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princessmadafu · 3 years

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37 bleedin’ pages!

I have condensed them for you and left out most of the bits that the nasty evil British Press have already covered. Feel free to skip any boring bits.

Dax Shepard: Welcome, welcome, welcome to Armchair Expert's Experts on Expert. I'm Dan Shepard. I'm joined by Monica Mouse.

Monica Padman: Hi.

[...]

There follows some heavy marketing of towels and stuff...

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Pretty ironic really, as Harry wades into fake news and how advertising algorithms are ruining us...

DS:...It's like the algorithms on the internet. You can't compete with that, a human.

PH: You can't if you have the awareness of what it's doing to you. And the fact that it's learning, which is scary. And advertising has been going on for hundreds of years, but done really responsibly. The difference here is targeted ads. If ads have always worked for companies, you can put on the TV, you can walk away, you can come back, your involvement is switching on switching off or changing the channel. Whereas now with algorithms is there, it's just feeding your habits. And it's also reading through your emails and everything else. So it's getting to know you, like, it gets to know the decisions you're gonna make before you make them, then it creates this echo chamber of no pushback, of no context of nothing. It's just perpetuating and feeding the bias and the habits that you already have inside of you, which is terrible.[...]

Harry needs to learn about AdBlock and Ghostery and VPNs and Tor and DuckDuckGo and Smartpage and all the other clever little ways the computer-literate have of ridding their lives of unwanted advertising. I haven't seen an ad in years. The only person feeding my habits is me. It’s called personal responsibility. Maybe Harry still needs a Nanny but most grown-ups don’t. Oh wait, I forgot, the “Meghan&Harry Show” fans are all kids.

PH: [...] It's a computer. It's like, who wrote the algorithms? You guys did? Probably all male and all white.

Oooh, let's be sexist and racist, Harry! Did you ever hear of these women or are they too scary?

https://biztechmagazine.com/article/2012/05/mothers-technology-10-women-who-invented-and-innovated-tech

Then they discuss Naked Vegas (this guy Dax has a thing about nudity) and Harry in Afghanistan. And discuss a calendar of naked men that DS and MP put together - their favourite male bodies. What a good job it's only gloating over naked male bodies and not naked female bodies. It's apparently acceptable, for some reason. Harry doesn't know who the guys are.

DS: Monica makes this for me every year and it's a calendar of all my favourite bodies of friends.

MP: And they're all men.

DS: They're all men.

MP: And they're all gorgeous bodies.

[...]

And is Harry nervous talking about mental health? He shouldn't be, he's been banging on about it for years.

PH: Yeah. Was I nervous? No. Not so much nervous. But I guess on this particular subject around mental health. Yeah. For me, it's always a, unfortunately, today's world is quite a sensitive subject, not just for the people who are sharing. But ultimately, the subject matter itself has to be handled with care. [...] It ends up getting weaponized by certain people.

Weaponised by certain people? Like him and Markle, for instance. Neither of 'em has any talent so they weaponise their mental health. Big big mental health bombs loaded with word salad to lob at their own families and cause huge distress. Not nice, Harry.

PH: That's how I've always felt when it comes to projection. I mean, hatred is a form of projection, right? [...] We're not born to hate people. So it manifests itself over a period of time. And of course, it can come from unresolved pain, or being hurt continually, as a young kid or through adult life. But ultimately, there's a source to it. There's a reason why you want to hate somebody else.

Like his dad, his brother...

PH: And actually have some compassion for them. Which is really hard when you're on the receiving end of this, like, just vile, toxic abuse. But the reality is, is you say, flip it. [...] Every single one of us wherever we are, wherever we come from, there will always try and find some way to be able to mask the actual feeling and be able to try and make us feel different to how we are actually feeling, perhaps having a feeling. Right, because so many people are just numb to it. That was a huge part of the beginning of my life, which was like, I rejected. I said, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine.

And now he's moved on to promoting his new mental health stuff with Oprah, The Me You Can't See...

PH: So if you are making that conscious decision to say: You know what, it's not self serving, but I want to share my story. I'm being asked to share my story to hopefully help someone or loads of other people. I'm probably going to get trolled. I'm probably going to get attacked by the same people that were doing anyway. If I'm willing to make that decision, surely that comes from a place of courage rather than weakness?

Or possibly naivety. Harry is only wanted for his money-making title and royal status; he has no mental health qualifications, he's not a mental health professional, he's not an expert, all he brings to the table is the glamour of being a prince of the BRF. Which he quite clearly hates. Markle is lining her pockets from their self-indulgent mental health whinge fest and he's too dim to see it. There follows the bit about the spectrum of upbringing that the press is covering nicely so I can skip the next few pages - the bits where Harry says he doesn't see that talking about his own issues is complaining, and “it's the job, right”, how he never wanted the job of being royal, and his therapy and how “massively self-critical” he is (yet still can't see that he's not being honest with himself), ooh and sharing his hatred of the British press - that's a good bit, let's skip to page 18:

PH I think the biggest issue for me was that being born into it, you inherit the risk, you inherit the risk that comes with it, you inherit every element of it without choice. And because of the way that the UK media are, they feel an ownership over you. Literally like a full on ownership. And then they give the impression to some of their, well, most of the readers, that that is the case. But I think it's a really dangerous place to be if you don't have a choice, but then, of course, then people quite rightly will turn around and go. So what if you didn't have a choice? It was privilege? [...] Page Six of the New York Post, they took pictures of my son being picked up from school on his first day [...] But I guess my point is the way that I look at it, especially now living here one hour outside LA. Like it's a feeding frenzy here. We spent the first three and a half months living at Tyler Perry's house. You let us stay. And the helicopter helicopters, the drones the paparazzi cutting the fence like it was madness. And people out there -Their response was, Well, what do you expect if you live in LA? It's like, Okay, well, first of all, we didn't mean to live in LA. This is like a staging area before we try and find a house. And secondly, how sad that if you live in LA and you're well known figure, you just have to accept it. The first security we had, I said, Well, where's the safest place? Inside. Just because I'm a well known person, you can't go outside anymore. [...] it's really, really sad. And of course, their argument is - the paparazzi and everybody else - is like all if you're in the public space, then it's absolutely fine for us to do it. So what is our human right as an individual and as a family, you're saying that if the moment we step foot out of our house, that it's open season and free game? What? Because of public interest?. There's no public interest in you taking your kids for a walk down the beach. Nothing...

And on and on it goes... He should've stayed in the UK then. The Cambridges are managing very nicely, thank you. They take their kids for walks on the beach, and we'd never seen them until they released their anniversary video the other week. Harry's clearly envious of William; Harry's mad wife is vitriolically envious of Catherine. Oh and I’m pretty sure it’s the mad wife who keeps phoning her go-to paps when she needs to be in the news again.

PH: [...] I believe we live in an age now where you've got certain elements of the media redefining to us what privacy means. There's a massive conflict of interest. And then you've got social media platforms, trying to redefine what free speech means. Why - I wonder why you're doing that. And again - so this has been happening for 15 years now. And we're living in this world where we've almost like all the laws have been completely flipped by the very people that need them flipped so they can make more money and they can capitalise off our pain, grief, and this sort of general self destructive mode that's happening at the moment [...]

He doesn't get how hypocritical this is, does he? The Markles are the ones capitalising on their grief, pain and the rest of it. And no-one would be interested in them without the royal bits because they have nothing else to offer. Failed actress and used-to-be-a-soldier wrapped up in festering bitterness.

Blah, blah... went shopping in a supermarket... saw lots of chewing gum... blah, blah... Archie on the back of his bicycle... girls want to be princesses... You don't need to be a princess, you can create the life that will be better than any princess or it's something along those lines... she said she expected [the press] to be fair... Pages and pages of how he hates the British press...

PH: [...] And especially when you can't defend yourself so yes, I think when you marry into it, especially when it's one Princess Diana's sons there is a certain amount of 'okay what I'm actually letting myself in for?' But very few people actually know - apart from the Brits - how toxic that element of the of the UK press is.[...]

We're up to page 24 now, if you're still with me. Oh here it is, Harry's unconscious bias... What’s the betting the mad wife has scripted this bit for him?

PH: [...] So going back to the whole sort of travelling around the Commonwealth, I thought I knew, right, having been able to travel that much and meet so many and such a diverse group of people. I thought I understood life. Especially bearing in mind most of the countries I was going to were, most of the communities are going to were people of colour. But then I was really shocked once I started doing therapy. And that bubble was burst. And I started doing my own work, really - a lot of work - and started to uncover and understand more about unconscious bias. And I was like, wow, I thought since I screwed up when I was younger, and then did the work. I thought I then knew. But I didn't. And I still don't fully know. It's like a constant working progress. And every single one of us has it. [...] Everyone has biases, of all sorts. But I think it's a really important point, especially now, after everything's happened in the last year and a half, like the world is changing, the younger generation are driving it. And you've got to like a multi-racial, cultural sort of movement happening, which has never happened before. But unconscious bias is the way that I understand it, is, again, it's not something that's wrong with you. Right? And you don't have to be defensive about it. That's the thing. No one's blaming you. But the moment that you acknowledge that you do have unconscious bias, what are you going to do about it? Because if you choose to do nothing you're continuing to fuel the problem, which means that you're then heading towards racism. Whereas unconscious bias is actually something that is inherent, unfortunately, in every single one of us. But that it is possible to educate yourself to be more aware of the problems and therefore be part of the solution rather than part of the problem.

Markle's got him well-trained on this one, hasn't she. I wonder if he's read anything critical of the unconscious bias movement, or just repeating what he's been told to. Oh and then he goes off about being in the army...

PH: I loved it. I love wearing the same uniform as everybody else. I love being treated the same. I love the expectation of if you want to get that job, or you want that promotion, or you want to finish this race, it's all on you. There's no special treatment, you're not going to get any help. If anything, you're probably going to get treated the opposite because everyone thinks that you've had an easy life. And everyone's always helped you get to where you are.

But...but...but, Harry wasn't treated the same, there was special treatment, he was helped to get to where he was. He scraped a couple of poor quality A Levels and got admitted to Sandhurst because he's a prince. Good old Wikipedia says:

In June 2003, Harry completed his education at Eton with two A-Levels,[22] achieving a grade B in art and D in geography, having decided to drop history of art after AS level.[23] He has been described as "a top tier athlete", having played competitive polo and rugby union.[24] One of Harry's former teachers, Sarah Forsyth, has asserted that Harry was a "weak student" and that staff at Eton conspired to help him cheat on examinations.[25][26] Both Eton and Harry denied the claims.[25][27] While a tribunal made no ruling on the cheating claim, it "accepted the prince had received help in preparing his A-level 'expressive' project, which he needed to pass to secure his place at Sandhurst."[25][28]

PH: And then suddenly, like - while I was at school, I hated exams. And I promised myself I'd never do exams again. Then I joined the army of which is full of exams. I still promised myself I'm never gonna do it and then I end up flying Apache [...]

Gods, it's getting boring. Even the interviewers are zoning out. Still ten pages to go. Wish I hadn't started this, I could be out weeding. Weather's nice, not too windy... Do I deserve a quick G&T yet?

PH: Or worse, was they turn around and say, right, because last week, you're out the front. This week, you got to carry his bergan, I'm like - what, 30 extra pounds? Nooo. But it was, it was the most normalising experience or job that I could have ever hoped for. And then going to Afghanistan twice [...] And someone said to me very recently, from the moment that you're born into today's world, life is trauma, so the sooner that we actually acknowledge that but but [...]

A-a-a-a-and he's back on the mental health thing, PTSD or PTSI,

PH: Post Traumatic Stress Injury is like: Well, that makes sense, because I just saw my mate get blown out. But the other piece of this is, what we need to remember is, the lot of the recruiting that we do in the UK, comes from certain cities and certain homes, where there's childhood trauma. So what we collectively have already got inside of us, the trigger of seeing something happen in Iraq, Afghanistan can be the trigger. So everyone goes: Oh, it's because they were on operations, and because they saw their makeup blown up. It's like, no. [...] So that's what I've been working on for years, for the last five years, which is like, and it started in therapy of like, I don't want to lose this thing, because I think it's, I feel so connected to my mum. [...]

They move on to parenting, which the press is rubbing its hands over... Harry blaming everyone but himself and his saintly mother - Charles, HMTQ, PP... "They f*ck you up, your mum and dad". But not the mum bit. He can't push his mum off her pedestal.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48419/this-be-the-verse if you don't know Larkin's poetry. How much more? Nearly there. Monica loves The Crown and doesn't realise it's fictitious.

DS: [...]Well, Harry, I've really really liked talking to you. You're very charming. You're very intelligent. You're handsome, and I can't wait to see your torso.

MP: Thank you so much for coming.

DS: So I just want to remind everyone that May 21 on Apple Plus, you should check out Oprah and Prince Harry's 'The Me You Can't See'. I have to imagine it's similar to her book, which I just read, which is absolutely incredible 'What happened to you?' So everyone should check out 'The me you can't see' on Apple plus May 21.

And still Harry won't shut up... Shut up, shut up. Cut his mic. You don't have to read this last bit, they've already wound up the interview...He still won’t shut up.

PH: Yeah, we're moving from the physical to the emotional, right, physically. At the beginning of this pandemic, people were panicking. And there was that fight or flight like, ahh what do we do like lockdown, survival? Yeah. And now that the vaccines have been sort of, we're getting to the point where more and more people are being vaccinated, we're now in the emotional phase of what I read in the New York Times article was called languishing, which is really interesting. It's like the is the middle child between flourishing and depression. You just feel flat, and it's not depressed. It's definitely not flourishing. You lack the energy and the will, the motivation, all that kind of stuff. Because you're kind of sitting there going - Well, what happens next? And I think it's really important that we talk about languishing. And it was coined by someone I can't remember who but I think it was the journalist who wrote the story was Adam Grant. No, he didn't come up with it. Someone else came up with him, he wrote this, the most amazing article about languishing and the fact that how important it is to be able to talk about it because - look when it comes to mental health, we need to realise and accept that every single one of us have mental health. There's varying degrees, as we said, you've got the mental illness, and then you've got the sort of the awareness and the work that you can put in, like, Where do you want to be that we shouldn't just sit there and go: Oh, mental illness is once we are literally on the floor crawling around in the foetal position needing help. But for me, I don't think I need therapy anymore. But I wanted. And when I say therapy, I mean, actual therapy, sitting down having a discussion with someone. But I also mean like, nature, like going for walks, like throwing the ball for my dog down the beach and stuff like that. There are certain things around the world that are free, some you have to pay for, but ultimately go searching for the things that make you feel good about yourself. Like that's the key to life, get rid of the bad stuff, get rid of the hate, and just focus on the good. And your whole life turns around from that. I hate this idea. And I was one of them. I fell for it. Right? I didn't acknowledge that clearly what happened to me when I was 12 years old, losing my mom and all the other pieces that happened, the traumatic experiences that happened to me since then, I didn't acknowledge them, when perhaps - maybe I need to deal with this because if I don't, how the hell am I going to be a decent father to my son and my daughter? Like that awareness, I didn't have then. But again, we've got what - 40 experts as part of this series, and the Surgeon General, Dr. Nadine Burke Harris, she's absolutely fantastic. And she was talking about this concept of mental health being sort of public health, right. Because the services are so limited. There's not enough money. The problem is actually immense. How can we all help each other rather than this: 'Oh, once I'm broken, or once I'm suffering, I have to go here.' And there's not enough rooms or spaces for the amount of people or the for the need, when actually you can get ahead of it, and work on the prevention by sharing and being more vulnerable with each other, and being able to process this grief or this loss, or this trauma that every single one of us have experienced and will experience. So anyone who's sitting there going: 'I don't have a problem, and I never will have a problem.' Well, you probably are already contributing to the problem, because you probably got your blinkers on, you probably created your own echo chambers. So I think it's a that, that's certainly what I've experienced for my own process, my own journey, my family and my friends and everybody else is. Anyone who thinks, oh, we're fine. You're the one who's like, willing to talk about it. It's like, yeah, I'm willing to talk about it and talking about it. And the financial element as well. We're pouring money into on the downsteam, when it's like, Can we just focus upstream? Yeah, we focus on one thing, like to me listen to Oprah was what was one of the reasons that this whole thing started was two of the biggest issues that we're facing in today's world, I think, is the climate crisis, and mental health. And they're both intrinsically linked. Basically if we neglect our collective wellbeing, then we're screwed. Basically, because we can't look after ourselves. We can't look after each other. We can't look after each other, we can't look after this home that we all inhabit. So it's all part of the same thing.

DS: Prince Harry, I don't say this lightly. I love you. Thanks for coming. This was great.

M: Thank you so much.

PH: Thank you very much.

Wish I'd done my weeding.

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junipedia · 3 years

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OK SO HERES THE FIRST 2 CHAPTERS I KNOW THEYRE NOT GREAT BUT ITS FINE

Hunting season

Dull. This day feels dull. I mean that’s how Oregon weather usually is, grey thick clouds layered over the sky like a weighted blanket threatening to fall with water at any moment. Heavy underbrush making the already crowded woods feel even more claustrophobic. Sneakers seeming to sink further into the wet moss with every step like the woods itself was trying to reclaim you. The snap of a twin you'd hear every once and awhile filling your imagination with every reason besides a rational one as to what it could have been. As unsettling as the woods here are, they bring a sense of comfort and peace like even if something was watching you out there it had no fowl intent with you. Night on the other hand was when those vicious creators came out to prowl. Those snaps of trees turning into something that could be hunting you, chasing you. The paths you thought you knew so well turning into a maze of inkyblack darkness that's reaching out for you…

The snapping sound was louder today than it usually was. My face pointed towards the tops of the dying trees, half expecting to see something looking back at me but just being met with a flock of geese flying overhead. The snapping started up suddenly, whipping my face back down to eye level trying to see through the thick ferns and weeds. It sounded like a bulldozer headed straight for me. “Oh my fucking god, Athena” i let out the heaviest sigh of relife once I saw the fluffy tail zig-zagging around. I stood upright and rubbed my face, someone must have let her out after I had already left. The only way back to the house was the way I had come. Which was a steep forgotten road that always seemed to stay a bit to be taken care of for being abandoned. Athena rushed past me hitting the breaks when she got to the bottom of the hill. She stopped though her always wagging tail stopping and dropping in between her legs. I stopped. She only ever did that if she was scared or was seeing something she didn't like. I just stood and watched her. If there truly was a threat there she would let me know, show some sign that the area was suddenly dangerous. it couldn't have been a person because if that was the case she would have started barking. In less than a minute her tail was back up and she was trotting away like she was only seconds ago.

“That's a big dog” perched between the underbrush a person sat hunched over making intense eye contact with the canine. He dealt with big dogs but he'd usually know about them beforehand. Well, it wasn't like he DIDN'T know about Athena. He'd been out here watching this family for a while now. He didn't have any tv or media so he liked watching the family's he was camped near for however long he was staying. He'd been in these woods for a while playing cat and mouse with the hunting dogs that the people on this hill owned. Watching this family was the only source of entertainment. He thought it was funny how they argued almost exactly how his family would have, the only reason it was different was that instead of these parents holding it against each other they would sweep it under the carpet only to let it bubble over and resurface in later conversations. The oldest was the most fun to watch. Seeing how each day she drove herself into the ground trying to be the best for everyone just to let them down like she had feared. He thought her name was ironic because it held so much truth, she was just a scared little bunny adopted by wolves trying to also just be a wolf. He stared back at the dog waiting for it to do something. He'd actually grown fond of the pooch so it brought a sliver of warmth when she didn't bark or snarl at him.

“Athena!” I walked to join her, giving her a scratch behind the ears. She wasn't acting strange anymore meaning whatever had spooked her must have left before i could see it.

Walking away I popped my knuckles against the opposing hand.

Pop crackle snap

I stopped, those were cracking joints but. Not my joints. I turned back in the direction id came from. Athena was already long gone from the house so if something was there I'd have to see for myself. I raised my hand up near my face pressing down on one of my fingers until it let out a loud pop. I waited but sure enough a louder crack came from in front of me somewhere. Hesitantly taking steps forward i'd let out a pop only for it to be followed by a louder more aggressive one. I crouched down thinking it could have been in the trees. I brought my hand to my chin and turned it, letting out a chorus of snaps.

Silence. A slow breath escaped me from relief that is until a grotesque song of crunches and bones grinding together. I turn my heaad my eyes meeting with wide crazed one frantically trying to focus on me but the spastic movemts of its shoulders and neck making it hard to look at one thing. I couldn't even make a noise, i knew there was a homeless camp near my house but i had never actually seen any of them. It grabbed my shoulders so tight it was painful. My back hitting the ground causing the air to slip out of my lungs. Its shoulders were still rapidly moving as it pressed its hand around its jaw covering my mouth. My hands shot up and tried to push at its face and chest. I didn't know what to do. It was on me weighing me to the ground. The hoodie it had on covering its body type hiding how strong it could really be. There was nothing i could do, it was obviously stronger than me.

