#i mean. we all have objectives. we need to finish an assignment or to graduate or to get a job and shit. but they're not dreams at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

futurewriter2000 · 4 years

Text

Berry Bubblegum

A/N: This took me so long. Like oh my. Haven’t written this long since....since a long time ago but I’m glad I finished and I hope you like it. All the love.

REQUESTED by @play-morezeppelin : Hi! Can i request a Fred x Slytherin reader fic/ one shot where she has to tutor him and he’s kicked off the Quidditch team until he get his grades up. He, and the gryffindor team resent her for this and tease her a lot when she’s actually really nice. She kind of helps Malfoy w family issues and they think that they’re friends, and she has a really hard time but ignores them. Eventually Fred realises how nice she is and kinda falls for her but the team still don’t aprove, or something.

You didn’t know why you were in McGonagall’s office. You haven’t done anything troubling and your grades were stable, you’ve been a good student since your First year, not known as problematic, rather just a good normal student out of the center of attention. You were a normal student- a normal scholar just wanting to graduate.

So why were you in the office of Gryffindor’s head of the house? And what was the redhead doing here?

You looked at him with puzzled innocent eyes and he shot you a glare, looking you from head to toe before scoffing to himself, crossing his arms and smirking.

You felt heat reach your cheeks as fast as anxiety and discomfort knotted your stomach. You sat down on the chair next to him and watched the professor start the conversation.

It was quiet and awkward. The professor kept glancing between the two of you, smiling to herself and lightly shaking her head.

“Have a biscuit, Miss (y/l/n).” she offered and you smiled shyly.

“No, thank you, professor.” you declined her offer as the redhead reached for one.

“Don’t mind if I do.” he grinned as the professor narrowed her eyes at him, then softening it and looking at you.

“You shouldn’t worry, Miss (y/l/n). I can reassure you haven’t done anything wrong to be here.” she sent you another smile and you felt your whole body relax in one swift moment. “Mr. Weasley already knows why he is here.” she started, tangling her fingers together and giving you both a tight-lipped smile. “He has been neglecting his school duties as a student and been solely focused on his selfish needs.” she shot him a glare and he smiled nervously at her stern look. “He needs a tutor.” he then looked at you, softening her expression.

You let yourself ponder for a while before realizing what she has been trying to say. You let your eyes spread wide before you started to talk in a stuttering manner. “You- you don’t mean me, professor? Do you?”

“Well, why do you think you’re here?” she let out a small laugh.

“B- but don’t you think a Gryffindor should tutor a Gryffindor- and I’m a Slytherin.” you kept looking at her, feeling quite uncomfortable from her proposition.

“That’s what I’ve been telling her all along.” said the boy next to you.

“You are excelling in classes Mr. Weasley does not.” she started to explain. “And he is strangely surpassing in Charms, where you, Miss (y/l/n), find that class quite difficult to master.” she stood up and started pacing up and down. “I have talked to the Headmaster, explaining Mr. Weasley’s situation and he proposed to assign you personally.”

“Personally?” you blurted out, not believing this yourself.

“Professor Dumbledore takes interest in all of his students, Miss (y/l/n), and you had certainly grabbed his attention somehow.”

“I did?” you continued to be surprised, a prideful smile appearing on your lips.

“We noticed you have been helping a lot of students with tutoring them, especially your own house and some of the Hufflepuff students as well. I would love for you to tutor Mr. Weasley and help him raise his grades so he can as soon as possible regain his Quidditch privileges and go back on the field and as for you...” she sat back behind her desk. “Well, you might get an outstanding recommendation letter.”

You kept looking at her with wide eyes, blinking a few times. A recommendation letter?! You could get anywhere you want with an outstanding recommendation letter.

The redhead scoffed as he saw your expression, clearly petty about the situation he has gotten himself into. “Don’t let your brain fall out.” he couldn’t help himself.

“Weasley, detention.”

“For what?!”

“For being rude to your new tutor.”

“I don’t want her as a tutor.”

“Well, that is not your choice to get. You want to get back on the field, you do as I say or your parents will expect a call from me.” she struck with her voice, and the redhead sunk in his chair and started sulking.

“I propose you start right away or as soon as possible. The school year is close to an end and the Quidditch cup match is coming faster than you think.” she pulled out a wand, waved and the door behind the two of you opened.

The two of you walked out of the office and after a second or two of uncomfortable silence, you decided to speak up. “I’m free tomorrow after 11 am. My classes are cut short and we can start around noon.” you said but he kept walking forward, ignoring you. “Hello?!” you started to get furious, grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

He turned to you and forced a smile. “Sounds good.” he ripped his hand away and left.

---

You should have known he was lying. Hell, you did know but like always you try to give a person the benefit of doubt.

You saw him standing and laughing with his twin, clearly guilt-free that he left you waiting an hour in the library. You stormed over to him, grabbing his arm yet again and pulling him with you. You basically threw him in the corner. “I WAITED AN HOUR FOR YOU!!” you snapped and his eyes went wide... as well as his lips.

“That was today?” he coaxed, leaning on the wall and grinning at you.

“Yes! That was today and you bloody well know it!”

“No need to get hasty now, darling. We’ll meet tomorrow.” he tried to walk away but you grabbed his arm and threw him back.

“I don’t know who you think you are but we ARE going to the library, RIGHT NOW!”

“If you want to spend time with me, darling, you could ask me on a date.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop calling me darling and stop joking around! We need to get your grades up!”

“I’ll manage that on my own. Besides, I’m planning on-”

“Now you listen to me!” you backed him against the wall, looking up at the tall boy and pointing your finger at him. “I will not throw away my future and hard work because some selfish and prideful arse decides to be lazy!” you snapped as you saw his eyes watch you in amusement.

You could see he was a bit intimidated but you were also smart enough to realize that aggression won’t lead you anywhere with him. He’s just feeding on your frustration, especially since you’re a Slytherin.

You stepped back and looked away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that but I did mean what I said, Fred Weasley.” you looked up at him and crossed your arms. “I can see you don’t want me to be your tutor, so if you do not want us to work together to finish this school year, you don’t have to. I’ll find someone who will help me with Charms willingly.” you started walking away before stopping and looking over your shoulder. “And you should tell professor McGonagall cuz I won’t.”

---

You haven’t really much thought of your “agreement” since that day but you surely hoped your recommendation letter wouldn’t be thrown away because of one careless Gryffindor.

“So I’ve been thinking.” you heard someone beside you and you already knew who it was, due to his steady walk.

“You can do that?” you snarked and he laughed.

“Yes, fortunately, this brain can do a lot of normal things.”

“Doubt it.” you kept blurting out. Guess, you really weren’t over the whole recommendation letter. “Couldn’t tell her, could you?”

“No.” he denied, acting slightly offended. “I will help you help me get my grades up. I need to get back on the Quidditch team.”

You stopped and turned to him. “Alright then. Library in an hour.”

“Right now?!”

“We can do it right now too.” you said and started walking to the library. Before he could object, you cut in first. “Don’t make me wait again!”

“Just give me an hour to eat and get my stuff!”

You stopped and turned around, seeing him in the far distance. “Fine! But if you’re late I’ll murder you.”

“Charming!”

---

You left for the dungeons and find a few Slytherins waiting for you, specifically you.

His eyes were formed into a glare, his arms crossed and his thin mouth curved in a frown. “You hanging out with that Weasel now?” he spat out and you rolled your eyes, tilting your head to the side and asking him to talk alone.

He kept his facial expression the same; betrayed.

“I’m only helping him raise his grades up because McGonagall told me if I tutor him, the professors and Dumbledore will write me a recommendation letter.”

“I can just ask my father to-”

“I don’t want you to ask your father, Draco.” you gave him a soft smile. “I’ve been working so hard to get to this point. If I do this, all that hard work will be paid off. I will make it on my own, without anybody’s help.”

He kept watching you with a helpless look in his eyes. “I just want to repay you, I guess.”

“For what?” you smiled.

“For being there when nobody else would.”

“I know uncle, Draco. He’s not as bad as you make him out to be. He’s just dominated by fear and wants to make it safe for you.”

“Doubt it.” he scoffed, looking away. “You don’t live with him.”

“Well, he was babysitting us when mum and dad were working, so I basically grew up with the two of you. He practically raised me.”

“He loves you more than me.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“He always looked up to your mum as his older sister. You remind him of her and he always compares me to you.”

“But you’re excelling in all your classes unlike me.”

“Not in the son department.”

“Can you stop?” you smiled and pulled him in a hug but he quickly pulled away.

“Don’t hug me in front of everybody.” he hissed and you laughed, ruffling his hair.

“As I remember my little cousin loves hugs.”

He kept slicking his hair back, shrugging. “In private....” he whispered and you laughed.

“I have to go but I’ll talk to you soon. We’ll talk about this.”

---

You were sitting in the library, listening to your walkman, and singing quietly to the song. You hummed along, tapping your pencil against the desk as your eyes were glued to the book in front.

You pretty much didn’t know what you were looking at since all you could focus solely on the music. What you also did not realize was the redhead and practically his whole Quidditch team laughing and walking towards you. Fred saw you from the distance, chewing a piece of pink bubble gum and making large balloons from it. You weren’t in a school uniform as he was, rather in a grey Slytherin hoodie that looked a bit oversized on you, black sweatpants which were tucked in long white socks at the bottom. Your hair was a bit frizzy and falling out of your bun. It was extremely a 70′s style. You loved dressing like the past decade. You always thought the 70s was the best decade to live in as a teenager. You saw your parent’s photos and you always heard amazing stories from them. It was the decade where everybody was accepted and you especially loved the socks. They were colourful and unique. You couldn’t understand how could something as the 70s get out of style so fast.

“She really tried to impress you.” one of the girls said beside Fred and you looked up immediately.

“Do you see her socks?” said the other and without any regards to them, you answered.

“You know I can hear you?” you said and looked up at them, pulling down your headphones and turning off the music. “Do you need hand-holding everywhere you go, Red?” you asked the boy in front and he grinned, sitting next to you.

“Pretty much.” he pulled out his books and quills as the others sat a few seats down. “Will you hold my hand?” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

“You won’t concentrate with them here.”

“They won’t bother me.”

“Well, they’ll bother me.”

“You’re Malfoy’s cousin, aren’t you?” you heard a shout from the others, looking their way and seeing smug smiles on their self-satisfied faces. “What’s it like being related to one of the biggest assholes in Hogwarts?”

“Wouldn’t know. Maybe ask your brother. He would surely know an answer for you, McCay.” you snarked back and could see him glaring.

“You really are a smart mouth, aren’t you?”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Or just mouth apparently.” McCay jested and the others started laughing.

You felt tightness in your throat but you swallowed it and lifted your head. “If you came here to make fun of me, you can-”

“Not just you, your style as well. Apparently, you’re still living in the 70′s with those horrendous socks.” he continued but you didn’t let him get to you.

Instead, you put your feet on the table and crossed them, smirking at him. “You’re just jealous I have socks. Heard your dad got fired for stealing from the office.”

McCay’s face burned red from anger and he stood up, trying to make his way to you. Fred stood up and prevented him from coming closer. “Walk it off, McCay.” he glared.

“You’re taking her side!?”

“I’m not taking any sides but I think you should leave before the two of you kill each other.”

You were pleased with how this ended. You pissed off McCay and you stood your ground. It was closest to triumph, especially since you and McCay loathed each other. His parents and yours were always at each other’s throats and nothing was different between the two of you.

When they left, Fred sat back down and looked at your smug face. “You don’t have to be cruel, you know?”

“I’m not letting anybody talk down on my family or myself.” you put your feet down and sat normally in your seat. “I know Gryffindor is all about loyalty but even you are smart enough to know the McCay's are thieves and manipulators.” you kept looking at him as he did the same. You could see the conflict in his eyes but he didn’t let it take over.

“McCay’s a friend. I’ll always vouch for him.”

“Your life.” you shrugged and opened the books. “Let’s start.”

---

Your tutoring lessons have been going on for weeks now and you have waited for Red to tell you about news from his exams. You’ve been so anxious when he was taking his O.W.L.’s, more anxious than you were for your own.

Fred, on the other hand, had helped you with Charms and he himself was thinking about your Charms final exam when he was taking his own Arithmancy exam. It painted a smile on his face as he saw the first question.

‘ He kept looking at the book and then slowly made eye contact with you. His brain was burnt out, his whole body exhausted and his face pitiful. He didn’t understand.

You smiled at his puppy-dog eyes that were pleading you with nothing more but a break or the end of this torture. “Come on, just this one more question-”

“This is not a question it’s a whole algorithm of stupid numbers that don’t even exist!” he threw the pencil on the book and threw his head back. He pressed his palms over his eyes and groaned. “We’ve been at this for three hours and I can’t do these numbers anymore.” he ran his hands down his face, looking up. “Why did I even take Arithmancy?” he asked himself as you laughed, took his arm and pulled him forward. He didn’t want to cooperate, so he just fell flat on the books. “I’m taking a nap.”

“You’re not taking a nap.” you shook him by his broad shoulders but he didn’t budge, only nuzzled closer in his arms. You walked around him, grabbed his head, and forced it up. It immediately fell back down. “You’re going to finish this stupid algorithm and when you do this will all be over and I’ll take you for ice cream.”

His head shot up, the back of it hitting your chin and letting you fall backward. “Ice cream?!” he turned to you and found you laying on the floor. “Oh, shite.” he laughed and stood up to help you get up. “You alright?”

“You have one hard skull for someone whose head is quite empty.” you teased, rubbing your chin as he let out a laugh.

“Who says it’s not filled with hay?”

“I don’t think hay would help.” you kept rubbing your chin as you sat down. He sat down as well, noticing your pink socks with white stars.

“Seriously, what’s with you and kooky socks?” he lifted an eyebrow.

“Don’t judge.” you put one foot on the table and pulled your sock up. “My nana bought them for Christmas.”

“And you actually wear them?”

“And you actually wear the grotesque jumpers your mum makes you for Christmas?”

“They are quite comfortable if you must know.” he pressed his lower lip out and crossed his arms. “Plus, people don’t mix us up when George and I wear those jumpers. It a good holiday.”

“How can they not separate the two of you?”

“Oh, and you can?!” he scoffed.

“Of course, I can.” you scoffed back, mimicking his position.

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“Well, it’s easy. You’re more annoying looking.” you teased and he gasped, touching his heart in the act of hurt. “Plus his walk is clumsier than yours. I can spot you a mile away with your pompous smirk and your puffed-out chest.”

“So, you’re stalking me.” he leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No. Your ego is so big, it’s hard to miss you.”

“So you think I’m pretty.” he kept avoiding you, getting closer to you.

The two of you were now only an inch apart, watching each other with a dreamboat gaze, holding it, and not breaking away. You could see the green in his eyes despite the fact they always looked brown to you. He had a black line outlining the colour and a few yellow spots all around the iris. He watched you back, noticing your pupil stretching, then contracting very slowly before stretching again quite fast. He felt a sudden pleasure in his body just by looking into your eyes and his mind traveled far into the clouds, imagining just what would it be like kissing those rosy lips that smelled like berry bubblegum.

When the door of the library opened, letting out a creak both of you broke the gaze and looked at the door. It was just a group of Ravenclaws and as they saw both of you at the table, one of them lifted their hand and waved at you. You waved back at the Ravenclaw and smiled at him.

You used to tutor him as well but you never told anybody because you promised you wouldn’t.

Fred was glaring at the boy who left as soon as he came. He didn’t like someone else having your attention. Not after he had it so close to himself not a while ago. He felt an uncomfortable feeling bubble in his stomach but he buried it inside, just as the greedy thoughts of you that kept roaming his mind.

“You okay?” you touched his arm gently as you saw him drift away.

He looked at your hand touching his bare arm, feeling a warm feeling spread from his arm to the rest of his body. He looked up at you, seeing he had your attention and not the Ravenclaw before. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go finish this.” ‘

He didn’t know why was he so flustered just by thinking of you but he can remember that after two weeks of tutoring, he has grown to realize you are not as half as bad as he thought you would be.

There was one thing that couldn’t get to his head.

You made him laugh.

He was so used to making other people laugh but when the two of you went to sneak into the kitchen for some ice cream and eat all the stress away, you made him laugh all the time. It wasn’t rude or cruel jokes but you were just funny- simple as that. You told the funniest stories and the two of you kept creating inside jokes, causing him to realize that you might even be funnier than him.

And besides all of the fun and the jokes, you could hit a serious subject and talk about it for the longest time.

Or he would start teasing and flirting with you but it would always be him ending with a blush, rarely you.

“Everything alright, Mr. Weasley?” the professor asked as he saw Fred not even write his name on the paper.

Fred looked up with a smile and nodded. “Everything is just fine.” he answered before starting to write down the answers.

---

The two of you haven’t talked much since the exams were over. You didn’t hear from Fred at all since he seemed to be always busy with Quidditch practices.

It was an agreement. You help him get his grades up, he helps you with Charms and you get a great recommendation letter after graduation. It was as simple as that. Then both of you leave on your separate ways.

But deep inside it hurt you to know that you didn’t want him and you go on your own separate ways...

You were completely lost in your thoughts when Fred passed by in his Quidditch uniform. He forgot his knee pads, so he quickly ran to get them. On his way to the final Quidditch match, he saw your bright turquoise socks from a mile away walking towards the intersection. He felt gleeful when he saw you. He never told you he passed all his exams and didn’t find the time to thank you for your tremendous help.

It was only that his buried feelings made him cross the courtyard and make a shortcut to you. His feet carried him lightly and just when you looked up he was already crashing into you with open arms. He lifted you up and spun you around.

You wrapped your arms around him and let out a giggle. “Hey there, stranger.”

“I passed all my exams thanks to you.” he mumbled in your neck, breathing in your perfume and smelling a mix of berry bubblegum.

He put you down gently, letting his hands remain on your hips.

There it was again. That dreamboat eyes looking at you and locking themselves on you. “You don’t think I forgot about you, did you?” he wiggled his eyebrows and gave you a cheeky grin.

You felt your stomach do a flip and your cheeks grow as red as his hair. “Well, you sure made it feel like you did.”

“Well, I didn’t.” he stepped closer and pressed his nose against yours, slowly moving in with his lips until they gently touched yours. You knotted his jersey in your palms and pulled him in a deeper, firm kiss. His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he lifted you from the ground, so he could kiss you more tenderly. It was a sexual yet slow kind of kiss, where he could feel your body melt into his. It felt so perfect with you; every time his tongue felt yours, his brain lit on fire and when he wanted to pull away to get some air, he only deepened the kiss. The two of you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“You’re going to miss your match.” you pulled away smiling and breathing in long breaths.

He smiled as his eyes kept themselves on your lips. He moved to kiss them, more delicate this time, pulling away slowly and sensually, letting the taste of your lips linger on his before gently kissing the bottom of your lip, the corner of your lip, and then your cheek. “I know but I’ve been meaning to do this for a long time.” he pressed his nose against yours and smiled. “For a really long time.”

“What stopped you?” you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know.” he answered softly and honestly. “But I do know I want to kiss you every chance I can get.”

“You asking me on a date, Red’?” your hands ran up his chest, playing with the goggles around his neck.

“I’d be a fool not to.”

“Yes, you would.” you pulled him in one last kiss, pushing him away and showing him forwards. “Now go to your Quidditch match. You’re late.”

“For a good reason.” he started running down the hall, turning at the intersection and stopping. He made a large pink bubble and winked just before he disappeared around the corner.

Your eyes went wide and you immediately searched for the bubblegum in your mouth. Unfortunately, it wasn’t there anymore so to replace it, you pulled out your a piece of bubblegum and chewed on it.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader

570 notes · View notes

ladylynse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 [FF | AO3] of Down the Rabbit Hole: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room.

beginning | previous

-|-

Toby had hung up without giving more of an explanation, but from the look in Wendy’s eyes, Wirt knew she didn’t need one.

“You grab the kit from the kitchen,” Jazz said. “I’ll get the one from under my bed. Danny, there’s one in the top drawer under the bathroom sink.”

“On it,” he said, not questioning why they would possibly think they’d need three first aid kits between the two of them.

When they were all back with the kits and Wendy was pulling on her shoes, Wirt saw Danny glance at Jazz and Jazz’s answering nod. “Wirt and I can catch up,” she said without even looking at him for confirmation even though they were all gathered near the doorway now. “Wendy?”

Wendy paused long enough to look at Danny. “If it’s safe for me, then yes.”

“You’ll be fine,” Danny said, handing Wendy the other two first aid kits when she finished getting her shoes on. She cradled them against her chest as he picked her up with ease—how the heck was he so strong when he looked so slight?—and then they vanished.

Just like Danny had back in the library.

“H…how—?” Wirt could see Danny being able to do that with himself. Lab accident. Okay. Fine. But with Wendy?

They hadn’t even opened a window, let alone a door, but Wirt knew they were already gone.

“Lab accident,” Jazz said, as if that explained everything. “That was your next show of proof, by the way. Now come on. They’ll be there by the time we get out the door at this rate.”

“When…when you talked about Danny flying in earlier,” Wirt said as Jazz shooed him out the door and locked it behind them, “was that supposed to be literal?”

“I would’ve meant it literally even if I had meant on a plane,” she said, which Wirt supposed was answer enough. He just….

“What else can your brother do?”

Jazz was already heading down the stairs, but she glanced back without missing a step. “How much research did you do on Amity Park?”

“Um….”

“Just give me the cliffnotes version.”

“It’s a nice place to live?”

“I’m serious.”

“Ghosts attacks are common.”

Jazz made an irritated noise and started moving faster, forcing Wirt to take the stairs two at a time to keep up with her. “Read anything about our town’s protector?”

“The ghost hunters, you mean? Your family?”

There was a beat before Jazz answered, “I don’t just mean Mom and Dad.” He joined her on the landing, and she immediately turned and led the way out the door, setting off at a quick clip for the residence hall he and Toby had been assigned.

“The other one, then?” He had to practically jog to keep up with her. This was ridiculous. This was not a fast walk, whatever she made it appear to be. “The one with the jet sled?”

“I’m talking about Phantom.”

“So there really is a ghost that fights other ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“And that matters right now because—?”

“Danny Phantom.”

“What?”

“That’s his name. Danny Phantom.”

“So—?”

“My brother is not very original.”

“What does Danny have to—?” Wirt broke off as Jazz’s meaning sunk in.

This had to be a joke. She couldn’t seriously mean that.

Even if it would explain her brother’s cryptid remarks earlier. And the reason he could turn invisible and get into locked room and apparently fly.

But…but Danny was solid. Real. Wirt had touched him, seen him touch other very real, very solid objects. Jazz’s brother couldn’t be some spirit clinging to this world after a tragic lab accident, however dramatic he’d tried to make that seem. Ghosts weren’t tangible—

—except in Amity Park.

“Danny’s dead?” Wirt hissed.

“Not exactly.”

That made even less sense.

“So he’s a demon?”

There really wasn’t another option. Plus, it might be the real reason Jazz never came to any of Wendy’s apocalypse training sessions with them. Wendy wasn’t big on demons. Not that Wirt would have expected her to be, but—

“No.”

Okay, he was completely lost now. “Then what the heck is he?”

“Just think of him as a human with ghost powers. It’ll be a lot easier on your head.”

“How is that supposed to be easier?”

“Do you really want me to launch into a spiel about what I think Danny’s molecular structure looks like right now?”

“I—”

“Because it is all speculation. I haven’t exactly put him under a microscope. I don’t even need to ask him if he’s comfortable with the idea because I know he isn’t. Who would be? We have no reason to believe he’s in any danger; not more than anyone is who does what he does, anyway. He’s stable. He’s not broken. He’s different. That’s not a bad thing.”

“He’s dead.”

“Not dead. And not demonic. Just because that was your experience, doesn’t make it Danny’s. Or mine.”

He’d played along with this whole thing for too long to ask if Jazz really meant that Danny had been the first person to give Phantom a name, hadn’t he? Because somehow being the reason Phantom took the name Danny—whether Danny Fenton gave him that name or if Phantom fancied it and adopted it, in honour of Fenton or not—didn’t explain anything. That would just be wishful thinking, especially after what Jazz had said.

Besides, Wirt knew that things that couldn’t be explained could actually happen.

He had simply never expected that they had genuinely happened to anyone else.

Particularly while they were still in this dimension.

“I just can’t….”

“You wanted to help Toby, didn’t you? So stop saying you can’t. Just roll with it and do the best you can. Life gets weird sometimes. You should’ve learned that by now.”

“I was fifteen!”

“Danny was fourteen.”

There was no way he could argue this like a sane person and actually come out ahead, was there?

Wirt swallowed his retorts, deciding to save his breath as Jazz picked up the pace again. Geez, that girl could run. By the time they got to the residence hall, he could taste blood and was gasping for breath in between coughing fits that somehow made the stabbing, burning pain in his side worse, and she wasn’t even winded.

He was still fumbling for his keys when someone else walked out, giving him a weird look but holding the door long enough for Jazz to grab it. Wirt pretended that his face was flushed only from exertion and not the fact that he was pretty sure that kid lived just down the hall from him and that he’d have to live with the fact that this guy was always going to remember him as this out-of-shape weirdo who—

“Come on. You can catch your breath when we get to your room. Probably.”

Jazz didn’t bother knocking when they got there. The knob turned when she tried it, and she shoved him inside before following and locking the door behind her.

Wirt wasn’t sure what he expected to see when they got there.

Someone injured, sure. That made sense. Toby had asked for a first aid kit.

But somehow, Wirt had never expected that said injured, uh, creature would not be human.

A quick glance told him that Jazz wasn’t the least bit fazed by the giant thing sprawled across Toby’s bed. It looked like it was dressed in armour, too. Without a helmet but with horns. Wirt shuddered, too reminded of the Beast not to immediately think demon despite the vastly different horn type. He looked for Wendy, but she was just perched on his desk, digging through the first aid kits, one balanced on her lap and two open beside her; she showed no signs of going for the hidden hatchet and trying to kill the thing, so that had to be a good sign.

Not that that gave Wirt much of an idea of what the creature was if it wasn’t a demon.

He didn’t really want to ask.

It did explain why someone had covered the window, though. Not so much as a shaft of sunlight was peeking through, so there was no way someone from outside could just happen to glance in and see…that.

“What—?”

“Jim and Claire are hurt,” Toby said, and Wirt tore his eyes away from the beast and finally realized that Jazz stood with Toby over a figure on Wirt’s bed, this one in that purple armour Claire had been wearing.

Was still wearing.

Toby was still wearing his armour, too. Wirt was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the blood on it. He shivered, suddenly cold despite the fact that he knew he was still sweaty from that run. There was just…so much here he hadn’t known. And that creature….

He hadn’t realized that anything could give him chills like this. Since the Unknown, horror movies and such had never given him the creeps. They weren’t real, and he knew that, so he just never let himself be bothered by it. But this?

This thing was real.

And definitely not human.

And probably not a demon, since Wendy had no problem with it. At least, it wasn’t glowing. Its eyes might be, if they were open, but they weren’t, so—

No. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole now. This one was bad enough. Wirt swallowed. “Badly?”

