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cannibalisticskittles · 5 years

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an act of kindness, ch. 14

pairing: unknown/reader notes: [14/16?]. part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven., part twelve, part thirteen, ao3 link.

Misun is the first to say what you’re all thinking:

“...there’s nothing here.”

And unfortunately, she seems to be right.

Tracking down Saeran’s coordinates has led you miles past city limits, giving you hours of tense silence and ample time to contemplate all the ways this could go wrong — and now, here you are, seeing at long last the culmination of your searching, the supposed pot of gold at the end of your rainbow, and it is… pine trees as far as the eye can see, broken up only by a poorly-maintained dirt road that forks and winds out of sight behind more trees.

Vanderwood had pulled up an aerial map of the area on the way, in between monitoring Mint Eye’s mass exodus — and sure, it looked unremarkable then, too, but surely there had to be a reason why Saeran sent you here of all places? Surely he would be here?

But he isn’t.

To your left, Misun leans forward to squint out the windshield. “Are we sure we’re in the right place?” she asks.

“This is where the coordinates led,” Vanderwood answers.

Misun worries her lower lip between her teeth before she speaks. “Then — could the coordinates be a little bit… off? They were coded, weren’t they? So could they be meant to lead up the road somewhere, or a few miles away, or… just have been decoded wrong somehow?”

“They’re not wrong.” Vanderwood’s words are firm. “Not on my end, anyway. Maybe you should be asking if your brother-in-law coded them right, or if he even sent them at all, instead of doubting me.”

“I know that’s a possibility, I’m just saying we should double-check things on our end since we can’t do anything about potential problems on his end,” Misun says.

As Misun and Vanderwood continue to bicker, Seven, who has been silent thus far, reaches to the center console for your phone — sort of a communal phone by now, you muse, watching Seven snap a picture through the windshield. He navigates to the messenger app.

“...you have a plan?” you ask.

Seven opens the once-more purged chatlog with Saeran before answering. “A thought,” he says, and sends the picture. “We’re right where he said to be. If he did send those coordinates… if it was him…” Seven hesitates. “...it would be smart to wait until he knows we’re following. To make sure Mint Eye can’t find him first.”

You nod slowly. “So… we’ve got to prove that we’re on the right track?”

Unaware of your discussion, Misun and Vanderwood are still going at it.

“Look, I’m sure you’re very good at what you do, but can you really say there’s no margin for error here?”

“Not with this there’s not!”

Seven ignores their argument. “If I’m right. I… might not be. But—” And he shrugs helplessly. “It’s what I would do in his shoes.”

“And now we just wait here until he tells us where to go from here? Or… until…” You don’t want to think about the possibility that Saeran won’t reply.

And that, at least, seems to get Vanderwood’s attention.

“How long are we waiting out here in the open?” they ask. You can’t tell if the touch of irritation in their voice is from the idea of waiting or just a lingering side-effect of arguing with Misun.

“As long as it takes,” Seven says. “So keep watching the cameras to see if anything changes there and we’ll keep watch here.”

Vanderwood clicks their tongue. “Sounds like a good way to get ambushed,” they mutter. “We still can’t confirm who sent the message.”

“No,” says Seven, “but even if it is an ambush, we can handle it. This car is bulletproof.”

“Bulletproof,” Vanderwood repeats.

“Uh-huh! So if anyone comes — we stay in the car,” Seven says, “and as long as no one opens the doors, we’ll be fine.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Vanderwood hisses out a breath between their teeth. “You won’t catch me opening doors for cultists,” they mutter. Still, their expression relaxes minutely.

For a moment after, there is silence.

Misun is the first to break it. “So...” She begins, “if Saeran doesn’t reply, or doesn’t show up, then… what do we do, eventually? I mean, obviously, if Mint Eye bursts out of the woods and rushes the car—” Your fingers clench against your thighs at the image. “—then yeah, it’s an ambush, but if nothing happens, then… do we assume they... caught him? And then, if they have — what do we do? Do we go to Mint Eye directly?”

“There’s no guarantee he’d be there,” Vanderwood adds. “Nobody’s seen him on the cameras yet.”

The reminder is sobering. If he’s not here, and if he’s not there… if Mint Eye really is a step ahead of you… where do you go then?

“I think,” you start, and then your phone blips.

You and Seven both scrabble for your phone before you realize that he’ll actually know what to do with whatever message has popped up and you concede it to him. He unlocks it, opens it, and scans the screen.

And then he tosses it to Vanderwood. “—more coordinates.”

Relief washes over you like a wave. You and Misun both lean forward to peer at the screen over Vanderwood’s shoulder, nearly knocking heads in your haste.

It looks like a jumbled mishmash of letters and numbers, same as before, but Vanderwood stares and stares and stares until they finally say, “got it.”

They set the phone aside and switch tabs on Seven’s laptop. Mint Eye’s camera feed disappears, replaced by the aerial map they’d used to navigate to the first coordinates. They begin to type something in, looking back occasionally at the phone.

“Oh, now was it really necessary to fight me on that for so long if decoding it is that quick?” Misun complains. Vanderwood ignores her.

When they finish entering in the decoded coordinates, the view on the screen shifts slightly. “Here,” they say. “North, and… a little west.” They glance through the windshield. “Take the left path.”

And Seven does. The car goes into motion so fast that this time, you really do knock heads with Misun. There’s little time to nurse your wounds; you’re too busy feeling anxious over what’s going to happen next.

‘North and a little west’ turns out to be just a few short minutes up the path, and looks much the same as where you’d been, with the exception of a slightly denser thicket of trees lining the road. Still, Seven takes and sends another picture.

The response comes much quicker this time. Again, Vanderwood scans the mess of a message and then plugs in the resulting coordinates, making sense out of chaos.

“North, then east this time,” they say.

And off you go again.

These coordinates lead you farther away, and you are brought to another branching path — three forks instead of two.

Another picture.

A minute passes in silence, then two, then three.

“I bet the next one will take us up the left path,” Misun says. Though her words are light, her expression is grim.

“...middle,” you guess, and she gives you a thin but genuine smile for indulging in her game, as though for a moment you could pretend the stakes weren’t quite so impossibly high.

It’s not too long before the next message comes in, though of course, worry makes it feel like it takes much longer.

You and Misun were both wrong: “East,” Vanderwood says. “Take the right path.”

As you watch the trees around you grow taller, blocking out more and more sunlight, you wonder how many times one road can possibly fork.

Not many more, it turns out, as the next coordinates take you off-road. You suppose you can see why Saeran chose this area to hide out in. As the trees become denser, and the trail grows thinner, it becomes nigh on impossible to see the road from the aerial map. You’re forced to slow to a crawl, each occupant of the car scanning the path ahead from out of the windows for some break in the trees, some sign of a road that has long fallen into disrepair, obscured by years of leaves and bits of detritus.

Your current location blips away on the map, moving through the canopy of trees. Vanderwood can point out the general area where the coordinates lead, but other than the slight thinning of the forest near the location, it’s unremarkable — and without being able to see the road, there’s no way to know how, exactly, you’re going to get there. Besides, it’s unclear how much longer you can even rely on the map; Seven’s phone is starting to die. Acting as a powerful enough hotspot to keep his laptop connected to Mint Eye’s cameras is really taking a toll on it, and it’s only through a stroke of luck that it’s lasted this long.

And with the difficulties you’re having navigating into the forest, you have to assume you’ll have more or less the same amount of difficulty navigating out of it — which will complicate matters in the event that this turns out to be a trap.

Which it might be. After those first messages, there hasn’t been anything that seems distinctly Saeran. Just coordinates, plain and simple. But then, is there anyone back at Mint Eye who comes even close to Saeran’s level? Anyone who can replicate even a smidgen of his talents? And on the other, other hand, how complicated would it really be to send slightly-coded coordinates and clear out old messages?

You flex your fingers to keep from digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms, and it’s a relief when Vanderwood finally says, “we’re getting close. Be on the lookout.”

You refocus your attention on your window, watching diligently for a break in the trees.

On and on and on you go until Misun gasps. “Oh! There, there! To the right!”

It’s a sharp turn, and the car struggles over an exposed tree root, but you watch as your blip nears the area Vanderwood marked on the map, you watch as the trees thin out ever so slightly, you watch as the light up ahead grows brighter, and then —

And then.

And then there is a cabin, small and low and nestled tightly amongst the trees that obscure it from above.

The car slows to a stop at the treeline. Within, all is still and silent.

Seven is the first to move, releasing his white-knuckled grip from the steering wheel to raise your phone in a shaky hand, snap a picture, and send it. Then he just… stares. His breath, when he lets it out, shudders.