Something must have switched in my brain to say “move idiot if you don't you'll probably die in these woods” I opened my mouth as wide as i could, biting down on the top of its hand. Blood seeping into my teeth and gums. The strong taste of iron filled my mouth as I heard the crunch of the bone I had hit. A mixture of saliva and blood pooling out of my mouth all around and down my chin. It didn't move, didn't even flinch.

Bears trap

He panicked. What else was he going to do, his tics had ever reacted that badly before to someone else's. He held her down, his hand almost covered half her face. He tried to tilt his head to look at her but it just came off as more jerks and pulls from his muscles`just like a bunny” he thought, if he moved his hand just right it could break her in just an instinct. Just like that she’d be gone. His thoughts were interrupted by the crunching of his hand. He watched her try and basically chew her way away from him. “The bunni thinks she's a wolf now” he watched her for a second again before taking his other hand and picking up a good sized rock.

“This is it” I watched him raise the rock, tightly closing my eyes. The only thing I felt was an extreme headache before I just went numb and limp.

“Why is it so cold” was my first thought when I started coming again. Sitting up the familiar sound of a tent zipper opening caught my attention. I tried to sit up and got trapped in the thin sleeping bag I had been in.This was the first time I had seen him at least somewhat up right. He was at least a foot taller than me, leaning into the tent like he was the one cautious of me. He crawled into the tent looking at me, his eyes not as crazed as before but still holding a feeling that at any moment this bomb could go off. He didn't speak as he inched closer and closer. He then reached his hand out. His finger shook as I leaned back but was trapped by the tent. A hot pain running through my back as he touched my forehead where the rock must have hit me. The mask covering his mouth hid what emotion he was truly portraying at the moment. The hand he touched my head with was bandaged, reminding me of the bite I had given him. I raised my hand and wiped my mouth, sticky red blood still coming off meaning that it really hadn't been all that long since all that had happened but just long enough to get dark and colder outside. I opened my mouth but didn't even get a chance to speak before he beat me to it “just dont just dont yell” it took me back to hear him.

This obviously isn't an adult just by the voice. His voice was raspy and almost menacing. Even if he was my age he was still just a kid. We didn't say anything for a while, just analyzing each other like it was a mutual agreement that we would let each other realize what was actually happening before doing anything rash. Yeah, he may have basically kidnapped me but that didn't mean I had to be a dick to him. I don't know how long we stared at each other, it could have been hours or only minutes but after that he crawled further into the tent and simply laid down. Almost like he was just watching me to see if i would do anything to try and leave or get away from him. The only thing keeping the tent illuminated was a small battery operated lantern that was barely bright enough to light up the small tent. He sat up again and looked at me just to turn the lanter off. I could hear him shifting around, maybe to take his mask off. We just laid in silence for what felt like forever. “Aren't you cold” even though I was staying quiet it sounded like I was yelling in the small tent. There was no answer for a moment just the sound of him moving around again. I thought maybe he was asleep before I heard a deep inhale. “no” there was a long silence again before he spoke ”are y-you cold cold?” i hesitated before answering “yeah….i guess i am pretty cold”.

Again there was silence before he moved. I felt him come closer to me before feeling one of his arms touch me. This wasn't right. Not even twelve hours ago he had been the one to bash me over the head with a rock to take me to whatever kinda temporary camp this was. He must have read the room because he stopped and waited. I really took a moment to think about what was happening. Everything was happening way too fast but at the same time the little I've seen of him has shown me that even if he is my age he's clearly unstable. If I didn't let him do what he wanted he could blow at any moment and I really don't know what he's capable of.

He waited for another moment before moving towards me again. He stiffly wrapped his arms around me, even though it was awkward and uncomfortable the warmth he gave off was a nice change from the harsh forest cold.my mind must have just fallen unconscious at some point because the next thing i knew the tent was lit with the dull sunlight that was managing to come through the overlay of clouds. He wasn't next to me anymore but the smell of smoke burned my nose as I could hear the sound of fire crackling and snapping outside the tent.I slowly unzipped the front and peaked out. He was sitting with his back to the tent facing the homemade fire pit that he had made.

Toby hated the fire. He hated all the pain that it has caused him but it was something that he simply couldn't avoid. One of the things he liked about the fire now was that he could tame it, control when it grew and when it withered away. He looked down at his bandaged hand. He hadn't slept last night, he was too nervous to make even the slightest movement just in case it would wake her. The warmth she had given off was...new. “Why did you let me hold you?” he spoke down into his hands, the zipper making him turn around to face her.

They both froze like deer in the headlights again.

No mask. He wasn't wearing his mask right now. He looked so normal. He just stared at me for a while and I stared back at him. Him turning back towards the fire was enough for me to snap back out of it. He poked the fire with a stick, moving a few blackened sticks around to stir up the fire causing embers to rise up into the early overcasted sky. I scurried around him and sat on the opposite side of the fire, watching him through the flames. His eyes shot up at mine like he suddenly felt my eyes on him. His stare was so intense i wouldn't say lifeless no, there was something buried deep behind those eyes doing something to him. I looked back down into the fire, what was there to talk about? Did he even want to talk? I just want to go home.

“Were you cold l-last last night?” I looked at him furrowing my eyebrows together. ‘This man bashes me in the head with a rock but is worried I was too cold?’ I shifted my weight, pulling my legs closer to myself. “I was fine.” There was a long silence after that before either of us even thought to move. He was the first one to move, getting up and grabbing something from the tent. “Where are you going?” he actually seemed shocked that I asked “getting more fire-wood” the moment he said that my eyes snapped back towards the fire. This could be my chance to run.

#ben drowned #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #ticci toby #toby rogers #jane the killer #slender man #creepypasta wallpaper #creepypasta fanfiction #fanfic #self insert #x reader

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

Text

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @jamies-kpop-reactions

A/N: This was originally the final chapter of this fic, but there will be more! Please bear with me on the completion of this story!

Chapter 13: Belong

The S.M. New Year’s party had been hosted at the same banquet hall for as long as I could remember. It was a fancy sort of place that made me feel out of place first as a child, then as a teenager, and then as an adult as I walked at Baekhyun’s side, heels clicking against the shining white marble floor.

My insecurity started to melt with the first whispers of, “Wow, is that Lei? She looks so grown up,” and, “She looks pretty.” Although flattered, I wasn’t vain enough to steal a glance at my reflection in the overhead mirrored ceiling. Still, I couldn’t quite bite back my smile as I brought my fingers up to graze the soft petals of my flower crown.

My smile didn’t falter until the whispers changed— dropped so that I had to strain to hear.

“Is she walking with Baekhyun?”

“Isn’t he a little too old for her?”

“They’re a bit bold, aren’t they— matching each other like that?”

“Anyway, they’re a very pretty couple, right?”

I stiffened at Baekhyun’s side because this was my old nightmare— being associated with a dating scandal— come to life. My steps slowed and then almost stopped altogether when I looked up at our reflections and saw what everyone else saw: Me and Baekhyun standing too close together, wearing clothes crafted from the same sparkling midnight blue material, donning similar silver masks, accenting our formal attire with white roses— mine atop my head, Baekhyun’s in the suit pocket over his heart. I had never been to a prom, owing to the fact that I had been homeschooled, but Baekhyun and I looked like what I imagined a prom king and queen would look like.

It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had we made any deliberate effort to match. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had my heart not been swelling with the excitement of finding Taemin, who had planned to subtly coordinate his appearance with mine. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had I not devoted much of my free time leading up to that night to reading that story about Baekhyun. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had I not tripped, drawing a collective gasp from everyone in the room.

As if enacting a scene from a drama— or, worse, from that story— Baekhyun caught me around the waist and gently pulled me upright. While I tried (and failed) to fit my foot back into my shoe, Baekhyun kept his arm loosely laced around my waist, muttering, “You’re already tripping over yourself, and you haven’t even had anything to drink yet.”

His efforts to keep me on my feet and paint a smile onto my blushing face only fueled the spreading belief that we were attending the party as a couple. Because I was using Baekhyun as a crutch, I couldn’t flinch away from him as my instincts begged. I just had to set my jaw and brave the whispers.

From the other side of the room, someone bellowed, “Are you okay?” I didn’t have to glance over to see him, hands forming a megaphone around his mouth, to know that the voice belonged to Na Jaemin.

Humiliated beyond all comprehension by the attention, I retreated into Baekhyun’s embrace and quietly watched as he dismissed Jaemin’s concern with the wave of his hand. The SuperM table couldn’t have been more than five feet away, but the rest of that walk seemed to take a lifetime.

In that lifetime, I hadn’t gathered the nerve to speak before settling into the space next to Lucas. What little confidence I had recovered dissipated at the sight of Chanyeol, who stood, chortling with Ten. Ten, at least, once he met my eyes, had the decency to drop his laughter at my expense into his champagne glass. Chanyeol, emboldened by our longtime mutual hatred, made no effort to disguise his laughter.

My eternal complaint about the New Year’s party: there were no chairs at the tall tables. Mom explained again and again that the lack of seats was meant to encourage mingling among staff and artists. Anyway, being a lady wearing a dress, I couldn’t plop onto the floor to fix my shoe. I steadied myself against the table and, leaning into Lucas as he asked, “Are you alright, Lei? It kinda looked like your trip hurt,” I tried to secure the back strap of the shoe around my heel.

Voice snipped short by embarrassment, I hissed, “It did hurt,” which only tickled Chanyeol further.

I barely had the time to glance at Taemin (who I had been most excited to see) looking absolutely beautiful even in his white mask at Kai’s side on the opposite side of the table, before Mark demanded my attention. Panting after his sprint from NCT Dream’s table, he asked, “Yo, Lei, are you okay?”

Thinking that it would have been easier to overcome my burning blush and the faint throbbing of my foot if everyone could agree to a) stop asking if I was okay and b) stop laughing, I nodded. “Yeah, Mark.”

“Good.” Mark grabbed a champagne glass and chugged the drink in one sip. “You shouldn't be embarrassed, you know. Everyone has clumsy moments. Remember when I fell on my way to the bathroom during our flight to America?”

While Kai and Lucas, at Mark’s remark, joined Chanyeol and Ten in laughter, I shook my head, “No.” Even if I had remembered Mark’s fall, I would have lied. I could never really find the humor in that kind of embarrassment.

“You were a little busy,” Lucas acknowledged, draping an arm over my shoulders and glancing indiscreetly at Taemin (who stared at me and deepened my blush), “so let me tell you that Mark’s fall was, like, the funniest thing in the history of all time.”

Chanyeol snorted. “Look, there’s no way anything has ever been funnier than our princess—” he referenced my branding snidely— “nearly busting her ass in front of everyone.”

Earning a glare from Taeyong, Ten reasoned, “Actually, based on the trajectory of her fall, had Baekhyun not reached out as Prince Charming, the princess would’ve busted her face.”

There was an important distinction between Chanyeol and Ten: Ten was my friend, and Chanyeol was not. Ten’s teasing, although occasionally annoying, was harmless. Ten always had my back when it counted. Bearing that in mind, for Ten’s sake, I tried to repress the eternal urge to tear into Chanyeol. I just looked at Taemin, hoping that his small supportive smile would brighten the night.

Evidently determined to improve my mood, Mark smiled at me too. “You look really pretty, Lei.”

Baekhyun, bored with having been quiet for so long, leaned onto the table and asked, batting his eyelashes, “What about me?”

Wide-eyed, Mark realized, “Oh, wow! You’re matching!” which compelled everyone at the table to look at me and Baekhyun with renewed interest. Perhaps noticing that I squirmed with discomfort, fixing my eyes anywhere except Taemin and Baekhyun, Mark added, “There’s nothing wrong with that! I coordinated with NCT Dream to wear chewing gum pink!”

In the moment, I couldn’t even appreciate how cute that was. Nobody else responded to Mark either.

Poorly masking his smirk behind his glass, Ten stretched across the table to study Taemin’s reaction to his question, “What do you think about that, Taemin? Lei matching Baekhyun, I mean.”

Maybe Ten was disappointed that Taemin didn’t glance at him for even the briefest second, or maybe he was more satisfied that Taemin didn’t look away from me as he answered, “I think she looks beautiful.”

A collection of my thoughts in that moment:

Taemin was embarrassing me.

He was being way too obvious about our relationship— right in front of that idiot Chanyeol.

My heart was going to beat out of my chest if he didn’t stop looking at me like that.

I didn’t want him to look away.

This blush would never fade.

If Taemin was jealous of Jaemin’s earlier concern and my accidental matching with Baekhyun that was obvious enough for Mark to notice (and, knowing Taemin’s temperament, he probably was), I wouldn’t hear about it until later if (when) he climbed in through my bedroom window.

Taemin watched me, cocking his head aside, so I opened my mouth to thank him for the compliment, but before I could make our relationship any more obvious to onlookers, Chanyeol interrupted with his lack of manners. “Is that why you tripped over yourself, princess? Were you admiring your own reflection in the ceiling or the fact that you already have someone else to cling to?”

Initially, I silently gasped at Chanyeol’s indirect reference Sehun— the first (and maybe only) person I had ever clung to without caring who saw. Then, I remembered that if Chanyeol was here, Sehun couldn’t have been far behind; they were always kind of inseparable. My blood went cold. My heart stopped beating.

No, I didn’t want to avoid Sehun anymore. I wanted to abandon that habit after he had been honest with me about his feelings. But maybe, I realized with a frown, he wanted to avoid me. Maybe he needed to avoid me for a while so that one day he could look at me without wincing. I understood— I avoided him because I thought that would lessen the pain in my chest— but I was still disappointed.

I must have looked as guilty as I felt. Chanyeol rolled his eyes at me and set his glass down with a thud. At my side, Baekhyun recoiled. Eyes fixed on the black table cloth, Baekhyun protectively reached for the glass and shielded it with his hands. Chanyeol didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t want anymore to drink. Maybe he didn’t even notice Baekhyun’s actions because his eyes— wide, protruding— were burning through me.

I won’t pretend to be an expert on Sehun, but I knew how he used to defend me from Chanyeol’s temper when I was a kid. I knew that the Sehun who begged me to admit just once that I loved him wouldn’t have encouraged Chanyeol to look at me and speak to me as if I were the cruelest person alive. Because I didn’t care what Chanyeol thought— I cared what Sehun thought— that fact comforted me.

Refusing to allow Chanyeol to drown me in guilt after I apologized to Sehun, after Lucas promised that I had done nothing wrong, when I was already sorry enough for the years wasted holding a grudge against somebody I loved without Chanyeol’s reminders, I returned his glare. He didn’t know what he was talking about, as usual. There was no doubt in my mind that Sehun, who struggled to reveal his heart to me, hadn’t bared his deepest feelings to Chanyeol, so I huffed, “Why don’t you just shut the hell up, Chanyeol? Isn’t there somebody else you can talk to?”

“Nope,” he retorted, knuckles turning white. “Not that it’s any of your business— not that you would even give a shit— but the only person I really want to talk to stayed home because he has ‘the flu.’”

My feelings, wounded by the confirmation that Sehun was avoiding me, were nothing compared to my concern for him. Blinking, I tried to dismiss the pain of knowing that there was nothing I could say to rush us through this period of healing. Blinking, I assured myself again and again that it was okay.

Although Sehun couldn’t hear me, I promised in the piece of my heart that he would hold forever that I wouldn’t hold any grudge. Without holding my breath, I would wait until he was ready to speak to me again. Before I fell in love with Taemin, I had abandoned the hope that things with Sehun would ever be like they once were. Before I fell in love with Taemin, I had outgrown the childish unreciprocated love for Sehun that defined much of my youth. I couldn’t have followed him forever.

However, I had recently adopted the belief that friendship with Sehun didn’t have to be confined to the past. No, I couldn’t love Sehun (or anybody) the way I used to, but I didn’t believe that such a pure love could ever fade forever. It would only grow into something better, something purer, something more infinite. Chanyeol’s rage couldn’t steal that belief from me.

Missing Chanyeol’s air quotes around the word ‘flu,’ Mark’s brow furrowed in genuine concern. Undeniably referencing Mom’s illness (which he hadn’t accepted was fake) that excused her from Donghae’s birthday party, he sulked, “Someone else has the flu?”

As if joking without the faintest trace of a smile, Baekhyun muttered, “It’s been an active flu season.” Because he spoke so quietly, I’m sure that I’m the only person who heard.

“See?” Chanyeol’s fists struck the table, and the glass would have fallen over had Baekhyun not held it secure in his hands. “You’re completely heartless, Lei! I’ll never understand what anyone sees in you!”

Those kinds of remarks— the kind that are meant to strike me silent— have always set me ablaze with burning indignation. Fitting my hands over my hips, probably transforming before Chanyeol’s eyes into the child he always despised, I scoffed, “Yeah, well, whatever will I do without your love and devotion, Chanyeol?” much to Ten’s delight.

Chanyeol’s jaw tensed. “You’ve always been like this— a total smart ass!” I winked, and he continued, “You just say what you want and do what you want without respecting your elders or caring who you hurt. And somehow, everyone around you thinks it’s endearing or some shit, but I’m here to remind you that it’s not.”

Cutting his eyes at Chanyeol as his grip around the glass tightened, Baekhyun started, “Look, whatever your problem is—”

But— surprise— Chanyeol wouldn’t let Baekhyun speak. Still glaring at me, Chanyeol challenged, “Aren’t you even going to try to deny it? I guess you can’t, but aren’t you even going to apologize?”

I shook my head. “The last time I checked, I hadn’t said anything to you that I regret.”

Chanyeol blinked at me. “So you don’t regret telling me to shut the hell up?”

“Nope.” Despite my annoyance, I smiled— the big, tooth showing sort of smile— and I understood why Chanyeol didn’t like me. “I stand by that and every other thing I’ve said in my life.”

That wasn’t true, exactly, but I tried to live with the satisfaction of having always said what I meant. Maybe I was prompted to say things that I would regret because I felt the remorse of having left some past truths unsaid. I could always apologize once I realized that I was wrong or I hurt somebody with my honesty; I could never turn back time and say what I wanted to say once the moment passed.

“There you go again,” Chanyeol huffed, “thinking that you’re infallible, failing to admit—”

“I’m not apologizing to you, Chanyeol, for telling the truth. I’m not apologizing because S—” I choked on Sehun’s name— “somebody else is hurt.” No, I wouldn’t tell Chanyeol that I had already apologized to Sehun. It wasn’t his business. “You’re not entitled to any fragment of my heart.”

Before I could brace myself for Chanyeol’s response, a cool, calm hand rested on my shoulder. It belonged to Suho, who asked first, “Are you okay, Lei?”

I didn’t know if he was referring to my earlier trip or the long-winded public scolding from Chanyeol, but the answer to both questions was the same. “Yes.”

I turned to catch Suho’s brief smile before his disapproving scowl settled on Chanyeol. “Don’t you think you’re being too loud?” His voice was quiet, but it held a gentle authority that instantly made me feel ashamed for responding to Chanyeol at all.

Although Suho’s question was not one that requested an answer, Chanyeol retorted, “I’m being just as loud as I want to be!”

It wasn’t until Suho’s hold on my shoulder trembled that I noticed them: Yesung and Siwon, scowling, followed closely by the evilly smiling Kyuhyun. There was something dangerous about the twitching of Yesung’s left eye as he descended on the table. Were it not for Suho’s protective grip and the crowd of spectators that gathered to watch me argue with Chanyeol trapping me in place, I would have run out of the banquet hall before Yesung started yelling.

“What the hell is going on around here?” Before Chanyeol could prove whether he was stupid enough to argue with Yesung, Yesung continued, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Yesung must not have been looking for an answer. Pointing at me without looking away from Chanyeol, he seethed, “She is ours—” he gestured to himself, Siwon, and Kyuhyun— “and if you have a problem with her, you have a problem with us!”

To demonstrate their solidarity, Siwon stood with his arms— clearly muscular under his fitted black button-down shirt— crossed over his chest, and Kyuhyun abandoned his smile to form his eyebrows into sharp angles. They meant well, I guessed, because Super Junior always meant well, but as I noticed the sea of spectators rising around us, I thought that if it were possible to die from embarrassment, I would have died in Suho’s arms.

Mom’s appearance interrupted Yesung’s futile efforts to force Chanyeol to apologize.

Having no sense of when to keep his mouth shut, Lucas leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Dude, at least Mom looks hot.” That was his version of finding the bright side, I guess.

I rolled my eyes, but Mom did look even prettier than usual. Her hair was shiny and sleek even in the dim lighting, and her lips were painted a pretty shade of scarlet that complimented her sparkly red pantsuit. It was too ambitious to hope that I would grow to be as beautiful as my mother.

“Are you okay, Lei?” She asked, tracing her fingers over one of the roses in my crown. “If your heel broke, or if your feet hurt, I have another pair of flats in the car.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine, Mom.” My voice sounded small compared to Yesung’s roar.