“Bad enough,” Wendy said as she hopped off the desk to give Toby whatever she’d been looking for in the kit. “A home stitch job isn’t going to make a concussion go away.”

“Let me, I’ve had a lot of practice,” Jazz said, reaching for something from Wendy. It wasn’t until she’d ripped open the package and fished out the contents that he realized it held sterilized needles. That wasn’t standard for first aid kits, right?

“This is crazy,” Wirt said. “We need to get her to the hospital.” He moved to stand at the end of his bed and tried to ignore the monster who lay on Toby’s in his peripheral vision. He stared at Claire’s armour instead, noting the smoothness of its joints and trying not to see what the others were doing. A quick glance had told him entirely too much. “She needs actual medical care. Last I checked, none of you guys have graduated med school.”

“No, but I’d wager we’re all experts in home treatment,” Wendy said. “Toby never flunked that part of the apocalypse prep courses, if you’ll remember.”

“I thought that was just your idea of first aid on steroids.”

“We don’t need an audience,” Jazz interrupted, and Wirt didn’t need to lift his head to know she hadn’t looked up from threading her needle. “Go help Danny.”

Wirt hadn’t actually seen Danny, so he glanced around the room again. “Where is he? Trying find someone to help?”

“He’s checking over Jimbo,” Toby said quietly. He was still looking over the piece of armour that was jutting out of Claire’s arm. Her arm. Speared by what Wirt could only assume was her own armour, though he couldn’t imagine how. He could see her losing a piece of plate, sure, but having it come back, sharpened to a point and tearing through her flesh— No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He quickly looked away, staring at Toby’s helmetless head instead and realizing how much sweat had plastered down his hair. “He and Claire got it bad. Jim can shake off a lot, but there was some dark magic in this mix.”

“Jim,” Wirt repeated. He remembered that name. “He was that other kid you were close friends with in high school, right? Tall, lanky? I think you raved about his food?” In truth, the last was the only thing Wirt remembered. Toby always raved about Jim’s food. Apparently, he made a mean omelet. “Did you at least drop him at the walk-in clinic or—?”

Toby finally met Wirt’s eyes. He looked…drained. That was the only way Wirt could think to describe it. “He’s on my bed.”

Wait.

What?

Wirt looked. The monster was still very much there. And now that he looked a little higher, he could see Danny hovering above him. Literally hovering. Maybe two feet from the ceiling. He’d paused in whatever examination he’d been doing to stuff his hand in his mouth and try to stifle his laughter, but he lost that battle the moment he realized Wirt had seen him.

“This is a prank,” Wirt said, coming to that conclusion again. That was the only thing that made sense. They’d finally done it. He didn’t know how they’d done, but they’d gotten him good, and he’d admit that. “Good one, guys. You really had me going.”

“This blood isn’t faked,” Wendy said bluntly. “Trust me, Wirt, if we were going to prank you, we’d all be laughing.”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered as he dropped down to Wirt’s eye level. “I just…. When I realized you hadn’t seen me, I couldn’t resist.” The smile dropped off his face as he added, “They’re right, though. This is serious. Definitely worse than the time Sam got hit by some of Skulker’s shrapnel.” His feet finally hit the floor again, and he pointed at the mon—at Jim. “Look at the way the armour impacted. It’s like he ran into a wall. Which he wouldn’t do, because when his eyes are open, they actually function. My guess is Jim has a lot of internal injuries, even with that stoneskin of his. Plus, y’know, the sheer amount of magic it would’ve taken to knock out him out. I’m surprised they were strong enough to bring him back here. He would’ve been dead weight.”

He turned away from Wirt, leaving Wirt to stare at the creature’s—Jim’s?—face and try to see something other than solid stone.

And trying to see the human face of the kid he’d thought had been Toby’s friend Jim in there somewhere.

However, Wirt was not so absorbed that he didn’t hear Danny’s utterly ridiculous question. “You guys can open portals to the Ghost Zone, right?”

How could this be real? It shouldn’t be real. It was even more insane than the Unknown, because he could pretend that that had just been a dream, complete with singing frogs and magical curses and nearly dying ten times over. There was a legitimate nightmarish monster lying on Toby’s bed that was apparently Jim, the amazing cook, and Jazz’s little brother had been floating, and—

“I mean, it doesn’t look like the Shadow Realm,” Toby said slowly. “Have you ever heard a name for it?”

“No,” was the hissed response, and Wirt blinked. He hadn’t realized Claire was conscious, even though he didn’t know who else Toby could have possibly been asking. “Haven’t seen anyone else there. Wouldn’t ask them where we were if I had.”

“Wait,” Wirt said. “What are we pretending happened here?”

“We’re not pretending anything because we’re not telling anyone else,” Wendy said without looking back at him. “But you should be able to guess what happened. Claire came to get Toby because they needed help. It went poorly.”

“Can I just see your staff?” Danny asked. “If I’m right and it does open portals to the Ghost Zone—and I really think I am—then I know someone who might be able to help Jim.”

“I’m willing to try anything. Claire?”

“Yeah.”

“Wendy, can you—?”

“I’ve got you covered,” Wendy said, smoothly swapping places with Toby.

Wirt backed up until he hit the door and tried not to think about how much blood was on Toby’s hands right now. He felt…out of place. More out of place than usual. Even more out of place than he’d felt in the Unknown, and this was the real world.

His friends were all taking this easily, like they’d known each other’s secrets all along, but his gut told him they hadn’t. His gut had been wrong before, admittedly, but this time it was backed up by how Jazz and Wendy had reacted to each other’s bits of dropped knowledge earlier. There had been curiosity and consideration, but there hadn’t been doubt.

“You know how to work that thing, right? I can carry Jim. Heck, I can carry both of you if you can’t manage a portal to a specific spot in the Ghost Zone.”

“Claire’s the one who really knows how to work this thing, not me, and getting back here took enough out of her. I can make it open a portal but I’m not good enough to do a place, especially not to somewhere I haven’t seen.”

“Okay, I can carry you piggyback so I can hold Jim and you can have a hand free to work that staff. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Toby reached over Claire to grab something from the bed, and Danny…changed.

Wirt had closed his eyes against the bright light, but when he opened them, he recognized Danny Phantom from the pictures he’d seen while researching Amity Park.

“Awesomesauce,” was all Toby said before lifting up some kind of baton that glowed and grew into a staff and—

That was definitely a portal in their room, opening up as quickly as if reality were tissue paper that Toby had just stabbed through with his finger instead of gestured at with that staff.

It was a huge, vividly green portal that pulsed brightly enough to make the overhead light seem dim, and it apparently led into the Ghost Zone, of all places….

Jazz’s little brother, who was none other than Danny Phantom, with Wirt’s armour-wearing and staff-wielding roommate Toby on his back, picked up and cradled the giant monster that was somehow Toby’s friend Jim in his arms before flying all of them through that portal.

It winked out behind them as it had never been there.

“Wirt, Danny put some ice in the bathroom sink. Can you wrap some in a towel and bring it here?”

Where had Danny gotten ice? It wasn’t like this was a hotel and there was an ice machine down the hall or something. The cafeteria was in an entirely different building, but maybe he’d gone there for some. Even if it was winter, there wasn’t exactly a lot of ice or snow outside.

Then again. Danny Phantom. Wirt had a vague recollection of a reference to ice powers.

Wirt moved robotically, trying not to be surprised by the fact that the sink was full of perfect ice cubes that weren’t melting, or at least weren’t melting enough to stick to each other yet, and scooped a handful into a hand towel that he hoped was clean. Those had never gone missing like the socks, but they weren’t always remembered come laundry day, either.

He came out and handed the homemade ice pack to Wendy, trying not to stare at Claire’s pale face or the bruises already beginning to blossom on it. There was no sign of the helmet she’d been wearing earlier, though that cut that came entirely too close to her eye might be the reason for its absence, if someone had gotten in a lucky strike with a spear—

“I’ll be fine,” she hissed between clenched teeth when she noticed him. “I’ve had worse.”

Having had worse didn’t mean she was fine now. She shouldn’t be conscious. Well, she at least shouldn’t be this coherent, shouldn’t be able to read his expression and know his thoughts so easily. Was he really that transparent? Wendy had been worried about a concussion. Maybe—

“Go get some air,” Jazz said. “We don’t need you fainting on us, and we can handle this ourselves.”

He hadn’t been thinking about fainting. If anything, he’d been debating running away from here and just never coming back. This kind of stuff was supposed to be reasonable and stay in dreams and stories instead of invading perfectly logical or rational realities. Or maybe he just needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him for what would sound like wild fantasies. A real therapist, not Jazz.

“Hey, you still with us?”

That was Wendy. She would not appreciate Wirt saying no. “Yeah,” he croaked out.

“Good. Then go. Get yourself a drink. Take a moment for this to sink in. Then you can come back and we can talk.”

He didn’t want to talk.

He didn’t want this to be real.

Why did this have to be real?

The Unknown was just supposed to be a dream. He didn’t want to admit that, yes, he’d actually travelled to another dimension or stumbled into some limbo between life and death or whatever it had been—

Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe none of this was real and it just felt real. Though, if he was delusional, this went way beyond his friends supporting him. This was…. Either this was enabling him or none of this was real and—

“Wirt.” Jazz again. “Seriously. Talk to us. What do you need? Would you rather just lie down for a bit instead?”

Right. Lie down where the monster that was Jim had been. Since that bed was free now that he and Toby and Danny had left through a portal in reality.

“Yeah, he’s not okay.” Wendy. “Hold down the fort. I’m going to wash up and get him out of here.”

He didn’t register that Wendy had moved until she was steering him out the door with still-wet hands. She paused only long enough to close the door behind her before pushing him forward.

It took entirely too long for him to realize that they were going to her favourite hidden corner on campus, a bench on the path that passed the bio and chem buildings that was half-hidden by bushes and trees in a little alcove by the northwest entrance to bio that Wirt had never seen anyone use.

“Sit.”

Wirt sat.

Wendy dropped down beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

There was really no point in lying. Wendy would call him on it. He spoke in short, halting sentences, not so much because he didn’t know what he was thinking as because he wasn’t sure of a sane way of wording any of it. But that was the crux of it, really. Sanity didn’t factor into any of this. So, he just told her the truth, as best he could.

Wendy, being Wendy, never laughed at him. Never denied any of this. Never reassured him that it wasn’t real or that she hadn’t seen what he had.

“Yeah,” she said when he’d stopped for long enough that it was clear to her he didn’t intend to continue. “That about sums it up, I guess.”

“How does this not….” He swallowed and tried again. “Did you know?”

“About what, Jazz and Danny? Not really. I never bothered doing research on her or anything. I just knew she could take care of herself, and that was enough for me. I learned the details when you did.”

“Toby?”

She grimaced. “I knew something was there. I didn’t know it was this big. Trolls weren’t something I’d encountered in Gravity Falls. Don’t get me wrong; they’re probably there. And from what I know about the Gremloblin, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s related.”

“The what?”

She shrugged. “Half-gremlin, half-goblin. Makes you see your worst nightmare if you look it in the eyes. Dipper captured it once. Or at least one of them, if it’s a species and not just a rare hybrid.”

She didn’t look like she was kidding.

Wirt groaned. “This can’t be real life.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow at him. “You are lucky Mabel isn’t here for this conversation or she’d take that as a cue to start singing.” When Wirt didn’t say anything else, she continued, “Look, I know this is a lot. You’ve obviously been in denial for a long time. But if we’re going to be able to help Toby and Claire and Jim, you need to pull yourself together. Like it or not, this is real life. It’s your life, it’s my life, it’s all our messed up lives. You can choose to walk away from this. I know Toby won’t judge you for that; he’s a better person than I am. But if you want to walk away, you need to be prepared to either cut us off completely so you can ignore everything that’s going on in our lives or cover for us when this stuff does come up, even if your involvement ends there. It’s your choice, but you need to make it soon.”

“But—”

“This isn’t me trying to pressure you into making a decision. It’s me telling you that we don’t have time for you to weigh every pro and con about every feasible scenario you can think of. We’re in the middle of this now, and we need to know if you’re in or out.”

“I don’t know—”

“That’s why I’m going to let you think it over and figure it out. Unless you want me to stay here and listen some more?”

She was more use to Claire than she was to him, so he shook his head.

“Okay. Text me if you wanna talk one-on-one with someone before you come back. As far as your decision goes…. We’ll do what we can to protect you either way, but I’m not going to promise you that you’ll be fine. I don’t know if you will be. I don’t know if I will be. I don’t know enough about what’s going on despite what Toby told me when Danny and I got there, but even if I did know, I still couldn’t make that guarantee. We’ll never be able to give you that guarantee.”

“I just…. I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this.”

“No one is. Well, I like to think I was more prepared for my first apocalypse than the average person, but for the most part? No one is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, first apocalypse?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I helped save the world once. And I don’t think it’s a lie to say I’m not the only one, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to think I might wind up helping stop a second.” Wendy got to her feet. “Just think about it. Take some time to clear your head and sort things out. We’ll be in your dorm room until Toby gets back, and one of us will text you if we leave before you show up.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” whispered Wirt, looking away so he didn’t have to see Wendy’s face when he admitted that.

“Then you don’t have to. But don’t give up until you give it some real thought, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t look up as she walked away.

(see more fics | next)

#otgw #danny phantom #trollhunters #gravity falls #toa trollhunters #fanfiction #crossover #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #trollhunters snippet #otgw snippet #gf snippet

40 notes · View notes

cricketnationrise · 3 years

Text

Wouldn’t it be Andoverly?

for day 6 of nurseyweek2021: friendship. also on AO3

_X_

Derek was pretty good at making friends. Usually. But he’d never been the new kid before. Elementary and middle school had been a breeze, his siblings paving the way for him with teachers, and Nursey’s willingness to share crayons worked in elementary school and hockey skills did the trick all through middle school.

Now though, he was all on his own.

His sisters had graduated years ago and Dan had skipped a grade, so he was gone. Derek had been counting on Dan being here more than he was willing to admit to his moms.

If he could just get through this first day of classes, he would be fine. He just had to make it to hockey practice. Derek could handle himself. He could. With a deep breath he left his dorm, ready to face the day.

WHAM

Or he could just lay here forever.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you okay dude?”

Derek looks up from where he is sprawled on the floor to see a guy with a full mustache leaning over him, concern all over his face.

“Yeah, I think so,” Derek says, managing to sit up, rubbing his head.

“Oh shit, here, let me help you up man.”

Derek takes Mustache Guy’s hand, and is yanked up so powerfully that he almost goes down again.

“Thanks, I’m good now.”

“I really didn’t mean to plow into you like that. I’m glad I didn’t manage to damage your beauteous face. That would have been a real shame.”

“Thanks, I think. Um,” Derek didn’t know if Mustache Guy was hitting on him or just exuberant, so he went on as if the last part hadn’t been said, “Do you know where the Washington Building is?”

“Chyeah! I’m going there myself; we can walk together!”

“Awesome, thanks.”

“So you’re a freshman? Or a transfer? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” Mustache Guy says.

“Yeah,” Derek says, “A freshman.”

“That’s cool, man. You doing any sports? You’ve got serious muscle under that uniform.”

“Um, I play hockey. I got recruited actually.”

“HOLY SHIT DUDE! I’m on the team, too! Welcome, man! Defense, right? Call me Shitty – that’s my team nickname.”

Shitty is off like a shot, jabbering away about the team and how exciting it is that Derek’s there now, already talking about the schedule and fuck those Shattuck guys seriously, bro.

Derek interrupts the flood of information, “Your nickname is Shitty?” Derek asks, “How awful are the guys on the team if that’s your nickname?” he asks, aghast. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Nah, its chill bro, I go by Shitty actually. My family are a giant bag of racist bigoted assholes and if they weren’t paying for me to go here and for college, I wouldn’t go home at all. But the name they gave me is truly awful. My initials are BS. Get it? It’s a giant fuck you to the jerks who tried to make me as conservative as them. Jokes on them, even the teachers call me Shitty, or Mr. Knight if they’re feeling formal. That might be a defense mechanism on their parts though, since I refuse to acknowledge my actual name.”

Derek is feeling cautiously optimistic about this guy after all that. No one who was that aware about his own family would be an asshole to him on purpose. He has a good feeling about this guy.

“Well then, hi Shitty, I’m Derek. Derek Nurse.”

“Oh hey, you must be Dan’s little brother! Good dude,” Derek smiled – at least people had liked Dan, that would help. “It’ll be weird not having him here for graduation. Nice to meet you. I’m gonna call you Nursey unless you have any objections,” Shitty says.

“Nope, I’m good,” Derek grins, “much better than my last nickname.”

“Let me guess, ‘Big D’,” says Shitty.

“Yup. Not a great amount of creativity in my middle school,” Derek says.

“Well, come on Nursey, don’t want you to be late on the first day! I’ll tell you all about the team on the way.”

Derek smiles to himself as he listens to Shitty talk as they walk towards a cluster of old brick buildings. Even if he doesn’t get close to the other guys on the team right away, it seems like Shitty’s already adopted him.

_X_

He was already regretting answering his phone.

“Nursey. Nursey Nursey Nursey Nursey Nur –”

“Oh my god what do you want, Shitty?!”

“Come play shinny with me and some of the guys! One of the townies’ dad built a rink in the backyard!”

“Alright! I’m in – give me five minutes to finish up this writing assignment.”

“Righteous! See you outside your door!”

_X_

Me: Can you come over?

Shitty: Of course dude

Want me to bring anything?

Something wrong?

Me: anxiety attack

red gatorade

Shitty: oh shit

omw

try to regulate your breathing till I get there

grab Tigger too

_X_

“What am I gonna do when you graduate, Shits?”

“What do you mean, bro? You’re gonna light it up, that’s what you’re gonna do!”

“Shitty…”

“I’m serious, man. You are mad talented on the ice, so you’ll probably be bumped up to second or even first line. Your poem was selected as a freshman for the school’s literary magazine. People are always asking me to bring you places – they want to hang out with you!”

“But you won’t be here. What if they don’t like me as much when you’re not around?”

“Impossible my dude. You’re great all by yourself and you’ll settle in in no time. Anyone who doesn’t like you when I’m not there aren’t smart by default. You’re a popular guy, you’ll have good friends after I graduate, I promise. And I’m always a phone call or text away.”

“Thanks, Shits.”

“Got your back, man. Now. Help me figure out where I’m going to college. Harvard, Yale, Samwell, Princeton, Brown. I need your pro/con skills. So far all I have is not New Jersey.”

“When you’re right you’re right. I’ll grab my fancy pens.”

_X_

“Nursey! Representing Andover on that Taddy Tour! What up, bro?”

Nursey whipped his head around at the shout of his name. There he was – Shitty hadn’t changed one bit. Well. His hair was longer since he didn’t have uniform requirements to meet.

“Heeey! Shitty! Knew I’d run into you eventually. Man, Samwell’s pretty sick.”

He was already planning on enrolling, but having Shitty here sealed the deal. Shitty had done so much to help Nursey feel comfortable at Andover three years ago. Nursey had missed him like crazy when he graduated, but they’d stayed in touch over the next few years. Shitty was always down to chat, but Nursey was really looking forward to hanging out with Shitty again in person.

The last three years at Andover hadn’t been bad – but there was always a presence that was palpably missing, at least to Nursey. Now that he was here, chilling with Shitty again, a weight came off his shoulders. Shitty’s got his back. Always.

#nurseyweek2021 #day 6: frienships #shitty knight #bs knight #shitty #nursey #Derek nurse #dan nurse mention because I love Nursey having a brother #friendship is the best ship #andover #samwell

30 notes · View notes

percontaion-points · 3 years

Text

King’s Men chapter 4

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 4

"If we knew what Andrew had against us, we could try to fight it," Dan said.

JFC, I don't think that three books is enough to cover all of Andrew's psychological issues in the depth that Dan is asking about.

And I say this as a casual psychology hobbyist.

"Feels like we're right back where we started in August," Matt agreed.

"If we knew what Andrew had against us, we could try to fight it," Dan said.

[…]

"I can try. But," he continued, with a glance between them, "someone needs to work on Aaron. Nicky wants to be your friend and Kevin knows the team is stronger as a whole, but Aaron's almost as dead-set against us as Andrew is.”

It's like the second book literally never happened. What was the goddamned point of it even if the second everybody comes back following the winter break, and everybody hit the “character reset” button?

That was one of the things reporters had liked harping about most when Kevin became a permanent fixture at Andrew's side: Kevin was raised at Evermore, surrounded by the best and practically born with a racquet in his hand, whereas Andrew learned Exy while he was locked up in juvie. Neil had a page-long article about it in his notebook. It was crassly titled "The Prince and the Pauper", and its focus was on how doomed their friendship was. The writer thought their attitudes toward Exy too incompatible and their backgrounds too different for them to stay together long.

Imagine getting the assignment of writing about the bromance between two college sports players.

Like looking down at what you'd just finished writing and going “Haha, I got a journalism degree.”

"I'm not a striker by choice, either," he said. "I was a backliner in little leagues. Riko remembers because I scrimmaged with him and Kevin.”

I think the weirdest thing about Neil's personality is just that... it was already established that he played literally one game of exy when he was little, on orders of the mob boss to see if he couldn't turn Neil into an exy puppet, like Kevin and Riko. And then his mom took him and they went on the run.

Like literally one game. But Neil decided to turn this singular game into a goddamned personality trait.

"Exy is the shiny object of your sad little world. You know you're being hunted and you know the hounds are closing in, but you won't let go to save yourself. You once told me you don't understand why a person would actively try to die, but here you are. I guess that was another lie."

I think that the worst goddamned part of this stupid series is how AWARE that it is.

Yet, it makes lines like this constant, about how sports isn't a personality, etc etc... BUT IT DOES NOTHING TO ACTUALLY FIX THE PROBLEMS THAT IT'S HIGHLIGHTING.

At the end of the day, the only thing that this line will be will be a throw-away line. Not a moment for self-reflection, not a reason to want to change, not a warning to the reader not to turn a hobby into your sole personality.

Nope. Just a dumb moment of being too self-aware yet not aware enough to do anything about the problem being highlighted.

“Aaron cut a deal with Andrew at juvie: if Andrew stuck with him until graduation, Aaron would stick with Andrew. No friends, no girlfriends, nothing. Aaron couldn't even socialize with his teammates."

Part of me gets it.

But most of me is just sitting there being “wow. Do you see how shitty and abusive that this is? If he was a boyfriend, we'd all be screaming for the one to get away from such a toxic situation. Why the hell is this somehow different?”

"You were right. They made a promise. Aaron and Andrew, I mean. That's what Aaron told Katelyn, anyway. Aaron cut a deal with Andrew at juvie: if Andrew stuck with him until graduation, Aaron would stick with Andrew. No friends, no girlfriends, nothing. Aaron couldn't even socialize with his teammates."

Neil combed his fingers through his hair and tested the bandage on his cheek. "Aaron would have meant high school graduation. They renewed it when they signed a contract to play here."

"Now Katelyn's in the picture, but Aaron won't fight for her."

Okay... So is Aaron just going to continue to put his life on hold for Andrew's mental illness forever? Literally none of this is remotely healthy.

"This is a joke," Dan said, grabbing Neil's chin. "Neil?"

"He told me to transfer to the Ravens," Neil said. "He said I could finish this year with the Foxes but that I'd move to Edgar Allan this fall. They inked me in preparation and I couldn't stop them. I wanted you to know in case Riko says something about it. I'm still a Fox no matter what he says. I wouldn't sign his papers."

WHY THE FUCK DID THEY NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS. THEY LITERALLY PUT MAKE-UP ON HIM EVERY DAY TO COVER HIS BRUISES.

"You never had any plans to go home for Christmas, did you? That whole mess about your uncle flying to Arizona—you made that up so we wouldn't ask too many questions or wonder why you weren't going to New York with Kevin."

Nothing quite like being a day late and a dollar short.

"Nightmares," Neil echoed. It wasn't the turn he'd thought this conversation would take but he could guess what was tearing Aaron apart. "About November, you mean."

"He doesn't want it to bother him," Katelyn said.

My usual sentiment of “THERAPY?! LOL WHAT'S THAT?!” is way too on the nose with this. Please refer back to the previous chapter commentary for my full opinion on this matter.

He got up and left, and she didn't call after him.

Chapter 4 summary: Some time passes, and Neil is given the approval to continue playing again. After practice, he talks with some of the others over how the team had been together towards the end of the fall semester, but now it's like that never happened.

Back at the dorm, Neil randomly thinks about how Andrew hates exy so much. He thinks about some of Andrew's background, of how he'd been introduced to exy while he was in juvie. Kind of the opposite of Kevin, in Neil's opinion. Andrew and Neil then have a long-ish conversation about what exy means to them, but again, the two of them are kind of polar opposites about the entire thing. Andrew keeps telling Neil not to make the game his singular personality trait, but Neil... doesn't listen. What else is new. Immediately following this, Neil leaves to return to his usual nighly practices with Kevin. Who promptly reminds both Neil as well as the reader that Kevin has exactly one personality trait, and it's exy. (Granted, there is a history of Kevin's abuse, but the book literally never goes into that. Oh no, the only one we gotta talk about is Andrew.)

The next morning, Matt tells Neil that the twins made an agreement when they were in high school to stick together. However, when they signed at the university, they basically renewed their promise. And the short of it is that Andrew is holding Aaron emotionally hostage, as well as the idea of Aaron's future (ie a wife and kids). They're positive that if Andrew found out about Aaron's secret relationship with Katelyn, Andrew would hurt her. Neil decides to play dirty and get them into the same room together to talk it out with Betsy, and Katelyn would be the leverage against Aaron.

Later, the girls randomly find out about Neil's tattoo, despite them being up close and personal with his face because of make-up. They then piece together what Neil actually did over his break, which... again... a day late and a dollar short.

Neil later meets up with Katelyn in the library to rope her in on getting Aaron the help he needs, and to get him out from under the manipulative thumb of his brother. He convinces her to stop being the victim caught in between the Aaron/Andrew situation, but she doesn't exactly give an actual answer right away.

#All For The Game #The King's Men #chapter 04 #Aaron and Andrew Minyard #Danielle Wilds #can we not #Neil Josten #okay but why #UGH JUST UGH #Kevin Day #playing sports is not a personality trait #self-aware novels #toxic relationship #shitty family is shitty #i'm done goodbye #HEADDESKING #go to therapy

5 notes · View notes

goldenfawnwriting · 3 years

Text

Birds of a feather - Hawks Fic Pt 1

Summary: Finch was just a lowly secretary who had years at the agency when she was thrown haphazardly into the position of Hawks’ new personal assistant; This could go two ways and she was worried to find out which path she would take.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, bloodshed, workplace romance, SFW

A/N: I’m so excited to be starting this finally! I’ve planned this one out for a while so lets see how it all goes lol

Finch walked into the office, hurrying to her seat before the daily meeting began, her boss soon slipping into the room and getting everyones attention. She was panting slightly as she tried to calm her heartbeat; as quick as she was it seemed she was behind on everything today. She woke up late, spilled food on herself and had to return home to change, forgot her usual lipstick at home and so she was wearing a much darker one than she wanted, and last but not least, she was slightly late to work because of some asshole in the parking lot who sat and waited for someone to leave a parking spot and held her up behind him.