“...that’s it, right?” Misun asks eventually. You’ll have to thank her for asking, once you remember how to speak.

“Yeah,” says Seven, so soft you have to strain to hear him. “I think so.”

He sets your phone down. Four sets of eyes turn to it. The minutes crawl by, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. You can’t bring yourself to look at the cabin, unable to bear the anticipation.

And then Seven straightens. From the mirror, you catch the look of grim determination that crosses his face.

“I’m going up to the door.”

“You’re going to leave the bulletproof car,” Vanderwood says flatly.

Seven just nods, looking resolute.

“Seven…” Misun reaches out as she exchanges a searching look with him. You miss whatever silent exchange is going on between them, but her expression is rife with unspoken emotion.

He clasps her hand between both of his. “I have to know. I have to try,” he murmurs. And then he releases her hand and leans back. “Keep the car on,” he says. “Just in case.” The rest is implied: in case it’s Mint Eye in there. In case you need to make a break for it.

He steps out of the car.

But he only gets a few steps away before the door to the cabin opens, and there, there, there is Saeran.

Standing in the doorway, unmistakably himself.

He looks not to Seven, but to the car. You freeze, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think. He has you pinned under the weight of his gaze.

“I—” you start, then falter. Instead, you reach for the passenger door.

“Hey—” Misun grabs at your sleeve.

You slip easily from her grasp, clutching your arm to your chest to prevent her from trying again. What could you say to explain it to her, to impress upon her the absolute urgency you feel when you look at him, the need to be there, to know that he’s real?

“Please,” is all you can manage.

Her hand drops. She says nothing, but she doesn’t try to stop you when you reach once more for the door.

You dimly register Seven, still standing right where he was when Saeran opened the door as you stumble out of the car, but then Saeran is looking at you and when he sees you — his expression softens and he smiles.

The emotion you feel at that is indescribable.

You move toward him, steps unsteady at first, then stronger until you’re fairly running to him. He opens his arms somewhere along the way and you crash into him, are swept up in him, feel his arms encircle you as he draws you to him, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“Saeran,” you breathe. He murmurs your name into your hair and you feel tears prick at your eyes.

You throw yourself into him, winding your arms around his waist. He smells like something acrid, something bitter, something… elixir-like. You pull away with some effort so you can look at him closely. Saeran resists this change, but you’re able to pull away enough to place your hands on his face.

His eyes are bloodshot, ringed with dark circles, and his posture, never great even the best of times, leaves him slouched against you in a way that conveys absolute exhaustion — but he is steady on his feet, and as he looks at you, there is affection in his gaze, a warmth that makes your breath catch.

“...hey boss,” you say, “good to have you back.” He snorts, but the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Hey, you,” he whispers.

From behind you comes the crunch of gravel under hesitant feet. “...Saeran.”

Saeran stiffens at the sound of Seven’s voice. “Don’t,” he says softly, grip on you tightening.

Seven enters your peripheral vision. “Saeran, there are so many things I want to ask, to say… I…”

“Don’t. Don’t say that name. I don’t want to hear it from your lying mouth.”

Seven stills. You try to turn to see him better, and Saeran crushes you to his chest. “I’m not — I didn’t lie to you. When we were kids—” You feel more than see the way Saeran’s breath stutters, the way his chest heaves. “—I meant everything I said to you. I meant it when I said I’d protect you, that I’d get us out of there together, I swear. Saeran, I thought—”

“That’s enough.” Saeran’s voice is harsh.

Seven carries on regardless. “I thought you were safe,” he pleads. “I changed my name and became a secret agent to help you. I never wanted to abandon you, but I thought that the only way we could escape our father’s reach was if we separated.”

Their father?

Saeran flinches back at Seven’s words, but then he scoffs. “Who thought of that insane idea…?”

More footsteps. Misun?

“V did,” Seven stresses. “And V promised that he and Rika would take good care of you if I left! I trusted him, but it was still so, so hard to leave you Saeran.” Seven’s voice is soft, his words pleading.

Saeran is unmoved. “That’s fairly convincing… I almost believe you. A lot of people would.” His grip on you tightens. “But I know the truth. And I won’t be fooled again.”

“I never forgot you,” Seven insists. “I never stopped thinking about you. I wasn’t supposed to find out anything about you while I was in the agency, and it was better not to know where you were in case our father… found me in spite of the agency. Or if the agency learned that I was still trying to hear about you. But I couldn’t go on without knowing you were safe, that you were happy, so… I would ask Rika how you were doing.”

Seven takes a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Two years ago, Rika secretly sent me a floppy disk, and inside were pictures of you, of your smile, and a letter she wrote me. When she told me you were doing well, that you were happy, I believed her.”

Saeran scoffs again, but he’s begun to tremble and his grip on you loosens.

“Look, I—” Seven fumbles with his jacket, eventually pulling something out of his pocket. A floppy disk. He holds it out to Saeran. “I know this doesn’t mean anything to you right now, but I swear, it’s all on there, just like I said.”

“...no,” Saeran says. “I don’t believe it.”

Misun — you can tell it’s her now — takes a step forward. “Saeran, it’s true. I’ve seen it.”

Saeran shakes his head tightly. “No. Maybe there’s something on there, but even if there is, you’ve just made it up. You’re only trying to hurt me again.” The trembling is worse now.

There is frustration in Seven’s voice. “Saeran, please, if you would just listen—”

Saeran finally lets you go, and you can see his jaw clench and his hands curl into fists as he works out what to say. He fairly bristles with anger, with indignation, with hurt.

— and then he turns away.

“I’m going inside.”

And in he goes, pushing his way into the cabin. You are left standing there, staring after the spot he occupied.

“That, ah… could have gone better,” Misun murmurs.

“And it could have gone a lot worse,” you say, remembering his occasional fits of rage at the mere mention of Seven back at Mint Eye — and at the motel, and after seeing him at the apartment.

Seven looks downright devastated. “Saeran… what happened to you…?”

You look between him and the cabin.

You can’t wait for Saeran to cool down; Mint Eye may not know where you are now, but the longer you stick around, the more likely it becomes that they’ll figure it out, and who knows how long it’ll take for him to come out on his own? But you can not let Seven keep trying to talk to him when Saeran is this riled up.

...the cabin door is ajar. There’s nothing stopping you from following Saeran.

So… you do.

“Let me try to talk to him,” you murmur, though you don’t check to see if anyone heard you before you step cautiously inside, peering through the dim light afforded through the moth-eaten curtains and the open door behind you.

There’s no need to search; it’s a small cabin, one room, a sitting area with a little kitchenette off to the side. Saeran is leaning against the wall by the far window, fingers tangled in his hair. He does not look up when you enter.

You pad across the room. He remains still, staring blankly down at the floor even when you’re right in front of him. You spend a moment in consideration.

The likelihood of him being at peace with Seven’s presence after just a few minutes to cool down is… low. The likelihood of him being at peace with Seven’s presence if you talk to him about it is also extremely low, but, well. Maybe you can at least persuade him to make it back to the car with you without any bloodshed.

Never let it be said that you cannot, on occasion, be a halfway-decent optimist.

So you shuffle over until you’re standing beside him, then gently bump your shoulder against him. “Saeran?”

It takes a long, long moment before he reacts, but finally he raises his head and looks at you. “Has he been filling your head with lies, too?”

You’d thought he was handling things rather well, all considering, but the look in his eyes now is… less than tranquil.

Rather than address the explicit question, you lean into him. “Hey,” you say, “nobody’s said anything to change my mind on you, or on anything else. I still think what I thought before, just… stronger, maybe.” Though it helps that you’d never actually held any ill will towards Seven. Perhaps you can simply gloss over that part for now. “I’m still with you. Alright?”

This seems to mollify him, and the feverish look in his eyes cools. Still, you wouldn’t exactly say he’s relaxed. He flexes his fingers at his side, eyes cast down as if he’s thinking of something to say. You bite your tongue to keep from filling the silence, and after a moment, he speaks.

“The floppy disk...” He trails off.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “He never showed me anything like what he says is on it, but I was there for less than a day. Could be real, could be not.” Based on everything you’ve seen, though, you’d put your money on real. If Rika’s running Mint Eye, she’s been around Saeran for however long he’s been there, at least, so why wouldn’t she have been able to send Seven a few pictures?

Saeran shakes his head. “It’s not real. It might look like it, but he’s good at forging believable fake information.”

“And you’d be good at identifying it as fake information,” you point out. “You could look it over anyway.”

His brow furrows.

