica is IMMENSELY more personal not only because he used to be part of the company, but because he used to be a friend of the family. He knew this girl ever since she was a teenager, and she was ALWAYS a threat to him having full company control. And once she managed to kick him out the door any nice facade with her was over. She’s the reason he lost so much and depends so heavily on a band that treats him like shit (haha).

Their rivalry is infinitely more personal, and for such a personal conflict involving Jerrica’s dead mother, the woman that started Starlight, it only makes sense this would be a battle for him and him alone.

Additionally,, I just don’t think even The Misfits would go that far. Hell even Raymond with anyone else, but because it was Jerrica Benton specifically he had no issue burning her mother’s tapes right in front of her.

#jem and the holograms #jerrica benton #kimber benton #80s cartoons #the misfits #cartoon nostalgia #nostalgia

[geesevillain]

can’t sleep. little drabble. fuck me. 

cw: gender neutral, yandere themes, stalking, suggestive language, reader romanticizes yanderes 

Obsessive infatuation.

Not quite love, but still passionate, nevertheless.

You were obsessed with the concept. Going out of your way to consume media of all kinds to get a small taste of it. From watching yandere-esque anime to listening to yandere audio to reading creepy fanfiction of your favourite characters.

It polluted your thoughts and refused to go away.

“There’s something romantic about a person that will do absolutely anything for you,” You stated. “Wanting you so much that they’re willing to hurt people just to show how much they love you? Taking pictures of you when you go about your errands because they thought you looked nice?”

“That sounds like stalking and murder to me.” Your friend, Layla, mumbled. She took a sip from her coffee and glanced up at you. “It sounds fucking creepy if I’m being honest. If Tiff hurt you just to get to me, I wouldn’t find it romantic. I especially wouldn’t find her taking random ass pictures of me romantic. Shit sounds fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at her words. “It’s different for me. You wouldn’t understand.” You picked up your fork and played with the cake in front of you. You took a scoop of frosting off the top, debating on eating it, before placing the utensil back down with a sigh.

“And I don’t understand, hon. But as long as you stay safe, you can stay interested in whatever the fuck you want, okay?” Layla placed her hand on your own, giving it a little squeeze. “I really do care for you, love.” She winked at you, quoting the show that brought up such a discussion.

While it had been four years since its release, you were rewatching ‘You’ with your friends for the third time. That being your third time, and they’re first.

“I fucking hate you.” You shook your head at her words with a little laugh.

“And here I’m confessing my undying love for you.” Layla feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over her chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” You rolled your eyes at her dramatic act before standing up and stretching. “It’s been fun, but I should probably get going. Exam’s tomorrow, so sleep is very much needed.”

Your friend stood up from her own chair, brushing off imaginary crumbs that may have fallen onto her lap. “I should get going too. Tiff and I planned a movie night tonight, and I still have to pick up some things for that.” She picked up her bag from beside her chair and hugged you. “It was nice seeing you, hon. Good luck with your exam.”

“Thanks, Lay. Enjoy your movie night, and tell Tiff I say hi.” You waved at each other before going your separate ways.

You wanted to tell her why you felt the way you did, but it wouldn’t have done you any good. Layla wasn’t into what you were, so she wouldn’t understand.

Obsessive love was something unconditional. They love you for who you are at your core. They’d never leave you because you were all they needed and vice versa. It was sweet in a fucked-up sort of way.

Plus, it was a way for you to get shit done. Imagining someone watching your every move and thinking about how proud they’d be to see you complete your assignments early or do your household chores motivated you. Hell, it even helped you get to bed at a reasonable hour.

Which is what you were planning on doing now. You shuffled through your clothes, looking for a comfortable t-shirt to sleep in. Once found, you took off your dirty shirt, throwing it across your room onto your desk chair. You slipped out of your jeans and tossed them in the same direction as your shirt.

You powered your pc down before flicking your light switch off and walking over to your bed. You had a long day and were ready to go to sleep.

You closed your eyes, envisioning your own yandere watching you from the crack in your blinds. The crack itself hadn’t been intentional, for the apartment came with shitty blinds that you didn’t want to fix. Nevertheless, it still helped with your fantasies.

You hugged your pillow close to your chest and let out a sleepy sigh. You snuggled closer to your pillow and continued your daydream until sleep overtook you.