She was dazing off when she was suddenly elbowed by her neighboring coworker. Finch stood quickly, blushing as she met eyes with the boss and noticed the owner of the agency looking directly at her. She became self conscious as she realized she missed something important.

“Finch. From now on you’ll be assigned to Mr. Hawks as his personal assistant. Please move your things over to his office when we’re finished with our daily briefing.”

Finch felt her face flame as she realized she had just been promoted in front of the whole office... and she had missed half of it. As she sat back down her coworker smiled at her and shook her hand, bringing her out of her daze.

“Congrats girlie! So excited for you!”

She smiled back at the girl and thanked her as she waited for the briefing to be over. As soon as the boss and Hawks had exited she began boxing up her personal items from her desk. the amount of adrenaline coursing through her was nearly nauseating. As her heels clicked under her she made her way to Hawks’ office, taking a deep breath outside the door before knocking.

It took a moment before the Pro Hero finally got to the door and Finch almost wondered how big his office really was before she was greeted with his smile.

“Hey birdie! How’s it goin’?”

He quipped, cocking his head to the side before slinging the door open the rest of the way.

“Come on in! So you’re my new personal assistant huh?”

Finch didn’t get a word in edgewise before his hand was on her back to lead her forward. He pulled away instantly, giving her wide eyes.

“Ohmygodyouhavewings!”

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her himself, getting an eyeful of her wings. She became nervous, folding them against her back as much as she possibly could.

“U-uh-”

He grabbed the small box of her belongings and set them on her new desk quickly before turning back to her. Finch adjusted her white button down blouse and tan pencil skirt before letting her eyes drift to his. She swallowed hard and her eyes flicked to take in every detail he offered her. He looked as though he was expecting something and she stuttered.

“My n-name is F-finch-”

“Let me see your wings!”

He was like an excited little boy and with every passing moment Finch was becoming more and more nervous.

“I-I can’t-”

“Oh no don’t worry! This room is plenty big enough, you won't hit anything! I had the decorator and all the fancy guys make sure nothing would be blatantly in the way!”

He circled her and the little squeak that echoed from her throat slipped out before she could slap a hand over her mouth. His chest inflated and he pushed his hair back.

“Pleaseeeee-”

“Mr. H-Hawks, I-”

“Aw cutie, lets check one thing off the list and get rid of the Mr,”

He turned to look out the window before continuing.

“Being my PA isn’t too stressful. My last one had to leave because she had a baby, so they put you in her place. you’ll get used to it quickly don’t worry!”

She took a breath, happy he moved on from her wings. His had always been so intimidating to her. He took a seat at his desk and twirled his chair to her.

“So I heard you’ve been here since you graduated, one of my first workers! We are the same age right?”

“I-I’m 22.”

She confirmed, moving slowly to her desk to start putting things away. As her back faced him she knew he was looking her over and she forced herself to let him.

^^^

The day passed slowly before she finally stood, grabbing her bag and turning around for her coat before letting out another surprised squeak as she was met with Hawks, holding it open for her to shrug on. She placed a hand over her racing heart as her face heated again and she met his golden eyes.

“Thought I’d help you out here sweetheart, it is pretty windy out today.”

He excused himself. She sighed silently and nodded, giving him a small thanks as he helped her slip on her coat, the slits in it allowing the fabric to move around her wings. He made a point to avoid touching them and she made a mental note in her head that his must also be sensitive for him to not fumble around with hers.

Hawks followed her to the door of the building before he stopped.

“Do you uh- have someone picking you up?”

He cleared his throat before he questioned her, looking away. She could hear his unspoken question and she smirked, nearly giggling at his shameless flirting.

“No. I drive myself.”

She explained. He looked at her again and she noticed his pupils enlarge and retract again. He blushed and pushed his hands into his coat.

“You don’t fly...?”

It was her turn to blush. She was wrong about his underlying question. Or was she? Maybe he had multiple underlying questions...

“Uh, no.. I don’t use my wings.”

He coughed in surprise and gave her a look, blinking. She looked away and moved the toe of her heel against the tile on the floor. The embarrassment hit her in the gut and her eyes watered slightly. It shouldn’t have been such a sensitive topic as it was but for some reason she just knew he was disappointed.

“Why not...?”

By this time almost everyone had cleared out of the front lobby. Finch cleared her throat and stretched out her wings. Her right wing stopped short of her left and she bowed her head.

“The right one was broken when I was much younger and healed wrong and now I can’t use it.”

She pushed her fawn brown hair out her face as she looked back up at him to see the pity in his eyes. This is why she never mentioned it to many people. She didn’t want the pity.

“Well, anyway, thanks for today, see you tomorrow Mr. Hawks.”

She rushed, folding her wings in again and moving to leave, turning before he caught her wrist and stopped her gently. She turned back towards him and glanced away.

“H-hey I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just curious is all- I don’t have to bring it back up again if you don’t want...”

He offered. She swallowed her pride and squeaked out a reply.

“No it’s fine, I don’t mind.”

She waved her hand as she spoke and his cheeky smile graced his face again.

“Oh cool! Well, I’ll see you tomorrow Finch! Great first day!”

He complimented before turning and making his way back to his office. She sniffed and stood for just a couple seconds longer to watch him walk away before she finally made her way to her car to leave.

^^^

The next day Finch sighed before she opened the door to the office. She was 20 minutes early, as per usual and she set her things down at her desk as she stared down the vase full of flowers sitting on the dark wood. She slipped off her coat as she spied a note. After she hung the coat from her chair she scooped up the note and her eyes scanned the handwriting.

‘So glad you’re my new PA, can’t wait to get to know you more~’

She smiled to herself and put the note down on the desk before she took in the bright blue of the bellflowers mixed with the white baby’s breath and pale pink cherry blossoms. The bouquets was perfectly delicate at the same time it was stunning. She smiled wider before she noted the time and made her way down to the offices for the briefings.

As she took her place by the side of the boss and Hawks she couldn't help but smile and so she kept her head down, jotting notes as the meeting progressed. She glanced over at Hawks and noticed his wings seemed much bigger than she had remembered them to be yesterday. Her eyesight couldn’t have been wrong, her quirk was literally her eyesight. She couldn’t miss a single detail if she tried. Like how much softer his feathers looked today and how his face reddened when he caught her looking at the crimson red of his wings. She averted her gaze slyly, playing it off as just her looking around.

As the meeting ended she walked behind the boss and Hawks, who conversed avidly about numbers and getting lunch that day. As Hawks declined his offer for lunch he glanced back at Finch to find her scribbling something on her notebook. He turned his attention back to the boss’ rambling before they finally reached his office door and he was left with Finch to make their way back to the office.

When Hawks finally sat down in his chair he gave Finch a smirk from across the room.

“So, how did you like the flowers?”

“Oh, thank you actually, I didn’t get to say anything to you before the briefing.”

She replied, smiling again as she blushed. Her hair was pulled up into a delicate french twist today and she wore a pair of highwaisted dress pants that were a light pinkish tan and a tight wrap blouse that Hawks envisioned himself pulling the tied ribbon on. He snapped out of his day dream when she snapped her fingers at him and stole his attention.

“So this paperwork needs your stamp when I’m done, do you want me to give it to you to stamp-”

“Oh no here!”

A singular feather carried the weighty stamp over to Finch and she caught both objects in her hand with awe.

“So this is how your feathers work?”

He grinned and felt a shiver go through him as she pulled it between her soft fingers. He blushed hotly and pulled the feather back to him as she thanked him for the stamp.

“You can’t do that with yours?”

He questioned. She glanced up before speaking as she filled out paper after paper.

“Uh, no, my wings are more for looks. I mean I used to be able to fly but thats all they do.”

“So that’s why you aren’t in the field huh? Cause your quirk is just having wings?”

She glanced up at him again and took in the curiosity in his eyes and the way he leaned forward, awaiting her reply.

“Well, actually that’s not my quirk.”

He arched a brow at her and she paused a moment to leave him in suspense.

“So, what is it then?”

He wondered. She smirked at him and giggled as she flicked her eyes over his figure. As much as he was curious his body wouldn’t stop puffing up his wings and making him push out his chest. It was late winter but not quite spring yet, so she knew it wasn’t the season causing his display.

“Well, I actually can see really well. They call it Bird’s Eye View. I can just see super well and process what I’m seeing quicker I suppose.”

He chuckled and sat back in his seat leisurely as Finch’s face heated up. Why was he laughing?

“So give me an example~”

He teased. She puffed her cheeks in annoyance and attitude seeped into her usually delicate voice.

“Well i can see you’re obviously puffing up your wings and this morning I noticed that you put something on them to look shinier. Are you trying to court me? Or is it someone else in the office? Maybe the secretary at the front lobby? She’s awful cute isn't she?”

“Oh,”

She continued,

“And I also noticed your handwriting when I read the note on the flowers this morning. You took your time on it hm? No rushed letters, almost as if you wanted it to look really nice.”

He was silent but blushing hard.

“And did you notice the camera?”

He bristled and she knew he hadn’t. Her anxiety spiked. She figured he had known everything about this office.

“C-camera?”

She looked at him wide eyes and stood, piling the papers up and straightening them out before setting them back down on the desk.

“Mr. Hawks care to go for lunch?”

#bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks #hawks angst #fanfic #fanfiction #boku no hero imagines #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #kiego takami

14 notes · View notes

mainidontwant · 4 years

Text

Six Months....(A JessLake Fanfic)

Decided to post this one on here as well as on AO3! Just wanna make sure everyone gets their dose of JessLake :3 I know how hard it is to find fic for them and if you don’t have an AO3 account I still want you to enjoy my fic. So here we go! Disclaimer- this one is a bit...odd. Lake and Jesse have been living together for years but have only been together for six months, so they’re deeply in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. Additionally, this fic is mostly relationship talk and serious times, so what I’m trying to get at is that Lake is not particularly snarky here. I didn’t see them (I HC and write nonbinary Lake btw) putting Jesse in a position to feel awkward when he already was feeling insecure, so I hope that isn’t too disorienting. I hope you guys enjoy! :) Lake had always had trouble focusing in class. Even when they had been a reflection and it didn’t matter if they paid attention or not, they found it almost impossible to focus. They supposed it was just in their nature- they loved wide open spaces, exploring the world for themselves, discovering things on their own. Basically, everything that didn’t involve being trapped inside for eight hours a day and being told what to do by various teachers while they studied a curriculum someone else had chosen for them. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t really how they wanted to spend their time. There was a whole world outside of the train Lake still hadn’t seen, and they looked forward to the day they’d graduate and were free to travel to see it for themselves. Until then, though, they were stuck here. Which was part of why it was such a big relief to hear the final bell go off. Finally! “Remember to do the reading for…” their teacher's voice faded behind them on their way out the door and to their locker, where they grabbed the books they’d need for that night- wait, no, it was Friday, so they’d have to pack for the weekend. So their math assignments, history readings- oh, and they had some lab reports to do… “Hey!” Suddenly, Jesse came up from behind and hugged them around the middle, prompting Lake to start a bit in his arms. “Oh- sorry, sorry, I should have warned you.” He gave them an apologetic kiss on the cheek. Lake chuckled as they shut their locker. “S’fine, Jess, I was just making sure I had everything.” They turned around to hug him properly. “How’d your presentation go last period?” They nodded toward the hallway that led to the pool, indicating to Jesse that they’d walk him to practice. Jesse seemed to understand and smiled at them as they both headed towards the pool. “Great! Thanks for helping me practice. I was freaking out so bad when the teacher decided we couldn’t use flash cards- who decides that three days before a presentation, anyway?” He asked, a little exasperated and more than a little relieved the ordeal was over. “Wow, I’m glad I’m not in your class.” Lake would definitely not get along with a teacher like that. “What?” Jesse pouted. “You wound me, dearest! I know I certainly wouldn’t object to sharing more of my day with my lovely partner.” He faked a sad sigh. “I’m so forlorn to know you don’t feel the same.” Lake snorted as they arrived near the locker room, laughing at Jesse’s frankly adorable pout. They stopped a little down the hall from the locker room to give themselves a tiny bit of privacy. “Don’t pout, Casanova.” Lake leaned up on their toes for a kiss, smiling against his lips when Jesse pulled them into an embrace, one hand falling to their waist as the other stroked their hair. Lake had grown it out since the train before shaping it into an undercut. The top of their hair reached just about to their ears, the back and sides buzzed as it had been when they’d first met Jesse. He still seemed fascinated with it, which Lake couldn’t help but feel flattered by. “It’s teachers I don’t like. If I could spend my whole day with you, I would- though I’d much rather spend time outside of school.” “I know, Lake, I was just kidding.” Jesse pressed a kiss to their cheek. “I just….get kinda lonely for you?” He blushed a little, glancing away from Lake shyly. They found this rather adorable as well, and returned the kisses- one to Jesse’s cheek, then the tip of his nose. “I know what you mean,” they admitted, glancing away themselves when Jesse’s gaze shifted back up to regard them. “I feel a little lonely for you too, sometimes, or I wish you were there so I could tell you something, or um, or I’m thinking about you….” They could feel how hot their blush was and they kept their gaze. Lake was sure plenty of guys would have gotten a big head about that last statement, but they also knew Jesse was different. “But, I don’t always worry about that. It sucks when it happens, but….” their hands played with his hair as they spoke, trying to focus a little on something else so they didn’t have to think about how hard their heart was beating. “But I always know we’re gonna find our way back to each other, so, you know….I don’t really worry about it.” Finished, they finally shifted their vision to regard Jesse. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide with a sort of wonder and seeming to sparkle with happiness. He was smiling widely and he brought both of his hands up to cradle Lake’s cheeks, drawing them in for a kiss.“Lake….” he said their name like a prayer- though it seemed he was having trouble not smiling. “I, you’re, I just….” he couldn’t string a sentence together but he didn’t need to- they knew he was happy from the way he gave an occasional little bounce. He kissed them quickly again before glancing at the clock, figuring most of the team were getting dressed from the volume of chatter he heard and how they only had a couple minutes before they were supposed to be in the pool. He’d have to be quick, but Jesse had decided Lake was worth it as he pressed himself closer and cradled their head, giving them a long, deep kiss.Lake was lost in Jesse’s happiness and returned his kiss, connecting their open mouths at one point to brush their tongue against Jesse’s. He gave a little moan, one hand running up and down their back as the other slid into their hair, kissing Lake just how he knew they liked to be kissed. His thumb rubbed affectionately at the nape of their neck as his hand pressed them closer, Lake shivering and intertwining their legs with Jesse’s, leaning against the wall behind them. Jesse leaned with them as their tongues brushed together again and again, lips slotting over one another in a cycle as Jesse kissed them with long, slow rolls of his jaw. He was kissing Lake as comfortably as he did at home- which was definitely a mistake, given what happened next. “So, if they stocked the little chip cans in the machine again, we wouldn't have to bring little rubber bands and chip clips to freaking swim practice, dude, that’s my poi-WOAH!” Two of Jesse’s teammates rounded the corner, clearly having stocked up from the vending machines down the hall before practice. Jesse recognized the one who’d spoken as Frank. “Oh, shit!” The shorter of the two, Chaz, was clearly flustered and dropped his snacks- clearly, Jesse and Lake had given them a bit of a show. Lake groaned, covering their flushed face in embarrassment. Jesse released them, putting his hands up for a moment to make it clear that he wasn’t doing anything indecent as he backed up a little, feeling terrible for embarrassing Lake. He didn’t think they’d want to be crowded at the moment though, so he grabbed a bag of cookies that had fallen near his foot and tossed it to his teammate, before giving Lake’s shoulder a little squeeze- an ‘I’m here for you, do you need me’ gesture they’d developed over the course of their relationship. In reply, Lake took his hand and gave it a squeeze.“You’re gonna be late if you hang around here much longer.” They pointed out- and they were right, even if they did want to get out of there as quickly as possible. “I’m gonna go home and hang out with Nate, see you tonight.” They almost kissed him on the cheek as was their customary goodbye, but after accidentally giving Jesse’s friends a glimpse into their life as a couple they just didn’t feel comfortable. Jesse understood, though on the inside, he was pouting. He sighed as Lake walked away, heading into the locker room with his teammates. All three of them moved lightning fast to get into the pool, but Jesse couldn’t ignore the feeling of his teammate’s gaze.All throughout practice he could tell they were talking about him, he even heard a few snickers from behind his back during practice and on his way to the showers. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lake, either- he knew he wanted to make it up to them, even if this wasn’t his fault. Or, really, he wanted to do something to cheer them up and apologize for at least not being a little more careful. Making out in public spaces kind of tended to be less-than-private, duh, Jesse, he scolded himself. He hadn’t intended to go any further than right where they’d been, but even so, they should have waited until they were somewhere more private.He just couldn’t help it, with what they had said. Lake was blunt and honest about their feelings, so it wasn’t like they never said anything nice to him. But even after six months, he wasn’t used to having such insight into their feelings about him. And what they’d said was so sweet, Jesse still felt himself grinning like a goof when he thought about it. He was still just so happy Lake felt the same way about him that he felt about them, even if they’d been dating or a little while. They’d both been circling around ‘I love you’ for about as long as they’d been dating, but neither was ever sure of a good time….maybe today? “Having a good afternoon, Cosay?” Jesse had been happy to drift through his shower on thoughts of his partner, but apparently it wasn’t to be. He felt himself flush under the water as his two teammates chuckled, the one who’d dropped the snacks having asked him the question. “Shut up, Frank.” He rinsed his hair and turned off his shower, heading for his towels and clothes. Chaz was towelling off his hair nearby and straightened up with a malicious grin.“Man, you were really going at it though, weren’t you?” He said, coming over to where Jesse was tugging on his jeans. Jesse buttoned his pants before turning to answer, “Will you cut it out? You saw me kissing my partner, it’s not a big deal or anything.” He rolled his eyes, but Frank came over from the shower to continue his needling. “Holy shit, Jesse, you guys weren’t just kissing. That was tongues and hands and moaning- you gave us a full on glimpse into your bedroom, dude!” He laughed. Jesse paused in putting on his shirt. “That’s-you-what-we did not!” He insisted, tugging on his shirt so he could get out of there as soon as possible. His face was so hot he was starting to feel a little lightheaded- though that could be the irritation, too. “There’s nothing going on in my bedroom, okay, so can we just forget about this?” He tugged on his jacket and grabbed his backpack, unwilling to have his relationship picked apart by two assholes he didn’t know that well. “You’re fucking with us, dude, no way!” Chaz looked astonished. “Lake lives in your house, and you guys have been together for like, twelve years or whatever-” “We’ve been together for six months, so shut up.” Jesse was done with the conversation and walked out, ignoring the calls of the jerks behind him and heading out to his car. JLJLJLJLJL The drive home was frustrating- focusing on the road as well as pondering his relationship was a bit tricky, but he had a bit of breathing room when he swung by a little jewelry store in town. Six months was a milestone for a relationship, and even if they’d commemorated it with an awesome date to the amusement park, he still felt like getting Lake another gift, something they could carry with them all the time (that wasn’t all of the clothes of Jesse’s they’d hijacked over the years). The idea had been knocking around in his head for a while and he needed to cheer Lake up anyway, so he figured this was just good timing.He poked around for a bit before finding something he thought suited them- a simple but beautiful moonstone pendant on a silver chain. Good thing he’d saved up from his babysitting gigs, he thought as he surrendered two twenties to the cashier. He felt a little nervous, hoping he’d picked out the right thing- he’d tried to avoid anything gaudy or anything too intricate, and he knew Lake wouldn’t want him spending that much money on them, either. But he still had no way of knowing, and his irritation from earlier seemed to amplify Jesse’s anxiety. It wasn’t like he’d never considered sex with Lake. Lake was his partner and had confirmed to him that they weren’t asexual when they’d discussed the topic for the first time. “Yeah, I understand what you mean. Definitely can’t relate, though.” They’d let it slip and changed the subject afterwards, but that little bit of information had stuck in Jesse’s mind and he’d mulled it over more than once since they’d started dating. But...he hadn’t ever considered it as anything more than hypothetical. He and Lake hadn’t been dating for very long, he told himself every time the thought came up. When one of their makeout sessions got a little heated and Jesse ended up with a...predicament, he just dealt with it on his own as quickly and quietly as he could. But now that they’d hit the six month mark….it wasn’t long in the grand scheme of most romantic relationships, but….it very well may be long enough for intimacy, Jesse realized. It wasn’t necessarily a short amount of time to have been dating, and Jesse was in his senior year of high school, with Lake a year behind him. 17 and 18….by most standards, that was a normal time to begin having...relations.They hadn’t really gone past heated kissing and close snuggling, but Jesse had to admit to himself that he’d thought about crossing that line more and more lately. Would Lake want to cross it with him? JLJLJLJLJLJLJL Jesse came home to the scent of chocolate chip cookies filling the house. Lake and Nate were hanging out on the couch in the living room, three plates piled high with freshly baked cookies taking up most of the space on the coffee table as they played a video game. They were both so into it they didn’t notice he was home until he spoke up, “Hey guys, I’m home.” “Hey, Jesse!” Nate greeted enthusiastically.“Hey…” Lake said a little awkwardly. Usually they asked him how practice had gone, but they weren’t too eager to know after the encounter with Jesse’s teammates.“You wanna play with us, Jesse? We’re having trouble with this boss.” Nate started rummaging around for another controller before Jesse stopped him. “Don’t worry about it Nate. Um...thanks, but I’m actually feeling pretty wiped out? I’m gonna head upstairs and rest a bit while I do my homework.” He noticed a worried frown on Nate’s face when he turned them down. He felt bad for not being entirely honest, but he also wasn’t about to explain this to Nate- he’d already felt embarrassed enough for one day. He gave Nate a squeeze on the shoulder and a smile. “How about I play you after dinner?” There, Nate was grinning and nodding, and all was right with the world again. “Maybe all three of us could play, since Lake is going with you?” Nate asked. “Oh, they are?” Jesse asked, looking to Lake. They nodded and got up to collect a plate of cookies to take up to Jesse’s room. “Yeah, Lake told Nate that we could hang out until you got home. One of these plates is for your parents, and Nate is taking the other to his sleepover tonight so he’s not going to eat all of them, right?” Lake teased Nate, ruffling his hair. “Gah, Lake! Cut it out!” Nate batted their hands away, but he was smiling. “I’m almost in junior high, I think you can trust me around a plate of cookies.” But he knew they were joking. “See you guys at dinner.” And just like that, he had been sucked back into the game. “See you.” Lake waved before they headed upstairs with Jesse. JLJLJLJLJL “Uuuuuuughgh!” Jesse flopped down on his bed dramatically, Lake giggling as they set the cookies down on Jesse’s desk before joining him on the bed. They sat and patted their lap, letting Jesse know it was all right to lay his head there, something they did whenever he was upset. Scooting over to Lake, Jesse plopped his head in their lap, sighing again. “I’m sorry that those jerks embarrassed you.” He apologized, looking up at them. It was Lake’s turn to sigh now as they started running their fingers through Jesse’s hair, a ritual he absolutely adored and leaned into now, sighing happily this time. “It’s okay, Jesse, we just should have been more careful, that’s all.” Lake ran their fingers through his hair. "It was a little awkward and embarrassing, but we just have to make sure it won't happen again. Though... I mean…..we weren’t really doing anything, it was just kissing, and we’re in high school!” They rolled their eyes. “Couples makeout, it happens. Why were they so weird about it?” Lake probably asked Jesse expecting him to help them speculate on the matter, as they were definitely surprised when he responded with an actual concrete answer. “Yeah, well, they made some weird assumptions anyway.” “Really?” Lake looked to meet his gaze, one brow raised. Weird how?” Jesse’s face gradually lit up with a blush as he came up with his reply. “Uh! Well……” Jesse wasn’t sure what to say. “They thought that we were doing...other things, or that we do those things and they were getting a peek at that. But they were wrong, so…” He looked away, something Lake usually did much more than Jesse. “We don’t have to worry about it.” He was just a bit bashful, approaching the topic for the first time, but Lake wondered if it wasn’t for a different reason. “Oh…..” Lake’s hands stopped their constant cycle of stroking Jesse’s hair. “Um…..is...that okay?” “What?” Jesse’s brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up at Lake. “What do you mean, honey?” Lake couldn’t help but smile at the familiar nickname- it was such a Jesse thing to call them, but they certainly didn’t mind. “Is what okay?” “I meant...his being wrong. You’re not upset that we haven’t done those things?” They asked, imitating Jesse’s tone. “Oh my- no, nononono, baby, that’s not it, I promise.” Lake felt a little shiver when he called them that- baby was reserved almost exclusively for when they were alone in one of their rooms or had snagged a private moment on a date somewhere. It was a special term for them, and their heart always felt a thrill when they heard it. Jesse grabbed one of Lake’s hands and pressed kisses to their palm and knuckles. “I’m here for you, Lake, not that other stuff. I’m just upset that any of that happened, I guess.” He sat up to press a kiss to Lake’s lips. “I’m so happy with us, I promise.” Lake smiled, returning the kiss with one of their own. “Thank you, Jesse, I’m glad, and I’m happy with us too. It….I’m not, um….hm.” They paused for a few moments before finally managing to continue, Jesse holding their hands and rubbing tenderly at their knuckles with his thumbs until they were ready. “If you’d been mad about it, I would have been concerned, because that’s messed up. But I’m not upset if that’s like…..something you’ve been, um….wanting. If you’re frustrated about it, that wouldn’t upset me.” “.....Oh.” Jesse answered slowly, still processing. It seemed his partner had been thinking about this for a little while. “Oh. Are...you frustrated, Lake?” “No! I mean….a little? A tiny bit- but I know that’s my fault for not saying anything. It’s not like you’re ever unwilling to talk to me, or give me something I need, I just...wasn’t sure how to approach this, I guess.” “Oh.” He mulled that over for a moment. “Is…..that something you need, Lake? Because if it is, you know I’ll find a way to help you.” “I…..that wasn't what I meant. And I mean, technically I guess I don’t need this, but…” They looked up to meet Jesse’s gaze head-on, squeezing his hand nervously. “I want it, that, with you. Not everything right away, but…” Jesse tugged Lake into a kiss, stroking the hair at their temples. “Okay. That’s fine- I’m glad you told me, and, um, I want that too.” He laid down on the bed, extending an arm to Lake. “Can we talk about it? And also snuggle?” Lake chuckled, “Yes, we can talk about it and also snuggle.” They laid down next to Jesse and scooted in close, resting their head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his middle, sighing happily at Jesse’s close proximity, familiar warmth and sweet scent. “Um…..what about it do you want to talk about?” They glanced up at Jesse, who was looking up at the ceiling as he thought, his fingers carding through Lake’s hair as he did. “I just wanna make sure we’re both clear on everything.” he said. “Makes things a bit easier for us, usually.” He offered Lake a reassuring smile, which quickly shifted to something a little more awkward. “So, um, first thing I want to be clear about: we’re both ready for a bit more intimacy, maybe using our hands or, like, o-oral sex, but we’re not ready to go all the way.” That was definitely out of Jesse’s wheelhouse for the moment. And, he wanted to know Lake’s body well by that point so he could make it good for them, anyway. Luckily for Jesse, Lake nodded in reply, their face burning with a blush. “Yeah.” Their hands began wandering up and down Jesse’s back. He sat up for a moment to discard his jacket before snuggling up with Lake again, giving them a bit more ground to cover. Lake rubbed their fingers in little circles over the fabric of Jesse’s shirt, increasing the pressure a bit to massage him a little. “I really wanna be closer to you, Jesse, and I’ve wanted it for a little while now. I want to…” they stopped, embarrassed, until Jesse surprised them by leaning forward and pressing his lips to Lake’s. He pulled them as close as he could, pressing a few small, gentle kisses to their jaw and cheeks. “Lake, I promise I’m not gonna laugh at you, okay? Not at anything you say, I promise.” He kissed them again, “Please, tell me what you want?” That reassurance had Lake feeling a bit more like themselves and they agree, emboldened. “I want.... to make you feel good.” They reached up to trace their fingers along Jesse’s collarbone, their eyes going half-lidded and sultry. “I want to touch you everywhere, and have you touch me everywhere. I want to have that part of you, the part that stays behind bedroom doors, and I want to give that part of me to you.” They admitted. Jesse shivered as Lake’s hands smoothed over the plain of his chest, feeling the muscles there, “Me too, I want all of that too.” He agreed. “I just, wow, baby, you’re so-” he’d never really complimented Lake like this, and he hoped desperately wouldn’t flub the moment and have it all come out wrong. “You’re so sexy, Lake, I’m so lucky.” He smiled shyly. “Really?” Lake blinked, “I...never thought of myself that way.” Their hands paused in their exploration, resting over Jesse’s heart, before Jesse took them in his own to press kisses to Lake’s fingers. “Yes, Lake, really.” Jesse encouraged, giving their hands an affectionate squeeze. “I love the way you kiss me, t-touch me, I can never get enough of it. I can never get enough of being close to you at all, really. You’re beautiful and so strong, confident the way you take charge of things sometimes. And when you let me take charge, you’re so….” He struggled to find the right word. “I-I don’t know what the right word is, but I guess the closest would be, um, precious? I just want to take care of you, be close to you…” He released one of their hands to pet their hair again, rubbing his thumb affectionately against the silvery strands. “I want you, Lake, I do.” He pulled them in for a kiss, and realized when they broke away that that was the moment. It didn’t have to be a spectacle, it didn’t need to come off of the heels of a big speech, it just needed to feel right- and it did. He was being honest with them, so why not be as honest as possible? Taking a deep breath, Jesse admitted, “I love you, Lake.” Lake gasped. “Jesse!” Lake was tearing up a bit, but they were smiling as well as they pressed another kiss to his lips. “I love you too, so much...my sweet, wonderful brave dork who came back for me, my Jesse. I love you, you big nerd.” Jesse chuckled, laughter shifting to a couple of emotional tears. They kissed over and over again, nuzzling his cheeks against Lake’s when he could to give himself a little break for air. They kissed for a long time, giggling and sighing and rubbing their noses against one another’s, their sighs and groans of contentment mingling together in the otherwise empty room. That eventually gave way to open mouths and tongues, an entirely different variety of sighs resonating throughout Jesse’s room as his hands wandered over Lake’s back, and theirs did the same to his.“You know what?” He asked when they were done, panting a bit. They were lying nose-to-nose, arms tightly wrapped around one another. “What?” Lake asked with a little smile, their face flush with happiness. “I’m actually kind of glad we were interrupted earlier. I mean, if this is the result, I’m definitely not complaining.” He smiled against Lake’s lips as he kissed them again. “I’ve been dying to tell you that I love you for months.” Lake hummed, nodding, “Me too, Jesse, I’ve loved you for a long time.” They settled their head over his heart, listening to his heartbeat. “Since that first sunset when I arrived here, I think, though it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment.” “I know I can’t.” Jesse rested his chin on top of Lake’s head. It wasn’t necessary, with the pillows behind him, he just liked doing it. “But I do know that I’m going to love you for a very long time to come.” he said happily. Lake replied with a happy chuckle, giving Jesse a little squeeze. “How can I resist, when you say such sweet things?” Lake gave Jesse a little nuzzle as well, before growing quiet for a few moments. “So, um...while we’re being clear about things...do you think, maybe next week, Friday, when your parents are out with their friends and Nate’s at that sleepover...that could be a good opportunity to….” They weren’t sure what to say that didn’t sound silly or vulgar. Jesse knew what they meant, though. “Yeah, I think that’d be a good place to start. Though, um...would it be okay if we touched each other a little more until then? Not below the belt or anything, I’m not suggesting that, but just…’ He trailed off, unsure how to clarify what he meant. Lake had him covered, releasing Jesse to slip their hands under his shirt and touch his bare skin. Jesse let out a little yelp before he moaned, leaning into Lake’s touch. “Is this what you meant?” Lake asked. Jesse nodded, “This is absolutely what I meant. How are you so good at reading my mind?” he asked, shivering from Lake’s wandering hands tracing the lines of his muscles. “Practice?” Lake shrugged. “Or, maybe I’m just really good at guessing. Take your pick.” They paused when their fingers reached the hem of Jesse’s shirt, and looked up at him, raised brows asking for permission to venture further. Jesse nodded, shivering when Lake’s cool fingers glided over his bare skin. “Sorry if my fingers are cold…” Jesse’s skin was so warm and soft, softer than they’d anticipated. He was really hiding some muscles under that shirt, too- something Lake had gotten to enjoy at many a swim meet. “No, baby, it’s great, it feels really nice.” Jesse smiled at them, reaching down to run his fingers through their hair. “That was a ‘this is good’ shiver, not an ‘I’m cold,’ shiver.” He clarified, caressing the shell of their ear with his thumb. “Mm, I’ll have to learn the difference.” Lake smiled, their fingers wandering up to the valley between Jesse’s pecs, rubbing little affectionate circles into the skin as Jesse played with their hair. He was in heaven as Lake’s fingers wandered over his midsection. He’d never thought that just having his stomach and chest touched would feel so good, but he also suspected that might have something to do with Lake being the one doing the touching. As their hands glided down his sides he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a mental snapshot of the moment .“Mn, I suppose you’d have to do some research into that, then.” Jesse hoped he came off as flirty and silly, not awkward and creepy. “I’m happy to help you with that anytime, you know.” He felt almost relieved to be talking to them this way, finally acknowledging feelings they’d both pushed to the side. Lake pretended to consider his offer, tapping a finger to their chin. Their other hand was still under Jesse’s shirt, Lake using their fingers to trace little hearts over the warm skin. “Hmmmm….well, I suppose I can make some time for you, in my schedule. I have a little bit of time right now, you know, no other appointments.” Their hand slid up, resting over Jesse’s heart. “Though, I do think that this might be in the way…” they tugged on Jesse’s shirt. Jesse’s eyes widened a bit, before his expression shifted to something more comfortable, confident- he was with Lake, after all. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. He took Lake’s hands in his as he sat up, guiding them to the hem of his shirt.