You hold up your hands, palms up. “Hey, I said could, not should.” Though perhaps it would help. God knows the animosity he holds towards his brother isn’t going to go away without chipping away at it with anything less than a sledgehammer.

Saeran’s gaze sharpens. “Could be bugged. Likely to be bugged. And it’s fake anyway. Humoring him by taking it would just be giving him what he wants.” His hands clench into fists. “Another chance to hurt me,” he mutters.

Oh. His mood is darkening. Deflect.

So, you adopt a cavalier tone and say, “eh, it wouldn’t work though, right? You could just buy a hunk of junk computer, haul it out to somewhere remote, put in the floppy disk, and if it’s a virus or whatever, you can leave it and run without caring that the location’s been compromised, no big deal.” He snorts, and you give an exaggerated shrug. “And if the pictures are fake, you’ll figure that out, and then you’ll have the peace of mind of knowing he doesn’t have any ammo against you. You can’t buy that kind of relief. ...but yeah, I see your point.”

You lapse into silence again.

You wonder how much time you have, whether you even really have the luxury of waiting at all. Maybe Mint Eye’s been figuring out where you are all this time and they’re gaining on you. Maybe you should be urging Saeran to rush to the car right now, speeding off into the horizon. Or maybe Seven finally finished tracking Mint Eye and he’s about to come in and say he’s pinpointed the exact evacuation point and he’s already got plans to storm the place and put an end to Mint Eye all drawn up and ready.

Maybe it’s all going to be okay after all.

And then Saeran shifts. “Wait.” He’s looking towards the doorway, where you catch a flicker of movement. “That person…”

You peer closer until you make out what the movement is — Vanderwood, walking towards Seven, where he is standing in front of the cabin. Huh.

“Vanderwood,” you say. “They worked with Seven at the agency. They helped us find you. I wonder what they’re doing…?” Trying to see what’s taking so long, maybe?

For a moment, he simply watches them near, and then he pushes off from the wall and walks closer to the door, remaining just out of sight. You follow after him, curious.

“Not thrilled to be leaving the relative safety of the bulletproof car like the rest of you,” Vanderwood says when they’re within earshot of Seven, “but something’s going on with the agency.”

“What?” Seven’s voice is sharp, alert. “Have they found us?”

“Could be,” they say, somehow managing to not sound panicked. “But… it seems like something else is going on. Hell if I know what. It’s big enough to get everyone worked into a tizzy. Based on the messages—”

“Messages?” Seven asks.

They wave a hand. “Same ones I always get: threats of what will happen if I don’t get you to do your work on time. More than I usually get, though. A lot more. I’d chalk it up to the boss realizing we’re deserters, but these messages are different. The boss seems—” And they pause, as if mulling over how to describe it. “—desperate. Panicked.”

“Shit,” Seven mutters. “Can you access anything currently, other than the messages?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Right. Okay," Seven mutters. “That’s not good, but we don’t know that they’ve managed to track us down. When Saeran — when he’s back with us — you drive, and I’ll send Jumin the coordinates to the evacuation point and hack into the agency’s mainframe, see what’s going on while we put some distance between us and Mint Eye. I don’t like how close we are now.”

You hear Saeran huff beside you, and then he pushes past, stepping into the doorway. “I didn’t leave Mint Eye just to get snatched up by your secret agency,” he snaps.

Seven startles a little, whirling to face Saeran. After another moment, you step out awkwardly behind Saeran.

“If there’s a chance that someone followed you, fix it now,” Saeran says.

“I second that,” Vanderwood says. “It’s not going to be good if the agency catches us.” And then they give Saeran a once-over. “...it’s uncanny how similar you look. I can’t believe that Seven’s had a twin all this time.”

Saeran’s mouth twists. “I knew it. I knew Luciel would never mention me. He just forgot all about me to have those grand parties.”

“Saeran, that’s not—”

Saeran cuts off Seven’s protests. “Shut up. I don’t care about whatever you have to say.” His lip curls into a sneer. “I’ve already been unfortunate enough to need your help, but that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me, and it doesn’t mean I’m going to clean up your mess.”

“Saeran, we can't stay here, it’s too visible. We can fix this on the way to somewhere safe,” Seven pleads.

“Then you can fix it here just as easily,” Saeran snaps.

Seven falters. “My phone — I don’t know if there’s enough battery left to learn anything before it dies.”

“All the more reason to stay and finish the job,” Saeran says. “There’s an outlet inside.”

“There’s power here?”

“There’s a generator,” he snaps. “Make use of it, or don’t, just fix this mess you caused.” His posture is stiff, his gaze imperious. But after a moment, he relents. “Then… when it’s safe… then I’ll go with you.”

Relief flashes across Seven’s face, and he opens his mouth to reply.

“But that still doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to talk to me,” Saeran is quick to add.

Seven’s mouth closes. Vanderwood looks between the two of them and quirks an eyebrow, but says nothing.

“Now… let’s go.” Saeran looks back at you, then begins to walk.

Seven blinks in surprise and raises a hand as if to reach out to Saeran — and then he lets it drop. “Where are you going?”

“Out for a walk,” Saeran says without turning back. “Like I said, this is your mess, not mine, and since you can’t seem to shut your damn mouth, I’m moving out of earshot.”

Misun speaks up. “But wouldn’t that make you too visible? If someone’s looking for you...”

“I’ll stick to the woods,” he says. “The trees are dense, and I won’t be seen.” There is, you note, no hint of the irritation that plagued his voice when he spoke to Seven; his response to Misun is entirely polite. Interesting. Then he calls your name, and finally looks behind him. “Come on. I’m not leaving you with him.”

You stare at him, feeling a little like a deer in headlights. Do you… follow him? Just leave Seven and Misun and Vanderwood in the lurch? But then, you can’t just leave Saeran to wander alone. Part of you feels like you ought to call him back, try to get him and Seven to hash out their problems here and now. Like if he goes now, with things left unsaid, he’ll stay gone; slip away and disappear forever, off to somewhere he never has to see Seven again. The rest of you recognizes what a terrible, terrible idea that is, and of course, how can you expect years of hurt to be wiped clean all at once?

And yet there’s still a lingering touch of guilt when you take a hesitant step in Saeran’s direction.

“Um,” you say to the three pairs of eyes currently on you. “...we’ll be back? Good luck with — the agency, and all that.”

You can hear Vanderwood beginning to berate Seven as you scurry after Saeran. “Seven, you’d better tell me what the hell is going on here. This isn’t the reunion I was expecting.” Their voice fades with each step you take.

Saeran’s strides are long and purposeful, and it takes until the group and the cabin have disappeared from view for you to be able to keep pace with him.

You’re not sure if there’s any rhyme or reason to his wandering, but even so, you walk in silence for several minutes, following his lead. There’s no path to guide you — not that you’d really expected there would be, given the state of the ‘road’ leading up to the cabin — so he ducks under branches and steps over tree roots, and you shadow him, waiting for him to run out of steam.

The moment comes eventually.

His strides begin to slow, his steps lose some of that stiff purposefulness, and at last, he sighs, leans against a tree, and tips his head back against the trunk as his eyes slide shut. There’s a weariness to him that your short walk cannot account for. Whatever happened in your absence, he seems to be carrying it with him even now. God, they really did a number on him.

You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, unsure if he’s up for conversation right now or if he intends to just wait out Seven’s investigation of the agency in silence. Even if he does want to talk, he might not want to talk now, and you doubt he’d be thrilled if you immediately launched into an interrogation of what happened to him when he was back in Mint Eye. Not as a starter, anyway.

...off guard. He keeps catching you off guard. In Mint Eye, it was easier. You knew where you stood. You knew where he stood. Now… well, he’s dodging Mint Eye, and he still wants you near, and he still wants Seven to disappear, but beyond that? Hard to say.

Eventually, the silence and the wondering grows too much for you.

“A generator, huh?” You ask. “Got a pretty decent set-up going here.”

It takes him a moment to respond, but respond he does. “Someone used to live here once,” Saeran says, eyes still closed. “Why wouldn’t they make it livable?” His tone is even. Good. That’s a good sign.

“I suppose,” you say. “I guess I was just expecting something a little more rustic. Seems like anyone wanting to live so far out here would want the authentic experience.”

“Maybe,” he says. “Maybe not. They didn’t build it too off grid. It’s less than a mile off a main road and there’s a campground nearby, too.”

“Huh,” you say. You contemplate this, then ask, “how’d you know there’d be somewhere safe out here, anyway? Can’t imagine you just stumbled upon it.”

“I knew it was here,” he says. “It’s one of Mint Eye’s peripheral properties, gifted by a disciple when they came to Paradise.”