-

A small clicking sound brought you out of your slumber. You looked around your room, eyes closed halfway and mind foggy. You weren’t completely awake, but you didn’t need to be to see what awaited you.

A figure stood by your now-open bedroom door. They stared down at you, their body going stiff as they froze their movement.

Your heart started to race in your chest as you blinked hard a couple of times. There was no fucking way you were seeing what you were. That wasn’t a real person. It couldn’t be a real person. You rubbed at your eyes, hoping the black figure would go away, but it just got closer.

You jolted up from your bed and grabbed at anything you could use to scare them away. “Stay the fuck away from me.” You choked out. The room was silent aside from your outburst, the only sound coming from your rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“I’m not going to hurt you, dove.” The figure spoke. “Besides, I thought you liked this.” They continued to approach you, not stopping until they reached your frantic form. “In fact, I know you like this.” They reached towards you and cupped your cheek. Their skin felt cold against your own.

Tears began to flow from your cheeks as you stared at the person in front of you. “If you leave now, I won’t-”

“I won’t be leaving.” The figure tsked. Their hand dropped to their side as they continued to look down at you. “I’m here to spend time with what’s mine.” They crawled onto your bed, their taller figure engulfing your smaller one. “You’re so tense, dove. What’s wrong?” They stroked your cheek, smearing your tears in the process.

Your trembling form remained quiet. You had thought of this scenario many times, but never did you expect it to be so scary. “You’re fucking with me, right? Lay sent you here to fuck with me?” You looked up at them with hopeful eyes. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? I told her some stupid shit, and she wanted to show me how it would actually be. Honestly, she’s smart for that because I would’ve continued my delusional infatuation with fucked up characters if not for this.”

You tried to push yourself away from the individual beside you, but they only tightened their hold. “Listen, I get it now. You can let me go and tell Lay it’s all good now. I’m done with this shit."

“That friend of yours didn’t send me here." They murmured, words laced with venom. "I loved you since I first saw you. I tried time and time again to get your attention, but it never worked. I looked into you, dove, and saw the type of people you romanticized. Coincidentally enough, that’s me.” They ignored your shaking form and continued to speak. “I’ve watched you from that tree every night, and you never cease to amaze me. It was as if you knew I was watching you, so you put on a little show for me. Taking your shirt off in a teasing fashion and sticking your ass out when you went to lie down. It was all for me, wasn’t it, dove? You knew I was there, so you wanted to tempt me to come inside.

“And come inside I did. At first, I was too nervous to, but then it became a bad habit. Sleeping next to you every night was like my own slice of heaven. It seemed like you enjoyed it too. Especially since you’d curl up into me, either snuggling into the warmth of my chest or pressing that pretty ass of yours against me.” They cupped your cheek once more before placing a light kiss against your forehead. “Since you like it so much, I don’t know why you’re acting all afraid now.”

The more they spoke, the more terrified you became. This wasn’t the first time they had broken into your house, and it probably wasn’t going to be the last time either. “Please, just-”

“I’m not fucking leaving, dove.” The figure growled out. “You should probably get some rest now, after all, you have an exam in the morning. Lie down next to me and relax before I take more drastic measures.” They pulled you down to lay beside them and hummed when you complied. “I’ve always wanted to fall asleep next to you, at the same time, I mean.” They stroked your hair trying to lull you to sleep.

You remained still, eyes dipping to a close and your heart still beating rapidly. This wasn’t what you wanted at all. Well, it was, but you didn’t want it to actually happen. There was a fine line between delusional fantasies and reality, which you never wanted to be crossed.

Your vision blurred, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. They wouldn’t hurt you - you knew that - but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt others on your behalf. What if they already did? Their expression seemed to darken when you brought up Layla. You hoped to god they didn’t hurt her. She didn’t deserve to be injured or even killed because of this fucker.