“I think you might be right, baby…” Jesse’s voice sounded lower, almost a bit like a whisper- something about it sent a shiver up Lake’s spine as they tugged Jesse’s shirt up-

“Hey, lovebirds, dinner in ten!” Nate knocked loudly on the door, startling both of them. Lake dropped Jesse’s shirt, a bit exasperated. They knew Nate couldn’t help having horrible timing, though. “We’ll be right there, Nate!” Lake called. “Thanks.” moments later, they heard him heading down the stairs. They looked to Jesse, feeling defeated and a touch embarrassed again.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jesse pressed a peck to Lake’s lips before wrapping them up in a hug. “I know, it’s frustrating, but there’s always more time. And we have Friday coming up, so…” “Yeah.” Lake returned Jesse’s hug before getting up off the bed, offering Jesse a hand to ‘help’ him down, really just an excuse to touch him more. “We have Friday.” They’d have to figure out how to make it special- maybe a gift for Jesse? Or...something...special to wear? Nope, not thinking about lingerie right now- how would they even know where to start, anyway? “....Hey, baby?” Jesse’s voice sounded rather shy as he rooted through his backpack. “I almost forgot- I picked something up for you, earlier.” Maybe he should have saved it for Friday, he thought, but they’d had a bad day and Lake deserved to be spoiled. “What?” Lake smiled as he approached, hands behind his back. “Jesse, you didn’t have to…” Really, his thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze them.“I wanted to.” He handed them a small, dove grey velvet box, Lake gasping loudly when they beheld the moonstone inside, taking the necklace out and holding it tightly as they surveyed the stone.“Jesse!” They embraced him, kissing him again and again. “Jesse, you….” they were a touch overwhelmed, but in the best way. They kissed him absentmindedly, thoughts chugging forward on a new train of thought. What had they done to deserve a boy who loved them so damn much, who cared so well for them? When they were trapped in the mirror they never even dreamed they might be in a position to receive presents, only to imitate those who did, to reflect. But this was theirs. They’d fought tooth and nail for it, him, them, and every horror had been worth it. “Baby?” Jesse nuzzled Lake’s cheek. “Are you okay? You spaced out for a sec there,” he caressed Lake’s cheek. They chuckled, turning their head to kiss Jesse’s palm. “It’s just...in moments like this, I actually think about Mace. All those things he said I wouldn’t have….I can have all of them now, I can live my life the way I want to...I just never want to forget how much of a gift that is.” They kissed him again, “How much of a gift you are, for giving me... this.” ‘This’ wasn’t just the necklace. It was the morning and goodnight kisses, the sweet confessions and tender caresses. It was every bit of validation and kindness and encouragement Jesse had ever given them, something they knew they could never truly pay back. “Lake, you don’t have to thank me...baby, I love you.” Jesse leaned his forehead against theirs. “I don’t think I could have done things any differently. You don’t realize it, Lake, because everyone has been telling you differently, but you’re amazing. You’re strong and loyal and brave and beautiful, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. You matter, Lake, and people are going to do whatever they can for you because they care about you. Remember that.” He assured as he fastened Lake’s necklace for them. Lake nodded, sniffling a tad. “I’ll do my best.” They hugged him tightly. “These last six months have definitely helped.” They pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before Jesse opened the door for them with an elaborate bow, drawing a tiny chuckle from Lake. “To six more months, my darling.” Jesse declared in a dramatic, Shakespearean-esque tone. Joining in on his game, Lake offered Jesse their arm.

“To six more months- onward, to dinner!”

#nonbinary lake #infinity train #lake infinity train #jesslake #lake it #jesslake fanfiction #Infinity shipping #jesse infinity train #infinity train fanfiction

27 notes · View notes

victorusolano · 3 years

Text

FYD Series

It was one evening of summer. Anyone's skin can be steamed when exposed to the open air of the night. There, perched like a bird on his writing desk, contemplating seriously in a small dimly lit room was - Xenon. His family was all disturbed by the climate condition, so they went out of town to some nearby beach resorts. Xenon on his volition stayed alone, in which he likely enjoyed making love with the old typewriter resting in a great silence. He thought that this is what he needs to write a story tonight and the deadline of his paper is tomorrow before the sunset.

Two weeks ago, the writing task was assigned to him, by the chief editor of the literary magazine he is working with; and till this night it had remained untouched, and unmarked, though the time left was enough to say generously to finish one short story. However, catching up the race between him, and the ongoing moments is now useless. Words and meanings ran away and went to a place nowhere to be found. I should eat a dictionary, He murmured to himself. He took a glance at the old wall clock and looked away at the open window, stared blankly across the survey of height and to the dark space outside.

When he reconciled his thoughts; he gave a sweeping look at the old pictures of the family photos and old framed certificates of academic achievements of writing contests. He nailed his attention to a class picture of his college.

It was before the day of graduation; like a dreamy shot, his recollections swirled in a throwback changing a milieu; a trance to a memory. He can even smell the old odor of the room where he was in the picture: the blackboard with the doodle half-erased drawings of impish boyhood, girls prepping up in a rush as the bell rang when the class was announced dismissed. “Wait for me at the powder room, just need to fix this” the president of the class pointed at the board trying so hard to erase the drawings. “Come on here now Xenon!” The tall pale boy invited him to take his place for picture taking along the corridor. The boys, in a disorganized choreography, set themselves like a tableau; rowdy as they were. They were teasing, joking, thumping in harsh horseplay. “It's the last day!” Declared joyfully of one of the boys.

His consciousness lurched back into reality like a warp of time; he put his palm on his face. Now, he began carelessly to at least write something. The editor will kill him flat tomorrow; I need to finish at least one tonight.

He took a glance at the old wall clock which struck exactly twelve-thirty midnight. He returned to his writing desk, wiped out apple cores and peels, and decided to transcribe anything that comes first into his mind, a short story must be short and should have a story, he said to himself. But what story should I write? desperate he was, hope suddenly became absent; tomorrow I'm dead! Misfortune has taken its form now: all he accomplished about writing have flown away, he began to think that all structures of narratives are bogus, workshops and seminars he attended are all hoaxes. No formula could teach someone how to write. He then remembered a book called Under The… What? It’s something ahm… He tried it with difficulty to remember. Suddenly, he remembered Tree - then he told himself, all writing may be divided into two groups, good writing, and bad writing; good books come out of good writing while bad writing produces failures, again and again, he scanned the line like an X-ray of that passage from a book which was a foreword by RK. A failure He exclaimed silently; not even of Montes’ Of Fish… and etcetera, What would I be writing about dogs or flies? Then he recalled Peter's Touch Move. I am no longer a kid! That conviction made him more worried there, he is now sure that a block along the streamlines of thoughts is hampering him to be productive and creative. No is now a strong resistance, to be Noel’s Games is something, and to finish a writing task today is a different thing. He remembered it all well; call me Tina or Fanny – No one calls me! He snorted.

It was almost three in the morning and no matter how hard he tried to have an idea and flood an ink in the paper, it just equated to frustration. A scrap of papers had been spilling off the bin and onto the floor, so he decided to take a walk outside for a while and jog. The objective of his motivation was like a plan, he thought that maybe he needed to activate an endorphin from his brain, in a matter of two minutes he got changed his clothes, he wore that unlaundered navy blue jersey shorts, he wore the other day; he paired it with a billowy old white cotton shirt, and put on his ash-colored rubber shoes which was a birthday gift, and went to the plaza.

He went on jogging around the track field. Quickly, it made him asphyxiated on the sixth round, but he decided to run two more and two rounds of walk to complete the set; good enough for an hour jog today he thought. Thirsty as he was, he wanted to look for water, so he went to an all-day convenience store to quench his dried throat. “Good morning!” a sweet greeting of the store staff, he smiled back and padded to the panel doors of chillers; grabbed a bottle of water, he opened it right away and in a spur-of-the-moment, he drank it all without thinking that he hadn't paid it yet; he remembered, so he went to the counter, and scanned the bottle, he grabbed some chips, and instant coffee, pay the total, and left.

At the park, He again tried to process what was going on with him. The situation of being a writer seemed to change from what he has believed for the past years; beginning from his aspiration to be a writer someday which now has been achieved. Now is a challenge against himself, am I just being lazy? He rebuked the thought hastily, laziness is a big word, he would like to think that he is more of a selective participant rather than being the word lazy… these thoughts wire loomed in his mind. He walked toward a wooden bench at the park but at that moment, an answer did not come; he decided to sit for a moment while looking at the cadastral and being engulfed by the tranquility. When suddenly an old man spoke, “What are you looking at?” the old man asked, breaking the silence. Astounded Xenon was; as he did not realize the presence of the old man sitting next to him at all before. Xenon tried to find a complete grasp of how it could happen?

“Nothing sir” he answered back at an instant without an inch of hesitation.

“Thinking?”

“No, sir”

“What exactly do you have in your mind and how would you like to describe it, before you sit here beside me?” The old man asked. “Well I am thinking of so many things, I am thinking of my article, a short story of some sort, it’s my deadline today, and I need to submit it this afternoon” Xenon responded as if caught in a corner with the question.

“Excuse me, sir - you've been here all the while?”

“Yes”

“I… did not see you’re here, I am sure of that!”

“Well I am exactly”

“Exactly? like how? I’m sorry sir!”

The old man gave him an artificial laugh before he uttered another word. “There so many things we trouble so much in this life – we don’t see now details of why we’re here or how did we get there, time runs too fast, we don’t see that - I like this place,” An eminent pause before Xenon was able to respond, “I'm sorry for the intrusion, sir!” What he wanted to mean in that is like a stop.

“Are you alone or waiting for someone? I'll just then look at another bench around.”

“No,” the old man said.

Without a second the old man said, “You can sit here, I don't own it anyway - I am the same, like you…” he turned a look to Xenon “I as well wanted to take a walk and free the mind of so many things.”

Xenon did not believe the words, like the same he tried to process the thought, it cannot be possible for two people to do something the same or thinking completely parallel at the same point of time at exactitude, and meet. He’d like to dismiss the idea with a general conviction. “Yes, I am thinking if this is appropriate to have your autograph?” The old man said, Xenon wondered very oddly. The old man was very well informed, he thought as if he was under surveillance. “Hold on a second, sir - How did you know that...? I am… ahm” He can’t find the words again. “Writer?” The old man responded so very quickly to help him grasp the words. “Yes! You've already told me, I think no less than a minute before the whole sentence that I have calculated.” - “What?” He was surprised by the old man’s precision of thoughts. “You see now my friend, It seems that you're not paying much attention to the details, you’ve just told me that; this day is your deadline of a narrative to some sort that you needed to submit later this afternoon.” He repeated it like a backmasked vinyl recording to him.

He did not answer back and noticed something which he cannot sham his feeling. he thought it was talking to some kind of a prophet; an oracle, the old man gave him a creep but it was never of fear he felt that time, when the old man said, you're not paying much attention to the details: and it provided him a connection, an impulse releasing the secret of his lingering dilemma. It seemed that the old man had known him before and was reading his mind in silence. And before he could say another word, the old man got on to his feet and walked slowly in the distance. “Where are you going, sir? I thought you wanted my autograph?” He replied instantly. “I was about to do that” he slipped his hand on the pocket of his shirt and brought out a pen. The man moved close to him and said, “maybe after you finish the story you are about to submit today – I want surprises, I love that. It sounded more of a challenge to him. “I'll just wait for it once it’s out,” the old man continued, “I'm expecting that one will be good too, like the others.” Xenon felt being seized. Then in no time delay, he asked, “Sir, may I know your name please” The old man looked away and replied with a serious note. “I never had one.”

“I grew up in a home,” the old man continued, Xenon did not understand what he meant by the word home.

“I never knew who my parents are”

“You mean you're an orphan, sir?”

He sounded that question as an inquiry, not a statement or a report; he could not completely believe when the old man said, never had one. He assumed, while the slightest of what he can accept, that someone in his infancy had given him any name at least any among the common names, like Peter or Jeff.

“Yes, may I?” The old man was demonstrating to take a seat, he snatched the opportunity, and released a deep sigh before Xenon could make his reply.

“Yes! Surely, sir”

“I would like to tell you a story – may I?” Without averseness he agreed — this is what precisely he doesn’t have at this very moment — He felt a pity to himself that the old man at least has something to tell a story. He thought resentfully. “Now, what is your nearest happy memory? – something that may be a remarkable one?” The old man asked. “Well, I can still remember my days when I was in college, you know a scholar of some sort, a nerdy bookworm student and sometimes nasty. I enjoyed the friends and their all varieties of personal attitude, the mentorship and all; that experience gave me a feeling of a second home too,” he ended his recollection with a ruminating smile.

The old man started after his last word and said, “home Oh yes! I grew up in a home too, you know. But it was different, — there are all sorts of people from all diversities you know? minor age killers, thieves, abandoned children, and those who escape from their hostile relatives and parents — there is one thing that is common among all of us resident mates. We are all looking for someone who could give us genuine love; so to every opportunity of adoption; though we don’t want to go away from home, we grab it in hope for a foster parent. On the contrary, after a week or so; most of us go back and never want to go out. The result rather turned worse, trust became more absent.”

“That must be interesting – go on please” Xenon eagerly butt in. “We didn’t have a good foundation of education there.” Xenon in his skeptics let the old man claim his privilege of a good start of his story, “though a mother staff is there to attend the everyday needs of the operation of a foster home, there is always a lacking that only a real parent could provide the never-ending emptiness lingers every day. When you were being born and grew up in a home you’ll never find a name in your birth identity, the space in the paper reads either baby boy or baby girl, or at least a consolation part is you have your last name written on your birth certificate, then at your legal age, you will then be advised and go on a series of counseling to condition your mind that you are now ready to be set free and join the outside world. On the other meaning, you will now look for your own. All years of staying there, all favors of your daily needs are all in the form of a plea and request, it’s like a nauseated chick being asked to walk or run.” Xenon, unconsciously now conceded and pondering deep to the part brimming inside him, the visual in his mind provided a still picture that speaks a thousand and more ideas to write.

He felt like hanging on a cliff and wanting more. “Go on, please!” He said. “Very well,” the old man continued. “Overwhelmed you are now huh? - There was an incident that night when everybody was all sleeping in our respective quarters; the boy’s place was on the east of a pavilion near the high walls while the girls’ was just near the lobby entrance. I never got an interest of why is that because I never asked, I am always like that timid among other orphans, I was very young then, not even that I know what an introvert means but I enjoyed my solitude; they often think that I am weird, but I have my way of covering, a defense mechanism, mostly I pretend; which always sets me in a situation turned more difficult at the end. It was an unforgettable experience that everybody there will never forget. A fire, a huge one that killed one group of orphans in quarter D at the corner pavilion, maybe fifteen or twenty souls in there burnt alive.” Xenon’s shoulders twitched at the mention of being burnt alive! But he remained silent, leaving the old man to continue.

“How did it all happen, sir?” he went on curiously. “I expected that would be your most obvious next question” As the old man continued - “The mother staff on duty that night left the door locked and she brought the keys with her and stride past for a moment to meet someone outside, but she never calculated it right that a kettle in the kitchen was also left on a stove, she enjoyed the romantic rendezvous with the guy she has been seeing for the past weeks, the next series of event happened so fast as the fire spread all the rest of the quarters, I happened to escape quickly and help the young ones to get out, well I would like to say thank you for my insomniac.” The old man paused there for a while. “Investigations went on afterward but of course, the subject of the incident died just like that; an isolated one. But the tremor lives like a resurrection and even to this moment whenever I recall the experience I can still feel the trauma.”

His feelings were automatically snatched. “Pitiful souls,” Xenon added, “true, indeed!” The old man replied. “Well just like other closed call stories, the ending was still unknown and then life just went on, I finally said goodbye to the orphanage and faced a life of my own.” The old man got up on his feet and walked away slowly. “Where are you going, sir?” xenon asked. “Home,” the word gave him a sensation like a blank white paper inked with lots of things and images of a scene scribbled in no exact direction; he imagined an abstract picture that was difficult to understand from that story.

Unexpectedly, it gave him a feeling of freedom. A unit of work that he is required to finish a story from that conversation. And the task is waiting for him now at home. “Sir, could I just at least have your name?” The sun had shone its glimpse in the sky. The illumination gave a picture of cucoloris lighting patterns of shadows of the old man’s face, like a mirror from afar. “Could you please tell me your name?” Xenon asked garishly. The old man stopped, and said, “You should fix the ending.” He tried to catch the sounds from afar. “Will you?” The picture of him was already filtered out of the blinding lights.

THE END

This is a work of FICTION. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright Statement This work is the intellectual property of the author. Permission is granted for this material to be shared for non-commercial, educational purposes, provided that this copyright statement appears on the reproduced material. To disseminate otherwise or to republish requires written from the author.

#xenon

1 note · View note

rora-s · 3 years

Text

The Derivative Chapter 11: Prediction

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 10

My foot tapped repeatedly as I sat in a chair outside the principal's office. I had no idea why I had been called out of my english class to be here. Not that I was complaining about being taken out of a monotonous lecture on adjectives and adverbs.

“Hey Abby” I looked up as the door opened and Mrs. Clive was there looking down at me. “Come on in”

I grabbed my backpack and walked into the office, Clive closing the door behind me. Principal Brick was sitting behind his desk. I always thought his name fit his features with how square his head was.

“Take a seat Abby” he offered, I nodded and sat down. Clive took the seat next to me. “I’ve heard a lot about you Ms. Calvin from Mrs. Clive here as well as your other teachers. Many of whom are concerned about certain behavioral issues you’ve shown since joining us here.”

“If this is about that fight in the cafeteria I thought we had that sorted out I mean I didn’t cause it” I quickly defended myself sitting up in my seat.

“We know Abby, that's not what we’re talking about” Clive reassured me.

“Then what is it?” I asked, growing suspicious.

Brick sat forward resting his hands on his desk. “To be completely honest with you Abby, originally we were led to believe by your social worker, a Mr. Grant, that your behavioral problems would be expected considering your history with the foster system and problematic past parent situation.” I shifted in my seat “however, Mrs. Clive has brought a different perspective onto the situation”

My head snapped to look at the teacher. She had a light smile on her face “I got into contact with a friend of mine Michelle Wiat she’s a principal at an elementary school it turned out you attended. She told me about the advanced courses she put you in College Algebra, Calculus. As well as your IQ testing she provided all the documentation as well”

There was a moment where my brain was flustered hearing Ms. Wiat’s name again after so long. Then I finally collected my thoughts “so what does this mean? Are you finally putting me in advanced courses?”

“Not exactly” Brick objected “we believe at this time that this school can no longer provide what you need to learn”

“In other words we know you’re not thriving here” Clive cut in “so I’ve arranged here with Mr. Brick for you to possibly test out of high school”

I was stunned at the news but felt excitement bubbling within me “serious like no more school?”

“Part of it will require you to continue your education somewhere else such as college, university, or career center but you will no longer be attending high school” Brick explained.

“This is awesome,” I cheered excitedly.

“Don’t get too excited you’ll have to take a test to prove you’re capable and that’s only if your father approves all of this” Clive clarified.

I felt my excitement hit a wall “my father?”

“Yes we’ll be sending you home today with a note detailing everything and asking for a parent teacher conference to discuss any other issues that may come of this” Brick informed “since you are still a minor you can’t just make these decisions on your own”

“Right” I murmured as Brick handed me a letter.

“Don’t worry Abby this will all work out and then we’ll get to see what heights you’ll truly be able to reach” Clive reassured me with a hand on my shoulder. As I looked at the paper I didn’t feel as sure.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

3rd POV.

Abby sat out in the hallway at school. She was reading Twelve Years a Slave. The nine year old had been kicked out of her 4th grade class for calling another kid an asshole after he broke her pencils.

“Abigail” she looked up at the familiar disappointed voice of the principal.