A chill runs down your spine. “So they know where this is?” You ask. “They could find us here?” Oh god, oh god, if they know you’re here, they’re coming—

But he finally looks at you and shakes his head. “The exodus is more important than reclaiming old territory, particular when it couldn’t even fit a third of Mint Eye’s believers. Later down the line, when things are settled, finding a use for it may become a higher priority, but for now, no.”

“But — won’t they come looking for you? I mean, they probably already are looking for you. And wouldn’t they start with places they know about?” You can hear the edge of panic creeping into your voice, but you can’t stop it.

He tilts his head at you. “You didn’t tell anyone about the cabin, did you?”

“We sent those pictures so you’d know when we’d reached your coordinates.” Oh, god, you sent them photo evidence of where you were.

“But in the group chat?” Saeran’s voice is firm, pulling you back to Earth.

You shake your head. “Not a word.”

“Good. Then there’s no reason for them to know.” Noting your puzzled look, he adds, “I didn’t have time to disconnect the main computer from most of the app, but my own, private messages should still be secure.”

“But — how can you know?” You protest. “What if not all their energy is going towards evacuating? What if they managed to get into your messages? What if—”

“Hey,” he says, “come here.” He beckons you to him with a sweeping wave of his arm. Your steps are wooden but you still comply, and when you’re near enough, he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in close. “We’re safe,” he says. “Okay?”

You hesitate, mind swirling with thoughts of Mint Eye bursting out from the bushes.

“Okay?” he presses.

“...okay,” you say at last. “Okay.” Safe. What an odd concept.

“I’m here,” he says. “I won’t ever let anything happen to you. I swear.”

The tenseness doesn’t leave you entirely, but your shoulders relax as he rests his chin on your head. Funny how you always end up here, like this. Entangled. Using touch as an anchor point. Funny how much it comforts you. And it is kind of peaceful out here, when you let yourself soak in your surroundings. The birds chirping, the light filtering through the leaves, Saeran’s arms around you…

The moment is ruined by his phone beeping. Saeran makes a face, but reaches into his pocket anyway.

“I can’t believe you have service out here,” you remark as he scans the screen. He scowls at whatever he sees.

“‘Rescuing me…’” His lip curls.

You glance over his shoulder at the screen and, sure enough, there’s a message from Seven in the main chat, a bare-bones explanation that they are safe at the moment, still in the process of rescuing Saeran, and asking that the RFA refrains from attempting to find them. No mention of the agency.

You can see why Seven would want to update the RFA, reassure them that everything is still okay for now. You can also see how his choice of words might strike a chord with Saeran.

“Hey, c’mon,” you say, trying to avoid the old, familiar ‘Seven is the worst’ spiral. “You don’t think I look dashing enough to stage a daring rescue?” You strike a pose, as ridiculous as you can manage while kept in his embrace.

He snorts, but the look in his eyes is fond. “He isn’t. But you, yes.” And then he tilts his head. “...hmm.”

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Not yet.” Saeran’s smile widens, and then he dips his head and presses a kiss to your neck. You hear the telltale, shutter-like click of a picture being taken, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because in the next moment, he nips at your skin.

“Hey!” You squirm in his arms, but he holds fast. He smiles against you, and draws back just enough to lean his head against yours. There’s another shutter click. He nuzzles against you for a moment — too short, too brief, the warmth of him comforting — and there is yet another click.

“Cute,” he says as he finally loosens his grip and pulls away to look at his phone.

“Oh — well,” you say, feeling your face heat up, “not that I’m not flattered, I guess, but what was that for?” You attempt to peer at his screen but he dodges you, holding his phone to his chest. You huff.

Saeran does not relent. He squints at you, then at his screen. “Hmmm.” He fiddles with his phone, gives you another long look, then fiddles with it again.

“Saeran.” Your impatience is palpable.

Finally, though, he is satisfied with... whatever he was doing. “Here,” he says, and holds out his phone to show you—

...he’s made one of the pictures his lock screen. The pair of you, beaming on his screen, the moment of fondness now immortalized for all to see. There you are, face flushed, mouth half-open in protest, while his eyes are locked on you, obvious affection in his gaze. Your breath hitches to see such naked admiration.

It’s so… mundane, taking a picture of — and you grow bashful despite yourself — someone you care about for your wallpaper, that the last of the tension finally leaves you. Here, here is something free of Mint Eye, a sign that there will be many more Mint Eye-free moments in the coming days, and for a moment, you cannot speak, overwhelmed with relief over such a small and simple thing.

“God, I missed you,” you manage eventually.

And he chuckles. “Did you, now?” The low timbre of his voice draws a shiver from you, but you still make a face at him for the words themselves.

He’s teasing. He, who latches onto you at every opportunity like a barnacle against a ship hull — you’ll ignore the fact that you’re latching onto him just the same — feigns confusion in the face of your emotional vulnerability? The nerve.

Still, your sardonic response dies on your tongue. Why shouldn’t you be honest? There’s no point in pretending you didn’t miss him. Something simple, after all this confusion. Haven’t you earned that? Hasn’t he? And so:

“Yes,” you say. “I really, really did. I was — scared,” you admit. “Scared that maybe we wouldn’t get here in time, or that Mint Eye would find you first. I was scared that maybe it wasn’t even you sending these texts at all, that maybe Mint Eye had gotten ahold of your phone and someone was pretending to be you, or that—” You swallow back the lump in your throat and admit to the thing you had feared the most, the possibility you tried to set aside but that had instead hooked its claws deep into your belly and lingered, hanging heavy on you. “—that maybe you hadn’t wanted to go with me after all and it was you sending those messages, but you were just… luring me back in, I guess. Tying up loose ends.”

He wraps both arms around you. “You’re not a loose end.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Tears threaten to spring forth when you manage to loose it. “Yeah? Well. I’m glad to hear it. I’m — I’m glad you’re here. Part of me just can’t believe you’re here right now. Like you’re going to disappear if I take my eyes off you for too long.”

He gives a soft laugh. “I’m here. I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere anymore.”

After all the running and hiding and waiting and hoping… he’s here. Now you’ve just got to take care of the… substantial threats that could change that. You shake your head against him as you remember. “I can’t believe,” you say, more than a little rueful, “that on top of everything else, on top of Mint Eye and Seven’s agency — which would be bad enough on its own — there’s someone else after you that we’ll have to look out for? How could I not worry?”

He pulls away slightly, and when you look at him, his brow is furrowed. “Someone else?”

“Seven said—” you begin, by way of explanation.

Saeran’s eyes darken. “I imagine he said a lot of things.”

“—that there was someone who wanted to hurt you and then you also said — damn it, Saeran, you know—” You hesitate, but… oh, just go for it. “You know, if you want me to hear the truth of everything that happened not through Seven’s framing, you could tell me yourself.”

He draws in a sharp breath.

You try again, as gently as you can. “I’m not trying to dredge up old, bad memories, but… y’know. I’m here and ready to listen, if you wanna talk about it.”

Saeran watches you, considering. “No,” he says. You wince. He pulls you closer, holding you to his chest. “But I do want you to know.” He rubs his thumb idly against your arm as he thinks. “First… tell me what he told you.”

“Oh. Okay,” you say, “simple enough. Let’s see…” You rack your brain. “Well. To start with, he didn’t tell me this, exactly, I figured it out on my own, but… you and Seven are brothers. Twins.” Even now, you speak carefully, hesitant to bring to light their connection when any connection to Seven is something to loathe in Saeran’s eyes. “That’s why you didn’t let me look at any of his pictures, isn’t it?”

A terse nod. That’s as good of a reaction as you could hope for. You keep going.

“So then… Seven said that before the, ah, incident at the apartment, it’d been eight years since he saw you. That you and he had… a less-than-ideal childhood—” Saeran snorts derisively, but lets you continue. “—and that you’ve known V since before you parted. And way back then, V told him that if he joined the agency, that would keep him safe, but they wouldn’t allow him to keep in contact with his family. So V promised Seven that he would keep you safe. Ah, and I guess Rika did too, and she told him you were doing well a few years ago, but you heard that. That was the first I’d heard about any letter or pictures, though he did say he had something he thought might convince you he was telling the truth. He might’ve meant that. Seven also talked about V maybe being involved with Mint Eye—”

“He isn’t,” Saeran says.

“Well, Seven figured he was, based on finding Mint Eye blueprints in Rika’s apartment,” you say. “Though, then I saw a picture of her and recognized her as the Savior, so… that could explain it. Still seems like V knew something about Mint Eye, given how insistent he was that no one look at anything in the drawers, so… maybe he just knows Mint Eye exists and Rika was involved somehow and he’s covering that up? I wonder if Rika supposedly being dead has anything to do with that…”

“He’s always been a liar,” Saeran says mildly, though the frown is back. “Does anyone else know?”