Nodding, Mom turned to Yesung and Chanyeol. “What’s going on here?”

Nobody got the chance to answer her, though. While Baekhyun whined to Suho, “I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure Lei broke my big toe when she tripped over me,” and Suho responded, “I’m sorry you’re hurt, but I doubt it’s broken—” and Baekhyun retorted, “It’s throbbing, Junmyeon!” and Suho maintained, “You wouldn’t be able to stand if it were broken,” the other members of Super Junior arrived to sink the night further into the dark depths of chaos.

They were led by Shindong, who threw Taeyong and Ten aside to fill their spaces at the table while screaming, red in the face, “What the hell, Manager?”

Seeking some sense of comfort in this time of utter insanity, I glanced at Lucas only to find him looking from person to person, eyes round and jaw slack. I should have known that this wasn’t a time for him to spout unexpected wisdom. At least we were unified in shock.

Without allowing Mom the chance to ask him what was wrong, Shindong barked, “What’s this about you becoming EXO’s manager?”

Baekhyun, of course, perked up. He gawked at Suho. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course,” Suho said.

Perhaps genuinely offended, Baekhyun gasped, “And you didn’t tell me?”

Baekhyun’s frown deepened when Suho responded, “I know a lot of things that I don’t tell you.”

“Well,” Baekhyun wheezed, “we don’t want Momager!” He explained to my gasp, “We don’t want her if we’re running from Donghae. Tell her that we don’t want her, Junmyeon.”

“I will not,” Suho decided sternly without asking about Donghae, “and you better not either. Just be quiet— at least until this conflict passes.”

Appearing at Shindong’s side after shoving past Chanyeol, who responded by screaming, “OW!” Eunhyuk said, “Manager must have made her choice.” When Eunhyuk stared at Mom with narrowed eyes, it was obvious that he had stolen Donghae’s photograph and returned it to Mom. I tried not to glare at him.

Tucking hair behind her ear, Mom asked, “How did you find out about that, Shindong?”

Oh. Suho already confirmed that it was true, but I guess I didn’t expect Mom to sound so sad. That was the only logical reaction since she had worked on every Super Junior comeback for years, but I couldn’t seem to recover from Mom’s frown.

Leeteuk frowned, too, as he swore, “I didn’t tell him.” He must have been telling the truth; Leeteuk rarely missed an opportunity to stir up controversy as if all aspects of life were a live broadcast.

Suho told Mom, “I haven’t told anyone either, ma’am,” just before Shindong yelled, “Heechul told us!”

Never failing to appear at the sound of his name, Heechul pushed through the crowd to stand by Mom. Pointing a finger at Shindong, he demanded, “Keep my name out of your mouth, you filthy snitch!”

Shindong’s lips parted, I’m sure, to hurl an insult at Heechul as the other Super Junior members started voicing their disappointment at losing Mom to EXO, but Mom silenced them all with little effort. “SHUT UP.” She had to yell or else nobody would have heard her over their own voice.

Everyone watched with bated breath as Mom pinched at the bridge of her nose and released a ragged sigh. “Although I had no intention of announcing this at the New Year’s party, because of Heechul’s loose tongue—” when she cut her eyes at him, Heechul winked and wet his lips with his tongue— “I have to admit that I can’t be your manager anymore, Super Junior.”

Looking very much like a child, Shindong’s lower lip trembled. “Ever?”

I almost rolled my eyes and answered, “Nothing is forever, Shindong, but Mom will always be your manager,” so imagine my shock when Mom shook her head. Everybody gasped with me.

Baekhyun took advantage of the silence. In a crumbling voice, he cried despite his past schemes to secure Mom as EXO’s manager, “We don’t want you, Momager. EXO doesn’t want you, so don’t leave Super Junior.” He must have been moved by all of the broken-hearted faces.

Although something had been ripped from my chest, although tears were pooling and burning my eyes because my entire life had been me and Mom and Super Junior and now it was ending— no, not ending, just changing— but I didn’t want something so perfect to ever change— Mom grinned at Baekhyun’s outburst and patted his shoulders. When Mom smiled, even when it was that tired, teary-eyed smile, I had to smile too. It didn’t matter that everything in me wanted to cry.

It occurred to me that the sun was setting on the best days of my life. Although I had always been the kind of person who preferred the company of the moon and stars, nobody who takes the time to watch the sunset is ever ready for the sun’s rays to fade. I told myself what everyone says to comfort themselves on the brink of great change: it was beautiful while it lasted, the sun will rise again tomorrow, memories are forever.

I believed those things. I also believed that Super Junior would be a part of my life forever. Heechul wouldn’t stop coming over to watch dramas with me and Mom, Yesung wouldn’t stop calling me to chat about everything and nothing, Wookie would always want to have tea at least once a month. Super Junior was my family.

So why couldn’t I catch my breath?

Yesung asked Mom, “Why not?” As he bit back tears, the dimple in his chin deepened. “So you’ll work with EXO after you’re done with this SuperM stuff. Fine. That’s how it goes. But why can’t you work with us next time?”

Everybody looked to Mom for her answer, but she dodged the question anyway. After drawing a deep breath, she told every member of Super Junior what she loved them. It was clear that she had prepared her remarks beforehand. I wondered how she might have broken the news to everyone had she not been confronted at the party.

“Leeteuk, you’ve always been such a good leader. From day one, you made my job look easy. On stressful days, you never failed to comfort me with subtle smiles when you thought nobody would notice because you never wanted anyone to see me struggle. I always noticed, and I was always grateful.”

Leeteuk bowed, smiling despite the tears in his eyes.

“Heechul,” Mom’s voice wavered when she looked at him. “You always listen to me, and you never judge. Even when I’m wrong, you defend me to the ends of the earth.”

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Heechul boasted, “That’s because you’re never wrong.” He made Mom smile. That was always Heechul’s gift.

Mom snaked an arm around Heechul’s waist and continued, “You have the best taste in everything. You let me cry when we’re watching dramas, and you never look at me or make fun of me for getting emotional. The most important part is that you’re kind enough to pretend that you don’t know why I’m so moved.”

Heechul patted Mom’s shoulder, encouraging her to say, “Yesung—”

Yesung was already in tears. There was nothing worse than seeing Yesung cry. Although there was barely any room to breathe, let alone take a step, I made my way over to him, linked my arm with his, and offered him a smile that made him laugh despite his tears.

“— you have always been like a brother. You aren’t just willing to fight anyone who crosses me; you’ve always protected Lei with your all. We can’t cry in front of you, though—” Mom winked at me— “because you threaten to beat people up, and you throw things in anger.”

Yesung wiped at his eyes with his free hand and chuckled. “Yeah, well, people should know better than to mess with you, then.”

I didn’t want to say anything to interrupt, so I hoped that my presence was enough of a comfort for Yesung. I didn’t want him to cry anymore.

“Shindong, you always make me laugh,” Mom said, “and you have always lightened the mood whenever things got awkward.” That was ironic, considering that we were all forced to be publicly emotionally vulnerable because of Shindong’s confrontation. “Thank you for fighting to have me on your team whenever SuJu has a comeback. Thank you for always telling people that I am the only one who can make the comeback successful. I owe so much of my career to your enthusiastic praise.”

“You’re welcome,” Shindong said as he bowed. “I only tell the truth, Manager.”

“Eunhyuk—” He stiffened at his name— “you always pick up the slack and take initiative without having to be asked. You always see where I am lacking, and you fill in the spaces that need to be filled. You are one of the most dependable people I have ever known.”

Eunhyuk could only blink at the compliment. His eyes were fixed on the floor, I think, because he didn’t like for people to see when he was emotional. His bow was more of a nod.

Until now, Mom had addressed the members of Super Junior in age order. After Eunhyuk should have been Donghae, but Mom skipped over him and effectively trapped my breath in my throat. I couldn’t even see Donghae. Had he stayed home to avoid Mom as he had stayed home from the Christmas party? Was he avoiding Mom the way Sehun was avoiding me?

No. He had to be standing somewhere not too far away. He promised that he would be there. He promised that he would give me that infinity bracelet. He was there; I believed it even if I couldn’t see him.

Mom still held everyone’s attention when she said, “Siwon, you are always a rock. You face everything— even challenges— with a smile. You turn every stranger into a friend. Plus—” Mom smiled— “you have always encouraged me and Lei to exercise, eat healthily, and participate in community service.”

Reddening at the compliments as his smile etched dimples around his lips, Siwon bowed.

“Wookie—” Ryeowook beamed at the nickname, sniffling— “thank you for always looking out for Lei and playing with her no matter how busy you were. Thank you for reminding me to find room for fun between jobs.”

“It has always been my pleasure,” Wookie promised as he bowed.

Kyuhyun smiled broadly when Mom turned to him. “I’ll never forget when you first joined the group. Lei was right— it was incomplete without you.”

I burned at the memory of my overenthusiastic embrace of Kyuhyun’s introduction to Super Junior, and Kyuhyun laughed as he playfully nudged my ribs.

“You have always been the kind of person who would give someone your jacket during a snowstorm, or let somebody keep your umbrella in a thunderstorm. You would turn the attention to yourself with a joke if ever I needed a chance to catch my breath, and I am beyond grateful. Thank you for being one of the most considerate people I have ever met.”

Rather than bowing like so many of the others, Kyuhyun responded with a wink and a salute.

“Donghae.”

This was it: the first time that Mom and Donghae had seen each other since their argument after the birthday party. My heart pounded against my chest, and I tightened my grip around Yesung’s arm when Eunhyuk pulled Donghae to his side.

Out of everybody, Donghae looked most miserable. He couldn’t lift his heavy gaze from the floor, where he must have met his frowning reflection. I had to look away; I couldn’t stand to see him looking like that.

“Yeah?” Donghae mumbled.

“You’re, um, persistent. You love purely, and you’re loyal to a fault. You— um—”

I had never known Mom to stutter, and apparently Donghae hadn’t either. He stared up at her, brow furrowed, and she hurriedly concluded, “You’re a good person.”

Compared to what she had said to everyone else, Mom’s goodbye to Donghae was a bit lacking. Not wanting to be overly critical in such a tense moment, I cast my glare down to my feet.

Still speaking almost too quickly to comprehend, Mom said, “I know that you probably think it’s your fault that I’m not managing Super Junior anymore, and it is—”

The room had gone quiet enough that I could hear the wheeze pass through his lips. It would have been obvious enough from the sudden sagging of his shoulders and downward twitch of his mouth.

“— but not for the reason that you think.”

Moments passed in silence as everyone tried to decipher the cryptic sentence’s meaning before Eunhyuk demanded, eyes piercing, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Heechul, who had the unfair advantage of knowing almost every thought that passed through Mom’s mind, belted, “It means that she’s in love with Donghae, you stupid ass anchovy! She can’t work with the person she’s in love with because she’s a professional!”

Eyes wide and full of color, Donghae gasped, “What?”

And before Mom could embarrass us all by stuttering her confirmation or denial of Heechul’s allegation, Changmin’s voice said through the speakers, “Uh, so, it’s almost midnight! Woohoo!” Receiving only grumbles from the party-goers who were too invested in Momhae to care about the arrival of the new year, Changmin continued flatly, “So grab whoever you want to kiss and head out to the terrace to watch fireworks!”

People exited slowly at first, and then, when I opened my eyes, the room was mostly empty aside from Mom and Donghae, who stared at each other in utter shock. I think I would have stood there all night, mouth agape, to watch the conclusion of fifteen years of unrequited love had Taemin not looped his arm around my waist.

“Didn’t you hear Max?” Taemin muttered into my ear. “He said ‘it’s almost midnight, so grab whoever you want to kiss and head out onto the terrace.’”

For a moment, I was so flattered by Taemin’s attention, I was so absorbed in his touch that the ache in my chest was soothed. The void was filled. Then I caught Lucas staring at Mom and Donghae with tears in his eyes. I know that he would have stayed there all night if I hadn’t grabbed his hand, mumbling, “Come on, Lucas. We have to give them privacy.”

Although he was too polite to admit it with his words, it was obvious from his closed-lip grin that Taemin had been hoping that we would run out to the terrace alone. Don’t misunderstand: I really, really wanted to kiss Taemin, but everything in the world came second to ensuring that Lucas was okay.

“Hey,” I said into the cool nighttime air.

No response.

I tightened my grip around Lucas’s hand and shouted his name.

Again, no response.

Spinning out of Taemin’s grasp, I placed both of my hands on either side of Lucas’s face and forced him to meet my eyes. “You’re scaring me, Lucas. Are you okay?” I guess the obvious answer was a sort of ‘no.’ Clearly, Lucas was in shock, and I couldn’t blame him for being unable to pick his jaw up from the floor.

At my touch, Lucas snapped back to life. “Mom loves Donghae!” He cheered loudly over the scattered whispers on the terrace. “Heechul said that Mom loves Donghae!”

Lucas’s excitement gave me permission to smile. “I know—”

Forgetting in his joy that I had a problem with being picked up, Lucas hooked his hands around my waist and spun me around, chanting, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

All I could say was, “Put me down, Lucas!” in a shrill scream as I slapped at his shoulders. It didn’t matter that I knew Lucas would never intentionally drop me; some primal fear seized my mind and left me trembling well after Lucas set me back onto my feet.

Much to Taemin’s delight, I dashed to his side and linked my arm through his to discourage Lucas from touching me again. “I know it’s all very exciting, but there’s no reason to pick me up. Ever.”

Looking back, I regret being so stern with Lucas in what might have been the happiest moment of his life, but he couldn’t have cared less about the scolding. He squealed, “I’m so happy!” before running off to find somebody (probably Mark) who shared his enthusiasm or to give Taemin the privacy he desired with me.

“You’re a little feistier than I thought,” Taemin teased once we were left alone— well, as alone as we could have been at a huge company gathering. “First, you argued with Chanyeol, and then you just hit Lucas.”

I reddened at Taemin’s brief recap of my temper throughout the night. In the immediate aftermath of my exchange with Chanyeol, I was embarrassed that Suho had been a witness; I hadn’t considered that Taemin had witnessed the very same exchange. For so long, I had been uncomfortably conscious of his eyes on me, but in those moments, I hadn’t felt his stare.

Did that mean that I was getting comfortable with Taemin? No matter how comfortable we were together, I never wanted him to witness my anger. That was probably unrealistic since anger is a natural emotion. It was probably impossible to always be happy around Taemin given his almost obsession with honest communication of feelings. It was probably impossible since our love had been born in the midst of sadness.

I apologized anyway, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry you saw that. I wish you hadn’t. It’s no excuse, but Chanyeol and I have never gotten along. And hitting Lucas was only an instinct because I’m afraid of—”

“Hey.” Taemin cut me off with a smile, and I was grateful that everyone else was too busy gossiping about Mom and Super Junior to see it written across my face that I was in love with him. “I’m kinda glad I saw that side of you.” He winked. “I kinda think your temper is cute.”

Taemin giggled at my blush as I mumbled, glancing away, “You have strange taste.”

Once he registered my words, however, he poked out his bottom lip in a childish pout. “That’s not very nice, jagi.” He whispered the pet name so nobody else could hear. “Stop being mean so I can show you something.”

When I asked what he wanted to show me, Taemin laced his fingers through mine and led me to an isolated area that wasn’t quite the terrace or the roof. There, we couldn’t hear the whispers scattered among the party. There, we could be free to act without the fear of attracting stares.

I stepped forward, careful not to trip over a checkered blanket on the floor, rested my hands on the railing lined with small white lights that resembled the twinkling stars above, and looked up at the glittering night sky. It looked so much like my memories of that night in the garden, but I knew that it couldn’t have been exactly as it had been in the past.

Again, it came to me— that dream about holding the moon— and all that kept me from reaching out was Taemin’s hand (soft and warm unlike the frozen rail) in mine. I didn’t reach out even after Taemin released my hand to unfasten his mask. The dream, for a moment, faded from my mind as I set to removing my mask too. The dream changed into something tangible when Taemin shed his jacket and held it out to me.

“Thank you,” I breathed as we dropped our masks at our feet. Fitting my arms through his jacket’s sleeves, I beamed at him. “It’s very beautiful up here, Taemin.”

“You’re welcome.” Taemin leaned closer and closer to me until his words ghosted against my lips and our breath met as a misty white cloud between us. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth as if to discourage my pulsating desire to just rush time, to just brush my lips against his once— quickly— before the fireworks gave us permission, Taemin asked, “What time is it?”

“Um—” My heart thundered, hands trembling, as I fished my phone out of my purse. “That can’t be right,” I argued with my screen. “Changmin said that it was almost midnight, but’s only 11:15.”

“What?” Taemin gawked at my phone screen. “Oh, great! And the SuperM group chat is blowing up too!”

Pouting, after he pulled his phone out of his pants’ pocket, Taemin plopped onto the blanketed ground. When he motioned for me to sit with him and I responded quietly that it wasn’t very ladylike, Taemin insisted, “It’s just us up here, Lei. I don’t think sitting makes you unladylike.” He patted the blanket and reasoned, “I put this up here so we could sit. Won’t your feet hurt if you just stand there all night?”

Frowning less because I was giving in (again) to satisfy Taemin and more because I realized that we had abandoned the perfect moment to share our first kiss— we had been so close, and now we were not— I sat at Taemin’s side and read through the texts.

Taemin, who had been giggling since his use of the sparkly heart emoji in the group chat, slung his arm around my shoulder. “What are you so happy about, Lei?”

Too happy to speak even to answer Taemin, I rose to my feet— now bare— and strained to watch Mom and Donghae walk out onto the terrace hand in hand. They couldn’t see me, but I could see them. Even from afar, I could see their smiles and their matching red thread bracelets. Even from afar, I could see the burden lifted from their shoulders, and all at once I was in danger of soaring too far up into the clouds.

From where I stood, I could see all of Super Junior unite to wrap Mom and Donghae into a hug whose warmth I could feel in my heart and all around me. In that embrace was fifteen years’ worth of love, and the child within me felt that I should have been there.

The child within me was silenced when Taemin wrapped an arm around my waist, laid his head on my shoulder to brush his lips against my cheek, and whispered, “I want to give you something.”

With the hand accented by my ribbon, he held out a single red rose.

Remembering the first broken rose he gave me in the garden, breathing in relief that this one was whole and beautiful, I accepted it with my hands. “It’s so beautiful, Taemin.”

All of the night’s emotions caught up with me at once and manifested as tears that weren’t quite heavy enough to fall from my eyes although Taemin’s hands were ready to catch them. “I just— I have nothing to give you, and you’ve given me so much.”

Not just tonight, I would have said had my throat not tightened around my voice. You have given me so many beautiful things. You have taught me so many lessons that I will carry into my day even when the sun rises, and I don’t know if I have given enough back to you.

Even if I love you for the rest of my life— and I can’t imagine the day that I will wake up without the warmth of loving you spreading through my chest and every thought in my mind— I never want to imagine such a day— could I ever repay you for all you’ve brought to my life? Can I ever thank you enough for having the voice that heals my every wound? Can I ever be grateful enough to live in this world where our paths crossed? Can I ever be thankful enough for every wound and joy that forged the heart you so carefully hold?

I didn’t know how to say any of those things out loud with my fragile voice, so how could I have known any of the answers? All I could do was drop the rose from my numb fingers and throw my arms around Taemin, hoping that he would understand without words as he always had.

He caught me around the waist and held me close. I know this is wrong— I know this spits in the face of everything I learned in those few months that felt like a lifetime— but I never wanted that moment to end. I wanted to live forever with Taemin in the light of the moon. To the point of tears, I was happy that the stars kindly aligned to allow me to get this close to him.

“Lei,” he whispered, “why do you still not believe that your love is all I’ve ever wanted? Is it so crazy for me to believe that everything in life has led to our moments under the moon?”

“No.” I loosened my embrace to look at his frowning face. “No. Can’t you feel that I believe it too?” I reached for the ribbon tied around his wrist and, after struggling to undo the knot, watched the stars gather in his eyes as I raised his pulse point to meet my kiss.

“Yeah, I feel it,” Taemin admitted while I retied the ribbon’s knot, this time fully aware of its significance, this time believing with every fiber of my being that my soul loved Taemin’s in its entirety, this time understanding that he trusted me with his heart, this time promising to cherish it even should the sun set (or rather, the sun rise) on this beautiful day too. “But can you tell me what you feel sometimes anyway? Sometimes, I just want to hear it.”

Thinking that it was only right to tell somebody when your heart is swelling, I blurted, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” and he would have let me say it for the rest of the night had he not dropped his gaze down to the fallen rose.

“You know--” Taemin sat back on the blanket, and I followed him-- “none of this is going as I planned.” The pout returned to his lips. “I spent all week saying that I wanted to match you head to toe for the party, but Jongin was all like, ‘That’s excessive, Taemin. Do you really want everyone at the party to know that you’re a couple?’ And even though I told him that I don’t care who knows that I’m in love with you, he was like, ‘It’s still over the top!’ And then Baekhyun showed up, clinging to your arm, matching you down to the flower!”