“Hello” the girl greeted. “Call me Abby”

The principal, Mrs. Wiat, sighed and sat down next to the girl. “Whatcha reading?”

“Twelve Years a Slave” Abby replied, showing the teacher the book cover.

“Advanced book for someone your age” The principal voiced genuinely surprised.

“It’s a good read but I feel bad for Solomon. He just wants to escape his captivity.” Abby voiced “he didn’t ask for any of his problems he just got dragged into it”

“Do you relate to him?” The woman pressed sensing something.

Abby shrugged and didn’t make eye contact. “Maybe a little”

“Abby, you know calling people mean things is wrong” The principal explained.

“But he broke my pencils,” the girl defended.

“I understand but lashing out isn’t the answer” Mrs. Wiat kept her voice even as she spoke. “Abby, you've been fighting with other kids and not doing your homework. Is there something going on at home? Something you want to tell me?”

The girl shook her head quickly “no nothing”

“Okay” the principal nodded. “Then why don’t you do your homework?”

“Because isn’t the point of homework to practice the stuff you learn in class?” The fourth grader asked.

“That’s right,” the principal nodded. “Which is why you need to do it to learn.”

“But I already know the stuff,” Abby objected. “I mean I get perfect scores on the tests so why do I have to do the homework?”

The principal found herself speechless at the fourth graders logic. “Because it factors into your grade”

“Well what's more important in school for me to learn or for me to get good grades?” The girl challenged.

“Abby” the principal sighed. Then a thought came to her “I want to send a note home with you for your mother” the principal explained “I want to talk to her and get you in a more advanced program at least for your reading level maybe math also”

“Does this program have homework?” Abby questioned.

The principal chuckled lightly “Unfortunately Abby all of life has homework.”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Abby POV.

“What you think he’ll say no?” Charlie asked as he moved some papers around on the table.

“I don’t know what he’s going to say,” I exclaimed, my chin resting on the table the note from my teachers in my hands. “That’s the part that bothers me.”

“Well then I suppose the only way to resolve that would be to ask him” Charlie argued. I let out a breath in a huff. “Listen Abby, you've been arguing to learn more advanced curriculum since you got here and I’d wager even before then. This is a great chance for you. I’m sure Don will see that and let you test out okay?”

“Yeah” I murmured. “Don’t tell him about this though I want to be the first one to talk to him”

“My lips are sealed” the mathematician vowed as he typed on his laptop.

A moment later Alan came in from the kitchen and I folded the note and stuffed it in my pocket. “Hey,” he greeted “Charlie whatcha working on there?”

“Sabermetrics” Uncle C replied with a sigh “baseball math found on a dead man’s computer Don’s having me look at it for a case”

“Oh” Alan murmured a little put off from the dead man fact. He walked up behind Charlie peering over his shoulder “What do these formulas tell you?”

“The ones I’ve recovered indicate that the Dodgers are not on the right track to win the pennant next year” Charlie informed.

“Like you needed math to figure that one out, huh?” Gramps muttered.

Charlie chuckled “no”

“I heard that, uh, Don was leaning towards the wife.” Alan voiced.

“That’s right,” Charlie confirmed.

“Seems to be the first place they look nowadays” Alan mused.

“I don’t understand” Charlie agreed “I mean, if you hate the person you’re married to that much, get divorced.”

“Even the thought of divorce holds its own special horrors, let me tell you” Alan sighed.

“Well, you and mom never thought about- I mean, I was never witness to any kind of-” Charlie stammered as his father leaned on a chair.

“That’s exactly the way we wanted it.” Alan explained. Charlie shifted in his chair, eyes still fixed on Alan urging him to continue “well, it was a long time ago, we, um. We had a little rough patch there for a moment, but we got through it.”

Charlie closed his laptop slowly and I looked between the two men wondering where this conversation was going “how rough a patch are we talking about?” Uncle C questioned.

“It was when you were 13 years old,” Alan offered willingly “and you went off to Princeton.”

“Mom came with me,” Charlie added.

“The separation was pretty hard on both of us” Alan admitted “and aside from the money matters, there was this irrational jealousy. Anyway, even the possibility of divorce was never discussed, because we loved each other too much.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Charlie murmured. “I don’t even remember a raised voice between the two of you.”

“That’s because your mother and I both agreed that we wouldn’t stress you or Don any more than we had to.” Alan explained sitting down. “Charlie that’s how parents argue in front of their children; they disguise the big things as little things.”

Charlie was quiet for a moment looking at his work. I stood up and made to leave the room a churning feeling in my gut. “Abby you alright?” Alan called after me.

“Yeah, yeah fine I just, homework” I lied horribly but Gramps didn’t seem to be questioning it and I didn’t really give him time to before I was bolting up the stairs.

I collapsed on the bed in Don’s old room. Charlie going to college early had put a huge strain on his parents' lives. What kind of strain would I be putting on Don if I graduated early? In all my nagging why hadn’t I considered how this would affect Don. After everything my mom went through and sacrificed for me growing up was I really going to make my other parent sacrifice for me too? Let alone one I’d only known for less than a year?

I groaned and grabbed the pillow covering my face. When did my life get so complicated?

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

3rd POV.

Abby sat bored in yet another class at school. She glanced at the clock and sighed. Wondering how difficult it would be to slip out a side door during a passing block. The public library wasn’t too far from the school and it would be open at this time.

Then her mom's words came back to her. She glanced around the class all of whom were still working on the algebra assignment she had already finished. How was she going to become friends with any of them? Most of them were upper middle class with well to do parents. Nice clothes, new backpacks, and cell phones. Abby wore thrift store clothes, had an old backpack that had seen better days, and never had a cell phone in her life.

The bell rang jogging her from her thoughts. Gathering her things Abby headed out into the hallway. Going to the freshman lockers to ditch her stuff from algebra and grab her English stuff.

They were reading “Of Mice and Men” which she had already read years prior. She remembered every word and had told her teacher as much but the woman had still insisted that Abby bring her copy to class everyday. Despite the obvious redundancy.

“Hey gutter kid” Abby heard the call and turned just in time to get hit in the face by someone’s backpack. “Oops looks like Miss smarty pants isn’t much of a quick thinker.”

Abby recovered quickly and looked to see who had thrown the bag. She wasn’t surprised to see a gaggle of laughing popular kids not far off. She looked down at the back pack and reared punting it down the hall.

She smirked broadly as one of the kids ducked and another got a face full as she had.

“Why you little” One of the kids came at her, pinning her to the locker. She kicked out on reflex and before she knew it a fight had broken out in the hallway.

When a teacher finally showed up and pulled them apart. Abby was shocked that he first turned to the kid who had started it.

“What happened?” the teacher asked them.

“She attacked me-“

“I did not you liar!” Abby objected loudly.

“You be quiet” The teacher ordered her.

“But I didn’t-“

“Come on I’m taking you to the office now” the teacher ordered. He grabbed Abby’s arm and led her down the hallway.

Not long after she was sitting outside the principal's office. She could hear everything going on inside.

“She has a history of ditching” the teacher, Mr. Simons, was saying. “And now she’s picking fights.”

“Abby skips because she isn’t learning anything in her classes if you put her in the advanced class-“

“That girl shouldn’t even be in regular classes,” Simons objected. “And don’t act like she’s some genius from the look of her I’d say she skips to go out drinking and do drugs-“

“Don’t you dare talk about my daughter like that!” Janice yelled.

“Settle down both of you and Simons sit the hell down” the principal suddenly snapped. Then continued in a quieter but not any less tense tone “What exactly did Chris say happened?”

“That she attacked him in the hallway” Simons stated “unprovoked”

“Alright and what did Abby-“

“Why do you need any more convincing? It’s obvious what happened! What are you going to trust the word of some delinquent that can’t be bothered to show up to class or the straight A quarterback.”

“My daughter is no liar!” Janice exclaimed. “She doesn’t go to class because she already knows everything that’s being taught cuz you refuse to put her in the advanced classes”

“Do you really think a girl with elementary school education like Swiss cheese is actually going to make it in an advanced class?” Simons scoffed arrogantly.

“She can remember everything that she’s ever read perfectly just ask her” Janice shot back.

“Will you two stop!” The principal exclaimed and sighed. “I’m putting both students involved on temporary suspension”

“What!” Simons exclaimed. The office descended into loud bouts of indiscernible yelling. Abby closed her eyes and tuned them and the world out the best she could.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

“You alright?” Charlie asked hesitantly as him and Don left the Lorman group headquarters.

“Yeah” Don murmured “It’s just all this stuff about predicting human potential I can’t help thinking about how it’d impact Abby you know?” he explained as the pair loaded into his SUV. “I mean she doesn’t really talk about it but I got enough from her social worker to know that her and Janice lived in some not great neighborhoods growing up.”

“And this predictive model would have slighted against her despite her potential” Charlie inferred.

“Exactly I mean she’s incredibly smart” Don explained “and I’ve been trying to go to bat with her regarding these advanced courses and stuff. Like, you were already in college at her age and she’s that same kind of smart. I just want her to have all the opportunities she deserves.”

Charlie chuckled slightly “you know this side of you Abby brings out it- its kinda weird”

“Yeah? Good weird or bad weird?” Don inquired.

“Definitely good weird” Charlie assured.

Don sighed “I guess I finally just understand what Mom and Dad meant when they said they wanted the world for us, you know. And that’s what I want for Abby” Don explained and Charlie smiled working very hard to keep his mouth shut about Abby’s letter from her teachers.

_____________

Don glanced up at Abby as she ate her fries, her eyes scanning over the book she had laying on the table. They were eating dinner in their apartment now that he was back from the long case he’d just worked. The man took a deep breath deciding he had given her enough time “so I talked to Ms. Clive today and set up the time for the parent/teacher conference”

Abby’s head snapped up so fast he was a little concerned “how did you? Did she tell you? Uh…” she fumbled over her words.

Don scoffed setting down his burger “Abby, first off my job is to figure things out second off if you want a secret kept your uncle is the last person you should tell” Abby groaned putting her head in her hands and muttering a curse word or two towards Charlie. Don chuckled lightly “the only thing I don’t get is why you didn’t tell me. I mean, this is what you’ve been after forever I thought you would have jumped at it”

“I was and I am… excited” Abby replied carefully biting her lip nervously which made Don shift in his seat. “It’s just… I know me going to college early is a big deal and it’s going to change things for me a- and for you and I didn’t want to make your life harder than I already had”

Don was surprised by the confession and even more concerned as his daughter refused to make eye contact with him. He thought about what to say and only one thing came to mind “Abby I want the world for you” he told her.

The girl looked up in surprise, her eyes meeting her father’s “what?”

“Listen I don’t care if this is going to change some things. Because I’m here for you” Don explained “Listen, I appreciate the concern but it’s the parents job to worry about the kid not the other way around or at least not until I’m old and gray” a small smile spread on Abby’s face.

“Thanks Don” Abby told him.

“Yeah, of course” Don nodded and he could tell Abby felt a lot better. Not just from this situation but it was like another wall had fallen down, chain had been released. And for him it was like another puzzle had been solved, another crisis averted. For both another step toward being family.

Chapter 12 ->

#numb3rs #numb3rs season 1 #Don Eppes #Charlie Eppes #alan eppes #amita ramanujan #larry fleinhardt #david sinclair #terry lake #fanfiction #Don is a dad #abby calvin #episode per chapter #Episode Related #also on ao3 #also posted on quotev

1 note · View note

warofshadowstheorder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 05

Bledsoe never enjoyed flying. Growing up on a Cattle Ranch in Rory, Wyoming she was much more comfortable in a saddle than an aisle seat. She’d never been on an airplane until she left for college. It was a new experience, and as soon as she got back on the ground she knew that she wanted to avoid air travel whenever possible.

This particular trip was made worse by the fact that she was with Taylor the entire time. The two of them were civil to each other on the commercial flight to Miami, primarily because Bledsoe spent most of the flight on the earbuds she brought with her. They were at each other’s throats for most of the private flight to Guantanamo.

For every time Taylor reiterated his theory of Bledsoe being an informant to the assassin, Bledsoe gave a very well-placed and calculated verbal jab at Taylor’s ego or bandaged nose. After Taylor used a crude term to describe her, Bledsoe let loose with a barrage of several words she had heard her cattle-rancher dad use out in the pasture.

“Real nice language for an Ivy League graduate,” Taylor replied, “did you ever go to class or did you just give your professors inside information in exchange for passing grades?”

“First off,” Bledsoe said, “I was a cattleman’s daughter long before I ever set foot on Yale. And secondly, I learned early that one should communicate at the level of one’s audience, which forces conversation with you to the level of non-fertilizer grade manure. Or, in words you can understand…bullshit.”

Taylor was visibly shaken by this and getting ready to offer a fierce retort when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

“You’ll want to fasten your seatbelts back there, we’re making our final descent.”

Taylor muttered something under his breath and buckled his seatbelt while Bledsoe sat down and did the same. The descent went by without event. As the plane coasted on the runway, Bledsoe looked out her window and saw a military jeep waiting on the tarmac.

Two Marines stepped out of the jeep when the plane stopped moving and stood by the entrance ramp. Taylor and Bledsoe each put on their sunglasses, picked up their respective carryon bags, and moved to the door.

The contrast in temperatures was evident when they were met by a blast of tropical climate, an oppressive combination of heat and humidity unknown to D.C. residents, the moment they crossed the threshold between the plane and the outside. The sun was beginning to set and twilight was upon them, but the air outside still felt like walking on the bottom of a heated swimming pool. Inwardly, Bledsoe wondered why anyone wanted to retire to the tropics.

“Welcome to Guantanamo sir, ma’am” the first Marine said as Taylor and then Bledsoe came down, “Gunnery Sergeant Andrews and Lance Corporal Jacobi. My dad said that you’d be coming.”

Gunnery Sergeant Michael Andrews had grown up in the Secret Service lifestyle and had nothing but respect and admiration for his father. His father had served in the military prior to joining the Service and encouraged his son to do the same when he initially expressed interest in following in his footsteps.

He took his father’s advice and enlisted in the Marines immediately after graduating from High School. He’d initially planned on sweating out a tour and getting some college courses completed before finishing up his Degree and joining the Secret Service. That plan fell through when he discovered that he loved the Corps too much to leave it behind.

Consequently, several years, promotions, and deployments later he found himself at his current assignment. His only concerns in life were accomplishing his present objective before moving on to the next ones.

“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said standing so that Bledsoe was completely blocked from view and shaking Andrews’ hand, “I imagine that you know why I’m here.”

“Affirmative Agent Taylor,” Andrews answered, “and if you would take a vest from Lance Corporal Jacobi here,” he gestured to his fellow Marine who was holding two bulletproof vests, “we’ll get moving.”

Taylor walked up to Jacobi, took a vest from him and strapped it on before climbing into the front seat of the jeep.

“You must be Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews said shaking her hand. “My dad wanted to let you know that there will be a plane here tomorrow to take you back to the homeland.”

“Thank you Gunnery Sergeant,” Bledsoe answered earning a smile from the Gunnery Sergeant before taking the vest from Jacobi and sitting next to him in the back of the jeep. Bledsoe was extremely upset about not being able to stay for the entire interrogation. But, she remembered what Assistant Director Andrews had said before she and Taylor left and knew that she was fortunate to be getting to do as much as she was. Gunnery Sergeant Andrews started up the jeep and the four of them drove off.

“What can you tell us about him?” Taylor asked after a few moments.

“Nothing,” Andrews answered, “we took his biometrics and a DNA sample when we processed him. But he doesn’t show up anywhere on the grid. We’ve even run his info through INTERPOL, and we still come up empty. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“Have you questioned him,” Taylor asked, “please tell me that you’ve got something we can build on.”

“Some of the MPs have questioned him,” Andrews replied, “HUMINT will work on him later. All he’s said so far is…” he paused trying to remember, “Lance Corporal Jacobi, what did he say?”

Corporal Jacobi took out a piece of paper and read the writing on it. “He said, ‘war is declared and battle come down.’ Then later when we asked what he meant by that he responded ‘The ice age is coming with a meltdown expected, but I have no fear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taylor asked, “Is this guy part of some terrorist organization? Maybe eco-terrorism?”

Bledsoe, who had been mouthing what was said after “…the ice age is coming,” laughed from the backseat. Taylor and Jacobi both turned to look at her.

“What the hell is so funny?!” blurted Taylor rudely, “is that some kind of code that you and all your assassin cohorts use?!”

Andrews and Jacobi shot confused sideways glances at the sound of Taylor’s voice.

“When you question him later,” Bledsoe answered slightly annoyed but with a hint of her earlier laugh, “ask him if he lives by the river?.” There was a pause while all three of the men in the jeep got confused looks on their faces. “Don’t you guys ever listen to The Clash?!” She asked the last part in a voice that suggested a simultaneous disbelief and disgust, “That’s paraphrased from London Calling.”

“Huh,” Jacobi said, “thank you ma’am. We’ve been trying to figure that out for hours.”

The rest of the drive passed by in silence, the embarrassment of Bledsoe’s comment and his own outburst festered within Taylor’s mind the entire way. Taylor and Bledsoe got their visitor’s passes as they entered through the Northeast gate. They drove near the facility and then got out of the jeep, leaving their bags inside.

“Sir, ma’am, I recommend you be quick,” Andrews said as he led them to an interrogation room after they checked their weapons, “because his lawyer is on his way down and you know once he gets here we’ll be very limited in what information we can get.”

Taylor and Bledsoe were silent as they made their way down the hallway. Both of them were thinking of what they were going to do next, and relishing the feel of the air-conditioned building. All the anger and frustration that Taylor was feeling since the assassination was threatening to come out, but he was keeping things in check by reminding himself that he had a job to do and needed to be focused.

Bledsoe replayed every aspect of the night Saunders was shot inside her head, completely aware that her assigned mission at the detention facility was to identify the suspect. Having not seen either man’s entire face that night, and not having had any time to watch the news or read the papers since the assassination, all she had to go on was a pair of Prussian blue eyes, and she knew that it would be almost impossible to postively identify him based on that feature alone.

The only other traits she had to go on were views of both of them from behind dressed in black. She had grappled up close and personal with the one they had in custody, but didn’t think that the guards would be keen with her fighting him again as a means to identify him based on his technique.

“Well,” Andrews said breaking them out of their respective trances, “there he is.”

The two agents looked through the one-way glass at the man who didn’t exist. He wore an orange jumpsuit and was shackled by handcuffs and leg irons. He sat calmly with his hands folded. The people observing him didn’t know what to make of his appearance. He didn’t have a look that suggested he was uncomfortable, or confident, or even crazy. He just sat complacently and occasionally twiddled his thumbs or drummed his fingers.

“You can do whatever you want with him,” Andrews said, “we’ve turned off the camera and Lance Corporal Jacobi and I will be going out to the front to wait for the lawyer.”

“Is there anything else we should know about before we go in there?” Taylor asked.

“Only that we turned off the air-conditioner,” Andrews answered, “but I don’t think it’s having any effect on him.”

“I know,” Jacobi interjected in disbelief, “it’s crazy. One time the A/C went out in our office building and we thought we’d die. He’s been in there for more than two hours and hasn’t even shown any sign of discomfort. Seriously, I’ve seen locals here break down under conditions like what this guy’s been through.”

“In any case,” Andrews continued, “until the lawyer gets here, he’s all yours.”

The Marines then walked back down the corridor. Taylor and Bledsoe both looked at Odin for a few more moments before Taylor faced Bledsoe.

“You stay here. I don’t need you interfering with my interrogation and telling your friend how to escape.”

Taylor entered the interrogation room and closed the door behind him before Bledsoe could reply. She settled for looking through the glass at the events transpiring inside the room.

Taylor walked in and stood on the other side of the table from where the prisoner sat. It was obvious that the man’s captors hadn’t made anything easy on him. He was unshaven and filthy, and it didn’t take a Bloodhound to notice that he hadn’t bathed in quite some time. The backs of his eyes were red with bags under them, and yet the expression on his face was one of confidence. It was clear that the prisoner was in control, if only in his own mind.

Taylor paused for a moment, waiting for the prisoner to make the first move. The bare walls in the room and the empty atmosphere were a stark contrast to the unexpressed tension in the air between Taylor and the man sitting down in front of him.

“Hey,” the prisoner said snapping his fingers and speaking in a confident voice devoid of any accent, “I recognize you from the pavilion. Although, I have to admit it’s a little difficult with that thing over your nose.”

“Who the hell are you?” Taylor said as calmly as he could manage, “tell me that much and this little interview will go a lot better for you.”

“Okay,” the prisoner said in a hoarse whisper, “you caught me, so I guess that it’s time to fess up to everything.”

Taylor sat down and leaned forward, interested to know just who the man across from him was.

“My name is Clark Kent, and when I’m not undermining the reputation of law enforcement agencies, I’m a mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet.” Raising his voice to normal levels, the prisoner quipped. “Does that work for you?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Taylor answered trying to suppress the anger welling up inside him. “If you don’t want to tell us who you are then that will become your problem soon enough. However,” he paused briefly to ensure that he had Odin’s attention, “I would like to know how you were able to pull that off.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Odin asked.

“How were you…” Taylor said, pausing to regain his composure, “…able to infiltrate security, bring in what I can only imagine was a sniper rifle, literally dodge bullets, one of my colleagues tells me you and another man literally disappeared in front of her, and then there’s the matter of you fighting off around two dozen well-trained men.”

“Well,” the prisoner answered acting like he was thinking hard, “I suppose it all started back when I was fifteen and I began wondering why that cartoon bird keeps eating Cocoa Puffs when they clearly make him mentally unstable…”

“Shut up,” Taylor said with a calm but annoyed tone, “if you aren’t going to give me a straight answer then just say so.”

“I can deal with that. But seriously, do you think that you’re going to get any real information from me?”

“It would be in your best interest,” Taylor answered. “It would help your case and prevent your jailers from using any unpleasant means to obtain information that you’re withholding.”

The shackled prisoner started laughing after Taylor’s last statement. Taylor stared at him with a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

“You know what’s funny?” drawled the man in the orange jumpsuit. “You actually think that I’m stuck here, that you’ve got me locked up.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” Taylor said, “but look around. You can’t get any more stuck than you are.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” came the confident reply, “I’m only here as long as I want to be. I can leave anytime I want. And there is nothing you, or anyone else, can do to prevent that.”

Bledsoe had been watching and listening to all the proceedings. She found herself being amused by the man who was trying Taylor’s patience more than anyone she’d ever seen. She was also paying close attention to everything she could observe about him now that he wasn’t in his tactical clothes. As she continued to take in everything she could, she tried to remember as much as possible from the incident two nights ago.

Staring intently at Odin, but mindful of her surroundings, she could hear a few people approaching where she was standing, but kept her gaze fixed on the shackled man.

“Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews called out as he approached. Bledsoe turned to see him and Jacobi escorting a short man with a receding hairline and a constant twitch on the left side of his face.

“How’s it going in there with your partner?” Andrews asked.

“I don’t think he’s making any real progress,” she replied honestly. “And who are you?” she politely asked the short man.

“I’m the counsel for the accused,” he answered in a nasally voice, “and from the looks of things you’ve had enough private time with my client.” Moving to the door, he entered the room and pulled up a chair next to his client. Bledsoe watched him share some words with Taylor, who then left the room, leaving the accused to confer with his counsel.

As he closed the interrogation room door, Taylor vented his frustration. “Okay Bledsoe, can you give us anything on that degenerate?”

“I can’t say whether he was the one who pulled the trigger,” she said, “but I can tell you for sure that he was the one I fought with and not the one who jumped me.”

“And how the hell can you tell that?” Taylor asked still in his frustrated tone.

“I got the feeling that the guy who jumped me was a lot quieter than he is. And besides,” she took another good look at Odin, “his eyes aren’t the same.”

“You never mentioned that you’d seen his eyes,” Taylor said still frustrated.

“I didn’t think it was relevant at the time,” Bledsoe answered, “but the man who jumped me had Prussian blue eyes. In any case, this isn’t him.”

“Who’s going to be prosecuting him?” Taylor asked Andrews.

“We’re still trying to figure out whose jurisdiction he falls under,” Andrews answered, “I already told you that he doesn’t show up at all on the grid. We can’t even place where he’s from. Our hands are tied until we can figure out some kind of jurisdiction. We can only get away with keeping him here for so long.”

“Well,” Taylor said with his back to Bledsoe, standing between her and Andrews, “we should try to pressure him into giving us his accomplice. At the very least we can take the death penalty off the table.”

Realizing that her part was done, Bledsoe started off down the hallway.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Corporal Jacobi called out as she walked past him while Taylor and Andrews continued their conversation, “but if you would like to rest before you head back, we can provide you with a temporary hooch.”

“That would be very nice,” Bledsoe answered. She had been so caught up in everything that was going on and her arguments with Taylor throughout the trip down that she hadn’t noticed how exhausted she was. She could never sleep on a plane.

“This way then ma’am,” Jacobi replied before leading Bledsoe down the corridor and outside.

The sun had set, the moon and stars now decorating the evening sky. Jacobi took Bledsoe to the jeep and drove her to an area near the barracks. He led her to a room near the front where a cot had been set up with a pillow and a blanket.

“I’m sorry that we can’t offer you more, ma’am,” Jacobi said, “I’m afraid this is the best we can do on short notice.”

“This is fine,” Bledsoe said as she sat down on the cot and placed her bag on the floor, “thank you.” Jacobi nodded and excused himself, leaving Bledsoe to her new accommodations.

Bledsoe took off her shoulder holster and placed it on the floor next to her bag. She stretched out on the cot and stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t help thinking of the man that she could only refer to as Clark Kent and the fact that his accomplice was still out there somewhere. It tore her apart inside to remember that she was going to have to sit it out while others searched for the accomplice and eventually prosecuted Clark Kent. Within minutes, her exhaustion took over and she drifted into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming almost immediately after falling asleep. She was on another assignment and patrolling her designated area. As she pacing around, she turned and saw the same eyes of the man who had jumped her from the shadows in the pavilion. She stood facing him, not knowing what to do.

Her assailant just stood and faced her. She stared into his eyes, the image that had been indelibly burned into her psyche since the brief moment when she had seen them. After what seemed like an eternity, Bledsoe spoke.

“Who are you?” she asked, the dream mists blocking all sounds from her earpiece, masking all else from her surroundings.

The figure just stood where he was, immobile. Bledsoe stared straight ahead at him, transfixed, searching to take in anything new. Knowing his height from seeing the back of him, she endeavored to fill in the rest.

She remembered the G.I. Joe comic books her older brother Hunter collected and used the character named Snake-Eyes to construct a form for the bane of her existence. She waited in anticipation, and then held her breath when he reached his hand forward in a motion that suggested he was about to remove whatever kind of mask he was wearing and reveal his face.

At that moment, the blaring sound of a siren piercing the night sky jarred her awake.