“Besides me, Seven, and Misun? Ah, and Vanderwood, who doesn’t really care. The rest of the RFA knows we found something to do with Mint Eye, so they know V was trying to hide that, but… not about Rika. No one else knows about her yet. We thought… Seven thought… it would be too much for them right now.”

Saeran nods. “That may be the case.” He casts his eyes upward. “Betrayal is not easy to recover from.”

You peer at him closely as you mull over your next question, then ask, “So… it really is Rika, right? The same Rika who looked after you as a kid decided that keeping you safe meant dragging you to Mint Eye…?” Was that why he looked up to her so much? He’d already thought of her as someone who cared for him when she — proposed Mint Eye to him, or brought him there, or however it happened?

But Saeran just shakes his head. “Tell me what else Seven said.”

“Ah. Right. Okay.” Much as it pains you to leave the subject unexplored. “...safety. Seven told me that being safe, and taking drastic measures to make sure that was the case, mattered because someone wanted you dead. Guessing that’s… your dad, based on what you said at the cabin.” He nods. “According to Seven, that may be an ongoing problem. Seven thinks he’s still looking for you. Said we’d have to be careful, whatever else we did, because if word about you got out, it would… end badly.”

“...he is,” Saeran says. “He’s still looking for me. For us.” The disgusted curl of his lip does nothing to quell the way your stomach lurches with sympathetic horror.

You suck in a breath through your teeth. “I—” What can you say? You can’t even imagine what that would be like. “I…” You look down and he pets your hair reassuringly. How in the world did he end up comforting you?

“Well,” you say eventually. “There’s… not much else, actually. That’s about all he said. I still don’t know why your dad wants to kill you, or what we’re going to do about that, or how you or Seven know V, or why V knew about the agency, or why he thought that would help, or why Seven went through with it if he thought V could keep you safe without it, although obviously V failed at that, the lying bastard—” Your breath escapes you in a shaky burst. Focus. Calm yourself. “But, um, that’s what I know, little though it is.”

When you finish, he is silent. You want to prompt him, remind him of what he said, but… if he’s going to talk, it shouldn’t be because he feels like he needs to. Your curiosity shouldn’t take precedence when it comes to his trauma.

“The truth,” Saeran whispers at last, “is so much more than that. Seven... Luciel… only sounds sympathetic because he leaves out what he did. The rest of the truth.”

Saeran takes a deep breath. “The word wrong doesn’t even begin to describe what he did. He abandoned his little brother who absolutely trusted him and ran away to save himself.” And then his eyes go slightly hazy as a smile creeps up his face. “Oh, no, I said it wrong. It’d be more exact to say that he comfortably used his brother who absolutely trusted him to run away on his own.”

The things he’s said before ring in your ears, full of words like betrayal and shithole and nowhere else I belong.

“He said he left me with V, to be safe…?” Saeran scoffs. “He didn’t care whether or not V took care of me. He didn’t care if anyone did. He never bothered to check. And he has said... so many things he didn’t mean. Back then, he told me—” He cuts himself off with a bitter laugh. “He told me his plan was to work and work and work until he had enough money to escape with me. And I…” Saeran’s voice grows quiet. “When I was young... I thought that I would probably die before I become an adult. In that hellish house… I couldn’t imagine any other end for me. But when he said that… I started to believe in hope. I started to believe that maybe I wouldn’t die before that day after all, and I would escape that place with him.”

And though you know how this story must go, you feel a stubborn, senseless flicker of hope. As though the tale will suddenly change, and he’ll tell you that he was right and they got out and he was safe and he was happy, or — that there was some bright spot in his dismal past, something better than the nightmare he’s lived. Nonsensical as the thought is, it makes his next words hurt all the more.

“But I was naïve. It was all lies. The whole time, I know exactly what he was thinking.” Saeran adopts a singsong voice. “‘Oh,’ he thought, ‘I can use weak Saeran as bait and escape that monster of a mother!’” You jolt. Monster of a mother? “‘For now, I’ll take care of him because I feel bad for him... and when I see him suffer because of how weak he is, I feel like I’m living a better life. But one day I’ll leave this place, team up with V to create the RFA, have parties, chat online, and have fun! Saeran is just a burden… Yeah! I’ll feel much better if I just disappear without a word~!”

You wince at the excited flourish in his voice as he ends his imagining.

“And one day, he went out… and he didn’t come back. At first, I looked for him… the sun came up and morning came in that hell, but he wasn’t there. I was so worried. I worried that he might be dead, that our father got to him… I cried for days. No matter how many times that woman strangled me—” You stiffen in shock. “—hit me, threatened me for being noisy, that weak, naïve me cried for days missing him. And all the while, I asked myself, ‘did he leave because he was sick of me? Was he mad at me? Still, he’ll come back. Yes, he’s got to come back, he’s my brother… my brother… my brother…!’”

His hands clench into fists. “I thought he was dead. But… once I found out that he was alive, the shock…” A breathy laugh. “I can’t put it into words. I thought he was hurt. Dead. That he would never abandon me, knowing what it would do to me. But he did. He used his own brother to escape that hellish house, he left me there to be—” His hand flutters up to his neck. Your heart aches for him. “Without the Savior...” He hesitates. “Without Rika, I would have lived a miserable life with that woman and starved to death with shackles on my ankles.”

“That woman… your mother…” Your voice shakes. “Your mother was the cause of so much of your pain? Not your father…?”

“Oh, he wants me dead. I’m a stain on his reputation, and it would be better for him if I never existed at all. And since that’s not true, the next best thing is to make sure I stop existing.” So easily he says it, as though it’s just a simple fact of life. And… for him, it must be. “But it was that woman that made life a living hell. Nothing was ever good enough. I was never good enough. She…” He looks down. “I couldn’t bear it. But I had to bear it. Each and every day. So there,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Now you know. Now you know the truth.”

The truth…

Truth is a funny thing. You believe Seven when he says he left because he wanted to protect Saeran. In fact, you’re inclined to believe Seven in most everything he says; he may not have been entirely upfront with you, given that he didn’t tell you it was his father that was pursuing the both of them, but he was honest about not being able to tell you that.

But you also believe Saeran when he speaks of the pain he’s endured, that Seven has caused him. And regardless of Seven’s intent, or anyone else’s… that pain is there. It exists.

And to have so many sources of pain… his father, his mother, his brother, a cult …

“Saeran…” Tears spring to your eyes. Once again, you are speechless. You can do nothing to soothe the old wounds, nothing but wrap your arms around him and try not to sob into his chest.

“I’m… glad you know now.” He’s getting teary now. He sniffles, then says, “I’m not that weak little Saeran he used to know. I’m not.” His voice cracks on the last syllable.

You cup his face. “No,” you say, “no, you’re not weak.” You tremble. “I don’t think you ever were.”

A noise escapes him, soft and wounded but somehow grateful. He presses his forehead to yours.

And so you stand, trembling against each other, both nearly weeping and awash with the terrible and wonderful sensation of understanding.

“Please,” you say when the tears have dried and you are able to find your voice once more. “Let’s go. Let go together. I’m ready to close out this chapter of running and looking over my shoulder. I want to leave that behind and just… be safe. And I am,” you say, “so ready for you to be happy.” He is so, so close to being free from the first of his tormentors, and your heart thrills to think of it.

Still red-eyed, he takes your hand in his and just holds it for a moment. “...alright,” he says. “Together.”

And you begin the journey back.

As you wind through the trees hand-in-hand, hoping you remember the way back, you speak. “Hey…are you going to be okay? We’ve still gotta… work together. We’re not out of the woods yet.” And then you realize yourself. “I mean—”

“Obviously.” But there’s a faint smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, smart aleck.” It’s said with the utmost affection, glad that he’s of a mind to tease after… everything. “I just mean, are you going to be okay? With having Seven near?”

His face twists and he grunts in response. “No other option. I don’t want anything to do with him,” Saeran mutters. “But you… I’ll endure it. For you. As long as he doesn’t try to talk to me again.”

“Mmh.” He probably will. Well, he definitely will at some point; there is no future you can imagine in which Seven is at all okay with just letting Saeran slip through his fingers now that he’s found him again. But maybe he won’t try until after you’ve gotten somewhere safe.

“...we’ll have Misun as a barrier,” you say at last. If Seven is tempted to repeat his earlier attempts at conversation, Misun may be able to dissuade him, or at least redirect the flow of it. “Ah, and you’re… fine around her, right?”