I tried not to laugh at Taemin’s accurate imitation of Kai’s voice. To soothe his jealousy— which now made me want to burst into laughter— I traced patterns over his knuckles. “Baekhyun didn’t try to match me.”

“That makes it worse!” Taemin whined. “Anyway, that’s not all that has gone wrong. At the mall today, Jongin kept discouraging all of my amazing ideas. He told me not to buy that giant stuffed bear, and he told me not to get a dozen roses, and he told me not to buy a box of chocolates, and he said that people don’t serenade girls in real life, so I had to tell Henry not to show up with his violin, but Jongin wouldn’t let me bring my keyboard either!”

I nodded understandingly at first, careful not to mention that I agreed with Kai— left unattended, Taemin would have gone overboard— but my nodding ceased when he mentioned Henry. Obviously, I loved Henry to pieces, but having him as a witness for my first kiss with Taemin didn’t exactly sound like a dream come true.

“Jongin even told me that the lights I put up on the railing were too much! He said that all we needed was starlight! And now I can’t even kiss you yet because it’s not midnight, and—”

“Taemin,” I interrupted, knowing that he would find faults for the rest of the night unless I admitted, “I think everything is perfect.” When that didn’t satisfy him, I tried my hand at expressing wisdom. “I mean, when I left my house today, I didn’t plan to trip in front of everybody and Na Jaemin—”

An almost indiscernible smile tugged at Taemin’s lips as he rolled his eyes at Jaemin’s name.

“— and I didn’t want to see Chanyeol, much less talk to him! And I definitely didn’t want to see Yesung cry. Actually, I didn’t imagine that I would ever hear any of the things that Mom said to Super Junior. I never imagined there would be a day where she wouldn’t be their manager, but—” I sighed, accepting— “what’s done is done. Life doesn’t always go as planned, and I think that’s okay as long as you like where you end up.”

Taemin looked at me as I imagined I might have looked at him that night in the garden. I hoped that we would look at each other that way always. “Do you like where you ended up?” He asked, looking away as if he was afraid to pressure me into an untrue answer that would please him. “Up here with me?”

With ease, I spoke a truth that once would have been too embarrassing to utter. “Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.”

At that, Taemin smiled before checking his phone. It must not have been midnight yet; he flipped the phone over with a tired sigh. The night fell silent because I didn’t know what to say after being so honest, and Taemin was too busy caressing the roses in my hair to say anything.

Without warning, he brought the red rose in his hand to his mouth and gnawed at the stem. With wide eyes, I could only watch in utter confusion as he spat out green chunks. That moment was weird and kind of gross, to tell you the truth.

“Ow!” Taemin cried as a thorn pierced his lip.

I gasped, “Are you okay?” but he could only smile because he finally succeeded in separating the rose from the stem. That must have been his mission.

“It was just a pinch,” he claimed, probably oblivious to the thin trail of blood dripping down his chin as he tied his flower into my crown. “That stem tasted pretty terrible, though.” He stuck his tongue out.

I reached into my purse for a pack of tissues and a mint and offered them to Taemin. “Here.” He only opened his mouth, still focused intently on the crown, so I unwrapped the mint and fed it to him as if he were a child.

Would I go to any length just to see his smile? If so, I must have been disappointed when he grimaced as I gently pressed the tissue to his blood-stained lip.

Knowing that any pain was the result of his own weird, impulsive behavior, I muttered, “I’m sorry if it hurts,” as if it were my fault that he was bleeding. “But I can’t kiss your bloody lip, Taem.”

Taemin didn’t respond even after I retracted the tissue, balled it up, and tossed into the corner with the masks. He only stared at the crown, brow furrowing until lines formed in his forehead, and finally yanked the red rose away.

“Ow.” I wheezed although losing the rose hadn’t physically hurt. “Why did you take that?”

“It looked ugly,” Taemin answered, gripping the rose too tightly. Instantly, he remembered that flowers are fragile, and he held it tenderly, frowning down at it in his hand. “I was stupid to try to put it in your crown. Just look at it.”

Taemin must have been right. Aside from the fact that his red rose’s shade must have clashed against the crown’s blue baby’s breath, it was three or four times bigger than the crown’s white roses. Still, I didn’t think Taemin was stupid for wanting to make his mark on Baekhyun’s gift.

Knowing that it wouldn’t look right, believing that Taemin’s rose probably didn’t belong among Baekhyun’s roses, I begged, “Put it back.” Taemin shook his head, so I pointed out, “You gave it to me. It’s not yours to take, Taemin, so put it back.”

“No,” Taemin argued, jaw tense and face flushing an embarrassed shade of scarlet. “It looked really bad. I don’t want to ruin something as pretty as your flower crown with this stupid rose.”

“Stop talking like that.” Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but it was. Who was he to talk down to that flower when I loved it? How could he believe that he was capable of ruining anything? “You’re not ruining anything. Please, Taemin—”

“It’s enough that you want it,” Taemin said when I first reached for the rose. “Thank you for lying to make me feel better, but I can’t focus on kissing you if this—” he shook the rose— “is in your hair.”

I wasn’t lying— not really— but I knew better than to keep trying to talk Taemin out of his perfectionist fit. “Fine.” I was about to ask him to return the rose so I could just hold it, but he suddenly rose to his feet and stood like he was going to launch it over the railing onto the street below.

“What are you doing?” I jumped up and tried to reach for the rose, but Taemin was too tall. “That’s mine, Taemin. I told you that I want it, so—”

“I bit the stem off like a moron,” Taemin quietly reminded. Looking back, I think he just couldn’t understand why I wanted it. “This rose is ruined. Let me throw it away, and I’ll get you a dozen others—”

My heart twitched. Afraid.

“I told you a long time ago that I don’t want another one,” I whined, burdened by the growing lump in my throat as I understood that I would never be tall enough to save the rose. I kept trying anyway, grabbing Taemin’s shoulder and rising onto my tiptoes, trying anything to grow just a little taller for a fraction of a second. “I told you that first night in the hotel, don’t you remember? I told you that I never want you to replace my roses, and you promised that you would never try to. You promised.”

Begging and fixated on the word 'promise,' I sounded like a child. Maybe that genuinely expressed desperation was what softened Taemin's features that wordlessly promised to return the rose. Knowing that the rose would ultimately be mine, I threw my head back, laughing, when Taemin jumped onto the tips of his toes, held the rose as high as he could over his head, and teased, "Hm? What do you want? Is it this?"

"Yes!" I participated in his game and, knowing that I could never pluck that rose from his hand just as I could never pluck the moon from the sky, I leaped anyway. Imagine my gasp of surprise, then when Taemin made a variation of my dream true by lowering his hand ever-so-slightly so I could reach it.

When the rose was finally back in my hands where it belonged, I greeted it as if it were the moon with a kiss— gentle to prevent the loss of any precious petals.

"Is that how you'll kiss me," Taemin wondered in a whisper that rode on the wind, "when the clock finally strikes midnight?"

Closing the space between us, he held his face as close to mine as he could without touching my lips just to make me conscious of each passing second. I could have cursed Taemin for encouraging me to wish our time away in pursuit of that quickly approaching moment when our lips would meet for the first time.

"I don't know," I shrugged, meeting his eyes although they would set me on fire. "I guess we'll find out then, right?

Taemin slanted his head to the side. "Does that mean you haven't imagined it?"

"Of course it doesn't." My flat denial earned Taemin's gasping laughter. Still holding the rose in my hand, I connected my hands behind his neck and said, "I told you, everything has led to this moment. I've imagined kissing you— my soulmate— every time I've looked up at the moon."

Perhaps to conceal the blush spreading across his cheeks, Taemin hid his face in the crook of my neck and whispered in my ear, "Everything you say is so precious." He breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Remember. "I do remember, by the way. I remember what you said that night— and every other day and night— in the hotel. I remember what you said in the garden. I remember what you said by the lake. I remember everything you said at practices, even though you weren't ready to speak to me yet."

I didn't know what to say. I never knew what to say when he started on those emotional speeches. Maybe there was nothing to say. Maybe the only thing to do was listen and promise to remember. Closing my eyes, then, I set to memorizing every word.

Ever undeterred by my silence, Taemin continued, almost singing despite Kai's warnings against serenades, "I have been clinging to your every word for as long as I can remember, and I think you should know that I will never forget a single thing."

"Taemin." His name fell from my mouth involuntarily, I guess, because it was what I wanted to say all my life.

He must not have heard or seen the fireworks bursting overhead. His grip around my waist tightened, but he didn't match his lips to mine. Remaining by my ear, he kept humming, "I remember every time you ever looked at me. I remember how you used to be so afraid that I would catch your glances. I remember that day on the SuperM set when you kept getting distracted by my laugh. I remember that morning when you tried to run away because I've spent every day happily because you came back and told me that you like me. I remember the first time I ever held you because I knew that I would never be able to let you go again."

I think I must have been crying at that point. I think I must have been crying before he admitted, "I remember every moment because I have known all along that I will love you forever."

Although Taemin and I were at the very beginning of our forever, I felt with the next breath that sometimes beginnings and endings feel very much alike. Maybe I knew that I was at the end of the childhood of following Mom as she managed Super Junior; maybe I knew that I was at the end of the days when Lucas was my only true companion; maybe I knew that I was at the end of all that was familiar. Maybe that was sad because although there had always been scattered moments of loneliness— although those moments were almost nonexistent now that I loved Taemin— those days were all I had known. Those days were happy even if they weren't perfect.

There is something terrifying about staring forever in the face, so I trembled when Taemin met my eyes and wiped the tears away. There was so much to look forward to with Taemin— so much I couldn't imagine yet— and I knew that even as I promised, "I remember too. I'll never forget anything either— I'll write it all down if I have to." As if saying so would help settle once and forever the fear that this, too, would end, I swore, "I'll write it all down if that's the only way to make our story last forever."

Taemin, who always understood forever better than I did, smiled at my futile efforts to contain eternity, but he said nothing to discourage me. He only reached to plant his hands between the lights on the railing behind me. Were he anyone else, that gesture would have made me feel trapped, but the sudden slow, forceful poundings of my heart as time stopped with each motion he took toward me were not at all afraid.

In those first few moments that there was no space between us, Taemin touched me only with his gentle, warm, cloud-soft lips that fit perfectly with mine. Those moments were unlike anything I had ever experienced— unlike anything I have experienced since— so I do not know the words to properly relate them to you.

He didn't have to peel his hands from the railing to press them against the small of my back; I wouldn't have gone anywhere. There was no place I longed to be more than in his embrace— whether we were in the garden, in our hotel room, in my bedroom, under the moon, or under golden blossoming fireworks.

Here, in this world where Taemin and I were in love— whether it was our secret or known to all— in this moment, is where I always belong.

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rosebloodcat · 4 years

Text

Changeling Nelson Tethers

*Kicks in door* Alright! I’ve finally finished the short/story!

It’s not terribly long, and I tried to make the events of the two games (and the time between) seem a bit more stretched out. You know, to seem more realistic?

But the main focus was Nelson going through his transformations (and the build-up to each change) without too much focus on what happens in the games. As in, the story isn’t a play-by-play of what happened in them. So it doesn’t spoil anything for people who haven’t had the chance to play/watch the games.

I hope people like it, and if you have ideas for more stuff I could write for this, feel free to tell me. As either an ask or a comment/reply to this post.

If he had to pick a point where everything started, where the first signs had made themselves known, Nelson would say he had no idea. But, after thinking for a bit, he would say it started with a toothache.

It started just before (or maybe just after?) he was told about his field assignment in Scoggins, Minnesota. At first, it had been little more than a faint pressure in his back molars. Almost as if he’d been gritting his teeth for too long without knowing it. The sort where you’d stop letting your teeth press together for a while, and it would go away. But it didn’t.

Instead, the ache seemed to spread slowly. Until the whole of his mouth was throbbing dully. At that point, it wasn’t painful, but it was notable. Enough that he was planning to schedule a dentist’s appointment to figure what was going on in there. Chewing on gum made it easier to ignore, resulting in him working his way through packs at a much faster rate than he usually would. A habit that quickly became a problem when he arrived in Scoggins.

During his stay in the small town, his fingers began to ache as well. At first, the agent had thought it was due to the note-taking and snowmobile riding he’d been doing on the case and had dismissed it. (Nevermind that he would usually spend his entire day gripping a pencil while solving puzzles in his office.)

But, like the toothache, the ache got worse instead of better.

And then the Gnomes appeared, causing his annoying aches to shift into spikes of pain. Complete with a brand new pulse of pain from his lower back. The alarm (and pain) had almost driven Nelson from town then and there.

It probably would have sent him away, if the Innkeeper hadn’t mentioned that the Sheriff had told her to let him know when Nelson left. Not if he left, but when. He had no idea what had made the man think he would leave, and so soon after he’d arrived in town. Something didn’t feel right about that.

Something that the FBI agent found suspicious enough to change his mind.

So he swallowed back the aches and pains (along with some extra strength aspirin) and trooped back out into the cold, snow-covered town to solve the case and get the factory going again. Just like he was sent there to do.

And once he’d gotten the factory open and running again, Nelson returned home with notable pains and an unsatisfying end to his field mission. He couldn’t get his mind off of what had transpired, or what he had seen.

Yes, he’d succeeded as far as the FBI was concerned. But the factory foreman was missing, and now he knew of impossible things. He couldn’t just leave it at that.

That was when the first significant sign of change made itself known.

Nelson had been in his office, trying to solve a crossword puzzle and get his mind off of Scoggins, when he bit into his chicken sandwich and felt something hard in his mouth. Something that was not food. He froze mid-chew.

That was not part of his lunch.

He used his tongue to carefully shift the hard thing to the front of his mouth, and, lifting a hand, he pulled it out. He stared in disbelief when he pulled away enough for him to see.

That was a tooth. A back molar, if his memory was right.

He swallowed his mouthful of chicken, which suddenly didn’t taste as appetizing as it had before.

One of his teeth had just come out. His tooth had just fallen out.

He was too old for his teeth to be falling out. He was starting to shake.

He carefully slipped a pair of fingers into his mouth and brushed them along his gums, trying to find which molar had come out. It was the bottom, back molar, on the right side of his mouth. What bothered him more was the fact that the spot where the tooth had come out didn’t feel empty.

Nelson looked down at the tooth in his hand. It looked whole and didn’t seem chipped or damaged, so he couldn’t be feeling broken remains that were left behind.

Dropping the tooth on his desk, Nelson all but sprinted to the office bathrooms. He nearly stumbled outside the men’s room, but caught himself and hurried inside. He darted to the mirror hung over the sinks; he needed to see this. Not just feel it.

Hands shaking, Nelson hooked a finger into the corner of his mouth and pulled his lips back until he could see the space in question.

The molar was gone, and it looked like there was a new tooth growing in. One that definitely wasn’t a molar.

But that couldn’t be possible; Nelson was too old to be growing new teeth. And he was pretty sure he wasn’t old enough to be losing his adult teeth yet. That couldn’t be possible.

Except there was a very real tooth lying on his office desk that said otherwise.

He rubbed a finger over the surprisingly sharp tooth that was, apparently, growing in.

I guess it’s a good thing I hadn’t made that dentist’s appointment yet. I don’t think I could ever explain this. He thought dazedly, still rubbing a finger over the strange tooth. Is-is this why my teeth have been hurting? Because I’m growing a bunch of new teeth?

His heart froze at the thought. It seemed like a worryingly plausible idea.

But why? Why was he growing new teeth? How was it happening? And why was it happening now?!

He gripped the sink to steady himself. The cold, smooth surface under his hands helped steady his racing mind and cooled his aching hands. He couldn’t panic, panicking as a bad idea and could make him do something stupid.

“Okay, Nelson. Calm down; you’re okay. Everything’s okay. It’s just a tooth, one tooth. It’s come out, and it looks like a new one is growing in. Nothing to get frantic about.” Nelson muttered to himself, rubbing a hand over his head. “You just- you just need to calm down and think this through. Think of what to do about this.”

He couldn’t speak up about this; he needed to keep it to himself just until he could figure out what was going on.

There was no way he could explain the teeth-thing to his dentist. Not without the man thinking Nelson was trying to prank him (not that the agent ever would) or that he was crazy.

No, it was best if he kept quiet until he could come up with some explanation. And maybe confirm it was just one tooth and not all of them.

He would be okay. He just needed to be calm about all of this. If he stayed quiet, everything would be fine.

At least, that was the chant he kept in his head as he returned to his desk and bagged up the tooth to bring home with him.

As the week went on, at least one of his worries had proven right.

More teeth began falling out, from back to front — each one revealing a new, almost fang-like tooth growing in its place. Nelson started to tighten his smiles, letting his teeth show less and less as the new teeth made their way closer to the front of his mouth.

He started noticing other changes too.

His fingers, specifically his nails, didn’t look right anymore either. They seemed thicker and were changing shape ever so slightly from how he remembered them. He’d never paid a great deal of attention to his nails, beyond keeping them from splitting or chipping in ways that would hurt.

Except, now that his teeth were changing for reasons he didn’t know or understand, he found himself becoming hyper-aware of his body.

(He hadn’t felt this aware of his body since puberty, which was its own brand of internal terror.)

He’d gotten some help from one of his female coworkers, who’d given him a nail file when he mentioned that his nails were bothering him. She seemed to think he was having problems with splits catching on things. He had no plans of correcting her, but it wasn’t the root of the problem.

No, the problem was that his nails seemed less like nails and more like claws. Humans weren’t supposed to have claws. They could have nails that looked like claws if they got them specifically manicured that way. And Nelson had never done anything like that.

The man had no idea what was happening to his body, and it terrified him.

The anxiety was worse when he realized he could find a trend to the changes he was going through.

They were all in spots that had started with an ache that became progressively worse as time went on. And he remembered one other part of his body where he’d been feeling pain.

The lowest part of his back, close to his tailbone.

(Maybe even at his tailbone? He didn’t know exactly where that was on his body.)

He had no explanation for what was going on with him, but there was something that made him wonder.

Every time his mind wandered back to his assignment in Scoggins, he remembered the way his aches spiked into pain whenever he’d encountered the Hidden People.

Was there a connection of some kind? He knew it had started before he went there, but the way it seemed to accelerate while he was there.

It seemed like a crazy idea, but everything about Scoggins had been insane (and he appeared to be transforming), so it seemed like anything was possible at this point.

That left Nelson with few options.

He wanted, no, needed to find out what was going on and there was only one place he could go that seemed to have an answer.

The agent gathered up his supplies, submitted a request for vacation time, and headed back out, back to Scoggins, Minnesota.

When he arrived, he found the town just as still and unsettling as his first visit.

He felt terrible for poor Martha. It was clear the worry and stress were getting to her. He’d had to be very careful and persuasive to convince the woman to let him have a room there again, but he’d managed.

Once he was settled and finally had the chance to start combing the town for information, he learned about the disappearances from Darryl, who was hanging posters of his missing brother, Darrel. About how often and how many there had been over the years. To the point where the residents were barely phased by it anymore. Something that was incredibly worrying in its own right.

Nelson threw himself into his self-appointed investigation and ignoring every spike of pain that hit him on the way.

(But he remembered it. Every surge of pain that shot down his spine. Each one, coupled with the silent prayer that whatever was happening would wait just a bit longer before actually taking effect.)

That visit had been a whirlwind investigation and discovery, shock and fear, and danger and pain.

He’d met a few new people, agreed to help Glori get her husband back, broken into the Sheriff’s office to get more information, and met a fellow puzzle enthusiast. (Who was- Not crazy but most definitely misinformed. If he was polite). He’d had his investigation crashed by fellow FBI agents, was made temporarily mad by the Hidden People, fought the other agents, was his by an insanity-inducing raygun, and destroyed said ray.

Nelson had come out on top; He’d found the missing Issac Danvers, destroyed the Lunacy Ray, and helped the Hidden People finally return home.

And was mildly traumatized by everything and reasonably sure he wasn’t going to have his job for much longer.

He dragged his tired, slightly frostbitten body back to his hotel.

But he knew that once he got back to work, or at least back to his office, there was a chance he wouldn’t have a job anymore. If he was lucky. If he wasn’t, well, there would be a decently comfortable jail cell waiting for him.

But there, safe in his hotel room, having solved his case with no more mysteries dogging his mind, Nelson could rest. He could finally let go of the stress and tenseness that had sunk its claws into him the entire time he’d been in Scoggins. He could finally let himself relax.

And the wall hit him.

It was a sudden, blindside of pain that brought Nelson to his knees. It cut his perception to his body alone, leaving him on his hands and knees on the floor, gasping for breath. He coughed and wheezed, fighting to get his lungs back to their average pace. (Had he screamed? He didn’t think he’d screamed.)