#novel #action-adventure #fantasy #historical fiction

1 note · View note

jojosbizarreadventur · 4 years

Text

Time’s Crusade: Prologue (00) and Chapter One (01)

also available on AO3 (under emih)

Summary: Yesterday in 2011, your husband Noriaki and close friend Jotaro were both murdered together just months before your university graduations. The day before yesterday, you discovered that your nerve-wracking IUI procedure was successful. Two months before that day, said close friend made a proposition to the both of you due to your husband’s recently-discovered infertility.

Today in 1988, you’re over 20 years into the past of an alternate universe, suddenly tasked with trailing after different versions of your late husband and close friend as they travel with unfamiliar faces to Egypt, determined to confront the man you now work for.

And in the following days, you discover how easy it was for your sentiments to change.

Prologue

1988 || Egypt

“My family back in America has a history of entering politics,” the man with the orange robing concluded after his spiel. His fingernails lightly tapped on the cold stem glass before him. “’S not for me, personally.”

Across from him was his blond, brooding boss— a man far beyond his actual age with an interesting penchant for sadistic activities… if it meant he’d get what he’d expressed a desire for. He was a very persistent man, and though he had only awakened less than five years ago, there was already plenty of time for him to outline his next endeavors. The man in the orange robing did not have much knowledge of his boss’s other deeds or requests, nor did he want to know them.

Except for this one, because he was reportedly going to play a prominent role in its execution. For a new hire, he knew of its impressiveness. It was too early to celebrate, however, as he later discovered that the parameters set for him were quite… particular, and this conversation was supposed to clear a few issues up. This was already confirming that today was going to be a relatively uneventful 24th of November.

His boss let out a hum in content.

“Quite the history your lineage has,” his boss observed, mildly intrigued. “Had I bothered to… ‘survive’ the boat trip to America, perhaps I would have encountered that amusing ancestor of yours someday.”

The man in the orange robing cheekily nodded.

Subsequently, his boss pivoted the conversation.

“Your Stand’s abilities,” his boss reaffirmed with a firm tone of voice. “Last time we conversed you only disclosed a brief overview of them, though I’d like to be enlightened even more.”

“What would you like to focus on?” the man with the orange robing asked in anticipation.

It wasn’t often that he’d have such a thorough conversation on his Stand, Take Five. For years he has benefited from anonymity as he learned and practiced the abilities he was born with and aware of— a slight surprise to his boss, nonetheless. To speak of it so freely is… well, it’s taking a bit of time for him to get used to.

His boss’s sharp golden eyes stayed on him.

“Its limitations.”

Yes, of course.

“…It doesn’t have many restrictions, as far as I know,” the man in the orange robing confessed, pursing his lips afterwards.

His boss let out another hum. “Elaborate.”

The man with the orange robing smirked. “Whatever or whoever travels to a different dimension must have the entirety of their body enclosed between the two objects or surfaces that I choose to use. As I am just about finished with the task you’ve assigned to me, uh… I recently had an encounter with Hollis… Haruo Joestar and his daughter in their home in the previous dimension I visited.”

“Hollis Joestar?” his boss repeated, raising a brow in curiosity. He initially showed no sign of recognition towards the name. That must’ve been that dimension’s one of many descendants of JoJo— Jonathan… if that dimension’s Jonathan was anything like the one he currently owned the body of.

The alternate dimensions themselves show no restrictions in diversity, as he realized from the man in the orange robing’s accounts the other day. In another dimension, his counterpart was apparently living in modern suburbia with some bastard child of his, left behind by one of his feasts. Imagine him, Dio, being constrained to such a setting! He was connected to a Joestar even then, as a counterpart of Jonathan’s great-great-grandson lived right next door.

The man in the orange robing quickly got rid of that Joestar, per his request. That one didn’t even have a Stand, making the kill effortless. Needless to say, Dio slept soundly that day.

“His wife Sadako Kujo is a jazz pianist, away on tour… his teenage daughter Jitsuko attending school until she decided to ditch,” he sourly clarified, snapping Dio back to this account. “Haruo— as he calls himself— tried to fight me with his own Stand as Jitsuko aided in the effort. You know, I don’t think Ms. Sadako would be thrilled to find her decapitated husband and her dismembered daughter left to bleed and rot, upon returning. Haruo and Jitsuko were much too righteous, acting as if following after me would prove something of themselves…”

“As all Joestars are,” Dio mockingly moped, before backtracking. “By any chance, did Hollis have a father named Joseph?”

The name had suddenly clicked.

How could it have escaped his mind? Upon ‘awakening’ near the Canary Islands, he spent the time travelling as he recuperated (gladly with the help of willing candidates). One of his first tasks was to find the outcome of the Joestar lineage— it had been nearly a hundred years since the events on that ship, and surely the country girl that Jonathan ended up marrying would’ve drowned while escaping.

In fact, she did not, much to his dismay. He didn’t know where she was found, but she was found and was pregnant, as she had given birth to a son some months after. That son had married and his wife had given birth to the now-old man that dares to constantly watch him. Of course Dio knew that Joseph was watching him— he had been for some time, now, with the help of his recently-acquired Stand. That old intrusive man had made a name for himself as a real-estate mogul and furthered the lineage with a daughter, who also had a son.

Anyhow, he had been keeping tabs.

Hollis Joestar must have been the counterpart of Joseph’s daughter— goodness, the names were even variations of one another. Likewise, Jitsuko would’ve been the counterpart of her son.

“Uh…” the man with the orange robing trailed off with a pensive expression. “I recall him having a mother named Josephine, if that’s what you mean.”

Of course, the only aspect that was different in that dimension was their sexes. If this holds true, however, Dio would have been a woman. If his counterpart still awakens after a century in the deep depths of the ocean and still feels the need to eliminate the rest of the Joestar family, then at least that dimension was staying relatively faithful to this one.

Though…

“I see,” his boss responded, body staying stiff. “What other limitations are you, at the very least, aware of? For example…you exist in the other dimensions as well, do you not? Your abilities are quite unique, after all…”

“Well, yes, of course, I exist in others too,” the man in the orange robing confirmed as a matter-of-fact. “But I’m the only one that has a Stand, thus I’m the only one who can travel.”

As a young teen, he had accidentally encountered a counterpart of himself while trying out his newly-discovered ability of dimension-hopping. Though, that one showed no sign of being a Stand user. Instead, he was far away, taking no notice of his counterpart’s Stand as he competed in a chess competition with another teen that suspiciously resembled his now-boss. Luckily, he had no interest in meeting that chess-playing counterpart.

He had an inkling that the outcome would’ve been disastrous.

—

[STAND NAME] and [STAND MASTER]

???

—

Dio hummed in vague interest now. The man in the orange robing definitely had a peculiar ability. Within a year of possessing his Stand and encountering users that now work for him, he had never seen anything like it before. He was just starting to realize the extent— the wide range of Stand abilities, even with his own recently-realized ability to stop time. Fortunately, the ability of dimension-hopping was being utilized by someone who had the wits to use it to his advantage as he dedicated himself to the mission assigned by his boss, Dio. It was as if the mission was perfectly crafted for a man of his caliber… because it was.

“The task that I’ve assigned to you, I believe, was executed wonderfully.”

Based on the very detailed accounts that the man in the orange robing had been graciously giving to him per day, he was well aware of the man’s success. He should expect to be paid handsomely; he definitely deserved it.

“You should be just about finished visiting the dimensions we’ve targeted, then,” Dio continued. Oh, how much he wanted to gloat! He was already feeling the need to assign him another task. If his dedication to this one was any indication of his loyalty to him, Dio, then surely he’d have the chance to milk him of his abilities. Besides, the man already had his bud of cells implanted in his head, so that chance was for certain.

The man in the orange robing tentatively exhaled, pursing his lips.

At this action, his boss suddenly raised a brow. His back straightened just a smidgen— why had the man exhaled in such a manner? Was he just about finished?

He was, wasn’t he?

Before the flesh bud, Dio had a sudden thought of what would happen if the man had never pledged loyalty to him. There could’ve been a chance that he’d encounter one of the Joestar descendants— Joseph and/or his grandson, maybe— and used his abilities to help them instead of him. He would’ve revealed his abilities to them… he would’ve shown them other dimensions containing their counterparts. The counterparts, after all, typically had similar self-interests amongst each other, as he now remembered another one of the accounts that the man in the orange robing had given him. He was also aware of another ability of his— the one where he’d be able to pull objects or even people out of another dimension. Thus, as one of the Joestars here already had intentions of seeking him, then perhaps…

That just wouldn’t do.

After the flesh bud, he made sure to prevent that from happening, let alone by a Joestar that wasn’t even from this damn dimension. He wasn’t really in the mood to personally take care of any other Joestar except the ones from this dimension, the ones he has familiarized himself with.

“I should be, but… um, I digress,” the man in the orange robing announced now, voice tight.

He was feeling guilty. His facial expression was giving those thoughts away— he swore that the dimension with the sex-switched Joestars was the last one— he himself had planned this, as well— but… there was something about that…

Indeed, Dio was curious about what he was going to say next. At the very least, it would be a nice courtesy to know why he wasn’t finished yet. He was already getting a bit off schedule here.

“…Jonathan Joestar’s great-great-grandson will be having a child in another dimension, and he’s the first counterpart to do so. He served as a surrogate father for his friend’s wife, and only mere hours ago did she discover her pregnancy.”

A Promise, Part 1

2011 || Japan

November 25 was when it happened. It hasn’t even been a whole fucking week.

The fact that you were managing to get through studying for final exams with that going on— swimming and flying around your head and its thoughts— was a goddamn miracle. You remembered the few times when your eyes would focus on some nondescript item around you, causing your hand to absentmindedly let go of whatever it held. A few acquaintances innocently approached you, asking if you were alright as you crammed in the library or the dining hall (all on the same day, as after a few hours you desperately needed a change of environment).

Besides those places and the convenience store nearby, you didn’t plan to go out anywhere else in public since it happened. Actually, you didn’t even want to go out and show yourself to all of Tokyo. You didn’t bother to show up to any of your classes today, disrupting your perfect informally-kept record of attendance.

Oh, I understand! Finals’ season is just ridiculous.

Hey, we’re gonna graduate soon, aren’t we? Just need to plow through and the year will be up.

Nah, calm down, no worries.

You’re majoring in engineering! Of course it’s going to be overwhelming as hell.

Shouldn’t you be used to that feeling by now?

You should be used to that feeling.

Actually, you already are. Though, it wasn’t test anxiety or whatnot that was bothering the hell out of you. Well, besides the fact that apparently, you come off as someone ridiculously worried about exams, so much so that no one could really identify any other issues with you…

But it hasn’t even been a whole fucking week. Just yesterday, on November 25.

Friday.

You were barely given enough time to process everything.

You actually weren’t even there when it happened, as that day, you were, well… you were four hours away by plane from Tokyo. Even with the distance, you were still too far and too late.

In no way did you want to spend the hard-earned money you got as a research assistant— which wasn’t much to begin with, but hey, it’s money— on a plane trip. However, nausea was slowly starting to kick in during the days before that, so you had no choice unless you ultimately decided to vomit on the way to or on the train.

Iwami-chō was coastal, located in the western region of Japan, and was where your family home was located. No one was staying there at the moment, but it would be inhabited again if your father traveled home from America, or if you had decided to attend a local university instead. You would normally stop by every few months to tend to the plants around your house or see a few old faces. Your husband was fine with that; he sometimes accompanied you even, when he wasn’t busy.

Yeah...

Your husband.

The first thing you missed was Noriaki Kakyoin’s scent, along with his warmth— physical and/or emotional. Now, you know that probably sounds fucking weird, but you’re already finding it hard to abruptly adjust to the lacked presence after being surrounded by it for a few years. You wouldn’t forget how his embraces felt, how his well-defined arms clad in his usual long sleeves would wrap around you tightly.

Or even in other circumstances, where he’d snake a naked arm around you in bed after sex. He’d pull you to his chest as you both retired for the night, skin still slightly sticky with a thin sheet of sweat on your faces, or cum near your thighs and lower abdomens— both fluids you both tried to clean post-orgasm. Beforehand, though, he always liked to savor the sight of your naked body before he’d help clean everything up and drift off to sleep.

He never hesitated to act so lovingly and genuine to you, even while generally being more on the reserved side. Nor did you ever hesitate to reciprocate those feelings. You remembered when he (abashedly) admitted to you that you were one of the few people that he could genuinely be himself around— this occurred sometime during winter break of your first year at university. That list of trustworthy people to Noriaki wasn’t very long in the first place, he said, and you understood. His past, as he also disclosed to you, definitely had an influence on that. Your heart reached out to him— you knew he was a man that experienced a lot throughout his life. The least you could do was to make him look forward to his future.

Wait.

You’re… getting carried away.

—

What happened yesterday happened at around 4 PM. You were still at Iwami-chō, and… you think you were talking to an old classmate of yours who dropped by. Sitting at the heated low table drinking warm tea, reminiscing about high school before you had moved to Tokyo while she opted for the local university. A small part of you became jealous, nonetheless; you remembered the visits to the vast sand dunes and the coastal inlet a short drive away or the walks to and from school on the pavement near the ocean, whiffing the scent of brine almost daily. Your memories here before leaving for university all came back at once.

Though, you couldn’t remember the events of today so vividly anymore, because upon arriving back to Tokyo late at night, everything that happened earlier was immediately wiped from memory. All you started to remember was what happened the second you arrived. To be so innocent and naïve, speaking with a friend and expecting to return to the small apartment you and your husband both shared later that evening, while said man was getting murdered in said place during that time. There was no doubt that he, too, had the same thoughts on when you’d arrive home before he wasn’t capable of thinking any longer.

…You couldn’t believe it when you found out. There was no fucking way, and yet it still happened…

The neighbors had heard a loud commotion coming from your apartment around that time, first mistaking it as your husband and you having sex (which was strange to think about, but… if you were in a hell of a better mood now, you’d be snickering at that assumption— maybe Noriaki would too as he had a hidden knack for that type of humor). Initially, they were extremely— and you mean extremely— pissed off to hear such noises coming from the apartment next door/across the hall, especially as some had children they wanted to protect the ears of. They were just about ready to collectively write complaint letters for the building’s manager on you two.

Though their suspicions became gradually more gruesome as they heard objects break, men yelling, walls banging, floor thudding, and whatnot.

Suddenly, the sound died completely.

It became eerily quiet.

…they didn’t like that at all.

Anyway, it was almost 9 PM when you came home.

You remember collapsing to your knees upon arriving, your kneecaps bluntly coming into contact with the hard flooring. They stung— you remembered, somehow— and the skin covering them probably reddened, but that was the least of your worries.

One could imagine your face when you first saw fucking barricade tape in front of the route to yours and Noriaki’s apartment. At least a billion fucking questions swarmed through your mind, all variations of the same one…

What in the ever-loving fuck happened?

Turns out, your neighbors had been the one to call the police while you were away. Initially calling to complain about the noise coming from the apartment in hopes of some police intervention, there was another reason they decided to call.

The neighbors had reportedly heard three different male voices in the apartment, because maybe the walls were a bit thin in this building. Though, they were aware that a woman lived there too… but why weren’t they hearing her voice? Why were there two more men, also? As far as they knew, one man and one woman lived in the apartment, as they both usually left the building around the same time as the neighbors who were fellow university students, possibly-hungover salarymen, or the mothers taking their children out with her as she did errands.

You weren’t alerted of anything while you were in Iwami-chō, so everything became a nasty surprise for you, increasingly becoming more gruesome as the night went on… increasingly making you in denial. Your train of thought started to shut down, refusing to even acknowledge the circumstances. This wasn’t… this wasn’t what you wanted. Never in your life did you actually want this to happen to you— fuck, no one wanted this type of shit to happen to them— but of course, you were one of the unfortunate ones that night.

Why one of them?

Well…

“Let me see my husband!” you uncharacteristically shrieked, trying to advance to the apartment door and barge through it. Your arms were held back by a police officer who rushed over to you, locking your arms behind your back as you tried to use all the strength you developed over the years to get the hell out of that strong officer’s hold and see the man you had only just seen this morning.

This morning, like every other morning, Noriaki had his bed-hair— red locks poking out here and there while the voluminous bang hung on the side of his face was unbelievably frizzy. He also had the cases of morning breath and morning wood, which always made you snicker.

This morning, which only happens if he has time, Noriaki offers to cook breakfast. He knows that like him, you usually leave the house at a designated early time for class, grabbing the most convenient food item for your commute from yogurt to pre-sliced fruit. Though, as you had no class today, and you were also traveling back to Iwami-chō for the day, you decided to squeeze in the rare luxury of sitting down to eat breakfast with your husband.

This morning, which he always loves to do, Noriaki plants kisses on your neck and collar bones, everywhere on your face, and on your knuckles. He nuzzles his face into your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist; though, as you’re a little shorter than him, you sort of feel bad by how he has to tilt his head in order for his chin to reach your shoulder. His embraces are usually warm, tight, though this time he’s a little cautious in his hug, knowing that there’s life starting to grow inside you.

This morning, and all mornings, afternoons, and evenings, he tells you he loves you. He can’t wait to be a father. He lightly rubs your lower abdomen; albeit, without any sign of a bump, but he knows there will be one at some point. He wishes you a safe trip to your hometown, wishing that he could go with you, but he can’t. He has class today. He never liked skipping class, despite his close friend opting to do so nearly every day back in high school, as Noriaki recounted.

You understood his wishes, but you knew that he’ll be back for you when you return later. He always was.

He always was, he always was…

But why wasn’t he coming back now?

“Let— me— see— my— husband!” You emphasized even more, now. You didn’t care anymore if anyone nearby found your shrieks jarring. You kept repeating this— your voice was hoarse, your limbs were getting tired from trying and trying, just hoping you’d get to have even one last look at your husband. It didn’t matter about the state he was in; you barely even considered the chance that there may not even be enough of him left to actually see.

Of course, you fucking sobbed. Your cheeks were damp with tears that just settled on your skin after the rounds of sobs, but even as your eyes stung, you stared at the door. You stared at the door in longing, hoping— just hoping that your husband would be warm-blooded and well, opening the door and sauntering through and over to you. His lean body would be against yours as you both embraced one another, your head resting on his chest.

The front door of yours and Noriaki's apartment opened.

Two body bags were being carried— wait. Fuck, hold on. Why… why were there… two…

Your breath hitched in your throat, limbs freezing in place upon realization.

The other bag contained a body that was quite longer than the other one, as if… as if… no, no, no, fuck no… as if it was meant for a person of uncommonly tall stature.

You were, quite literally, going to have a massive fucking breakdown.

Noriaki wasn’t alone. He wasn’t alone— he wasn’t alone at all. Jotaro was with him— it had to be Jotaro, because who the fuck was as tall as Jotaro here. Jotaro was keeping him company while you were gone for the day… he doesn’t usually have class on this day, either— oh my fucking God—

The sight of your husband— well, you didn’t really have to see what remained of him to know that it was Noriaki in the other bag— made you queasy. Normally, you could stomach this sort of stuff, but you could zip down that bag if you were permitted to and probably both cry and vomit at the sight.

You didn’t want to believe it.

You didn’t want to believe that Noriaki wasn’t alive, but dead inside a bag and being carried out by gloved and protected individuals. You didn’t want to believe that Jotaro was dead, either. You didn’t want to believe that both of them were murdered at the same time, at the same place. You didn’t want to believe that you’d never see them again…

Your legs felt weak. Hushed conversations and worried whispers from your adult neighbors were all surrounding your ears, but none of their words were distinguishable. You could practically feel the irritation, grief, and impatience radiating off of them. Your eyes didn’t focus on anyone in particular anymore. Law enforcement workers were walking in and out with equipment, and every time you’d see that door open, you’d see varying-sized splatters of blood and broken or fallen furniture through that opening.

Your mind went blank as tears effortlessly flowed down your cheeks.

A lot happened afterwards, but you were pretty much on autopilot for the next few hours.

You wished it was just a mere nightmare.

Yet, you didn’t even sleep that night, rendering that wish useless.

Well, actually, the lack of sleep was common practice for you, as you already had the tendency to stay up late at night just studying or carrying out various projects. Though during these times, you were still able to fit about an hour or two of sleep— it was fine.

This night, however, you actually didn’t sleep.

At all.

Initially, the events you witnessed were replaying over and over again as tears continued to collect, sting, and flow down from your eyes, wetting your pillow and the futon.

Though, eventually, your mind kept rewinding to events that you weren’t bound to forget any time soon.

Fall to Winter, 2008

It was mid-September— the start of the second semester— when you met Noriaki for the first time.

As it was yours and his first year of college, you were both taking an introductory programming class, and by chance ended up sitting next to one another.

By now, you were just about getting used to typical university life— studying, exams, more studying, some use of office hours, more exams, even more studying— with some extra room for clubs, research, and trying not to bawl from stress in your bedroom. As an engineering major, your GEs had much more weight than other majors, so you were frantically trying to keep up with your studies as your high school friends— non-STEM majors now— were going out and not even giving any semblance of a shit about university.

It didn’t help that despite you and your high school friends all coming from Iwami-chō, most of you got into different universities throughout Tokyo. You wouldn’t be able to see everyone else as often due to the distance. Even while cramming, you couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely at times.

That is until Noriaki decided to sit next to you in that programming class. To be fair, he did admit to you later that there weren’t many seats left in the room that day.

Maybe that was a good thing. Whatever those superstitious blog posts you’ve occasionally come across in the past spewed about the existence of fate seemed to come back to memory.

He, too, had felt some inexplicable impulse to sit next to you. Initially, it piqued his interest— he played with the idea of you being like him, but he didn’t mind it any longer as you showed none of the signs.

Anyway, for the first month, neither of you spoke a word to each other. At the very least, you did acknowledge each other’s presence, such as making what-the-fuck side glances at each other when the professor says something out of both of your grasps. It was an oddly comforting coping mechanism to the rigor of the course.

You occasionally glance over at him— his quick hand as he writes notes, or when he puts on his black-framed reading glasses right before class begins. Early on, you did notice the little cherry earrings that he wears, which oddly worked for him. Green seemed to be his favorite color, as different hues of it were often incorporated into his outfits.

Likewise, he notices your fully-focused and pensive expression as you absorb all of the professor’s lecture. He remembered trying to think at one point of just how many oversized flannels you owned, as you wore variations of them a lot— you wearing flannel reminded him a bit of the old grunge fads he remembered seeing in American media as a kid (or, as Noriaki would later joke to you two or three years later, like the other earthy yama girls he’d see around campus), but he doubts you were intending to follow that style so religiously.

One day, however, Noriaki did something that surprised you.

He used some old scratch paper for outlining, but at the top in his perfect handwriting:

This class is tough 、 right? — Noriaki

He discreetly passes it to you as the professor continues to drone on about the new functions you all had to learn. You’re taking a few notes when you see the paper in your peripheral view, eyes slowly widening. Pausing from writing the next bullet point, you slowly glance from the paper to its sender Noriaki. He was staring back at you with lavender-grey eyes— something you hadn’t really taken the time to notice until now due to his reading glasses, but they were gorgeous.

You wait for the professor to turn to face the screen, which in that case you efficiently take the paper from him. At the top, you saw his words in his handwriting, which frankly made your characters look like shit.

You do write back, though:

Definitely! So many functions to learn 。 Syntax is too wordy 。 Headache-inducing 。:( ~ You

You swiftly hand the paper back to him, attempting to make it as unsuspicious as possible. Fortunately, no one really notices, as everyone else around you two is hastily writing down the notes. Anyway, you knew the information would be in the textbook, and you were betting that he probably knew too.

He’s silently snickering at your written response— you see the outer corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins, which was actually really cute— and he’s already writing his own response before handing the paper back to you.

Seriously that man had some nice handwriting.

You were probably blushing already; you lifted the back of your hand to your face as you read his response, feeling the sudden warmth that arose in your cheeks— damnit.

I agree! (╬ಠ益ಠ) !!!!!

[LOL] Anyway what degree are you studying for? — Noriaki

You stifled your giggle at his detailed drawing as you wrote:

Electrical and Electronic Engineering

Yeah I know I’m lame… ~ You

You swore that the professor looked in both yours and Noriaki’s direction right as you were about to give the paper back to him. Though it was merely the glare of light against the middle-aged man’s lenses, and he actually wasn’t looking at you two at all. Slowly exhaling in relief, you hand him the paper, knowing you both were thinking the same thing.

Noriaki’s eyes widened a bit as he wrote another response.

What??? It’s actually cool

I’m pursuing Computer Science 。 I want to do game development one day 。

That’s lame!! >:O — Noriaki

And you both do this for the rest of class, definitely getting noticed by the professor who just decides that it’s really not worth his time to call you both out at that point.

that sounds super cool 、 what are you even talking about? ~ You

You think so? — Noriaki

Yes!!! ~ You

。

Hey so I see your name already… my name is Noriaki Kakyoin

You wanna review each other’s code?

Do you want to be ‘partners’ for the required peer review?

I think it will be really helpful 、 especially since we’re in related majors too

also since we sit next to each other ^_^

You snicker at the first question he wrote and crossed out— due to it sounding more like an innuendo— but you notice at the bottom… wait, oh—

It was his phone number.

Noriaki lets you keep the paper as the class comes to an end, the sound of everyone packing their utensils and whatnot filling the room. He’s going to head to his next class, he says aloud, as you were sliding your notebook inside your backpack, making you realize that that was the first time he had actually spoken to you aloud. His voice had a very warm timbre to it— it was really nice— and you glance up at him.

“Okay,” you responded, smiling at him. “What class?”

He’s lightly fixing the voluminous wavy bang on the side of his face as he answers you. You hadn’t really taken notice of that part of his hair either. Basically, there wasn’t much that you really took the time to observe about him. In the beginning, Noriaki was just the guy that chose to sit next to you in a class, and you didn’t think anymore would come from that.

Yet, it’s as if every feature of his was being thrown at you all at once— his slender body, his defined arms (his slim-fitted sweater was making it so obvious), his angular jawline, his… fuck, don’t look down there.

“Calculus,” he exaggeratedly groaned, snapping you out of your thoughts. Noriaki didn’t seem to notice you eyeing him— well, if he did, he’s definitely not saying anything.

Wait, was he blushing?

You did giggle at his tone of voice, though, as he continued to speak in a relatively calm manner. “I’m here on campus until dinner time. I’ll be exhausted by then.”

“Not doubting that at all,” you cheekily commented. “I wish you luck… Noriaki. Hopefully, you know, our Single Variable Calculus class next won’t kill us before the semester ends.”

You wanted to laugh at his surprise with your words.

—

You met Noriaki’s friend Jotaro Kujo about a month after befriending him.

He wasn’t the most talkative man— something you quickly learned— but you could tell that he and Noriaki were very close. This became more obvious as you realized that it was as if Noriaki could read Jotaro’s thoughts and possible responses to anything he liked or annoyed him, for example.

Of course, Jotaro didn’t like that. Though, as Noriaki explained, it was easy enough to see right through that attitude of his.

On a whim, Noriaki decided to invite both you and Jotaro out to get coffee when you three weren’t busy. You and Noriaki had recently finished working on some coding project together a few days ago— which you both aced— and he thought going out sometime would be a good way to celebrate.