“Misun?” He tilts his head at you. “Besides her terrible taste in partners, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Nothing to say about the bite?” There are still faint pink marks on his skin from the mostly-healed bite gained during their last encounter. You run your thumb along these, feeling the slightly-puckered skin.

“Her reaction was… understandable.” He flexes the fingers of his previously-bitten hand against yours as if remembering. “If not unfortunate.”

“You’re very forgiving.”

“I try to be,” he says. “To those who deserve it.”

Charitable.

You walk in silence for a while longer until you notice his pace slow. When you glance at him, he’s checking his phone. “Any word?”

There’s a moment before he responds, distracted by whatever he’s looking at. “...no. Not yet.”

“Huh,” you say. “Well, hopefully it’s all taken care of and they just haven’t wanted to bother you.”

He shrugs and slides his phone back into his jacket pocket. Before it disappears, you catch sight of his lockscreen again.

“...I wanna see those other pictures you took later,” you say.

“They were blurry.” He gives you a look, pointed but amused. “Someone wouldn’t stop squirming.”

“Hey, that is not my fault,” you complain. “You try staying still when someone’s biting your neck.”

His eyes light up and a wicked grin grows on his face.

“Not an invitation,” you groan. “They’ll come looking for us if we stay out too long, and I have no desire to be caught in flagrante delicto.” But all it takes is the barest hint of a pout to get you to relent. “...next time, maybe. When we take a pic for my phone.”

He hums a contented note and swings your linked hands. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Yeah, I bet you will.” But you can’t help the fondness in your voice.

As you get closer to the cabin, you come to be aware of something else, something past the sound of leaves crunching underfoot. There is noise up ahead. A car engine? They must be waiting for you. You hope they haven’t been waiting too long. If they’re already back in the car, though, that’s a good sign that they’ve figured out whatever’s happening with the agency.

“Sounds like they’re ready to go,” you say. “Good. I’d hate to wait out here in the open. I’ll feel better once we’re somewhere I know no one can... follow…”

You think, at first, that you’re imagining it, your worst fears realized before your eyes, and so your feet carry you forward numbly while your voice stalls out, noise without meaning.

Cars, black and shiny and not supposed to be here. Disciples in robes.

Found, found, found.

“Saeran.” His name comes out strained, strangled. You begin to regain control of your body, coming off autopilot and digging in your heels. “We have to go,” you whisper. “We have to run, now, before they see—”

But his hand, still in yours, pulls you forward.

You can hear voices now, stern commands amidst shouts of protest. Vanderwood is being led out of the cabin, arms held behind their back by two disciples guiding them to one of the cars. From the voices coming from inside the cabin, you can assume that there are yet more of Mint Eye’s believers within.

Surrounded. You are surrounded.

“S-Saeran...?”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “you’re okay. You’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Saeran…” Your throat is dry. Your feet are lead. The sound of your heartbeat is deafening. “Why...?”

“Why would you be safe? Why would I ever not want you to be safe?” There’s a touch of amusement in the way he smiles. It fades when you do not play along and remain aghast. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I wanted to be honest with you from the start, but I knew you’d never listen if I did. This was the only way to fix everything. But you are safe with me. I would never lie to you about that. I’ll never lie to you again.”

“You—”

A disciple turns, hearing your approach, maybe, and makes as if to move toward you — but despite your heart leaping into your throat, they do naught but bow their head in deference to Saeran.

And that’s what really clinches it — that of course, of course, of course they wouldn’t see him as a threat, of course they wouldn’t restrain him like the others. That though your stomach hollows out, you are not surprised. That this is only confirmation of what you’d already suspected — maybe already known on some level.

And if you have been promised honesty, then you may as well take it.

“You called them.” Your voice leaves you in a breathless whisper. “And back at the motel, you called them then, too. You were never going to leave Mint Eye behind.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. There is grief in his eyes, in the set of his brow, the twist of his lip. “I know this must be hard for you.” He does not dispute it. It is as a dagger in your heart.

He stops walking now, paused at the edge of the clearing, bidding you to wait with him as well. To observe? To give you time to absorb this information? As though it helps. Watching more disciples lead a struggling Misun from the cabin only makes the sting of this betrayal — because that’s what it is, isn’t it? — even keener.

“You c-c-called them.” You stutter out the words with effort, bitter as they are in your mouth. “You brought them here.” All those things you feared back at the motel, when you saw Mint Eye there, turning out to be true. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you blink them furiously back.

“I thought—” And a laugh escapes you because it’s so absurd now. Didn’t you know? Couldn’t you see? “I thought I — I — got through to you, I thought—” That he wanted to be with you enough to forsake Mint Eye. That you managed to undo their programming all at once.

“You did,” he assures you. You have to bite back another laugh. Clearly, you didn’t. “You showed me how much you care, how far you were willing to go for me.” His eyes shine with emotion. “You just didn’t see how good Magenta could be. And that’s my fault. You came at such a momentous time, and I was so focused on preparing for the endless party... it had to be done, of course, but to you, unfamiliar with Magenta, I understand how such devotion could seem… a burden.”

“A burden—?” As if that’s all it was. As if months, years, of sequestering himself to better invite others into a drug-happy cult warranted nothing more than a footnote, merely a minor inconvenience, easily overlooked.

“I know, I know,” Saeran soothes. “I know how it could seem that way. The long hours spent in service to paradise, the isolation that provided focus for the many tasks to complete that left so little time to bask in the Savior’s presence and learn from her sermons, having to watch over those who hurt me…" His jaw clenches momentarily, but then he relaxes and chuckles softly, reaching up to cup your cheek again. “You thought that was all it was. You thought the Savior was using me.” He makes it sound as though the idea is absurd, and not the absolute truth you know it is. “I understood the necessity. I knew the rewards that such diligence would bring us all, the peace that awaited those meant to join us at the endless party. But you… how could you know, when you were so new, so uninformed? How could you know without ever being shown?”

You feel numb. Or, no — you feel sick. Would he cut his explanation short if you vomited on his shoes? You think you understand the gist of it anyway.

“You have not yet seen the bliss that Paradise brings to those who were lost, the relief they feel to finally cast aside their painful lives and belong somewhere, to feel the endless love of the Savior. But you will. And once you see that we only want what’s best for everyone, then you’ll understand that it is safe there, and you’ll be happy. I’ll be with you, we’ll be together, and everything will be fine. Nothing will ever come between us again. And the savior—”

“Rika,” you say. A dead woman pulling the strings of a cult.

“The savior —” he persists.

“But that is who she is.” You can be just as stubborn. And if you’re going to be facing hell again, you can face it with answers. “The founder of the RFA. She knew you years ago, she looked after you, and she dragged you there with her. And because she made the RFA, now she has you targeting them, too.”

A sigh, and then he says, “She knows their pain better than anyone. She knows they need to be saved. And she knew I needed to be saved.”

“So why not just extend the invitation personally? She knows them, they know her, what’s stopping her from just asking them to join herself without all the secrecy?” Besides the greatly-exaggerated rumors of her death.

“Seven.” His lip curls. “He would pull them away with his lies.” And then he shakes his head, his anger fading. “Regardless of what you call her, she will understand your lapse of faith. She knows that you just needed more time to allow Mint Eye into your heart. And we’ll have all the time in the world now. She will forgive you for your mistake and welcome you back into Paradise.” And then he frowns. “She should be here by now… perhaps inside…?” He starts forward, toward the cabin.

While he’s distracted you could — make a break for it. Tear your hand from his grasp and run back into the woods. Sure, you’d be lost, but you could outrun them for a while. A good long while, most likely. He’d never catch you with those string bean legs of his, though one of the disciples might be able to. But… you do not.

You just trail behind him.

And then Seven emerges from the cabin, flanked by a pair of disciples, defeated. Saeran stops in his tracks, eyes alight with satisfaction.

“At last,” he murmurs. He sounds almost awed.

Seven is stiff in their grasp, but he resists still, in a way, scanning the area around him desperately — and when he catches sight of Saeran, his eyes go wide with surprise, then dismay, then outright panic. “Saeran!” he cries.

Saeran bristles, and he grimaces when Seven lurches toward him.

“Saeran, V—”

One of the disciples escorting him hisses a command to be silent and jerks Seven’s arm, pulling him away from Saeran.

Saeran is no longer delighted. “Shut up,” he hisses. And then his eyes narrow. “Did you say—” He follow Seven’s gaze, now directed at the other, silent disciple, and stiffens. “...you. Remove your hood.” His voice is low. Wary. Dangerous.