What-what was that?! That wasn’t like anything I’ve felt before. Nelson thought in a pained daze. He vaguely registered something behind him move. Looking back, he felt his brain stalled.

That was a tail. A dark brown, fur-covered tail. A tail that looked like it was attached to him.

Stunned, he reached behind himself and rubbed a hand down his back, confirming that the tail was very real, and very much attached to him.

Laying on the floor of his room, all Nelson could think was that he was glad he’d asked for two weeks of vacation when he’d first set out. So, whether or not he still had a job, no one was expecting him back for a while.

And he needed all the time he could get to deal with this.

And that’s the end! I hope this came out well, and that you all like it. Feel free to leave comments or even give your own two cents on it.

#rosies writing #Rosie's writing #fanfiction #Fanart #nelson tethers puzzle agent #nelsontetherspuzzleagent #puzzle agent #puzzleagent #nelson tethers #nelsontethers #changeling nelson #changelingnelson #transformation story

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kumkaniudaku · 5 years

Text

Old Friends

A/N: Been gone for a minute. Hopefully this is a peace offering.

“Mommy, AJ is putting his mouth on the shoppy cart again.”

Tasha’s eyes snapped away from the zucchini noodles on aisle six to examine the fourth interruption in her shopping experience in less than ten minutes. Sure enough, Noah’s mouth was attached to the cart’s handle, shining the germ-infested metal with his constant drooling.

“Aaron, no! Take your mouth off of that.” Her walking came to an abrupt halt to frantically pull her son’s face away from the cart and wipe the spit from his cheeks. The teeth breaking through his itching gums made any surface attractive for biting except the teething ring she had handed him before they ventured into the store.

Snatching a baby wipe from her purse, she worked to clean the handle while searching through his travel bag for another ring for him to chew.

“Mommy, how come Daddy is Aaron and AJ is Aaron too?”

“Your brother has your daddy’s middle name, Boop.”

“Well, how come me and you don’t have the same middle name?”

“Because we liked Noelle better for you.”

“But why?”

Tasha took a deep breath to compose her bubbling emotions and offered a closed mouth smile to her daughter. “Because that’s what you do when you’re a mommy and daddy. You give kids names.”

“Can I name my kid Bunny? I love bunnies!”

“Sure. Have all the animal named kids you want when you’re older.”

Accepting the explanation, Micah returned to the book in her hands much to Tasha’s delight. Grocery shopping alone was already Hell on Earth, but the addition of both of her children was turning the trip into a madhouse. She’d managed to strategically avoid the candy aisle and Micah’s desperate plea for “just a taste,” but knew a storm was brewing after she swiped the zucchini pasta into her cart and began the trek toward the breakfast cereal aisle. Chadwick hated the sugar-filled treats and discouraged her from bringing them into the house, but he also wasn’t the one to shuffle a grumpy child out of the house and to school every morning. Tasha would make the decision and ask for forgiveness later.

As she browsed the tidy shelves for a compromise between sweet delights and bland whole wheat options, she heard the loud shriek of a child and prayed it wasn’t one of hers. Another round of spitting giggles shared between two children finally made her turn her head. Instead of being met with mischief, she found Noah engaged in a starry-eyed exchange with a curly-haired little girl in a cart across the walkway.

“You think she’s pretty, huh,” She smiled before turning her attention to the other child. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Oh, this is Olivia,” a male voice that Tasha didn’t acknowledge answered for the little girl.

All of the emotions of having a baby in her presence sent CoCo’s voice into the high pitch that adults use with children, and she had to scold herself mentally for reaching out to touch the unfamiliar child.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” Tasha apologized as she stood to her full height. “I get so excited when I see babies. Especially one as cute as Miss Olivia.”

“Yeah, well she’s a handful.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Adjusting her baseball cap on her head gave the other participant in the conversation a full view of Tasha’s face and her the same, piecing together the voices with an old, yet familiar presence.

“Tasha?”

“Elijah?”

Both adults stood frozen, receiving short flashes of their time together while people struggled to maneuver around them. The low curse from another disgruntled patron pulled both of them out of their thoughts and back to the present moment.

“Mommy, that man is not Daddy,” Micah informed, apparently done with reading her book and ready to supervise the situation.

“No, he’s not. This is one of Mommy’s old friends. Say hello to Elijah.”

Elijah waved back at Micah who narrowed her eyes and refused to return the gesture.

“Tough crowd,” he laughed as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He hadn’t changed much since Tasha last saw him years ago. He carried a bit more bulk across his arms and chest and sported more stubble than he used to, but he still had the same kind twinkle in his eye and warm smile.

“It’s been a minute huh, Tasha?”

“It has,” CoCo trailed off, staring in space before gathering her bearing and making eye contact. “How are you? Everything goin’ okay?”

Elijah smiled as another family passed between them to take a look at other items and nodded, “Yeah. Things are great. I’m back out here getting the business off the ground. For good this time.”

“This time?”

“Well, you know, after…” The situation quickly became uncomfortable at the mention of their sudden and painful breakup, forcing both of them to focus their attention elsewhere until they were ready to continue. “I moved back to Atlanta for a little while, got my stuff together, and then relocated to Houston. Now I’m here.”

“That’s uh...that’s good to hear. I’m sure Houston was beautiful.”

“It was. I learned a lot, met a few people, and started that real estate consulting firm I used to obsess about.”

Tasha nodded at the information without speaking. Guilt was starting to spread into every corner of her mind, and no matter how she tried to hide it, her eyes went sad. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for deferring his dreams.

“I see everything worked out with you,” Elijah continued, gesturing toward Micah and Noah. Micah’s stood in the cart with her eyes still narrowed as she observed the interaction while Noah’s mouth had found its way to the handle of the shopping cart again. If ever there was a time for her children to pretend to be perfect angels, it was now.

“I saw the wedding photos. And the birth announcements, the promotions, all that. I should’ve kept that to myself. I promise I wasn’t stalking you. The ShadeRoom is just usually on my explore page.”

“No, it’s cool. Things are great with me. You’ve met Micah, and this is Noah.”

“That one looks exactly like you,” he laughed as he motioned to Micah. “The expression and stance are all you.”

“Think so? Everyone says she looks like her dad.”

“Eh, kinda. But I see your spirit in there. She doesn’t take anybody’s shit.”

“You said a bad word, Mister ‘Lijah! One dollar in the swear jar for you.”

“Micah, be nice,” CoCo warned the tiny version of her. Though she heard her mother loud and clear, Micah calmly sat back inside the cart and continued to eye Elijah. She was taking notes for a later retelling to her favorite person.

Turning back to Elijah, Tasha attempted to salvage the conversation.

“I see you’re doing well too. Olivia has your eyes.”

“That’s what my mom says,” He laughed.

“Oh my God, I hope Mama Cheryl doesn’t hate me.”

“Hate is a strong word. But I’d watch out if I were you. Mama’s quick in that new power scooter.”

“Yikes. Okay, noted,” CoCo winced after an uneasy laugh. His mother had never been fond of her, and she was sure news about the breakup didn’t help. “So, Olivia’s mom. Is she…”

“She’s back in Houston for a little while. We’ve been doing the long-distance thing, but by the end of the month, she’ll be here so we can finish planning for the wedding.”

“A wedding! That’s great!”

“We gotta get it done before she starts showing again. She’s hell bent on fitting into the dress she chose before she got pregnant.”

“As she should be! Every woman should feel beautiful on their big day!”

“You know, you sound like her. You sure you don’t know Alyssa Tyler?”

“I don’t, but I’m sure if we share similar thoughts, she’s a great woman.”

The pair shared a laugh that felt more like friends reuniting than ex-lovers fumbling their way through their first in-person exchange since the breakup. Suddenly, though, the energy shifted when the weight of Elijah’s words set in.

He was getting married. They’d probably never see each other again after a chance meeting in the supermarket and, if that was the case, CoCo needed to clear the air before she lost the moment forever.

‘Hey, E, I need to apologize.”

Elijah’s smile dropped into a distant frown as he shrugged, “It’s cool, Tash. I-”

“No, it’s not cool. I did a terrible thing to you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not coming to you in person. I’m especially sorry for all of the pain that I’ve caused. It’s completely up to you if you choose to forgive me or not.”

“Look,” he started as he lifted a restless Olivia from her place in the grocery cart. “I was unbelievably hurt after what happened. I thought about trying to get you back, but I realized one thing.”

“That you didn’t want to go to jail for murder?”

“No, I was prepared to go to jail.” The seriousness in his admission lasted for a brief moment before he laughed to ease the tension. “What I was going to say is that I realized that you made the decision that was best for you. I would’ve loved for things to be different, but then we both would have never been placed in the situations we’re in now. You have a dope ass family, and I found the woman that I wanna spend the rest of my life with. We’re good. I promise.”

In his way of signaling a truce, Elijah extended his arm to present his closed fist to Tasha which she bumped her knuckles.

“I should tell you, though,” he started. “I was gonna propose later that night.”

“Wait, what? The night of the charity event.”

He nodded while situating his daughter on his hip, “The plan was the gift you the house, and once everyone was gone, I had a little setup in the bedroom upstairs. Honestly, I almost pulled the engagement ring out of my pocket instead of the keys, because I was nervous.”

One thousand what if scenarios rolled through Tasha's mind following Elijah's revelation. What if he would’ve gone through with the proposal? Would she have said yes? With her rational mind, she was sure the answer to her final question was no. Not only was she not ready to be married at that point, but she’d been toying with the notion that she needed to explore what possibilities lay within Chadwick.

“Wow. I-I...I didn’t know that.”

“It’s best that you didn’t. What was meant for us came true. Just answer one question for me.”

“Sure! Anything.”

His eyes darted to Tasha’s left, finding Micah continuing to eye him over her Dr. Seuss book before lowering his voice for privacy.

“Were you ever cheating on me?”

“God no,” Tasha exclaimed. “We didn’t start dating until after you and I broke up. I swear.”

The rush of relief on his face and the breath he let out confirmed that Tasha need not divulge certain parts of her and her husband's union. As far as Elijah was concerned, it was months rather than literal hours that separated the relationship.

Just as Elijah opened his mouth to continue the conversation, Olivia released a shriek so loud that it scared Noah into tears. Being unable to communicate her discomfort with words only exasperated the situation. Two crying babies, a shady daughter, and all eyes in the immediate area on them forced Tasha and Elijah to say their goodbyes.

“It was nice seeing you, Elijah. Please, send us a wedding invitation or a link to your registry so that we can get you two a gift.”

“Will do, Tash. Tell Yvonne I said hi. See you later, Little Mama.” Elijah’s free hand extended to shake Micah’s that resulted in a harsh stare. “She really is you. It’s like the first time we met all over again.”

“Trust me; I was much nicer.”

“Mmmmm, I beg to differ.”

After a final set of laughs and goodbyes that carried empty promises to see each other again, CoCo completed her shopping trip with relative ease. Having closure on the situation that had privately plagued her for years lifted a figurative weight from her shoulders. Now, she could finally close that chapter of her life and mentally forgive herself.

As she set off toward an impromptu stop at her favorite shoe boutique to try on a pair of shoes she would request for her approaching birthday, CoCo dialed Chadwick on the car phone. Micah’s ears perked at the sound of her father’s voice, and she sat up from the nap that was beginning to claim her eyelids for a closer listen.

“Babe, I got the pasta noodles you wanted, but you have to cook them. I always get the recipe wrong.”

“That’s fine. It’s my night to cook anyway.”

“The last six Thursday’s have been your night, but I’m happy to see you adhering to the schedule.”

“This isn’t the way to get me to continue if you were wondering,” he laughed on the other end. “The car is quiet. Are the kids asleep?”

“Noah is, I don’t know ab-”

“DADDY! MOMMY WAS TALKING TO A MAN AT THE STORE! HE SAID HE WAS GONNA SUPPOSE!”

“Micah!”

Tasha stared in horror at her center console as the line became eerily silent. Of course, she had no intentions of hiding the information from Chadwick, but she sure as hell didn’t want her conversation with her ex to be blurted by her daughter who only had some of the facts straight. She was sure her husband had hung up the phone if not for the sound of the television in his background.

“I’m gonna assume 'suppose' means propose. You out here gettin’ married on me, girl? I thought for sure having both the kids with you would keep you safe. I guess you just that fine.”

“HE HAD A BABY TOO! HER NAME WAS OLIVIA. AJ LIKES HER!”

“Oh my-Micah, sit down and hush!”

“Nuh uh, tell Daddy all about it, Princess!”

“No! Micah, you be quiet and, Aaron, I will talk you when we get home. Goodbye!”

Neither Chadwick or Micah could get another word in as CoCo ended the call with lightning speed. When she looked in her rear-view mirror, she found her only daughter in her booster seat with her arms crossed and a searing glare directed toward her.

“I see it’s time to teach you about girl code, Boop. Rule number one: let Mommy tell Daddy first!”

__________

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minah-delacroix · 5 years

Text

Cherries and confessions

Minah Delacroix - Paris, France

Summer of 2015

The world of Minah Delacroix had been nothing but glamour and fancy soirées for as long as her memory allowed her to remember. For the young girl, watching men in tailored suits and women in couture dresses flock her family’s residence to swoon over her grandmother’s latest fashion event or to discuss politics with her grandfather, was a daily life occurrence. Aged fifteen, Minah was regarded -not without a certain degree of envy- as the perfect heiress for the Delacroix family. Among the exclusive circle of French ruling class, many wished their children had grown up to become such perfect prospects. And just as many couldn’t wait to be spectators of yet another high-society tragedy, when -and if- Minah happened to fall from grace after becoming one of those horrible teenagers who stumbled drunk at parties or liked to get experimental with forbidden potions.

That’s why la crème de la crème of French wizarding society had gathered that evening so willingly at the Delacroix Manor for ‘Le Bal Rosé’, an old-fashioned tradition the Delacroix family had kept for centuries to introduce the young women of the household to society. Minah had described the event, to her friends, as a celebration as equal parts wedding feast, prom, and cotillon where she would officially be presented to the French haut societé, just so her family could reaffirm their social superiority and prove that despite it all, the Delacroix attracted substantial public attention and its rituals continued to command near-universal respect. However, not everybody was there to show their respect to the family, some only wanted to criticize the lavishness of the event, the choice of flowers decorating the ballroom, or the dress pick of the young heiress.

It was not a shocker that the only grandchild of Duc Louis Pierre Philippe Delacroix, one of the richest men in Europe, excited as much admiration as it provoked resentment. Everything about Minah was graceful and delicate. Her every movement was elegant, her words rolled off her tongue with effortless eloquence and her beauty was unique and -as her aunts’ friends put it- ‘exotique’. Elizabeth Delacroix’s delicate fairness and Junho Kwon’s striking facial features had combined to create a peculiar beauty in Minah. She was slender, with long legs and beautiful eyes; her face was finely chiseled, her skin pale and her hair a unique shade of chestnut. Minah was by any means, the perfect heiress for a household as honorable and prestigious as the Delacroix and so, everybody expected to see her reputation tarnished with one of those shameful scandals that made it to the headlines of heinous tabloids. People like the Oliviers, a wizarding family with delusions of grandeur and an openly recognized dislike for the Delacroix were sure it was only a matter of time before Minah’s image (along with her family’s prestige) crumbled, bringing shame and dishonor to her household.

However, in the modern world that most “mythological mummies” (like Johannes Casablancas called anyone older than thirty) didn’t understand just yet, falling victim of a real scandal took more than just a casual hook-up or a crazy party night. Kids those days were far ahead of their clumsy parents and above those ridiculous life-shattering scandals that seemed to have been pretty common in the past.

“Teen pregnancies are for dummies and uneducated Americans” Jane Durand scoffed as she put away the latest issue of “Witch Cosmo” with a disgusted face. The girl had been lying on the carpeted floor of Minah’s study room for solid twenty minutes, kicking her legs up in the air as she chewed a strawberry flavored bubble gum whose scent now lingered in the air mixed with the fragrance of the freshly cropped lilies Julien had gifted Minah and the seawater smell of his perfume. “What can’t adults understand about protection and contraceptives?” She inquired, glaring at the magazine open to an article titled ‘Why abstinence is the right choice for young witches?’

Her comment made Antoine de Lapin, her best “guy friend” blush like the inexperienced teenager he could’ve been if it wasn’t for Jane’s willingness to teach him one or two -or dozens- things about women. Sitting on the desk, he fidgeted nervously with the silver wristband Minah had gotten him for his birthday a few weeks ago and avoided looking at Jane or Julien, who was clicking his tongue at the blonde’s rambling.

“Don’t tell Minah her aunt gave us that magazine or she’ll avoid us for the rest of the summer out of pure embarrassment” Julien warned, although he didn’t really believe his friend could keep her mouth shut about Minah’s grandaunt, Adelaine, trying to give them ‘the talk’.

“You aren’t worried she might feel strongly inclined to follow that advice, right?” Jane retorted, eyeing the open magazine once again, this time with a huge smirk crossing her lips.

Before Julien managed to scold Jane for even suggesting his words held anything other than sincere preoccupation for their friend, there was a loud thud. The three friends immediately turned their heads to find Johannes Casablancas lying on the floor, eyes narrowing in pain after failing to properly climb the last step into the room, through the open window, and landing on his bum.

“Ugh. I did not need that mental image” The guy skipped any greeting and frowned, turning to give Jane a severe-looking glare. Johannes Casablancas was the eldest of the bunch and by far the most judgmental, although Jane liked to point out, whenever the opportunity arose, that he was also the most experienced and a hypocrite.

“Why? Does the image of Julien wanting to-” Jane made a popping sound with the gum in her mouth “-Minah’s cherry disgusts you?”

In unison, the three boys turned to look at Jane. A mixture of reproach and disgust replacing their usually undisturbed demeanors. Johannes scrunched up his nose and Antoine looked frankly scandalized, but Julien’s face twisted into a grimace that made him look as though he had just been forced to swallow a lemon whole. If anything, Jane had always believed Julien’s problem was how much of a prude he was. Otherwise, he would’ve probably been dating Minah for months and her best friend wouldn’t have to make all those questions she had been asking lately about her virginity-loss experience.

“Ugh. How charming, Jane!” Johannes snorted “Where did you pick those euphemisms fr-?”

“How can you even say that, Jane? It’s our best friend you’re talking about, not some fictional character from those books you read!” Jane chuckled at that, frankly unbothered by the way Julien’s voice went up “Don’t ever repeat that again, especially not in front of Minah.” As complacent and forgiving he usually was with the blonde’s slips of the tongue, Julien looked truly offended this time. The way his jaw locked and his eyebrows furrowed only proved Jane she had really crossed the limit of what he could bear.

An odd feeling of pride filled up Jane’s chest as she rolled eyes at the boy. Then, a brief, but uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

It was brief because a few seconds later the door flung open and Minah Delacroix materialized into the room, cheeks flushed pink and panting as though she had just crossed the finish line of a marathon.

“What happened?” She inquired, looking perturbed by the obviously charged atmosphere. Julien made an attempt to smile at her, but he was interrupted by Jane.

“Nothing, just Julien being a pru-“

“What’s that?” Thankfully for everybody, Antoine de Lapin was tactful enough to stop Jane from splurging her nonsensical comments. Instead, he pointed at the package Minah was holding with force against her chest.

“Oh, this…” There was a moment’s worth of hesitation from her part. “Uhh… This… Nothing!” Minah stuttered, hiding the package behind her back. “Just one of those gifts from my grandparent’s business partners”, she said once she managed to pull herself together.

“Wrapped in a paper from the Owl Post Office?” Johannes asked from behind her, forcing the young heiress to turn on her heel, slightly startled at his unannounced presence and even more unwanted question.

“No-“ Minah shook her head. She didn’t look very amused about Johannes almost causing her a cardiac arrest. “When did you even get here? In fact, why did you come this late, the party is almost over.“ She complained, anger progressively replacing her shock.

“I think that’s exactly why he came” Antoine enlightened, a soft laugh accompanying his words as Johannes gave a confirmation in the form of an energetic nod.

Minah turned to look at the oldest of her friends and her gaze traveled meticulously up and down as if to take in the full scale of Johannes’ appearance. Bulky leather jacket, dark jeans and scuffed leather boots, everything about his outfit seemed out of place in that room and the whole Delacroix Manor. Minah was almost relieved he hadn’t shown up earlier, otherwise, Aunt Adelaine would’ve gone through a second near-death experience in less than a day. The first one being Minah’s choice of dress. A long, but almost transparent Dior gown with a daring low cut that revealed the creamy milk of her skin nearly down to her navel and allowed her to show off her long and toned legs.

“Well, at least you didn’t ditch us for the next girl in your list” Minah let her guard down and sighed resigned, plopping onto the sofa Louis XV, a family relic.

“So while you were gone, we were planning our next night adventure-“ before Minah could react, Jane snatched the mail package resting on her lap “Aha!” She looked triumphant as she read the name written on the box. “Lee Sungjae!” She said out loud, ecstatic as if catching one of Minah’s lies merited her a Medal of Honor.