You wanted this to end. You wanted them to go away. You never wanted this. Fantasies are fantasies, and you wished they let it stay that way.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #male yandere #male x reader #female yandere #female x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #yandere drabble #yandere oneshot #yandere scenario

[seavoice]

okay i’ve been ruminating over why succession was so gripping and thrilling to me even if i hundred per cent am rooting for each and every person to fail explosively in the show, every time all the time. i hate cringe comedy usually but the cringe really is comedying this time i gotta say. and i think i finally got what’s most appealing to me about the characterization and story work, which is that...it’s really uninterested in rescuing these losers further than strictly necessitated by like. general humanity. 

the show i was watching before succession was this is us, which is of course very different sauce (even leaving aside the whole thing of the pearsons being about complicated but so clearly loving and painfully kind, non-billionaire people and the roys being. well. not that obviously). this is us is kind of known for its massive scope; the way it shows how lives stretch out and ripple in all ways and into all years, how you may know a person for an hour and still irrevocably change them, how a stranger carves your destiny, how every moment is hard-fought proof that you exist and have moved the lives of the people you love and all that good dramatic stuff that’s going to make you bawl your eyes out for an hour straight. so coming off that, one of the things i thought succession might do (early on, before i realized what they were doing) was sort of. pull the camera away for an episode (or even just a cold open), and show it from the perspective of the waystar employees or just normal people going about nyc, a quick sort of perspective correcting shift and back, just to drive home the utter ridiculousness of the roys. and even if not that specific this is us-inspired scenario, just a general store-bought Awfulness Mitigation ToolTM. heart of golder billionaire son. a beloved nanny. a single play in which greed loses out. anything that would re-contextualize the ridiculousness of the roys.

because over all it IS ridiculous right! it’s a power play. it’s a gambling addiction. it’s futile and stupid and greedy and inescapable in the way it’s this abusive family, but also in the way that. it’s an obscene amount of money! it’s status and birthright and entitlement and self-importance and it only ever ever can be taken even half-seriously by the people wholly entrenched in it. you pull back even a little from this cesspool of power hungry billionaires and are left with motives that are unreasonable and unrelatable for real people. but it strikes INCREDIBLY TRUE for these characters nonetheless, because they are not real people. and you see that, you see the disconnect in real time. you see why they would not make any other choice. why they are incapable of making another choice. they are not real people!  logan thinks his children don’t get it, don’t really understand the stakes, always seeing it for too big or too small, that they never have, but he is just as ridiculous as them now, even more so. he is as not-real a person as them.

and i say real people specifically because it’s such a big theme in the show, the nrpi and how “you’re not a real person” is levied as an insult over and over again, and just the out-of-touch meanness and smallness of their big grand lives. they are not real people! they use it as an insult, a negative marker, but they are never truly bothered by that disconnect in a way you’d expect from (let’s say) a lesser tv show about bad billionaires. 

they never really aim for even a parody of that ideal. like, you could make a case for kendall in his anti-dad era maybe, maybe shiv wrt personal politics, but in a more real sense...not really even then, let’s be honest. you see it in every interaction they have with people who are not the roys or the rich fucked up folks that play the roys’ games. just the tightness of this noose. it’s about the inescapability of a family, and thus it’s so rooted in the now and here. we never indulge in flashbacks. we never get a deeper look into the past than a quick glance over your shoulder, just as relevant as it has to be to get from point a to b.

logan says the past is fake and that’s true to how the show is envisioned. it’s never preoccupied in making you sympathize with the characters beyond what you’d sympathize with as a human seeing another go through a bad time. it doesn’t show you some hidden humane-ness or overemphasis  past tragedies or dig for saving graces. because it might be relevant to the family drama, but it isn’t as relevant to their company. and above all nothing is as relevant to the family as the company. the roys and their dirty empire probably irrevocably touch more lives than any other show dealing in multi episode epics about the kind stranger who brought you from the firestation, but it is never going to matter to them. they are not real people. it’s a show that tells you, okay, so we aren’t going to give you any tools to sympathize with these bad people other than a glimpse at their lives from their perspective, whole and sole. a mile in their shoes. do you relate to them now? that’s what usually works. and beyond all storytelling odds, it’s kind of...a no! and that’s a massive win for succession’s writing imo.

you don’t necessarily get to see them as sympathetic characters from their perspective, but you do get to see them briefly, as real people. but unlike other shows, them being real people doesn’t mean real people like your neighbour or your sister or the cd guy. they are as real as the actual failsons and faildaughters of greedy stupid billionaires and you are faced with the feeling of. wow they are just as ridiculous and stupid and hateful as they would be if they existed in real life. that’s the only time they are real people. writing!

#absolutely no idea what was my point after coming to the end of this #but had t get it out #i just think its neat. they are so awful it is really neat #succession #logan roy #kendall roy #shiv roy #it manages to make it compelling without going. you have to find them good