No, not that kind of ‘going out’. Though, you occasionally did play with the idea of you dating him, despite its unlikeliness.

You were certain that he just viewed you as a friend, someone he could rely on while you two were bearing the brunt of heavy workloads. He text-messaged you on his new model of cellphone— a recent birthday gift from his parents— and oftentimes discussed school-related matters. Usually, it was among the lines of clarification for due dates or specific requirements for assignments and projects. Never about anything else. Your relationship with Noriaki was strictly platonic… which was exactly how you tried to convince yourself.

Of course, the ‘what-ifs’ returned when he text-messaged you about something other than… you don’t know, using Swing or complaining about generics. Embarrassment quickly swelled up once you noticed your almost-immediate responses— totally not from surprise because Noriaki asked you to go somewhere with him other than the library— but it slowly dissipated as the conversation went on.

Noriaki: Hey 、 do you want to head out to that café near Rinshinomori Park later?

[Delivered at 16:32]

You: Hi! So you mean the one like 10 mins away from campus?

[Delivered at 16:32]

Noriaki: Yeah

[Delivered at 16:32]

You: My friend’s sister runs that café ww but yes sure (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[Delivered at 16:33]

Noriaki: That’s good!! Also, I didn’t know that ww

And if you don’t mind 、 I’d like to have a good friend of mine come too

He doesn’t like going out too often Σ(-᷅_-᷄ ๑ ) wwww but I asked him and he actually said yes

Finally

[Delivered at 16:35]

You: wwwww I don’t mind

Who is it?

[Delivered at 16:36]

“You said the sister of… your friend runs this place?” Noriaki remembered.

You nodded, silently thanking him as he chivalrously held the tempered glass door open for you. “Yeah— the one who swims for Hosei’s swim team.”

As you both had just finished taking an exam for your damned Calculus class today, you two decided to head to the café together. You waved at the owner, a woman only a few years your senior happily waving back as she held a canister of matcha powder.

Your friend, the sibling of the owner, was actually a friend of a friend; regardless, you all were treated the same by the owner as any other paying customer. There had been several occasions where you were invited to meet up with them and the rest of your friends here, though you had only gone about twice during the previous semester due to your cramped schedule.

On the other hand, were you feeling a bit guilty taking up the first chance of going here�� by mere coincidence— with Noriaki, despite that? Was this the best time to start feeling conflicted about showing up in the first place?

“Oh, it looks like he showed up already.”

Noriaki tapped your shoulder, cocking his head a bit in the direction of his friend. Snapping out of your guilt-ridden thoughts, your gaze suddenly followed.

There— he was sitting at the back corner of the café with his shoulders hunched over. You could see the long, large white coat that he wore, along with the white cap that had its bill pulled down to cover the top half of his face. His long legs— clad with black slacks— were stretched out under the table, his feet already reaching the back legs of the chair right across from him. From what you could observe based on how his unruly hair stuck out, the back of his hat was ripped. Surely, it was on purpose.

The last time you’d seen that style was… a long time ago— as in, when you guys were barely born— and you couldn’t help but silently snicker to yourself.

He glanced up, smirking at the sight of Noriaki. However, the fact that his red-haired friend brought company finally registered in his mind, and his stare slowly landed on you— the shorter young woman with the oversized coat. You couldn’t tell what color eyes he had, but you swore that his eyes widened for just a moment before narrowing at the sight of you.

Hm.

You already didn’t know what his deal was, because he did not look anywhere near happy to see you.

Trailing behind Noriaki, you both approached the wooden table. You momentarily stood at a distance and snickered as you saw him and his friend do some handshake involving fist-bumps. It was pretty cute, to be honest. Then, glancing over his shoulder, Noriaki gestured over at you and introduced you to his friend. All that was received in response was some eye-blinking and a curt nod, yet you didn’t hesitate to give him a small wave with your hand.

“This is my friend from high-school, Jotaro Kujo,” the red-haired man introduced him as you both situated yourselves. Incidentally, you had to sit right across from Jotaro, while Noriaki sat on your right. “But he goes to Kaiyodai.”

“Oh, really? What’s your degree in?” you suddenly asked Jotaro in surprise, eyes widening.

Due to entrance exams and research for college prep last year, you were familiar with that school’s engineering departments, despite being geared towards marine technology. In fact, you probably would’ve considered going there if you didn’t pass the exam for your current school. Just your luck that Noriaki was friends with another engineer, though—!

“—Marine Biology.”

“…oh.”

That was how you replied after a moment, nodding slowly as you gave him a dumbfounded expression. You were trying your best to hide your disappointment, but you suppose that it was your fault for jumping to conclusions so quickly.

Jotaro grunted in response.

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” he observed, frowning. His voice was a rich baritone, but his tone wasn’t anywhere near warm like Noriaki’s.

You purse your lips, silently cursing to yourself.

Geez, you were really hoping he didn’t pick up on your underwhelmed thoughts, but you probably weren’t making much of an effort to conceal any corresponding emotions. Your thoughts were not connected to the fact that he was doing marine biology— you thought that stuff was pretty cool— but were, admittedly, teetering towards selfishness.

Jotaro’s impression of you, on the other hand, was quickly souring. Were you going to judge him for his choice of degree or something? People being haughty weren’t foreign to him; Noriaki himself displayed such traits on occasion, which usually just made Jotaro roll his eyes. Though, you probably met Noriaki during one of those occasions.

Suddenly, he’s wondering where the hell Noriaki even met you. He’s not in the mood to deal with some woman who looks down on people only because of their university degree. What else would you look down on?

“Um, no, sorry, that’s not— not what I meant to come off as,” you began cautiously, looking directly into his blue-green eyes this time. “I… I know about their engineering departments.”

Jotaro slowly blinks at you, broad shoulders relaxing all of a sudden.

Perhaps you weren’t regarding the wonderful scientific study of marine biology with disdain. Though, that alone didn’t convince Jotaro.

Your brows furrowed, however.

Did you already offend him to the point of being tense? You barely conversed with Noriaki’s friend for ten minutes, and there’s a high chance you’re already on his hit list. Although Noriaki was friends with the both of you, he had been friends with Jotaro for much, much longer than with you. You were sure that he’d prioritize Jotaro’s feelings before yours solely because of that.

Jotaro cleared his throat, ignoring his previous thoughts towards you. “Oh, yeah. Maritime Systems, Marine Electronics & Mechanical, and Logistics & Information. What they do is pretty interesting. I don’t know too much about it, though.”

“Ah, yeah…” You scratched the back of your neck, nervously chuckling. Maybe it was best to put that slip-up behind you. “I’m doing Electrical & Electronics at Tokodai, so I thought… you know, you’d be doing engineering too…”

Jotaro let out a curt hum in response.

He gestured to both you and Noriaki, though the latter was avoiding your eyes. Albeit, he was giving all of your orders to the server who just appeared— Noriaki knew that Jotaro liked espressos like he did, while you told him what you wanted on the train ride here— but he intermittently gave Jotaro a pointed look.

“So you two met at school…”

“Yes,” Noriaki interjected after ordering, hoping to dissipate the tension between you two. He noticed your surprise from being cut off, as you were going to respond initially, though he chose not to comment on it in the event that he’d worsen things. “Yes, we did. We’re partners for our programming class.”

Jotaro slowly nodded, refusing to take his hardened eyes off of you. You lightly tapped your fingers on the table surface, avoiding his stare.

The red-haired man sighed.

He could already tell that, yet again, Jotaro met someone that ruffled his feathers.

“Ah, anyway, um…” he began, eyes darting between you and Jotaro again. Both of you blinked at Noriaki, puzzled by the hesitant expression he suddenly wore. “Eh… Jotaro. You’re… wearing different pants than the ones you usually wear.”

Jotaro absentmindedly picked at the collar of his black turtleneck. He’s suddenly reminded of eating the tagliatelle al ragù that his mother made and dropped off for him earlier, along with the hissed swears he let out when he spilled some of the noodles onto his pants and the rug beneath him.

“I stained my white pants,” he commented with a sour expression, trying to drown out the sudden sound of Noriaki’s snickers. “I haven’t worn these pants in a while.”

“They look a little like the pants from our old school uniform,” Noriaki observed, quickly glancing under the table to take a look. Jotaro gave him a deadpanned look, though he was even less thrilled when you opted to look under too, noticing how he— for some reason— wore two belts patterned with tessellated triangles. “…they’re not from a school uniform set, right?”

He scoffed. “Of course not. My old man bought these pants for me as a gift for Christmas last year— some designer American brand… you know how he is. I’m only wearing them as a last resort… I had them shoved somewhere in the back of my closet.”

“How thoughtful of you,” the redhead sarcastically complimented.

What Jotaro said made you raise a brow, so you decided to speak up. “You celebrate Christmas?”

Now, the black-haired man’s gaze was directed at you once again. Blue-green eyes pierced into your own, staring for a moment as his face had an unreadable expression.

He sighed.

“Yes.”

And that was all he replied to you, though you expected more of an explanation.

You slowly blinked at him, waiting for said elaboration. It never arrived. Both of you were awkwardly staring at each other until Noriaki cleared his throat to speak in Jotaro’s place.

“Jotaro’s mother’s side of the family— including his grandfather— is American,” Noriaki explained to you softly, briefly giving Jotaro a pointed look yet again due to his taciturnity. “Or, well, eh, American, but natively British and Italian—“

While refusing to stop staring— no, he was glaring— at you (what the hell), Jotaro abruptly and monotonously interjected, “—I’m half White.”

Well, that explained a lot. Like how he seemed like he could tower over every male in Japan, or how his face had hints of Eurocentric features, or how he pretty much seemed like he had the genes of a family that could bench press a fucking airplane.

You blinked quickly at him.

“So you must’ve learned English too when you were younger, no?” you inquired curiously. While living in the old, rural part of Japan for the first few years of being in the country, you haven’t really met a lot of native English speakers— not that it bothered you. You suppose that as alumni of a high school in a major metropolitan area, Noriaki and Jotaro would have more exposure to the language.

“Eh… sure,” Jotaro replied, uncharacteristically offhanded. All of a sudden, his glare was nonexistent, nor was he directly focused on you anymore.

Noriaki rolled his eyes. “He basically never paid attention during English class in high school, nor did he actually do the homework.”

Jotaro irritatedly sighed, and you swore a blush crept on his cheeks. Though, if it did, he was lucky that the bill of his hat covered most of it now that he pulled it down lower. “I didn’t need to,” he gruffly insisted. “I can understand English.”

“We’re speaking Japanese right now and we still had to take classes for twelve years,” Noriaki reminded exasperatedly.

The black-haired man grunted, avoiding both Noriaki’s deadpanned face and your own amused one.

Eventually, the coffee meant for the three of you arrived, its aroma wafting in front of you. As time went on— really slowly, you add— you started to observe a pattern as you all drank.

Noriaki spoke the most as you came in a close second, while all that Jotaro offered in your conversations were nods, hums, grunts, or one-word responses. When you would speak, usually to contribute to whatever Noriaki said before, you could notice Jotaro staring you down like a hawk. As if there’d be a time when you’d slip-up again as you talked, Jotaro was looking for yet another reason to dislike you.

And each time he’d done so, Noriaki would be on the brink of glaring back at him in response.

“I’m heading to the toilet,” you told Noriaki later as you began to stand up from your chair. Your coffee mug was only half-full at this point. “It won’t take long.”

“Alright,” he replied, smiling at you. Jotaro’s brows furrowed as you stood up and walked away. You left your coat and small backpack on the seat of the chair.

Turning his head to see where you were headed, which was the hallway to the bathroom, Jotaro whipped his head back to Noriaki. The redhead blinked back at him. He had been meaning to check up on his friend ever since you and him both arrived, because he clearly looked unsettled by your presence. This wasn’t new to Noriaki, however. Jotaro would easily get irritated by meeting new people the second they spoke, though he’d calm down considerably once he became better acquainted with them. It was a long process, but it happened.

All of a sudden, Star Platinum was manifested behind him.

Noriaki gave Jotaro a look of disbelief. This was a first.

Just how much did he dislike you already? He had never gotten his Stand out while meeting people before— which was already a risk by itself— but today of all days, he decides to summon it in a fucking coffee shop. Who knows if they’d end up getting into a quarrel with anyone else like them here?

“Who is that?” Jotaro hissed, using the purple humanoid Stand to double-check, ensuring that you were actually no longer in their proximity. Luckily, no one else in the shop seemed to notice its presence besides him and Noriaki, so that was one less issue to worry about. Star Platinum didn’t go very far— only to the beginning of the hallway— and noticed your absence. You weren’t lying, after all.

The last thing he wanted was for you to return, however, having forgotten something like— he didn’t know, tampons or some shit— and hearing him talk about you. There was also the possibility of you seeing Star Platinum if you returned, though he knew that his and Noriaki’s abilities were rare. Even if you were like them— which you weren’t, as Jotaro has already inferred— you’d probably pretend like you weren’t.

That’s what all the others do, anyway.

Noriaki massaged his temples with one hand. “I already told you— it’s the girl from my Java class. We formally met last month, even though we’ve been sitting next to each other since the semester started and put your fucking Stand away.”

“Yet you invited her to be… with us.” Star Platinum had already faded out of view, though Noriaki craned his neck a bit to make sure.

Jotaro really hadn’t changed one bit since high school. Granted, it hasn’t even been a year since graduation, and the memory of having to wear tailored suits for the event and celebrating afterwards was still fresh in Noriaki’s mind. He knew that Jotaro wasn’t exactly the type of person to completely change his attitude once he got to university.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” the redhead replied, brows creasing. “I like her and—“

Jotaro interjected with a raised brow, “—you like her?”

“I—“ Noriaki abruptly paused, suddenly realizing how that statement began. His face started to heat, color resembling his own hair. “That’s not what I— eh— um…“

His black-haired friend gave him a deadpanned look before rubbing his face with one hand, his hat being slightly pushed up in the process.

“Good grief.”

The redhead abashedly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, don’t ‘good grief’ me—“ Noriaki’s face scrunched up a bit, air exhaling through his nostrils as he silently fumed at his slip-up. “That’s… ugh, okay. I don’t want to, um… I don’t want to come off as some desperate loner to her.”

“Have you already?”

Noriaki rolled his eyes.

“No,” he boldly responded before backtracking. “…at least I hope not. I’d die if I already have.”

Another deadpanned look from Jotaro as he sipped his espresso.

“Jotaro, I’ve only known her for about two months,” Noriaki explained, gesturing with both hands on the table beside his now-empty cup. “This is the first time that I’ve done something with her that isn’t programming-related. I’m surprised she even said ‘yes’.”

Jotaro merely grunted in response, cueing Noriaki to continue speaking.

“I don’t want her to think that I’m… I don’t know, using her or, eh… leading her on purely for the sake of our grades, or… I guess something like that, you know?” he expressed bitterly.

“Noriaki, you just said earlier that you don’t want to come off as some ‘desperate loner’, yet now you’re saying that you don’t want to seem like you’re leading her on,” Jotaro dryly pointed out. “Those two actions don’t sound mutually exclusive, especially since we’re talking about you— self-proclaimed ‘epic gamer’ here…”

He started to trail off as a smirk arose on his face. Noriaki couldn’t help but titter with an amused glint in his eyes, even while he kicked Jotaro in the ankle right under the table.

“Stop it,” he amusedly dismissed.

“I’m serious,” Jotaro continued, vague hints of amusement still in his tone as he reached down to rub his ankle. “I think you should be honest with yourself, particularly about your feelings.”

Noriaki narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You aren’t even honest with your own feelings.”

“We aren’t talking about me here.”

“I’m not the one who always insulted my mom when she gave her goodbye smoochy to you before going to school, even though she knew you really cared—”

“—shut up,” Jotaro interjected, another blush creeping on his cheeks, though he hid his surprise and embarrassment with a glare. How he managed to forget that he used to walk to school with Noriaki nearly every day— when he didn’t ditch— was a mystery to him. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not,” Noriaki simply denied. “But… you’re right, though, about being honest about my feelings because— I mean, eh, I… I do like her. I like her very much— I… she’s smart, funny, warm… she seems like the type of person to really care about everyone, and makes everyone feel at ease… you know?”

Jotaro quirked a brow.

Hearing his red-haired friend speak so… fondly about someone was so strange. That lovey-dovey language… who even was Noriaki? Who the hell was Jotaro speaking with? That same Noriaki, the one who bothered to truly befriend only him in high school because of their shared and shamed ability? The one who turned occasionally up his nose at anyone and anything that didn’t meet whatever standards he had? The one who also liked watching baseball games, jammed out to Sting, and played with fruit every time he’d eat it?

Perhaps.

“Huh… you really do like her.”

“…yeah.”

Noriaki was beyond flustered at this point. Though, he guesses he should’ve expected that he’d be the one to change first upon entering university, between the two of them.

“I mean…” the black-haired man continued, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I personally don’t know if that’s how I’d describe her— I don’t know her that well. If you see her that way, considering you’ve known each other for a while, well… ah…”

“It’s not weird, is it?” Noriaki suddenly inquired, brows creasing in worry.

Jotaro was caught off guard by his words.

“What? N— no. It’s not weird. How the hell is that weird?”

Noriaki backtracked. “No— it’s just… you know. I’ve never… had feelings like this before. I’m not exactly an expert here.”

“Neither am I,” his friend gruffly confessed, absentmindedly playing with a nearby napkin sheet. At least Noriaki was self-aware about his situation, Jotaro thought. “But as I said, I do know you have to be honest with yourself about these kinds of things—“

Another kick in the ankle made Jotaro hiss in pain as he spoke. Noriaki subtly quirked his eyebrows in your direction. He conveniently ignored his friend’s glare and clenched jaw. You had just walked out of the hallway, seeing Jotaro’s head hung a little lower and Noriaki’s warm smile as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Sorry if I took too long,” you apologized as you got yourself seated again. “I was helping this tourist out in the restroom, you know how they are…”

Jotaro lifted his head to eye you yet again.

“No, no, you’re fine,” Noriaki calmly dismissed with a wave of a hand and a smirk. He glanced over at Jotaro again, who resorted to narrowing his eyes at him.

As you settled back into your wooden chair, your eyes slowly traveled from Noriaki to Jotaro, and vice versa. Pursing your lips, you couldn’t help but feel something off all of a sudden. Maybe they met someone they disliked while you were gone? A spilled order? Noriaki’s green utility parka nor Jotaro’s impeccable and long white coat showed any signs of stain. So…

“Ah… did something… happen while I was gone?” you asked cautiously, eyes now darting between the two.

Jotaro merely continued to stare, slowly using his foot to apply pressure on Noriaki’s brown boot. Noriaki pursed his lips, feeling the weight of his black-haired friend’s oxford-clad foot. He knew exactly what Jotaro was thinking… what he wanted him to say, to be specific.

“No— eh, nothing happened,” he hastily responded, quickly lifting a hand to fix his voluminous bang. His hand was starting to tremble; he hoped you didn’t notice his swelling nervousness. “We were just talking.”

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded in response.

You heard Jotaro grunt across from you.

Turning your head to him, you could see that he averted his eyes. He rested his chin on his palm as he propped his elbow up on the table, staring at some indistinct area on the hardwood floor. The indistinct sounds of chatter from the other café occupants filled all of your ears, as the three of you didn’t bother to comment on whatever happened any longer. ‘Just talking’ didn’t cut it for you, if you had to be honest, but you doubt you could figure out what was really going on without potentially making the situation worse. You were sure that it wasn’t any of your business, either.

All of a sudden, you felt as if a breeze had drifted past you. It wasn’t the entrance, however, as you three were all too far from that intermittently-opening door. Your back abruptly started to feel a lot colder, as if you sat directly in front of an open industrial freezer. Though, you didn’t mind it as you chose to speak up again.

“Ah, well…” you began, giving both Noriaki and Jotaro a small smile. “Anyway, uh, about the tourist I was helping out in the restroom. She was very nice— a tourist from Italy, she told me. She was telling me about wanting to bring her uncle Caesar here to Japan, but… he’s quite old, and he’s heard bad stories from his longtime best friend, apparently. So she decided to bring her nephew Bruno— yeah, I know, I see both of your faces. I don’t even know why she bothered to tell me such personal details, what a bizarre woman…”

As the time together went on, there was one thing you had no clue about. Jotaro had manifested Star Platinum with the sole purpose of glaring you down from behind when he wasn’t able to.

There was at least one thing you were able to figure out, however.

—

You were certain that Noriaki’s friend didn’t like you very much.

“I’m pretty sure your friend doesn’t like me very much,” you told Noriaki in verbatim afterwards.

You were both walking back to the train station together, where you’d then part ways. At this time, Noriaki already had his own apartment, though he apparently did the apartment-hunting with Jotaro and even took advice from Jotaro’s real-estate tycoon grandfather. On the other hand, you were currently rooming with your old high school friend as it was nearly impossible for you to rent property as a non-citizen. You were a bit embarrassed by your predicament, even if it would eventually be solved in less than two years.

The redhead shook his head, tittering. It seemed like he’s heard those words before.

“No, no, it’s just… give him time to warm up to you. He’s like that to everybody, don’t worry.”

You raised a brow at him.

“Everybody? Even you?” you repeated incredulously. When he merely nodded, your brows creased in confusion. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, no, I am,” Noriaki replied as a matter-of-fact. “We didn’t start off on the right foot— he was a bit of an ass in high school, but not so much anymore.”

“How so?” you inquired, before backtracking. “I mean… how was he an ass in high school? I wasn’t, ah… sorry, I didn’t mean that as if I thought he was an ass now because he’s not— um, yeah.”

Noriaki chuckled at the sight of you awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck.

You wanted to waste away at this moment. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you were blatantly insulting his friend, because you weren’t intending to at all. Though, to be fair, he did seem rather unfriendly to you. Maybe he was just shy or something? You couldn’t blame him for something like that. But if he wasn’t shy and was intentionally acting like that to you, well…

“No, it’s alright,” he calmly dismissed, throwing you off guard. “Jotaro just… has a hard time communicating with people about how he feels. Instead, he sort of just assumes that everyone can easily read his emotions, so he doesn’t feel like he has to make an effort to be expressive… you know?”

Oh.

Nodding slowly, you replied with an ounce of hesitation. This time, you were really trying to be cautious of your words. “So… is that why he acted so… cold?”

He sighed, quickly rubbing his bare hands together. “Yes— but like I said, just, ah… give him time to warm up to you. Jotaro tends to be pretty paranoid about meeting new people— like when he met me— but after spending time together, we’ve become used to each other’s company and became good friends. He’s a really nice person once you get to know him.”

“…I see.”

Maybe he was right, you were thinking. He had been friends with him for a long time so it made sense that he’d know most— if not all— of Jotaro’s idiosyncrasies. Jotaro managed to warm up to Noriaki, and though you didn’t actually know how long that took, it happened regardless. If the redhead was true to his word— which you couldn’t really doubt— you better be prepared for a friendship with the quiet, buff marine biologist-to-be. He’d better be prepared for one with you too: the currently-broke, immigrant engineer-to-be.

You sighed, shoving your hands into your pockets. It was a long day, and after that godawful calculus test and the coffee break with Noriaki and Jotaro, all you wanted now was to return to yours and your friend’s apartment. Maybe your friend was already home, preparing dinner. You practically had the smell of the same food he constantly liked to grill implanted in your senses.

Noriaki, on the other hand, wished that he’d be able to walk with you for longer. He liked your presence. Your perfume smelled quite nice— that was a weird thought— and he enjoyed seeing how expressive your face was when you would talk. Every furrow of the brow when something confused you, how your eyes seemed to gleam like stardust when you spoke of something that you were passionate about, or the pleasing sound of your laugh as you told him weird and/or funny stories.

At some point, he wondered if you noticed how physically close you both had gotten while walking, elbows nearly bumping one another. In fact, you did notice, and it was making you blush.

That time, you avoided meeting Noriaki’s eyes for a moment.

Little did you two know, however, these walks would be happening much more often, to the point where he’d go the opposite route just to walk you back to yours and your friend’s apartment. Most of the time, your friend would already be home and calmly welcomed you back. He and Noriaki would give awkward but courteous nods to one another.

You recalled the time that Noriaki asked what your friend’s deal was, which made you more amused than offended. It occurred to Noriaki that you were, in fact, aware of the subtle awkwardness between him and your friend/roommate.

“I don’t know… he might just not be used to the sight of me being ‘mushy’ with anyone, ‘tis all,” you casually explained during another one of your walks back home with him. “I mean, I was close to him and my other friends in high school, but not close-close like I am with you now, you know?”

Close like you are with him, now.

Hearing you say that only made Noriaki yearn for a future with you even more.

Gradually, you and Noriaki even got physically closer, as you’d frequently bump elbows when walking or knees when sitting or, in your case, hug his arm if a breeze drifted by. Though you questioned his motives for accompanying you a few times, he’d just brush it off and say it wasn’t a big deal.

The man was lucky he got a free train pass as a university student— he’d easily be reserving over half of his expenses over train passes to where you stayed. If that didn’t show any sort of commitment already, you didn’t know what will. All for the sake of accompanying you home.

During one of your all-nighters at home, you leaned back in your desk chair, blankly staring at the ceiling. Your A818 Walkman had long been done playing the playlist you set up. An obscenely long and unfinished block of code was currently on your laptop screen, the cursor continuing to blink next to the string you recently typed. Yet again, you were distracted. With the same thoughts, no less.

It was a no-brainer, but you also knew better than to quickly jump to conclusions. There was a lot of evidence to prove that Noriaki liked you— beyond your initially-planned arrangement of being reviewers for each other’s programs. Though perhaps, you didn’t know, maybe he was just accompanying you home out of courtesy? To be nice? You two were already friends, after all. Best to look out for one another, right? You’d treat him the same too.

However, in less than two months, you came to realize that you were correct in jumping to such a conclusion.

One of the lightly snowy days in December was when Noriaki first kissed you on the apartment’s doorstep after you almost slipped on the station floor earlier… which you were still incredibly embarrassed about. The onlookers, the sadness knowing that your rubber soles weren’t as sturdy as you thought, the fact that you nearly face-planted in front of a man you liked.

Of course, he did have some help from Hierophant Green while catching you, ultimately preventing you from falling face-first. You were practically holding onto his arm for dear life, feeling a firm hold around your own arm and waist. You knew it was from Noriaki, but… was he really that strong? Were his arms longer than you thought, being able to catch and pull you from that distance?

That no longer mattered to you as you kissed him back now, letting your hands gently cup his warm and flushed cheeks. You were melting into his kiss— his lips were really soft— and as insane as it sounded, you were quite ready to lose oxygen if it meant being able to kiss him for an eternity…

The front door opened.

Noriaki’s hold on you tightened just a smidgen. You were equally frozen in your spots, eyes slowly opening and averting to the perpetrator. Both of your lips had already unlocked.

Your friend held the door open, keys in his pocket and a white garbage bag in his other hand. He merely blinked at the two of you, seemingly unsurprised by what he had just walked in on.