A moment of hesitation, and then the disciple complies, revealing—

Mint hair. Mint eyes.

“—you.” Surprised. Stunned. Then enraged. “Where is the Savior? Why are you here?!”

V is silent. Whether he has nothing to say or just cannot find the words doesn’t really matter, you suppose, because, either way, Saeran doesn’t give him much time before he speaks again, demanding answers.

“What did you do to the Savior?!” Saeran takes a step towards V, hands clenching into fists at his side.

“...the Savior sent me to lead them to Magenta.” V’s voice is soft when he finally speaks. “I’ve received orders to bring you all to Mint Eye.”

“Orders—?!”

“Saeran, you didn’t know?” Seven sounds plaintive.

“Shut up!” Saeran snarls, then jabs a finger at V. “And you shut up, too! Why are you here instead of the Savior?” He doesn’t seem to see the contradiction in his commands.

V is uncowed in the face of Saeran’s aggression. “Because the savior chose me… she said I had to be the one to send the message.” That last part is almost whispered.

Saeran seems to be processing this statement.

“I don’t like this,” he mumbles at last. There’s a ragged edge to the words. “But we’ll return to Magenta first.” He straightens, and it’s like he’s shrugged on that aura of authority again. “…disciples.” With that one little word, the robed disciples stand at attention. “They’ve been checked? All of them?” He very pointedly directs his question beyond V.

The disciple at Seven’s left nods. “We have checked them for weapons and any contraband that could be used against Magenta.”

“Their phones?”

Another nod. “Yes, we’ve cleared them of anything they could use to communicate. He was trying to send out coordinates.”

You feel a slight spark of hope at those words, but this is dashed when Seven shakes his head. No success. No help coming.

“Give his to me.”

The disciple complies, pulling it from the folds of his robes.

Saeran looks at it in his hands, turning it over. He squeezes it tightly, still staring. And then he drops it to the ground and crushes it underfoot. It makes a final-sounding crunch. He looks back up. “Take him,” he says. “Prepare to depart.”

You jolt as a hand closes around your arm from behind. You didn’t even know there was someone behind you.

But Saeran pulls you to him protectively, tucking you into his side. “No,” he says. “Not them. I will escort them. But the others — ensure they are prepared for the journey.”

When V starts to move, making as though he’s going to continue escorting Seven, Saeran stops him. “Don’t think of doing anything else, V.” His voice is sharp.

“He does not trust you,” says the disciple behind you. “We will take care of the nonbelievers without you.”

And V bows his head, conceding. Only then do the believers force Seven forward, into the car.

Saeran mutters as he pulls you along, away from Seven, away from V. “I don’t care what orders he has. V is in charge of nothing. V is worth nothing. A traitor has no place in the Savior’s eyes. He’ll know that soon.”

He speaks of betrayal when he has done this to you. When he has lied to you, given you hope only to snatch it away. Numbness stills your tongue, prevents you from giving voice to this irony. It wouldn’t matter anyway.

You toss one last look over your shoulder at V as Saeran pulls you away. What do you feel as you look at this man? A man who knew Saeran — and Seven — as children, a man who proclaimed the death of a still-living woman, a man who is standing before you in cult colors now, sending a message to those he’d once sworn to protect?

There is — sorrow on his face, but from what? He’s one of Mint Eye’s believers. And how long has he believed? All this time? Was this his plan? Their plan, his and Rika’s? Why does he look sad, then? And what right does he have to feel like that when he’s here, dragging you all to paradise?

What right when Saeran’s voice wavers so and his hand trembles in yours?

The second car starts. The door lies open. Your turn now.

A believer bids Saeran take his place at the front, and you prepare to climb into the cage-like back of the car alone. As you do, though, he slides in beside you, and there he stays as the car begins its journey to bring you back into the belly of the beast — by your side, hand gripping yours so tight it’s painful.

Despite everything, you don’t pull away.

#saeran #mystic messenger #saeran choi #saeran route fic tag #mine

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rheisa-midnightfury · 4 years

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Reckless #01

Started writing a story of my warcraft oc's being in our world. I've been working on it for 4 years now. Thought it was time to translate the first chapter and share it with you guys.

Enjoy!

Boring, silent, dark night. The street-lights dazzlingly gazed into a dusky office room through the gray windows. There was no lighting inside. Only the road lamps and a monitors' blinding white screen filled the place with light. One person sat in front of a glass table and leaned over her laptop, alone. With her head resting on her arm. Her black clothes hide her silhouette in the gloomy office. Black tight jeans, black boots, black jacket. Only her T-shirt was brighter with one shade. Long brown hair covered most of her face.

Her eyes nonstop ran between the written lines of an online police article. She hardly paid any attention to the pages, just scrolled constantly, until her emerald eyes caught on something. With slow moves, she placed her right arm on her lap and leaned back on her chair. Lips curled into a soft smirk as she read the small town’s article.

According to the news, a certain Russian maffia terrorized the locals. It’s quite unusual hearing of a mafia in America, especially in such a hick town. That piqued the person even more. She copied the article and printed it. As paper came slid out from the printer she quickly tugged it into her gray backpack. She looked around, making sure that no one was watching her, grabbed the backpack and quickly headed to the entrance. Stepping out from the darkroom, she found herself in a rather modern building.

Walls made out from thick, bulletproof glass- a strange choice for a police station -, but it was safer as if the building were made out of concrete. It made the passengers think that the building has nothing to hide from time, but in fact, it did.

The person who tried the escape from the building was Régine Demuar, captain. A person who almost failed at the academy for being stubborn, free-willed and for never following the orders as she was commanded. Always gets her own way.

Her hands just touched the glass-door, when a squab and rather hairy arm grabbed her by the shoulder. Régine turned around immediately and saluted as she recognized sergeant Brucks. A person despited by Régine. Maybe the man was rough looking, but he was kind. Too kind, in her opinion. The kind of employee who never wins arguments, not even when he’s right; or never say no to his bosses. Poule, as Régine would call him.

The sergeant looked straight into her eyes and smiled under his mustache.

”Not so fast, Demuar!” Brucks started his talk in his usual harsh, almost threatening tone. ” If I’m not mistaken, you act in the name of the law, out of your term of duty.”

”Yes, sir!” Answered with a sturdy voice. ” I swore to act for the common, even if I’m in charge, or not.” Her hand grabbed the door again, ready to leave the station. Brucks saw Régine’s intention so he kept on talking.

”There would be a job for you.” He reached a creased paper for the policewoman. ”I hope you are interested in this incident.”

Régine took the offcuts and stared at the printed lines. She would laugh as Brucks showed the same article, which she had printed at her office. Looks like not only her mettle was put up by this.

”I’ve heard about it.” Was all she replied since she tried to act natural. This case could have been the one which will give her a promotion. In her head, all of her compeer celebrated her, treated her like a hero who solved this hard case on her own. No way she will tell Brucks that it’s only her affair to take care of.

She shrugged and rolled her eyes, making Brucks think she doesn’t care about what he said.

”And? What do you think?” He whetted his throat before looking around the otherwise empty place. ”I can’t think of any other person who could take care of this…. mafia.”

Régine showed no interest what so ever, her face was emotionless, like a stone. Hiding her true feelings, one thing she mastered through the years. That way she avoided rude comments against her bosses and lifted up her husband after a long work, however, she was all tristful inside.

”I’ll think about it.” She nodded and opened the door. ”Goodnight, sir!” And she left. She didn’t want the sergeant to know about her out of duty activities. They weren’t exactly fair and square.

Her ebony bike which was parked next to the roadside, waiting for her. The public lightning glinted on the glossy metal, like a mirror. With her hair tied up, she placed the helmet on her head and took a look at her watch. She sighed as she stared at the pitch-black streets, the lights blurred into one glowing point in her eyes, that’s how tired she was. , wishing her pair would step out from the shadows with opened arm, waiting for her hug. The fact that her husband won’t be at home tonight made her sigh yet again, but she tried to shrug the sadness away and jumped on her bike. She opened out the throttle, side-slipped and headed home.

The bike buzzed through the silent city, like a beetle in the dark. She was close to the edge of the town when the vehicle stopped with loud grinding in front of a gray house. Régine lobbed her right leg over the bike and got down from it.

The house was surrounded by an always green garden, small pine trees lined up on both sides of the narrow road, which led to the main entrance. Tiny, colorful daisies covered the edge sward. A small detail, something that vivifies the otherwise somber building. A segment, that her husband likes to keep under his control, as his hobby. If anything can bring up his lonely night was the sight of this house. At least there is something that she can smile about.