“Who’s that?” Julien wished his words had not come out as reproachful as they did, but he had already jumped to his feet and strode toward Jane to see the name with his own eyes.

“He’s just a friend,” Minah said wearily.

“I had no idea you had friends outside us four” Johannes also joined Jane and Julien on the task of inspecting Minah’s mail. “Oh… nice handwriting, it seems like he put a lot of effort-“

“Oh, come on, give it back!” Minah protested, jumping to her feet.

“How come we’ve never heard of this Sungjae?” Julien asked trying to sound as casual as ever. It made Jane chuckle, but Minah was too flustered to notice.

“He’s a friend from England. Goes to Hogwarts.” She explained, snatching the package from Johannes’ hands.

“Oh… a Brit…” Julien wrinkled his nose in disapproval.

“So why is this Sungjae owling you? Good news? Is he probably coming to visit this summer?” Jane asked question after question, earning herself a glare. “Oh, mon Dieu! Minah, is that why you’ve been asking me about how I lost-“

“Jane!” Minah gasped scandalized, raising her voice a bit too high for what it was considered appropriate and ladylike in the Delacroix Manor. Everybody flinched, half out of surprise and half out of the sheer volume at which she had screamed. It was almost a miracle Aunt Adelaine had not appeared in the room to scold Minah for her inobservance of social protocols.

“But-“

“No.” Minah cut her off “Sungjae is just a good friend, I asked him to send me a book I couldn’t find here and he was kind enough to do it. That’s it. That’s the story!” She picked the package and shoved into the first drawer of her desk. “Now, let’s get going before I regret it”

There was an evident contrast between the old-world elegance and luxury of the Delacroix Manor, its museum-worthy objects and the impassible facade of its residents, and the rawness, avant-garde atmosphere of Piscine Molitor, its concrete walls and the group of loud teenagers breaking In at night. Minah decided that after a long day of forced smiles and rehearsed greetings, she liked the latter best. Especially when Julien was included in the whole package; especially when times like those seemed to be about to slip through her fingers.

Despite the stress, the heartbreak and the uncertainty of the past days, Minah suddenly felt submerged in a perfect state of peace and relaxation. The soft nocturnal breeze had stilled and the moon hung bright over her head as the latest track Antoine had composed for the guys’ band played in the background. Minah had slipped into a modest jumpsuit that didn’t show as nearly much skin as her ball dress and was lounging on the chairs with a plastic cup of something that tasted like ten percent spirited water and ninety percent ethanol. At her right, Julien dressed in a pair of shorts and a simple sleeveless tee smoked a cigarette as though it was a heavenly experience, his lips sexily parted in a silent gasp as he released the smoke from his mouth. At her left, Johannes —still sporting his leather jacket—, chanted the lyrics of their unreleased song, high on his drug choice of the week. Jane was off somewhere, probably corrupting the morals of the only decent teenage boy she knew and Antoine… well, everybody knew Antoine was that boy.

“Were you talking to him the other day?” Julien’s voice suddenly interrupted Minah’s silent musings. There was evident confusion in her face, so he quickly clarified “The Brit… At my house, when you were whispering on the phone… were you talking to him?”

The young girl didn’t understand whatever Julien meant by that, but once she processed his words, her heart seemed to stop violently for a second.

“No, I was talking to someone else” The memory was still fresh in Minah’s head. It was her mother, but Julien didn’t need to know that because her mother worrying about her was a rare happenstance and it only led to more questions. Questions Minah didn’t want to answer at that moment. “No, it was someone else,” she said.

“I thought you said it was a friend”

Minah took a sip of whatever Johannes had brewed in the plastic cup. “Do we really need to talk about that?” She said dismissively, “You’ve never really been interested in my social life outside you four”

“That’s because we had no idea you had a social life outside us four” Johannes chimed in, before jumping to his feet and claiming he would look for Antoine, who had confiscated whatever muggle substance he had been getting high on.

Minah rolled eyes at her friend’s blatant lie.

“A someone, no gender, just someone?” Julien wasn’t usually so insistent, so Minah let out a frustrated sigh involuntarily.

“Yes, just someone I don’t see often and was delivering some news. Nothing important”

“A friend who lives abroad? Someone from our childhood? Do I know them?”

Minah had never thought a conversation with Julien Toubeau could ever become so unnerving, so she took yet another sip of Johannes’ cheap alcohol and rolled eyes. “Merlin, you’re not going to stop, are you? Seriously Julien, you four know everything you need to know.” ‘At least for now’ a voice spoke inside Minah’s mind. “So stop stressing and let’s better plan our trip to Montenegro. I’m seriously dying to see the Venetian Forts and-“

“I feel you’re hiding something from us” Julien almost sounded angry. “And you’ve never hidden anything from me” He added solemnly. Then he stood up, stripped his shirt off, tossed it on the chair and jumped into the water as if to avoid dwelling on the same topic (which he would have done, had not been for his dignified sense of pride).

Standing by the pool, Minah gulped down the content of the plastic cup as she concluded that Julien Toubeau wasn’t angry. He was disappointed. And somehow that was even worse.

It was past midnight when Jane and Antoine reappeared trying a bit too hard to look casual. Minah and Johannes, who had been sitting by the edge of the pool, drinking the remaining of the unlabeled bottle he had stolen from his father’s bar, only exchanged knowing glances and quietly went back to munch from the platter of red fruits and macarons that Minah had summoned from the Delacroix Manor —leftovers from ‘Le Bal Rosé’, probably—.

“What’s with this mood?” Jane complained with a frown. The set of French muggle music playing in the background could barely be heard over the water splashing sound of Julien swimming his nth lap of the night. “And why is Julien acting as though he’s training for the Olympics?” She inquired with a darting accusatory glance at Minah’s direction.

“He’s just working out” Johannes shrugged nonchalantly. “You know Julien and his quirks”

No one bought that lame explanation, but Jane was particularly convinced that Julien didn’t really enjoy the nocturnal workout. The girl had the strong feeling that her friend was just avoiding Minah for some reason she was yet to know. And she wasn’t mistaken.

In fact, Julien Toubeau didn’t have any intention to talk to Minah for the rest of the night, so he thought it was more convenient to stay in the pool and save himself some pain and humiliation. However, the second he spotted Jane, Julien climbed out of the pool and joined his friends on the uncomfortable task of sitting in silence, which somehow resulted ironic if you considered the animated music playing from Minah’s phone. Antoine knew that Julien was just worried about Jane having another slip of the tongue, so he was closely keeping an eye on her, but he still laughed at the way Julien’s eyes widened when Jane opened her mouth to say something.

“I’m getting bored here, let’s play truth or dare!” Jane proposed, ignoring the way Johannes’ nose crinkled in disgust.

“Hell no!” Minah jumped on her place, almost surprised her eardrum had not exploited at Johannes’ strident refusal. “Oh, no, no, no” He yelled again right into her ear. “I’m not gonna sit here for an hour while you make out with Antoine and Jules and Minah play coy. I’m out of it” The guy stood up and sat at the nearest chair. Jane pointed out the hypocrisy of his actions because he didn’t want to play, but he refused to leave and apparently he wasn’t against the idea of watching his friends make out.

“Voyeurism” Jane concluded, shaking her head reprovingly.

If she hadn’t been so high in alcohol, Minah would’ve probably recognized Jane’s proposal as the horrible idea it was, but she stayed on the same spot and picked one of the cherries from the platter of fruit, popping it into her mouth in a way that made Julien blush when he recalled his conversation with Jane earlier that day.

“I guess I’m in,” Julien said with pretended nonchalance, which seemed unnecessary since Jane had already caught him gulping nervously.

Ten minutes into the game and Antoine had already ended up confessing he sneaked out with Jane every night of full moon to stargaze, but everybody understood that was a euphemism for fucking under the stars; Julien admitted to using a little bit too much of his perfume when he wanted to make an impression which, Johannes pointed out, had definitely been the case earlier at ‘Le Bal Rosé’; and Minah was challenged to feed Antoine strawberries mouth-to-mouth. Naturally that last part had been an idea from Jane to get on Julien’s nerves and to continue working on Antoine’s confidence, but Minah had shrugged nonchalantly, lifting a strawberry from the bowl and putting it on the tip of her lips before leaning in so Antoine would bite down on it. The juice of the fruit dribbled over their mouths and before Antoine could realize the magnitude of the act, they had delved into a hungry kiss. The kiss could’ve as well lasted a minute or an hour, but when Antoine pulled away Minah noticed with fainting sensation that Julien was on his feet and before she could register he was moving, he had already turned on his heel and left fuming.

Minah found Julien hiding in the dimly illuminated comfort of the locker rooms. He already had a half-hearted insult cresting on the tip of his tongue by the time the young heiress slid on the spot beside him. Of course, he had been expecting to see Antoine or Jane, so his mouth went dry at the sight of Minah.

“Jules” The girl called softly, pronouncing that endearment name she had given him when they were nothing but kids. “What happened out there?” Minah inquired, watching him intently as Julien apparently collected his thoughts. He had known Minah for as long as he could remember and he had never succeeded at staying mad at her for too long, especially when she pronounced THE question he knew she was about to ask. “Are you mad at me?”

Julien felt an icy chill run down his spine as Minah’s gaze fixed on his face. She was looking at him expectantly with those beautiful eyes of her, blinking at his every slight move until he mutedly said “no” and buried his face in his hands.

“Jules…” Minah softly pulled at the sleeve of his t-shirt, forcing the boy to look at her “Why did you run away? You still believe I’m lying to you?”

Julien shook his head

“Then…” If Minah had been better at picking signs, she would’ve stopped asking questions right then, but growing up with Jane Durand had not been a particularly good lesson on subtlety. Minah tilted her head and placed her hands on each side of Julien’s face.

“I am jealous, Minah. That’s it!” Julien pulled her hands away from his face and before she could muster a complaint, he blurted “It was me who you should have been kissing. Not Antoine” Minah evidently wanted to chime in, but Julien took a finger to her lips, asking her to stay quiet. “I know we grew up together as family and I know you don’t see me as a boy, but I do like you Minah and today when you received that owl from whoever this guy is, I just felt like I’ve been wasting time and I was angry-“ He immediately caught the way Minah’s eyes widened and he hurried to add “but not at you, I can never be mad at you, I was angry with myself because I never seem to gather enough courage to tell you the truth, to tell you that I like you and-“

Minah gave Julien no time to complete his confession. She fitted her lips to his and kissed him with a soft sound of satisfaction that resembled a lot to a moan. The kiss started off gently, but thoroughly and Minah didn’t dare to move until she felt her whole body tingling. Julien kissed her back, simultaneously feeling a sense of floating and falling. He had waited for it for so long that now he could barely restrain himself.

“I- I- also- I - like- you- too,” Minah said, panting for air, once they finally pulled away. “I like you too, Jules. I thought you knew. I like you too”

Out of pure instinct, Julien got his arms around Minah, pulling her closer to him. His mind had gone blank and he could barely hide a blissful smile making its way onto his face, but Minah’s next words took him out of that trance.

“I know I will sound crazy, but that’s exactly why I want you to be the first one” Minah grabbed one of his hands and looked up to him with her round eyes, and long lashes batting. “I want to have sex, Jules-“ She shook her head “I mean, I want to lose my virginity with you”.

Minah was already overwhelmed with emotions and shivering beneath Julien’s touch when he pulled her up on top of him and kissed her forehead. He tightly clung to her naked body, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist and watching her with adoration. “Be my girlfriend?” His words came out in the form of a low whisper, causing Minah to tense up almost automatically. An older Julien would’ve never dared to ask a similar question, especially not after ‘deflowering’ the girl of his dreams in a soggy pool locker room. But the fifteen-year-old Julien was still too young and too whipped to understand why his question was so inconvenient. He was also too hopeful to anticipate what happened next.

Minah broke down in tears.

For a second, panic whirled through Julien’s mind. He felt disgusting and guilty at the mere thought of having caused Minah physical or emotional pain. He thought that he should’ve known better than to give in so easily to Minah’s suggestion. He should have told her to think through, he should’ve probably waited and planned a special night for her.

Was she probably regretting what they had just done? Was she revolted after loosening her strict moral values? Maybe it was normal for a girl to bewail the loss of her virginity…

“I can’t, Jules” She said in between sobs. It wounded his ego.

“But-“ The boy let his arms fall to the sides, disappointed and humiliated. It was becoming a recurrent feeling whenever Minah was involved.

“It’s not you…” She interrupted, looking up to him with her rounded eyes glistening.

“No, of course not. It’s probably you, non? He couldn't stop the sarcasm dripping from his words, but Minah didn’t take the offense. Instead, she forced herself to smile at him as she reached to caress his hair.

“I’m moving, Jules” She looked into his eyes, so he would know she wasn’t bluffing or making up an excuse. “To London, at the end of the summer. They are transferring me to Hogwarts”

“Your parents?” There was a turmoil inside Julien’s head. He didn’t know what to say or how to begin, but words seemed unnecessary once he noted Minah’s eyes filling up with tears. “I don’t care. I will wait for you to come back”

“Jules, please” Minah let out a derisive scoff “You’re going on a tour with the guys. Chances are you meet someone and you want to date.”

“I won’t,” Julien said firmly, he ran his hands up and down her back and planted a sloppy kiss on Minah’s neck. “Not after this,” he said, pulling her closer to him, so he could feel the way her whole body responded to him.

“Jules, don’t be ridiculous. You know-“ Minah’s words died in her throat when Julien captured her lips in a heated kiss that made her groan.

“Why? Do you plan to meet someone else there?

“In Hogwarts?” Minah rolled eyes in pretended offense.

“Then, there’s no reason to worry” Julien skimmed his hand along her shoulder and up to cradle her head in the crook of his neck. “Whatever spell you’ve put on me will surely keep working until next summer, at least…” He chuckled lightly, making Minah hide her face in embarrassment.

“Jules…” Minah called his name and hesitated for few seconds before daring to ask a question that Julien had also been meaning to ask —not as openly, of course— for some minutes now. “Can we make it again?”

Julien wasn't sure how they'd ended up there, but he was feeling like the luckiest bastard on the planet.

“Is that even a question?” Minah’s body softened into his while the fingers of his right hand slid into her hair and his free hand pulled her hips toward him.

They say that first times are always painful and messy. There is awkwardness and regrets and even disappointment afterward, but Minah Delacroix was actually glad and satisfied with every step along the way. For one thing, she was glad she wore that lacy set from La Perla that aunt Aurelie had bought her as a birthday gift; she was also glad she bathed in floral essences before sneaking with her friends that night; but first and foremost, she was glad she had picked Julien to be the first man in her life, as cliched as it sounded. Although it had happened in the abandoned headquarters of what once upon a time had been the most stylish Art Deco building of Paris; although Julien improvised a bed on a sports mat. Although there were no candles or lilies or champagne for that matter.

#julien #jane #antoine #johannes #minah #story #oc

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superpotatesme00 · 7 years

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(Pidgance Fanfic) by AIR

Notes:

Sorry for the wait :(

Read: [Previous] || [Next] || [AO3 Link]

SO HERE IT IT^^

Becoming Aware

Chapter 4/5:

A Shocking Realization.

Can you pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love? What is it that makes you fall for someone? Is it their grandiose gestures, like showering you in flowers, money or beautiful words? Or is it the little things? The random yet sincere smiles, the immediate understanding through just one glance, the encouraging shoulder bumps, the stupid inside jokes that only you two understand, or is it their eager ears intently listening to whatever nonsense you have to tell? Such a seemingly insignificant gesture causes you chest to tighten.

Pidge continued to shriek with laughter. So much so, that her cheeks felt sore from their overworked smiling. She suddenly hesitated as a pain in her chest ached slightly.

Heart burn?

She looked at the over enthusiastic boy next to her. He laughed loud enough to shake the walls as he violently pressed the buttons to the controller. Her eyes scanned his features and she instantly formed a smile. Lance’s blue eyes fell to meet her’s and she felt an uncontrollable squeeze in her chest once more.

What?

You can’t always control who you fall in love with. It happens when you least expect it-.

No! no… I don’t- for Lance?!…Nope!

Not that any of this mattered to Pidge. Since Pidge wasn’t “in love”, and Pidge just had “heart burn.”

His cheeks were beginning to stiffen and make it difficult to do anything but smile. His eyes were watery and hot from his uncontrollable laughter on top of his stomach feeling sore from it all. Not that that was a bad thing, since Lance firmly believed laughing would eventually earn him a six pack.

“No no you gotta go left Lance! Watch the flank, watch the flank!” Pidge’s eyebrows were knit together and her glances held the reflection of their intense gaming.

“HOLD ON! WAI-NO! SHIT! I’m down…” Lance slumped over his knees in defeat.

“GYAHHAHAHAHHA SERVES YOU RIGHT?! IT’S ALL ABOUT STRATEGY MY MAN~” Pidge’s hands continued to press the buttons at amazing speeds. Her eyes glimmered as she bit her bottom lip with determination.

Lance felt an unexpected thump in his chest at the sound of her words, “my man.”

She said “MY man.” What does that mean??? I like how that sounds~

Lance lifted his gaze to catch a glimpse of the concentrated paladin. He couldn’t help but stare. She had very long eyelashes… and seeing her smile so widely while around him made him feel ridiculously giddy.

“What? Upset that your various so-called “skills” don’t include gaming?” She met his eyes with a smug lift of a brow.

The unexpected eye contact caught Lance off guard as he felt his face flush slightly.

No…Pidge gets along with everyone…this doesn't mean anything…I’m just over thinking it… …Why do I care anyway?

“RUDE! You know I’m amazing at pretty much anything! It-it was just an OFF day! Yeah!” Pidge almost spilled her soda in attempt to contain her laughter.

“HA HA HA~ I ain’t just good at console gaming, but I’m basically unbeatable on PC too~” Pidge straightened her back and rubbed her knuckles on her collar mimicking a polish.

“Yeah. I bet…” Lance frowned and threw his body back to sprawl over the couch.

The whole day had felt like a montage of cliche moments from a slice of life film. Everything was overwhelmingly fun and she would have never expected that she and Lance would click so well. Even back when Lance had so willingly dug around in the fountain to help her buy this console, she felt an unexpected connection…or potential connection between the two of them. Lance and Hunk ALWAYS had a blast with each other…But, she was different…She’s antisocial, almost standoffish…never wanting or needing anyone’s help or company. But most of all, she had never dreamed that should could actually get along with such an outgoing and extroverted guy.

Speaking of Hunk…

Coming back from the mall Hunk had seen how depressed the blue and green paladins were for not being able to play the new game, so he took up the task of figuring out how to make an adapter. He never told them, but Keith had seen him occasionally working on it. Staying up later than he usually would, tinkering around with some of the screens he had found in the storage units of the castle ship, then finally, just the day prior he had finally figured it out! He had told Lance first and even offered it as a persuasion for Lance to get Pidge to spend more time together. It was pretty much the cherry on top to the whole “Operation: Pidge x Lance Bonding.” Yet even prior to Hunks secret reveal, the two paladins had been spending the day as inseparable pees in a pod. It was awkward at first, mostly because of Pidge’s inability to be to physically close to Lance, but as they went on from talking, to running around singing makeshift concerts to each other, Pidge had found herself sitting butt-to-butt and shoulder-to-shoulder ( or in Pidge’s case: Head-to-shoulder) with Lance. Now, it was hard to go a second without any physical contact. Nothing weird though! Just nudges with the shoulders, pats on the back, and the occasional hair ruffling that was mostly done by Lance to tease Pidge. She didn’t mind though…It reminded her of her brother…yet…made her chest flutter.

Pidge reminisced as Lance updated the console. Little did she know that Lance was also swirling with thoughts of her.

Woah! I NEVER would’ve guessed that Pidge was so cool to hang out with! “He” was such a buzzkill back in the Garrison…but I guess she just needed a little warming up to! Makes me a little sad though, it would’ve been awesome to have been able to hang out sooner. Even if she was a “he.” …Who cares any way? “She” or “He?” No matter which: Pidge is smart, unexpectedly hilarious when she let’s loose and…well…pretty…

Both subconsciously raised their eyes to meet each other’s. Pidge flinched a bit, hoping to look away quickly but her eyes felt glued to his, unable escape. Lance felt the same but rather than internally panic, he enjoyed their moment. He could see every detail of her face down to her flawless complexion and basically nonexistent pores. She wasn’t kidding when she said her skin was pale, it seemed almost translucent and delicate to touch. There was a soft pink glow that could be seen underneath in her cheeks and ears. Part of him wanted to take her glasses off, but the other part wanted to keep them on since he was afraid he’d get too lost without the barrier dividing his eyes from her’s. Pidge was no different. She couldn’t help but notice just how nice his complexion was. It was no surprise though, since she was fully aware of his “spa days” and just how well he took care of himself. She wouldn’t mind if he had some blemishes though…Occasionally she would get them but luckily that dip in the castle baths had done some magical treatment to her occasionally puberty stricken face. A 15 year-old girl facing raging hormones causes her more breakouts than attempt to salvage this nonexistent figure of her’s. She couldn’t help but want to reach out and poke his soft cheeks, and she really envied how his blue eyes stood out from his sun kissed skin.