“...we live in front of a park. I believe this is the time all the kids go home; it’s a lot quieter outside now. Also, it’s nice with… the trees. Go there.”

As he sauntered towards the stairwell with the rustling bag, you and Noriaki were silent for a few seconds until you both started to laugh.

Hysterically.

Never in a millennium did you two expect to be caught nearly making out in front of your front door, but it happened. At some point you wheezed out an apology as your friend casually returned to the apartment’s door, scolding you specifically for the growing laughter between you two. Hearing him laugh this hard was completely foreign to you, if you had to be honest, but the way he did it was making yours even more unrestrained. You and Noriaki had already resorted to tightly gripping the railing to prevent yourselves from rolling around on the floor.

Written complaints from your neighbors were certainly going to come in within the next few days.

Eventually, you two did calm down, and Noriaki had his arm wrapped around you due to the cold. You rested your head against his chest, feeling his chin on top of your head. Holding the railing was proven redundant, as you both ended up sliding down to sit loosely cross-legged and rest your backs against the railing. Sure, the thought of going back inside to avoid the dropping temperatures sounded nice, but neither of you couldn’t bear to let go of one another within the next few minutes.

At that moment, as he asked you to be his girlfriend— eventually, wife, a few years later— you knew things were going to look up for the both of you.

November 26, 2011

“[Motherfucker],” you grumbled quietly in English.

Your hand was patting around on the floor next to your futon, hoping to find your phone.

The living room you were sleeping in was pitch black due to the blackout curtains that were installed on the windows, so the chances of you grabbing the familiar device were rather low at the moment. You weren’t even in your own living room, which the layout of was drastically different from the one you were currently on the floor of. To think that yours was currently being investigated because of… that.

You felt yourself wanting to heave at the mere thought of it, but like any sensible person, you realize that this isn’t a situation that you can easily avoid. As of yesterday, you became a widow. The circumstances leading up to that were unclear to you— there were at least a trillion questions that continued to swim around your mind, from the why's, to the how's, and to the what’s and yet none of them had connections to anything resembling an answer. You had no idea, and the problem-solver in you was becoming desperate.

…anyway, where the hell was that goddamn phone? You’re pretty sure you’ve already stretched your arm out an entire meter…

Right now you should be back at yours and your husband’s (clean) apartment. You should be on top of the mattress, sleeping in the arms of your (alive) husband. His bodily warmth should be radiating off onto your back. His fingers should be lightly drumming on your abdomen as he starts to enter that next stage of NREM.

You should be in Noriaki’s arms, having your deep conversations about your futures before you both fall asleep like you usually do. Where you both wanted to travel to next, where you both might end up working, and the recent addition of where you both liked to raise a family one day. However, you two never got the chance to decide. You had an inkling of what Noriaki would’ve suggested— a place with many opportunities for you two and your future family, but probably also a place with many attractions to visit. You knew he developed a love for travelling because of his parents, who would bring him to places like Hong Kong or Egypt when he was younger. There’s no doubt that he, too, would’ve passed the love on to the one inside you— the one who currently couldn’t be bigger than a vanilla bean seed.

The universe worked in ways that seemed unfair, and not to mention morbid.

02:16

It was about time you found your phone.

You silently cursed upon seeing the time, as in a few hours you were going to be preoccupied with tasks you wished you didn’t ever have to do in your lifetime. Lightly drumming your fingers on the device, which now sat on your abdomen, you continued to stare at the white ceiling. You haven’t moved at all since you landed right on the futon. The sight of this ceiling might as well be something you get used to.

Rapidly blinking, you started to take heavy breaths. You felt tears starting to build up again— perhaps this was going to be a new normal for you too.

Your phone continued to sit on your abdomen as you glared at the ceiling.

Before a tear could fall and slide past the outer corners of your eyes, you gripped it tightly. Suddenly, you felt the urge to dial a familiar number and speak with someone, but you doubt anyone was awake right now. You actually had your chance to be on the phone with someone— several people, in fact— as you were bombarded with calls checking up on you earlier. You didn’t have any willpower to phone any of them back until now.

Unlocking your phone, you headed to the Contacts app with the intention to find a specific person. It suddenly dawned on you that you were just thinking of the wrong friends to call— people who wouldn’t bother to stay up late for any other reason besides hanging out at bars or each other’s apartments. That one person; you remembered that they’ve experienced something like this. Granted, it happened to them nearly four years ago outside of Japan, but he was open to speaking about it if asked.

Hopefully he’d sympathize with you, especially at such an early time in the morning here.

You left one hand to gently rest on your lower abdomen as you dialed.

He picked up almost immediately, and your features softened. Preparation for graduate school must’ve been killing him recently, you had no doubt about it. You didn’t see him as often anymore because of his preoccupation with that. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if his exchange program was still ongoing anymore— it’s been that long since you two spoke with one another.

“[Hey! You’re still up? It has to be, like, some time after midnight where you are…]” he greeted you cheerfully in his accented English, though you knew he must’ve been tired out of his mind. His phone must’ve been next to him the entire time as he worked.

Plus, he must’ve been back in Rome, if his response would indicate anything.

So much for visiting him.

Your breath hitched as soon as you heard his voice, however. Maybe this was a bad idea… were you really going to call someone at two in the morning to relate about dead family? Shit, it was too late now. He already picked up the phone and acknowledged you. You weren’t just going to hang up on the guy after phoning him due to your impulsiveness, and not give any sort of explanation. Surely he’d think you’re a dick for being that way to him after a period of no communication with one another.

“…hello?” he innocently trailed off. “Ah…”

Moving your phone’s speaker away from you, you exhaled heavily before moving it back. You had no choice but to dive in.

How bad could this be, anyway?

“[—Doppio… hey, I know this is really abrupt, and you don’t have to answer anything at all, but I just… I wanna ask you something…]”

—

Dimension #16

2011年11月25日

November 25, 2011

花京院典明死去、16：13

1989年8月2日生まれ、22歳

Noriaki Kakyoin died at 4:13 PM 22 years old, born on August 2, 1989

空条承太郎死去、16：22

1990年1月20日生まれ、21歳

Jotaro Kujo died at 4:22 PM 21 years old, born on January 20, 1990

--> To Be Continued -->

Link to the Table of Contents

9 notes · View notes

jincherie · 5 years

Text

intermission • iii | moonchild

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 4.6k • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: rabid old ladies and tree-climbing shenanigans • ☽ — notes: another intermission! this is my last part for now, miss zee will be writing the next two and then we will see my return!!!! but until then, please indulge us n show miss zee some love!! she works hard for it :’< also because with zee’s next chapter... we see a bit of a twist arise!

— posted; 09.06.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission iii | next • —

— some time in first year —

The afternoon air is cool and the sun is a soft, comforting warmth against the exposed parts of Kim Namjoon’s skin, chasing away the slight bite of the cold that lingers in the breeze due the transitional season as he walks home. He’s just finished fulfilling his third ‘help wanted’ poster duty of the day, collecting the sheets, both handwritten and printed alike, from shopping mall billboards like Pokémon. He has a thick wad of them folded up and wedged in his back pocket (he’d forgotten his trusty messenger bag this morning that, despite being two snapped threads away from falling apart completely, has always managed to see him through the day) and a comparatively much smaller wad in his other back pocket, of the odd jobs his managed to complete through the week.

His rationale for being such an upstanding citizen and going out of his way to help anyone and everyone he can? Two things—experience, and references. He knows it’s a harsh world, and to succeed you have to prepare yourself as much as possible for everything to come. So when the time comes that he steps into the adult, working world after graduating… he doesn’t doubt he’s going to be one of the best prepared people they’ve ever seen.

Plus, sometimes the little old ladies and distraught pet owners he helped gave him a few dollars as a tip. Unnecessary and not something he asks for, but Namjoon isn’t one to turn away a gift when it could do wonders for his loose change jar. It satisfies him to see the little glass thing with a cork lid get fuller and fuller each weak. He blames the deep, primal part of his monkey brain that likes seeing a big collection of shiny objects like coins. It sparks joy, one could say.

The odd job he’s just completed was a little dryer than the rest, if he’s being honest. It was much simpler than the ad for it had made out— just helping some fellow uni student as clueless as him fix their broken toilet roll. All he had to do was find the screw that came out and the student gave him, like, a whole box of frozen chicken patties in return. Which… isn’t so bad but also, Namjoon considers himself an intellectual and while he may be bought by food he still longs for a mental challenge. So despite how usually he gets in about three a day, on a good day, but even thought this is his third one he’s still… hungry for more. He’s also hungry in the literal sense; the last job made him miss lunch and now his stomach is performing an acapella version of ‘feed me, feed me, you bastard’. A classic hit, one he is especially familiar with. He’ll have to rifle through the papers in his back pocket and suss out whether any of the posters seem the type to provide food for the help.

He’s still toying with the idea when he happens across an unexpected scenario that seems to have been dropped into his path by the fates themselves. Along one side of the footpath are suburban homes and their small front yards and cute little mailboxes, and to the other is the occasional tree and then the plain asphalt of the road. About a yard in front of him, just far enough that he can’t really see even with his glasses on, there seems to be a bit of a commotion occurring near one of the larger trees lining the street.

Excitement probably shouldn’t be his first reaction, but it is, and Namjoon hurries his long-legged gait so that he can reach the spectacle sooner. He doesn’t know what he looked like but walking like this, he feels a bit like those spiders with the tiny bodies and disproportionately long, spindly legs. And here he is, going to help out like the friendly neighbourhood spiderman. He slapped his thigh, eyes wide. He might be an iron man enthusiast at heart, but damn that’s a good line for his resume.

The closer Namjoon gets to the commotion he’d spotted from afar, the more he realises he might have hit jackpot. The source of the loud yelling and frantic movements seems to be a woman, a little on the elderly side, with her wild salt and pepper curls defying gravity in some places and clumping in others—it takes Namjoon a moment to realise that she’s actually attempted to tie her hair back and that’s why it looks a little bit deformed from the distance. As he draws closer, he notes that she looks a little unhinged. His reaction to such a thing should be caution, and he should feel wary, but all he can think is hell yes this woman clearly needs help and he is going to help her, damn it.

“Pudding, come down! Please! I’m sorry for calling you fat, Pudding! I didn’t mean it!”

As soon as he’s within earshot, he hears the woman sobbing hysterically as she claws at the thick trunk of the tree. She’s too small to reach the lowest hanging branch, and has taken to draping herself pitifully against the leaning trunk as she scrabbles against the bark with her nails. The woman wails, pitifully, voice piercing the air like a siren, or a banshee, “Pudding!”

Confused as he may be, he’s sure that as soon as he asks the lady what happened, he’ll be as clued in as possible. Namjoon clears his throat and composes himself, before stepping forward and speaking loud enough that the woman can hear him over her own loud weeping.

“Excuse me, ma’am, is everything alright? Do you require assistance of any kind?”

The lady spins around, a crazy glint in her eye, and belatedly, Namjoon begins to feel a little wary in addition to the wave of concern that seems to have caught up to him from where he left it in the dust.

“My pudding,” the woman wails, lurching and attaching herself to Namjoon like he is the tree she’d just been attempting to scale. Her nails dig into his arms, and the male is suddenly thankful for the long sleeves of his shirt and jacket protecting them from being punctured by her claws. “My pudding is stuck in the tree.”

A few beats of silence sound in Namjoon’s head, before finally a thought spawns into being. This woman…. Did she fling her dessert into the tree? God, it’s worse than he thought. He never expected to walk upon such a tragedy.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ma’am,” Namjoon says, sincerely sympathetic. Being prone to trips and falls as he is, he has been victim many a times to accidentally flinging food all over the place. His heart goes out to her, his hands coming to pat her forearms with only a little hesitance (distantly, a part of him wonders if the crazed look in her eye is due to rabies, and the whiteness of what he assumes is snot all over her face and mouth makes him a little nervous). “Would you like help? I can get the pudding down from the tree, and then you can go on ea—”

“Oh, would you, dear?” the woman’s grip tightens like a vice as she cuts him off, wide, glassy eyes gleaming with hope. Is she starting to froth at the mouth a bit? Namjoon chooses to ignore that observation. “Please, please get him down. He’s the fat bastard on the second highest branch, and he -hic- must be so scared.”

Namjoon resists the instinct to make a face just barely— is she referring to her pudding as a he, and did she just call her pudding a fat bastard?— and instead follows the old woman’s shaking hand as it point to the top of the tree. Realisation slaps him in the face.

There, sitting right on the thickest part of the second highest branch near the trunk and somehow still managing to bow it, is both the fattest and the ugliest but most oddly endearing cat Namjoon has ever seen. At least, he thinks it’s a cat. It’s a cat until proven otherwise, he decides.

“Oh,” Namjoon says, staring at the cat. The cat stares back, and Namjoon gulps at the sudden goblin energy it seems to be radiating. “Pudding.”

The woman, still babbling incoherently while Namjoon creates a half-assed sort of mental plan for how to proceed and reach the top of the tree, starts shaking him slightly in her distress. Being a music major doesn’t prepare him for shit like this, he laments. This lady better have some food on the table for the trauma she’s currently inflicting.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get pudding.” He gingerly brushes her grip off him, surprised she let go with such little convincing, and makes his way to the trunk of the tree. The cat stares him down the entire time, lidded yellow eyes peering into the depths of his being and pulling out his innermost fears. Namjoon feels like this cat is the kind of thing you peer under your bed as a child and see balled up in the corner, hissing, with big fangs and ominous man-eating energy. This cat looks like the second Namjoon is within reach he’s going to claw his face off or eat his ears. A shiver rolls down his spine, but he pushes on. He’s going to climb this tree, make this cat his bitch, and bring it back down for the crazy old lady who has started breathing extra heavy the closer he gets to the tree. Distantly, one of his braincells knocks around and whispers that this feels like when Hansel and Gretel got tricked by a witch and her candy house— except in this situation the candy house is Namjoon’s incredible need for good references and experience. Annoyed at the errant brain cell, he flicks it away mentally and tries to think of a way up the tree when he reaches the base.

Well, he supposes he’s just gonna have to go up branch by branch and see which ones he can reach with his long noodle legs. He has to bring his foot up past his ear to clamber onto the first branch, and amongst the pain of essentially doing the splits he feels oddly proud of himself. Kim Namjoon; outstanding citizen, academic, genius music major, now gymnast. It has a nice ring to it. Perhaps he should consider broadening his horizons and extending his athleticism.

Scaling the tree is actually much easier than he anticipated. None of the branches are too far or too high to reach, and he’s satisfied with the effortlessness this job has taken so far. This will look fantastic on his record— he can’t forget to get a written statement from the rabies lady.

Before he knows it, he’s come face to face with the cat. Up close, it radiates even more demonic goblin energy, and Namjoon feels his knees quake slightly in response. It doesn’t meow, doesn’t even growl, merely bares its teeth in greeting, and the male gulps. Alright, time to make this cat his bitch for a moment and save that old lady’s day.

“Hey puss,” Namjoon greets, a little rusty on his cat conversation etiquette. “Come here puss, here, tch tch.”

The cat, fearing neither god nor man, merely sits and looks at Namjoon as he makes kissy noises in an attempt to lure it. ‘You think you can control me?’ It feels as though the cat says to him, with its apathetic, golden-eyed stare, ‘I belong to no one, fool. I will perish before I move at your will.’

Alright, seems like he’s just gonna have to scoop him up and go. Hopefully his nature is a docile as the name Pudding implies and his intimidating outside is just a farce.

Namjoon leans against the trunk of the tree as he reaches for the cat and takes it into his arms successfully— it’s too fat to put up much of a fight, and for that the male is thankful, even if it now feels like he’s holding a boulder in his arms and they’re going to fall off if he doesn’t deposit it soon. What does that lady feed this cat?! Cement?!

Having secured the old lady’s bag, Namjoon directs his gaze downwards and goes to embark on the next step in the plan to climb the tree for the cat and then climb down with the cat— as expected, it’s time for the latter. Wait, speaking of—

A ladder? God he wishes he had one of those right now, because he’s just realised that he has no idea how to get down. The cat’s belly gives an almighty rumble and, expectedly, it throws Namjoon a little off balance. The old lady is calling out hoarsely several many feet below them, and Namjoon feels a little overwhelmed as he considers possibilities and analyses paths down.

Gulping, he makes a calculated decision— unfortunately, he was never that great at maths.

x x

An afternoon stroll through the streets surrounding your dorm is just what you need, some fresh air to sooth your tired, university student soul and refresh your mind.

At least, that’s what you decided like ten minutes ago. Currently, you’re not sharing the same sentiments as past-you so much. This is mostly due to the abundance of unhinged elderly and zombified youth that seem to have had the same idea as you and that are now milling about unchecked. You accidentally stepped off the footpath before and stepped maybe ten centimetres onto someone’s lawn. That someone happened to be a short, stout middle-aged couple that had matching outdated hairdos, and they were not happy about you ‘messing up their lawn’. Before embarking on this walk, you could have proudly said you’d never been chased down the street by some screaming woman with a broom before. Now though, you’re no longer a virgin to that particular experience. You’re not going home as the same woman you were when you left.

The street that you’ve just turned onto, on your journey back to your dorms, is remarkably less chaotic than the rest and you feel yourself letting out a breath of relief. Finally, you thought you were going to combust from the stress alone. As relieved as you are though, you don’t let down your guard; you’ve been burnt before, thank you very much.

Not even three houses down the street, your reservations are proven right. There is an elderly woman, who appears afflicted with a sickness of some sort if the fluids all over her face are anything to go by, who is sobbing and moping at the base of a tree in what you hope is her front yard. Confronted with the strange situation, a part of you instinctively wants to help her— the other part tells you to turn tail and go down another street because this could be one of those traps where they trick you with a crying child or old lady and then mug you, taking all your money and any candy still surviving in your pockets.

Ultimately, the more empathetic side of you wins out and you hesitantly begin to walk closer to the woman clawing at the tree and screaming about desserts.

“Uh, excuse me ma’am, are you o—”

You don’t even get to finish before there is a sudden series of snaps and cracks from the tree above you and a mass comes hurtling down from the foliage. You scream, the sheer blood-curdling nature making your throat ache, and just about shit yourself as you launch away. Where you stood, a shape smacks into the ground with a hearty thunk that shakes the earth a little beneath your feet. You were right, you’re about to get mugged!

“AHH FUCK WHAT THE FUCK FUCK OFF I KNOW KATANA!”

The mass on the ground groans and you blink, watching with absolute dumbfoundedness as it shifts and suddenly the fattest cat you’ve ever seen is parting from it and running towards the woman in hysterics by the base of the tree. For such an absolute unit, it moves fast, and barely a moment passes before the massive load of a cat is wrapped firmly in the old lady’s arms.

“Pudding,” she weeps into his coat, the cat pinning you and the lump at your feet with an ominous, dead-eyed stare over her shoulder. “Oh my sweet, fat bastard— don’t you ever do that again, okay? Oh my sweet baby—”

She turns, mumbling into the fur of her cat as she begins to depart from the tree and make her way back to the house that you presume to be hers. For a moment you forget about the lump at your feet, until you hear it let out a pathetic whimper.

“My reference and commendation…”

You let out another scream, for some reason not at all expecting it to speak words. When you look down, however, you instantly feel guilty.

The thing that fell from the tree was a man and he landed right on his ass.

“Oh wait holy shit are you okay?!” Now that you’re over your fear of being mugged, you run over to the man and pop a concerned squat next to his curled up form. “What the hell were you doing up there? Did you steal that crazy lady’s cat?!”

The male at your feet groaned, bereft. “No, I was helping her get the cat down. Holy shit, my buns…”

You turn your gaze to his heinie, realising that with how hard he hit the ground he very likely has broken something. God, now that you think about it, he could have broken his tailbone. You have a friend that did that in highschool— it wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t pretty. And the thought that this poor man who fell from the tree and scared the absolute shit out of you might have done the same… oh, you felt for him. He attempted to roll and let out a pathetic groan. Oh yeah, he definitely broke it.

“Wait, don’t move! I think you broke your tailbone when you fell! Don’t move too much.” You hurry to halt him, and all he can muster in response is another sad groan.

“God, I- I can’t see…” he dropped his head against the earth, eyes shut. “The light… it’s growing closer.”

“H-hang on!” You panic, hands flying into the air. “We need to get you help! We need to get you to a hospital! Please don’t go into the light!”

The male groans again, and you flounder— you have to get him to the ER! It’s more serious than you thought. Panicked, you scramble for a way to get him up and mobile. Finally, an idea occurs to you, and you survey the man’s lanky form to try and assess how well it’s going to work out. A grimace finds its way to your face.

You’re going to be so sore later.

x x

For forty minutes, you carried the long-limbed male on your back like nothing but a pack mule. Twenty minutes of that you spent walking, feeling like that Atlas bitch carrying the heaviest thing imaginable on your back and shoulders; and the other twenty was spent taking (read: waiting for) public transport. By the time you arrived to the hospital and got the man on your back checked in (you learned his name is actually Kim Namjoon and he’s a student, much like you), you felt as though at any second you were going to pass out. You still feel like that, actually, as you sit in the chair along the wall across from the male’s bed, which has the curtains drawn as the doctor inspects him, and attempt to recover. You’re sweaty, and gross, and desperately want a coffee. You even considered slipping some of the paper from the mysterious wad in his back pocket before you realised it isn’t money. You didn’t get to see what was on the papers, since you lost interest as soon as you realised it wasn’t cash.

You don’t get to lament too much about it before the curtains are being hauled back, a brightly smiling man greeting you; the doctor appears just as exuberant and overjoyed as when he first walked in.

“Well, good news and bad news!” he chirps, tucking his clipboard under his arm. His nametag reads Dr. Lee Minhyuk, and you can’t help but think that your new friend Sera would probably be frothing at the mouth at the mere sight of him. You catch sight of Namjoon adjusting himself on the bed behind the doctor, cheeks red.

You send the doctor a probing look, knowing he is waiting for a response. He beams, delighted at your acknowledgement.

“Good news first!” the Dr. Lee clicks his heels together before shifting his stance, gesturing his arm widely to Namjoon. “His tailbone is not broken! Thanks to the uneven distribution of his ass cheeks— ahem, sorry, his buttocks— all of the force of impact was absorbed by the, uh, dominant butt cheek, if you will. His tailbone is fine!”

Namjoon chokes behind him at the words that come out, and a part of you is mortified for him but the rest of you finds that too funny to even begin unpacking everything else yet. One of his ass cheeks really pulled a hard carry and did the lord’s work and absorbed all the impact. The power… A sigh of relief escapes you at the doctor’s words, though, and you go to speak up your relief when the doctor cuts you off.

“Whoops, actually I take that back! That’s the bad news— his tailbone isn’t broken, but it is bruised.” Dr Lee clicks his tongue, taking out his clipboard to scribble something short down. He then turns to Namjoon. “I kind of have to go— since you came in through the ER but this isn’t an actual emergency— but I’ll send a nurse in with directions for you on how to manage this, and after that you’ll be free to go. I recommend not climbing any more trees for a while! Also I hope you don’t sleep on your back, that might be a bit difficult like this.”

With that, he clicks his heels once more before saluting you both, and then he’s striding out of the room, off to tend to actual emergencies, you presume. You’d gotten an earful earlier for bringing him to the ER when it wasn’t a life-or-death emergency, but you stand by your decision.

There are a few long moments of silence in the time after the doctor leaves, and you decide to break it by standing and moving to the table beside his bed, where you’d left your phone like a fool. Avoiding his face (he’s still blushing so it’s a courtesy, but also because while sitting and waiting for the doctor you’d realised he really is quite good looking and your mind is having trouble associating that with the man who fell out of the tree earlier), you reach for the phone amongst the water cups and chocolate wrappers, from when he’d emptied his front pockets. He’s a nervous drinker and a hoarder, it seems.

“Wait,” His hand shoots out, long fingers wrapping around your wrist before you can grab your phone. Your heart jumps, perhaps in fright. You look to him with wide eyes. “I’m gonna need you to sign a non-disclosure about what you just heard.”

“I…” you give him a pained look. “Please, tell me you carry them with you at all times. Please. If you don’t tell me, I really might die.”

Namjoon lets out a great, big sigh, releasing your wrist somewhat petulantly. “I don’t… please hold your tongue until I can print some more.”

More? You’re having a field day with the implication that he has had instances where he’s needed to hand out non-disclosure agreements before, but he seems a little sombre. So instead of mocking him, as per your first instinct, you decide to try and make conversation. You know the nurse is coming soon, but you would feel bad leaving him alone until then. You feel like, having carried him on your back for miles and miles, almost an hour, you’ve really gotten closer and crossed the bridge from strangers to acquaintances.

“So…” you begin, tapping your fingers against your thighs. You search for another nearby chair before grabbing it and pulling it over, flopping down. “What do you study? Where?”

You feel like a new language learner asking questions using only the limited vocab you have, but Namjoon is unphased and answers as though you’d asked him something much more natural.

“CCU,” he says, fingers picking at the threads on his blanket, before he looks up to glance at you. “I’m a music major.”

Surprise filters through you at that, a noise of wonderment escaping before you can really stop it. “Oh! Hey, me too! I think you’re in one of the years above me, though, because I haven’t seen you in any of my classes before.”

Namjoon, who had been somewhat withdrawn and had put up a wall of sorts between you since entering the hospital and regaining control of himself (and a donut cushion to sit on), seems to do an absolute one-eighty at your words. “Oh, your major is music as well? Where are you specialising?”

You tell him with an eager smile, and he responds with one of his own. Just like that, the two of you fall into a conversation that comes much easier than anticipated, talking about your majors and music inside and outside of school. The nurse takes forever and you spend a good amount of time there, just talking to this upperclassmen who happened to fall out of a tree while you were walking past. Eventually, he confides in you about a rough draft of his, something he has really high hopes for. It’s a song called Moonchild, and it’s barely half done but he drums and beat boxes the rough rhythm out for you and you feel your cheeks heat in awe as you listen. That’s amazing, you can’t help but think, and it’s all him. You don’t think you’ve ever liked the demo of a song as much as you like that one.

The afternoon passes with the nurse eventually visiting, and all too soon you’re waiting with the long-legged noodle man at the drop-off and pick-up zone, watching with a note of sadness as a car pulls up and some mint-haired twink that looks vaguely familiar sticks his head out and calls for Namjoon. Namjoon thanks you for your help and bids you farewell, and then he’s climbing into the car with an abrupt wail of pain— he forgot to put his donut down first— before the doors shut and the car is pulling away, disappearing into the dusk and leaving you by your lonesome. You stand a few minutes, before letting out a huff and turning to leave yourself.

The whole way home, and throughout the rest of the week, you can’t help but think about the beautiful tune of moonchild and how it rings serenely through your mind when your thoughts quieten just enough. You hope you get to hear it again, someday; you hope you get to hear it when it’s finally completed and Namjoon’s name is on the credits.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission iii | next • —

{let us know what u think!! who are u rooting for?? who do u think is the muse?? hit us up!! & thank u for reading, btw!}

373 notes · View notes