Without noticing both had been slowly inching closer to one another, almost close enough for their finger tips to touch, but safe enough to keep a reasonable distance. Lance smelled of peppermint and a hint of tropical shampoo. Pidge gave off the slightest sent of lavender from her fluffy hair, but most of all had the pleasant smell of bubblegum on her breath from her incessant gum chewing.

Pidge parted her lips to speak and Lance couldn’t help but be drawn in by the sweet scent and sight of her small pink lips.

“Lance…Um-So-!” Without notice the door behind them slid open, sending them both into a frenzied panic. The perpetrator was non-other than Hunk.

“hh-Hey…Guys!” He was panting, barley lifting his head to speak. Both blue and green shared equally confused expressions.

“i-I..Came…to get…You…”

“What’s with that buddy? You’re actin’ like ya ran a marathon!” Lance sat up taller and hopped over the back of the couch closer to Hunk. Pidge had sat up as well but stayed and watched.

“You okay Hunk???” She was worried something had happened.

“Oh…Yeah! Sorry! I just ran over to ask you guys if you heard Allura’s-”

“Attention Paladins! Could I have you ALL come to the common room please? I have quite a fun surprise!”

Yellow, blue and green all looked up simultaneously in the direction of the voice. Meanwhile, down a couple corridors the rushing of a shower head was shut off abruptly. Having heard the request the paladin quickly ruffled his hair with his towel and retreated to his room (wearing only a thin towel) to get dressed.

In the opposite wing of the castle could be heard the huffing and strenuous grunts of a young paladin striking down a single gladiator right on time to hear the intercom. The gladiator hit the floor with a loud thud and instantly pixelated away. The young paladin had kept his hair tied up a bit, since it would itch the nape of his neck. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, grabbed his jacket, and nonchalantly headed for the door.

“Oh! There you all are! That was quick!” Coran smiled widely, flaring his elegant mustache.

“Of course! The paladins must ALWAYS be ready! No matter the reason- Wait, there is only two of you…” Allura had turned to face the approaching subjects to realize that not only were both Lance and Pidge missing, but so was Hunk.

“Sorry Princess. We were all off on our own, so they are probably just out in the Lion’s landing decks.” Shiro brushed his hair out of the way as it began to drip onto his scarred nose bridge.

Allura couldn’t help but keep her eyes fixated on Shiro, even as he spoke with Keith. All of the paladins were adolescents but Shiro, was a full fledged, unbearably attractive adult…at least that explained Allura's clearly uncontrollable infatuation.

Hunk had managed to retrieve his two friends from the landing deck. They all realized they were running a bit late but had decided they would just take their time since the common room was quite far and this wasn’t an emergency.

Pidge was the smallest and out of habit the two boys walked on either side of her. Almost like an escort. Pidge never said anything but she always thought it was bit funny. Back at the Garrison she felt that maybe it was their subconscious brotherly instinct since they were tall and she was a bit…vertically challenged. She and Lance were excitedly telling Hunk about all the random shit they had been doing and Hunk was having a blast hearing his two best friends talk non-stop. Pidge began to imitate Lance and the way he had sung, resulting in Hunk ripping a massive fart from his uncontrollable laughter. It was sudden and Hunk couldn’t help but blush, only for the two to burst out in laughter and almost hit the floor from their now weak knees.

“So, how do you think it’s going buddy?” Hunk had taken the opportunity to ask Lance as both their paces fell a bit behind Pidge’s.

“Huh? Oh! Hmmmm…It’s gonna sound crazy but like way better than expec-!”

“Move along slow pokes, we have a mission!” Pidge had suddenly backtracked and playfully nudged Lance in the side.

“Roger that commander!” Without second thought, Lance saluted in sync with the small paladin as they marched ahead.

Hunk, a bit dumbfounded, observed the two of them for a split second, before smiling as he noticed how his two buddies were desperately containing their giggles.

It seemed that “Operation: Pidge x Lance Bonding” was nothing but smooth sailing.

“-yes, well. Now, that ALL of you are accounted for-” Allura shot a piercing glare at Lance specifically.

“Hey! Why ya giving me the stink eye!? Shorty and Hunk are culprits too!” Hunk gave Allura an apologetic smile, but Pidge pinched Lance’s arm.

“The reason I had you all gather here was because Coran, Hunk and I all thought it would a brilliant idea to have another go at our team bonding exercises!”

“The rules are simple my colorful warriors! This game is called Filhae S’qire. It consists of 5-10 players and in essence it similar to your human game of hide-and-seek.”

Keith shifted his weight as his thick eyebrows knit together in confusion: “We aren’t seriously going to play a kid’s game are we?”

Lance scoffed and his shoulders trembled causing Kieth’s eye to twitch in annoyance.

“WHAT?” It didn’t sound like a question.

“(*attempting to calm down*) What’s wrong Keith, you scared you and that mullet of your’s are gonna loose to this gorgeous specimen? I mean- Cuz’ if you are I don’t blame ya~”

“I’m not scared!” Keith took a step towards Lance.

“Yeah? Prove it~” Lance leaned his weight nonchalantly onto his left leg, giving Keith a sideways smirk.

Shiro could feel the heat radiating off the already hotheaded Keith and decided to step in.

“All right you too.” He placed a reaffirming hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Actually Princess, I’m a bit lost…why is it you think that playing a game will get us to work better as a team?”

“a-uh…Well, I never said it was a teamwork exercise, but a team bonding exercise. You will need to understand each other to find where each is hiding…” Allura trailed off, unable to look Shiro in the eyes. They felt like they could see right through her ruse and the fact this was just a poor excuse to play a game. She didn’t want him to think she was childish.

“I see, well I’m not against it. It’s good to have fun once in a while too.” Shiro smiled causing everyone else’s faces to light up.

The dynamic of the game was simple. Much like the Earthling game, the players would each take turns being the finder (or the person who’s “It”) while the remaining players had about 100 tics to hide. The game lasted as many rounds as there were players, in this case 7. But…There was a twist to it. The first round gave the person who was “it” about 10 minutes to find all the players…round by round the time limit would reduce progressively giving the person who was “it” less and less time to find ALL the players. All participants had to wear sensors and in the last 30 seconds of each round the finder’s sensor would start giving a warning signal, and once time was up he or her would be…electrocuted. Just how the rounds each more more intense…so would their electrocutions. And…if that wasn’t the worst part…the people doing the hiding would also get an increasingly more painful zap each time they were found.

Obviously, by this point no one wanted to play anymore. Especially not Hunk, who had so eagerly agreed to this “fun” game. But that didn't matter anymore, since Allura had already stuck the sensors onto each of their foreheads before Coran could finish explaining the rules…

“Heh…heh…No biggie…” Lance had been the master at hiding from his little nieces and nephews back home but currently his confidence was withering away.

“Guys…I’m going to die.” Hunk trembled as all the paladins kept their eyes on the ground. Even Shiro, who was at this moment regretting all his life decisions.

“…the sensors don’t come off until the game ends…and I’m sure they shock you if you try to tamper with them.” Pidge didn’t expect a response but Allura nodded anyway.

Allura’s ears were slightly drooped. She kept her eyes on the sad circle of paladins as she leaned in closer to Coran: “Coran…Did I say something wrong?”

“No Princess, just that…we Alteans have always been infamous for our extreme forms of…entertainment.”

The situation was awkward…to say the least. But, unfortunately the events prior had forced this predicament.

The game, as you may have thought was not going well, more so for the unlucky few. Of those few was Hunk, who had been the first and and only person found in the first round. Coran had been “it” and was able to catch a glimpse of what looked like someone’s ass sticking up from under the dinner table. Hunk felt the shock in between his eyes before being able see Coran’s always majestic mustache. Next from Hunk was the unfortunate Lance. It’s not that Lance was miserable at hiding. Allura was just ridiculously good at the game…he never stood a chance. He had managed to climb into a vent that was up so high he had to climb Shiro’s lion to reach it. And, just before he could celebrate the last 30 seconds of the 3rd round, Allura's sudden appearance had scared Lance shitless while simultaneously being electrocuted in the head. The high pitched scream could be heard by all the terrified and sweating paladins. No one was safe that round…And if you are wondering about the second round just prior…Let’s just say that Lance was unsuccessful in finding ANYONE. The next three rounds continued the intense game of what seemed like life or death. Round 4 ended in the zapping of both the poorly hidden Coran (who was posing as a plant), and the slow finder, Hunk. Shiro was “it” for the following round (5) and by this point he was sure no one could take much more. He especially did’t want Katie nor Allura being shocked. So, he chivalrously gave up the round to be solely electrocuted. Round 6 was Pidge’s turn and a genius like her actually put Allura’s words into practice, “You will need to understand each other to find where each is hiding.” Pidge knew her teammates all too well, and although she regarded them as family, she preferred to save herself from the suffering. So, she paced herself to one-by-one pick off the the Alteans and paladins before her 30 second warning signal even went off.

Round 7 left everyone’s fates in Keith’s hands, and currently he was stalking his prey. Everyone, especially Hunk and Lance, were panicking by this point. Lance couldn’t help feel that Keith had it out for him. Amidst the panic, Lance had squished himself into an uncomfortable situation. Yet, not entirely undesirable for both parties.

It was completely coincidence and having realized his time to hide was up, took to the closest door he could find. But, someone had already chosen that spot, and that spot fit them well. It was a tiny squished storage unit and ironically held the cleaning utensils of the ship. It was pitch black in the closet and Lance never expected to feel his body slam into something other than a wall. That “something” being the small, fluffy Pidgeon.

They couldn’t see a thing and were chest-and-chest to each other. Well…more like head-and-chest. They were both quiet and Lance debated saying some sort of apology to Pidge. But, decided otherwise when he figured it would give them away to Keith; the last person he wanted to be seen by in such a questionable situation, or shocked by. His mind was a clusterfuck of panicked thoughts and attempted to calm himself down by focusing on one thing. Originally, he attempted to focus on Hunk’s previous farting but was completely overshadowed by the warm pressure of Pidge’s head on his chest. He looked down, to no avail, and was begging to become overwhelmed by the smell of her sweet shampoo. He closed his eyes and took in her scent.

HOLY CROW! FOCUS LANCE. Now you’re just acting like a fucking pervert.

He shook his head violently which made Pidge stir a bit. She was silent and he could barley hear her breathing.

Pidge couldn’t begin to fathom the situation. It happened so quick and she was completed flabbergasted when she saw the Cuban boy shove himself into the already tight closet. It was so small that their legs were shoved in between each other’s and something hanging on the wall forced her head onto his chest. He smelled as good as he did earlier, like peppermint and tropical shampoo. She could feel his breath on her hair and was too nervous to move. It wasn’t until he shook his head that she squirmed a bit. She figured that he was uncomfortable and maybe a bit disturbed to squished with the far-from-feminine Pidge.

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth though. Both their chest’s felt like they were going to explode, and their hearts beat so hard in their heads that they were afraid the other would hear. They both had tried to scoot away, only barley adding a couple inches of space between them. Lance’s head was leaned back and he stared into the darkness, feeling a tight knot in his throat and fluttering in his stomach.

Pidge was tired of this feeling that inevitably Lance had been causing her for a while. She wanted to solve it all in her head like an equation, she wanted to make sense of Lance and her. But, the talk she had had with Allura in the baths had made her realize something she had been denying herself. Lance meant a lot to her. He was always there for her. He was always there for everyone. He was amazing at all the things she felt she lacked, like empathy, charisma, outgoing, a big heart and a good listener. He always put people before himself, even if it wasn’t obvious: at the Garrison when he took the blame for her snide remark and the failed simulation or the time he risked his injured self to save her form Sendek. She never forgot those things…or the many other things he had done for her and the others. Sure he was a flirt, and a big idiot…But being this close to him, now, made her realize she never wanted him to be out of reach again.

Lance couldn’t read Pidge’s mind and he wasn't exactly as calculating as she was.

My chest is beating so loud she’ll probably hear it…Aw quizznack…I feel like I’m gonna fart under all this pressure!

Lance scrunched his face in resistance and once it was safe, felt his mind wandering back to Pidge, whose small legs were currently and inevitably intertwined with his own. His face was still burning and he couldn’t help but imagine her legs from that time he had seen her. They were so small and dainty, much like the rest of her. And, they held a pink undertone at the knees and ankles. Or her flushed cheeks and piercingly golden eyes…He wanted to feel just how soft she was…

NO NO NO LANCE! This is getting weird…I mean…I just…She’s just so goddamn cute. Like SHIT! I wanna squish her!

Lance hated that his own mind kept wandering to Pidge. She wasn't like other girls to him. She wasn't just a pretty think to look at. She was one of his best friends and he wanted to protect her. She was just a genius girl looking for her family and he wanted to help her accomplish that. He couldn't quite form what it was that he felt for her but it was almost as though she was too good for him to tarnish or touch. His dangerously low self-esteem was already covered by the idiotic mask he wore, he didn't want Pidge to deal with any of him. She needed someone reliable…someone better than him…

“Shit! I only got 2 minutes left!”

The sudden voice startled both the blue and green paladins, causing Lance to abruptly grab hold of Pidge’s shoulders. They held their breath as a black mullet passed by in front of the closed closet. Lance let out a small sigh and Pidge didn’t want the warmth of his hands to leave her. It was comforting even though he himself caused the painful squeezing in her chest.

The words almost formed in her head. It was on the tip of her tongue.

Lance was still lost in thought and little did he know that Pidge felt the bold desire to move closer to him, even if he was just some kid from Cuba. Something clicked in her head and she reached up on her toes closer and closer to Lance. She could feel his peppermint breath mix with her own. She knew she was close, she knew that even by accident she could reach his lips.

Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth to speak.

“…-!”

She was stopped short by excruciatingly loud zapping of the red paladin. Her face cringed in sympathy to his pain. The noise had startled Lance as well.

“Hey Pidge-!” Since Pidge had still been up on her toes Lance’s head met hers with full force. He lost his footing, resulting in the two of them toppling out of the sliding closet door.

“Urgh…” Lance groaned in pain as Pidge lifted herself up and dusted off her shorts.

She watched his slightly flushed face as she offered a helping hand. His hands were big and his fingers slender. She wanted to know what it would feel like to intertwine her small hands with his.

Allura quickly announced the end of the game and offered they all eat a well prepared meal. Pidge and Lance were just down the hall of the dinning hall and as Lance excitedly ran over to eat, Katie couldn’t help but smile…

Love huh? I could get used to that.

As promised, the three cadets (Lance, Hunk and Pidge) attempted to pull an all-nighter. Unfortunately, Allura’s ploy had left them all exhausted and unable to even finish the first half of Jaws. The rest had long gone to bed but “Space Dad” advised the 3 teenagers to not force themselves to stay awake.

At around 1AM Hunk’s stomach pleaded for a late night snack. Hunk was usually a heavy sleeper, but when it came to food he was quick to rise. He sat up and scratched his belly before slowly opening his heavy eyes to see where he was. Just as he was yawning he turned to see the unexpected: Lance and Pidge were snuggled up on the couch with their head rested on each other’s. Pidge’s glasses were folded next to her and only her toes poked out slightly from under the blanket that shielded them. Hunk was speechless and could barely believe his eyes. Then, his stomach’s beckoning directed him to the door. Once it slid open he couldn't help but look back. He noticed that Lance’s face was deeply rested into Pidge’s fluffy hair, almost lost. Hunk couldn’t help but giggle and it caught the attention of a passerby.

“Hunk?” Keith said quieter than usual.

Hunk motioned him to keep silent and smiled towards the couch. Keith observed the seen as well…only to look back and meet the goofy grin of the yellow paladin. Keith sighed and gave a relieved smile.

They both left without saying a word, heading towards the kitchen for a little late night snack.

****

THANKS FOR READING! Stay tuned for Chapter 5/6! :D

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#pidgance #flirtyrobot #plance #lidge #pidge x lance fanfic #voltron fanfic #AIR #voltron

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[AA] Dark lights 1. First time on the subreddit, and first story I've posted

This is an introductory story I started writing during quarantine. This is the first story I've posted here, and I'm probably very rusty when it comes to writing. I used to be an active member of my school's creative writing club, but that's been over 3 years at this point. Appreciate the criticism and thanks for reading!!!

P.s. I'm in Canada so Canadian spelling for some of these words.

Chapter 1

If heaven exists, I probably won’t be let in. Not like I care too much though, don’t even know why that thought even came across my mind. As Lucius chewed on his gum, he had fallen into a deep thought about himself. He had not been this introspective in a while, so this was quite a strange occasion. Who knows, maybe I’m just in a weird mood. I got fucked over pretty hard anyways, but might as well just go with it. It’s not like I’m dying anytime soon. That being said, maybe I should go to that movie that I wanted to watch for a while. I’ll probably end up kicking myself in the afterlife if I don’t get to it. Gotta get done with what I’m doing right now though, sort of got my hands full right now.

He walked up to a man laying on the floor, who honestly looked quite pathetic. Most of Lucius’ targets ended up this way, but that didn’t stop him from thinking it. As Lucius put a gun against his head, he felt the man trembling with fear. It made sense, Lucius had put a bullet through both knees, elbows and shoulders of this man and his fate was entirely in the fate of a person who honestly just wanted to kill him and get it over with.

Why the hell does Brian want me to keep this guy alive until he gives me the cue? Brian was the man who hired Lucius to kill this man. If he was honest, Lucius would say he's kind of a dork. He had contacted Lucius earlier in the week with the job request to deal with this man. At that point Lucius didn’t think there was anything to be suspicious of. The job was a simple and straightforward capture of a dangerous criminal with a history of violence, nothing that special. All they had to do was bring this dude to Brian’s basement, and then they could leave Brian to do whatever he wanted with the guy. The problems appeared when Lucius and his friends brought their target to the basement.

When Lucius and his friends arrived at Brian’s basement, they found a massive underground complex that resembled a maze more than a basement, which Lucius was not told about. Then Brian asked each of them to go to different rooms and do different things, which he had definitely not been told about. So now each of his friends were separated, Suzy with Brian, Vaughan with some sword dude and Jonathan with a group of bodyguards. Of course, Lucius was stuck dealing with the crazed lunatic that wanted nothing more than to kill him. Oh, by the way the instructions mentioned that this guy was to be brought here unharmed. And the cuffs Brian put him in broke as soon as they left. So Lucius had to deal with a murderous madman by himself, which he did with ease. Lucius just hoped blood didn't get any of this idiot's blood on his suit. He had worn a pink shirt for a big pay day; Lucius thought pink looked really good on him.

It’s not like this loser’s survival gives him much of a strategic edge. I’m distracted babysitting him, and I’m really not much help right now. He’s probably trying to hide something from me, but what would it be? If he’s trying to set me up, somebody should have told me already, it’s not like I don’t have people keeping an eye on him right now. An ambush? Maybe, this whole thing’s a bit too obvious and he didn’t seem like the smartest guy in the world. Brian could also just want to watch this guy die, but if that was the case I could have just brought him here with me. He knows this too, so that’s not even an option.

So here he was, drinking soda with one foot on a crippled psychopath’s head and wondering what happened. Obviously this whole thing is a set up. Well, he had a pretty good idea of what happened and that ticked him off. Lucius knew him and his friends could deal with whatever Brian had in store for them, and the only reason why he went with this obvious and stupid plot was because he knew that, but still. Lucius didn’t like it when people tried to fuck him over, and he was going to make sure Brian paid very well for it.

Under his feet, the fallen man started to moan in pain. Oh yeah, that must hurt. Who’s fault was that again? Oh yeah, you for trying to kill me. This guy was really starting to get on Lucius’ nerves. Every other second the formerly threatening criminal was whining and moaning about how he couldn’t feel his arms and legs, going on and on about his pain. And occasionally he’d start crying. That was the worst. He took a look at his shirt sleeve to make sure it was clean, and saw some blood got on it. This was his favourite shirt, this jackass had ruined it and now he needed to vent some steam on the piece of shit.

Lucius repeatedly stomped on the man’s head with great annoyance and shouted, “Shut up, you know why you’re in this spot. All you had to do was sit down and behave, and what did you do? You broke your cuffs and tried to kill me as soon as the adults left. Well now your joints are blown off and you’re probably crippled for the rest of your life. Are you proud of yourself? Are you proud of your decision making skills? How the fuck did you think you were gonna kill me barehanded when you couldn’t do it with a fucking knife? Are you actually retarded?”

Lucius walked away from the prone man to contact one of his teammates and friends, though he kept an eye on the target. He could never know if he could escape through some unknown means. There could also be a blowpipe hidden inside the man’s mouth; Lucius had fallen for that trick once when he was much younger and dumber, and he was not about to let it happen again.

Lucius took out his phone to dial Suzy’s number. Suzy was one of his teammates, and had been a friend of his since they were children. Lucius was not the biggest fan of calling her however, since most of the time she just tried to scold him about his supposed immaturity.

Maybe I should wait. She's just gonna yell at me again. "Oh you should have done some research. Why didn't you look up the guy before taking a job from him. Blah blah blah." Or maybe she’d say “Grow up and stop being so whiny. It’s like this all the time with you. Always whining about this and that. Just do the job, you’re getting paid for it anyways, myeh myeh myeh”.……………. Nah, I'm not in that much of a hurry.

In reality, Lucius actually was that immature. Oh well, he thought as he went back to just lounging around. His friends would be able to take care of themselves, so there was nothing for him to be worried about.

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It had already been an hour since Brian asked Suzy to follow him, and she had started to get tired of it. They had gone through several corridors, and they had taken so many turns that she wasn't even sure where she was anymore. Every wall looked the same and every turn just faded into the next. She had tried to stay focused, but that was getting really hard for her. It was so dull and she was just ready to be done with it.

When Brian hired them, he had wanted each of them to do something different for him. For Suzy, that was trailing him and acting as a bodyguard. She had an idea about why he wanted her there, but she was hoping Brian was not scummy or stupid enough for that.

Brian was a short man with black greased-back hair and chubby cheeks. He seemed like someone who believed they were the hottest thing on Earth. He really wasn’t. He looked even smaller compared to the rest of the people surrounding him, including Suzy. His face was slimy, and his constant smirk made Suzy want to punch him in the face. His bodyguards, on the other hand, were massive human beings with all of them being at least 6’2’’ or taller. They were all very muscular, and Suzy guessed each of them had to be over 200 pounds. They were very imposing, enough to make most people think twice about messing with him.

Eventually the group came to a dead end and stopped. Immediately Brian quickly turned around and walked up to Suzy. He put on a smug smile and gave her a seductive look, and slowly walked around Suzy as he seemingly sniffed her scent. In fact, it looked like he was almost hopping around her. Gross. He was starting to get on her nerves. Just a little bit. Eventually he stopped in front of her and attempted to brush her hair with his trigger finger. Suzy almost instinctively leaned away in disgust, and her face reflected that feeling.

This guy's lucky he’s paying us. As much as she hated Brian right now, Suzy had a sense of professional pride. She and her friends were paid to help this little greasy weasel, and she was going to go through with it. That being said, this guy was making it really hard for her to do that.

Brian leaned towards her and said, “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just trying to have a little fun here” and attempted to rub Suzy's leg. She pushed his gut with her foot and turned around to walk away. At this point, she was just a pinch away from snapping. She was not getting paid to get harassed, and she’d had just about enough of Brian. As she attempted to go back to her friend, his other bodyguards blocked her path. She sneered at them with disdain and turned back around.

During that time Brian had somewhat recovered from her slight tap and was rubbing his stomach. He seemed to be actually hurt by that. This guy’s soft. He stared straight into her eyes, his face full of pain and hatred from the agony caused by her “kick.” He yelled at his henchmen to surround her to keep her from hurting him again. How brave.

He walked slightly closer to her and said, “Listen you little bitch. I’m trying to be nice to you here, but you’re making it really fucking hard. I’m trying to protect you right now, okay? If I wasn’t here to keep them in check, these boys would eat you up. I know you think you’re pretty strong, but even you wouldn’t be able to take all of them at once. No, you’d probably get pummeled in a second. So just do as I say and we can all leave happy.”

Brian pulled out his phone and turned it towards Suzy. He started going through it, looking for something. Eventually he turned the phone as it showed what seemed to be video footage. “If you stay like that, I can’t guarantee your little friend here doesn’t get hurt. I put him with my strongest fighter, so one little mistake out of you and your friend is finished. This guy’s the real deal, I once saw him cut down a whole room full of armed men in a minute. He’s never lost a duel in his life, and I don’t think he’s going to lose one anytime soon. So I would recommend you do as I say,” Brian said with as much menace as he could put into his voice.

Suzy stared into the footage for a few seconds in silence. Vaughan was with their strongest fighter. As stupid as she thought Brian was, he had thought out everything in this whole plan. She was isolated from her friends and now he had taken them hostage. If she didn’t do what he wanted, he was going to make his strongest fighter try to kill Vaughan. He really was a terrible human being.

Suzy asked, “Are they alone in that room together?” “Damn right they are, and there’s no escape if something happens,” Brian smugly answered. “So there’s just the two of them, no one else nearby?” “None, and if I give the order, my man’s going to cut your friend down. Now be a good girl and get on your knees.”

Suzy let out a sigh and relaxed. This was going to happen, and she might as well be calm. Then, as Brian unbuttoned the top of his shirt with a smirk on his face, looked up at the ceiling. Now that she looked at the walls more closely, she realized they were soundproof. Then she punched the bodyguard on her left in his ugly face. She felt her fist crush his nose, shatter his teeth and break his thick skull. Brian was more of an idiot than she thought he was. She thought he was at least good at spending his money.

As she was punching the bodyguard, she turned an eye towards the snot who tried to have his way with her. Her face filled with anger, eyes wide open and teeth clenched so hard it looked as though she was about to break them with her own jaw. She was absolutely pissed, both from his inexcusable behaviour and his complete utter incompetence. She stared a hole through Brian’s skull as she said, “You’re fucking dead.”

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Lenon was annoyed at his current predicament. He had trained under the greatest masters for years and mastered the way of the sword. He traveled the world, fought the strongest he could find and conquered all of them. He was as skilled and powerful as one could be. And he was stuck babysitting this weird child.

In front of him in this small, dusty grey room was a blond boy of about twelve years of age with big bushy, messy hair and bags under his eyes. He was playing games on his phone, and seemed to barely acknowledge Lenon’s presence. This twelve-year-old boy wore a baggy, crumpled up hoodie and carried an ornate sword in a sheath by his side. The hilt was beautifully designed, decorated with gold, rubies and emeralds. Its shape was vibrant yet balanced to make sure it was usable in combat. This was not a sword that someone like him should have. Yet the most disturbing thing about this kid was not the weapon. This twelve-year-old boy was smoking a cigarette and was currently finishing his third one.

Lenon had to pull in all of his restraint in order to stop the boy from smoking. He knew smoking was bad for the development of a child, but his client had told him not to touch the boy unless told otherwise. He had a job to do, and he was going to finish it. His sense of honour demanded he do so. He would wait until the job is over, find the boy and discipline him in order to stop him from smoking. Until then, Lenon would patiently wait.

As Lenon was meditating to keep himself from losing his mind, he noticed his phone ringing. Finally, his client must have a new task for him to do. Something worth his skill and talent. Maybe he’d cut down that arrogant man with the pistols, or maybe he’d get to face the woman that the boss took with him. He had sensed great power from her, and he knew there was no way those goons could handle her. He had hoped he would not have to deal with the other gentleman, a taller man who seemed sweet and gentle. He would do it, but not without guilt.

He picked up his phone and answered the call. Across the line, the boss yelled “Kill the fucking Brat!” and hung up immediately. As he heard this, thoughts started running through Lenon’s head. How could he ask such a horrendous task of him? To kill a small child like this, it would be a disgrace to his name. He’d have to pray and meditate for weeks to cleanse himself of his sin. But he had to do it, he had promised as such.

The boy did not seem to be paying attention. Good, then this will be painless. The boy will feel no fear, no pain. Lenon would make sure this boy’s life would end quickly. The least he could do is keeping him from suffering. Lenon drew his sword and prepared to swing. He would cut the boy’s neck with one clean swing of his blade. Yes, that will do.

As he swung his blade in one straight and graceful motion, the boy fell face first onto the floor and accidentally avoided the attack. The fool seemed to have tripped while not paying attention to where he’s walking. It was no issue, the next strike would do the deed. Lenon raised his divine sword Tsukuyomi to stab the boy through the heart. This sword was passed down through generations of swordsmen at his old dojo, and he was blessed with inheriting its might. Now he was using it to slay a defenseless little child. He felt shame travel through his body as he thrust his weapon in a quick strike towards him. The child rolled to his left, dodging the attack.

How could this be? Is luck on this child’s side? How could the divine blade Tsukuyomi miss twice? Could he have dodged those attacks? No, it couldn’t be. Those were not the actions of one who tries to dodge. They were accidents. Lenon shouted, “Boy I must end your existence, for I was ordered by the man I promised to serve! Please do not make this difficult. I will make it painless, so do not fear.” The boy answered, “Well, at least call me by my name if you’re gonna kill me. Name’s Vaughan.” with a booming baritone. Lenon did not expect such a low voice to come out of a small child’s mouth. He guessed that the boy’s smoking habit artificially changed his voice.

“Very well then. Vaughan, I hope your next life is a happier one,” said Lenon with grim resolve in his voice. Vaughan yawned, and as he did replied, “Oh, by the way you shouldn’t be using your sword like that. You’re gonna break it.”

Lenon was befuddled by this boy. How could he attempt to lecture me like this? Is he not afraid of death? And what could he possibly know about using a sword? How dare he act as though he knows the way of the sword better than I do. I was trying to be gentle with this boy, but now I shall teach him a lesson.

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Vaughan was lying on the floor, staring at this man trying to stab him with a katana. That sword was meant to be swung, not thrusted. That also meant it was designed badly, but he didn’t think that was worth saying. Well, if this guy’s gonna try to kill me, he might as well do it properly. Vaughan stood up, brushed the dirt off his clothes and turned to the man with a sword. The man seemed to be confused by what just happened. Vaughan was hoping the man’s mental state was not as weak as his sword strikes.

Vaughan looked at the man and asked, “Are you that slow or are you trying to take it easy on me?” The guy seemed agitated by this statement, as his face changed to that of anger. He changed his grip to a more proper one and readied his stance. The man said, “If you wish to mock me, I have no choice but to fight you with my full strength. As you die, repent and pray your next life doesn’t end as violently as this one, young fool.” What a weirdo.

As the weirdo charged him with a vertical strike, Vaughan moved slightly out of the way and tapped the man’s face. This guy wasn’t going easy on him. He was just that slow. No, this crazy man has to have some sort of hidden power. If not, he wouldn’t be considered the best fighter out of all of them.

After Vaughan touched the nutcase’s face, the crackpot immediately backed off and hopped back to his original position. Now the weird man seemed embarrassed by what just happened. He shouted, “I WILL NOT LET THIS ACT OF DISRESPECT GO UNPUNISHED. BY THE HONOUR OF THE SAMURAI, I, LENON RICHARDS, SHALL CUT YOU DOWN!”

Oh, this guy’s a weeaboo. The weeaboo once again charged him with a slow and sloppy sword strike. This time Vaughan passed behind him and kicked his leg out. Vaughan was starting to get bored of this guy. He was hoping this was not all that the strongest man in their crew could do.

Vaughan put his face on the madman’s face, yawned and said, “I’m bored. Show me something cool.” Vaughan hopped backwards to allow the creep to get up as Lenon stood up frantically and gathered himself. He gripped his sword and went back into his stance. He stared into Vaughan’s blank eyes, and said, “If you wish to die so badly, then so be it” as he strengthened his grip onto the sword.

Lenon took a deep breath, focused himself and said, “This is a power that’s been passed down through the generations of my family. Be honoured that you bore witness to its greatness.” As he finished his words, a green glow appeared around him, covering himself and his weapon. An aura of power flowed through the air, and with each of his movements the air itself seemed to change in property.

“This is the Emerald Dragon. It increases my speed, power and defense to the highest possible levels. I am unbeatable in this form,” said Lenon. Vaughan prepared himself. If the weirdo was going to go all out, it would only be fair if he did so too. He gripped the handle of his sword and got ready for a quick release. Also, Vaughan noticed that the idiot’s grip was wrong.

---------------------------

Lenon charged at Vaughan with great speed and determination. He would teach this boy a lesson for disrespecting him like this. He shouted, “Feel the wrath of my divine power!” and went for his most powerful technique, the speed slash. Its speed was so fast that no man was ever able to react to it. Its power was so great it could cut through steel like it was butter. He would put his heart and soul into this attack, and there was no way this little boy could dodge this attack. As he brought his blade down, he felt a gush of air. There was a trail of violent, yet graceful energy from where the boy was to right behind him. It was powerful, loud and its colour was the brightest yellow he had ever seen. The next moment he realized that his hand had been cut off, and the little boy said “My power is electricity.”

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Disappointing, Vaughan thought as he turned towards Lenon. Vaughan had expected at least some sort of resistance when he cut the weirdo’s hand off, but it felt like just any other hand. All that bravado, and now this man was screaming in pain on the floor. Is he really the strongest one? If this man was the strongest in their crew, then the rest of them must have been pathetically weak.

Vaughan reached into his pocket and lit a new cigarette. One complaint he always had with his power was that his ciggies would never stay lit. Oh well, he thought as he took a puff of his cigarette. It couldn't be helped, so there was no point in getting mad. Vaughan tapped the man on the shoulder with his sword and said, “You're pretty weak, man.” The weird creepy man replied, “How dare you say that to me! I have traveled around the world, spent countless hours honing my craft. You’re just some lucky talented brat! This isn’t fair, I worked so hard and I lost to some random twelve-year-old? This is bullshit!”

He might as well know before he dies, Vaughan thought as he said, “By the way, I’m thirty years old.” and sliced the man’s head off.

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Johnny always prided himself on being able to read anyone. The eyes were the way into a man’s soul, and he was the best he knew at reading them. Just one look into a person’s eyes, and he’d know just about everything about them. Even as a child, he could figure out what anyone was thinking from their looks. That’s how he figured out Santa Claus wasn’t real. This skill helped him get through life. He was popular in school, good at interviews and great at interrogating people. That’s how he got his current job, after messing up big time at that country fair. He was forever in debt to the man who saved him from his fate, and would do anything for him. Of course, he used that skill of his to help convince the man to give him the job. That skill of his never failed him. He could figure out anyone in the world. But it didn’t work on this man. This guy named Jonathan was a mystery to Johnny.

Jonathan was a tall and fair-skinned man around 6’2’’. His hair was short, brown and well-groomed, his eyes were deep green like the water in a tropical ocean and his skin was soft and smooth like a baby’s. His face was gentle yet alluring, and had a soft smile that girls would die for. In short, he was the most handsome man that Johnny had ever laid eyes on. It really seemed like a waste, a guy like him being in a business like this. Johnny wondered how this guy ended up here. He had to have had other opportunities. Model agencies would kill each other to get this guy.

This man was separated from his friends, put in a strange room with armed men, and kept from leaving. If this was any other person, Johnny would be able to see the fear in their eyes. The problem was that Johnny saw none in Jonathan’s eyes. In fact, he was just comfortably having a pleasant conversation with the other guards as if there was nothing wrong. He was not scared; in fact, he didn’t have a single hint of worry in his eyes. He was calm and collected in a situation that would make a normal person fill up with fear and anxiety.

Johnny was about to take out his phone and start browsing, when Jonathan approached him and started a conversation with him. Jonathan stepped close to him, brought his hand out to offer a handshake and said, “I don’t think we’ve talked yet. Hi, I’m Jonathan. I’m assuming you knew that though. What’s your name?” Johnny stood in silence, ignoring Jonathan’s attempt at small talk. “Oh, was I a bit abrupt about this? Sorry about that, social interactions were never my strong suit,” continued Jonathan while maintaining his upbeat and chipper voice. Johnny replied with more silence. He was being paid to watch over this man, not make friends with him. Jonathan kept going and said, “Oh come on, don’t be like that. We’re both just stuck here anyways, might as well talk to pass the time, right?”

What’s with this guy? Johnny didn’t get why this pretty boy wanted to talk to him so much. Is this how he deals with fear? I mean, there’s no way this whole situation isn’t getting to him. Johnny looked into Jonathan’s eyes again to see if he had missed something. It was deep brilliant green, almost like a tropical oceanscape in movies, and he felt like he was getting sucked in every second he looked into it. It was astonishing just how warm he felt while staring into those eyes. I never knew that eyes could be so…….. Gorgeous. Wait, I gotta focus. Read his eyes Johnny, figure out what this man’s feeling.

As he regained his focus, he stared into Jonathan’s deep eyes to attempt to read him. He looked for any semblance of fear, any anger towards the men that abducted him, or any sign that this man’s scheming anything. He kept looking and looking, but he found none of those things. Maybe he’s just stupid, thought Johnny as he changed his focus to figuring out his character.

Conversation was needed for this task, so Johnny decided to give this guy what he wants. Johnny kept focusing on Jonathan’s eyes as he said, “You know what, why not. It’s not like we have anything to do.” “Exactly, what’s the point in sitting around doing nothing? Let’s get to know each other a bit. Who knows, maybe we could even be friends,” replied Jonathan with an innocent look in his eyes.

This guy’s weirdly optimistic, isn’t he? Well, he could be just so stupid that I’m outsmarting myself. It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. Johnny continued, “Yeah man, you never know with people. I’m Johnny by the way.” “Oh really? We basically have the same name! That’s kinda crazy,” said Jonathan. Johnny replied, “You’re right about that, it’s a weird world. By the way, why are you hanging with these guys? There had to have been better job opportunities than mercenary work. What got you into this dangerous business? Any special reasons?” Jonathan stood for a bit as if he was thinking, tilted his head slightly and replied, “No special reasons. If I’m being honest, I just found all the other jobs boring. And this line of work lets me take the most advantage of my abilities, so that helped too.” “Abilities?” asked Johnny. The handsome man in front of Johnny answered, “Well, healing and stuff. I’m the one that patches up my friends if they get banged up.”

A healer for a mercenary group eh? Tough job, it’s real easy to get hurt in a dangerous field like this. We do need people like him though. That being said, if you have healing abilities there’s gotta be other safer opportunities. What’s really going on here? Johnny relaxed a bit before focusing back onto those eyes and said, “There’s gotta be other ways you can take advantage of that kind of ability. Why not become a medic at a hospital or something? Gotta pay better than doing this.” "Well, I guess that's true. Honestly, I just couldn't stand by and watch my friends get hurt. They're just so important to me," replied Jonathan.

Still nothing. What’s with this guy? Wait, let’s focus a bit more. As Johnny stared deeper into his eyes, he finally noticed something special about Jonathan. With most people, there were pieces of their soul resonating in their eyes. That’s how souls work. However, Johnny saw nothing in those eyes. It was a dark, bottomless pit with almost nothing filling it. These weren’t the eyes of a human. This guy was something else.

Jonathan walked up closer, and started feeling Johnny's face. He observed his face as if it was a statue and said, “You look hurt.” Johnny replied, “What, what do you mean?” He was confused. What did he mean by that? Johnny had no noticeable injuries, and most of his previous injuries were either covered up by clothing or internal. Unless Jonathan could somehow sense other people’s health, there was no way he could know about those. Jonathan stared closer at Johnny’s face, pinched his cheeks and said with an unexpectedly cold and indifferent voice, "I'm a healer, silly, I know things. Don't worry, it won't take long."

As Jonathan finished speaking, dark fluid started flowing into every orifice Johnny had on his face. The next thing he knew, Johnny's vision had gone completely dark. Soon, pain filled his every being as he felt every injury he's ever had. He felt every bone he's broken, every muscle he's torn and every bit of flesh that's been stabbed. It was complete agony, every pain he's ever felt in a single second. Then suddenly all of it was gone. All that pain, gone. And all the lingering injuries he had were gone too. Johnny was in the best shape of his life.

How'd he, what was, huh? That was amazing. A guy like this in the hands of people like that, no that's too dangerous. I need to take care of this guy, for the boss. Johnny secretly took out a knife from his back. As bad as he felt, he needed to get rid of him. Someone that powerful could be a threat to Brian, and he couldn't let that happen.

Johnny secretly muttered a prayer under his breath, and approached Jonathan to stab him. Jonathan looked down and smiled as he saw the knife. Shit, he saw it. Wait, what the hell’s he…. As Johnny hesitated, he felt a powerful shockwave to his left with the booming sound of an explosion. As he turned his head, he noticed that the wall had been destroyed, and in the middle was the woman that Brian had taken with him. Her face was covered in little bruises and cuts, and her clothes were a crumpled, torn mess. In her arms was a beaten and battered Brian, and in her eyes he saw a great amount of anger towards Brian and himself. She looked like she had just been in a fist fight with a gang, and by the look of things, she had won.

The girl dashed up to Johnny, clenched her fist and shouted, “What do you think you’re doing to him?!”And then slammed her fist onto Johnny’s face. The shear force of her punch broke his jaw, shattered four teeth and pushed his head so hard his neck almost broke. It was the hardest punch he had ever taken in his life, and he could not believe it could come from a person. As he collapsed, his consciousness fading from the pain and the loss of blood from his fractured face, Johnny thought What the fuck are these guys?

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