With huge force, she pushed the bike inside of a garage which was on the right side of the gray building. Surprisingly the garage door was open. ~Ryan must have forgotten to close it. Said to herself while she put down her helmet and pushed a button which finally closed the door. The house was dark inside, but Régine didn’t fancy switching on any light as she stepped into the kitchen. She dropped her leather jacket and small pistol onto the dinner table and grabbed a black mug which was waiting for the policewoman to fill it up. She poured green-tea into it from a glass jug that she had made for herself in the morning. As she filled the mug, there were some of the tea left in the crock which she didn’t hesitate to drink out, right from the pot. She placed back the jar and mopped down the tea-drops from her mouth with her forearm as she made her way into the living room.

Minimalist arrangement, like the other parts of the house. Gray couch to match the gray commode and gray-glass coffee table. Like outside, plants filled up the room with life.

Right at that moment when she sat down and made herself comfortable, she heard her phone started ringing inside of her jacket’s pocket. The ringtone was close to electro swing. For every person who’s close to the police officer, she chose a special song whenever they call her.

”You got to be kidding me!” Raised her voice. ”Can’t I finish a damn tea?” She roared and stood up, walking back to the kitchen. She raised the mug and chug down the liquid like it was some kind of a strong beverage. With the jacket flipped she reached for the phone and picked up.

”Yes?” Started a little bit rude. ”Rafi! If you think that the police found out that you’re stealing books from the library, I’ll repeat… AGAIN! You have a perfect alibi! You got nothing to worry about, you’re just being paranoic.” Informed the librarian, groovy. The other side of the line was silent for some seconds before a deep and smoky voice replied.

”N-no! I-I got s-some other… problem.” His voice was filled with fear. Not the usual paranoid worry, but something serious trouble. ”Chris! I’m with him at the hospital.”

”Oh, heavens! What happened?” The fury and flutter were replaced by despair in her tone.

”N-nothing serious, just… something attacked and bit him again. That… the thing he ordered from the internet.” He replied with compassion this time.

”Typical of Chris.” Laughed Régine, as she dealt with the smuggler’s strange orders for many years now. She knew what Rafael going to ask from her, but she made the question anyways. Perhaps a little hope, to jump back on he couch. ”Is there anything I can do to you, or…you just called me…”

”Put that thing on the spot!” Yelled Rafael almost maniacally. His deep voice turned into high pitch, like as if a woman would scream in panic. ”I don’t care how. Shot it down, flush it down on the toilet, I don’t care. Just get rid of it…. please.”

The policewoman looked around the room, rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead. ”Alright. I’ll take care of it.” Sighed and without a goodbye, she hung off. Her eyes closed, her breathing slowed down as she slammed her hand on the table, waiting for some seconds to calm down.

She put on her jacket and leaned over to get a better look at the bottom of the dinner table. With some velcro, another pistol was held underneath it. Bigger than her ministerial one and slightly more dangerous. Her precious toy. She tied the pistol bag around her waist and placed the gun to its place while she hurried back to her ebon bike. This time she left the helmet where she had last placed it and jumped up on the vehicle. Huge smoke formed at the garage as Régine clenched the handlebar and rolled out with high speed. She wanted to get over this mission as quick as it was possible.

The destination was Chris’s pet store, which was only just a cover-up for the afro man. His real job was, something else. Smuggler, interloper. A man, who can bring in and out everything to the country. Typical of a shady figure. Dark skin, long dreadlocks tied up with a headband, dingy sneakers with long white socks, staccato jeans; and that always smiling, shifty aspect. But, he never got into any trouble, thanks to Régine.

After another long drive, the captain arrived at the shop. She stared at the store for some seconds before she gets off the bike. The chilly wind of the night caught on her hair and stroke her cheeks. A low whisper broke the silence as she closed her eyes and an image of her husband stood right in front of her. She apologized for not being able to be with him, for not being the calm wife he always wanted her to be. The vision of the husband seemed so realistic for Régine, she reached her arms, and almost hugged the air. And then, she opened her eyes. The image disappeared and only the cold night stayed as her company. She approached the entrance of the shop and tried to open the door.

It was close.

She wasted no time looking for the keys, - which were probably under a rock – the policewoman headed to the fire escape and climbed to the top of the store. Her eyes were looking for the air-shaft. As her attention caught on the blow-hole, she kicked off the grate and jumped into it gracefully, as it was just a slide. Her boots made a blunt thump as she landed on the floor, she moved like a shadow. Régine heard something lurking close to her, like sharp claws gently knocking on the floor. As she turned on the flashlight she placed the bullets into the gun and stayed in steadied position, waiting for the thing to appear.

”Come out! Come out, where ever you are!” Whispered impatiently and started taking slow steps to where she thought the creature had run. With careful motions she leaned over a stall, checking if the animal was still hiding behind. But there was nothing. From another location, heavy hissing could be heard. The policewoman froze for a second, she didn’t know what exactly she was facing. Calmly, she turned around, flashing at the creature. And there it was, its teeth shined in the light of the flashlight, spumy drivel was dripping from its mouth. Black eyes staring at Régine, the beast groaned and jumped into the woman’s direction, ready to attack. But before it could do anything Régine fired her gun and calmed the creature down, for eternity. Light smoke was coming out from the pistol when she placed back into the holster. She stepped next to the creature to finally take a closer look of it. The disgust was recognizable on her face as she stared at the dead beast. Its body was lizard-like, but was covered with a light fur and had a rat tail. She placed rubber gloves on each of her hands which she found under the counter. Régine lifted the rat-lizard, grabbing it by its tail with only two fingers. She placed it on Chris’s table and take a piece of paper on top of the dead body.

Before Régine Demuar left the place, she checked every drawer of the desk, if Chris has a copy of the shop’s key. Luckily there was, in the first case she opened. The smuggler's desk was a huge mass. Papers, dry pet food and carefully packed weed were everywhere. Some paper was stained by the food, just like the transparent bag’s contest. His glass pipe was at the edge of the desk, wonder that it was in one piece.

The rubber gloves landed at the bottom of a garbage-can as Régine had taken them off and opened the front door. There was no way, she climbed back on top of the roof. She’d rather break the door, but to use the air-shaft again.

She stepped next to her bike when her eyes stuck on a shadowy figure. A huge male, in long-dark coat and rimmed bowler hat. He wore golden knucklers on each of his palms and heavy gold chains hang on his neck. He stood straight up, hands in his pockets, which made him more frightening. He made no move, not even a single blink. The cigar’s end was glowing bright in the dark, as if he had a smouldering eye.

Shortly a black van, with dark windows stopped next to him. It had no logo, nor license plate. The strange figure stood in one place for another while, gazing upon the surroundings. He acted like he had no notice of the car in front of him. Once he smoked all of his cigars, he dropped the rest tot he ground and tread on it.

No matter how hard she tried to check the strangers face, Régine was too far away from him. She was too far away, and the man was too cagy. He tilted his head, so the rim covered his whole face. He looked around yet again, opened the door and was about to get into the car, but he stopped halfway. Maybe he knew that someone was watching him. With slow, careful moves, he got into the vehicle and slammed the door.

As the car left the place and almost gone from Régine’s sight, the woman jumped on her bike and started following the vehicle. She tried to keep a fair distance and stuck to the van’s track. She tries to stay out from the trouble, but bad habits are hard to change. It was too suspicious to pass by, to take no notice. Her stomach prest from fear, but she didn’t turn back. This wasn’t a question of choice for her.

#Reckless #My story #Reginé #Reginé Demuar #rheisa #Rheisa Midnight #Rafi #rafael graham #rafael #Ranaman #hopyalikeit

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ludoxi-blog · 5 years

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Best digital photo frame 2018: Show off your favourite photos

The biggest complaint some people have about digital photos is that you never get to see them. Some make it to a photo printer, others to a sharing site or social media feed, but many end up sitting on a cloud storage service or a hard drive, unappreciated and never seen. Where the old prints might have ended up in albums or sitting in a frame on the mantelpiece, their digital successors never get their time in the spotlight. Digital photo frames have fallen out of popularity, but they’re actually a great way to bring your shots out of storage and into the home. What’s more, the best models are a vast improvement on the dull, awkward to use early frames of a decade ago, with brighter screens, smarter power-saving features, better interfaces and even – in some cases – Wi-Fi and cloud connectivity, so that you can publish photos direct from a PC or smartphone to your frame. Go on, get your stills back on the mantelpiece where they belong! How to buy the right digital photo frame for you What about the new smart displays?

Amazon, Google and Lenovo are all promoting new smart displays that play music, control smart home appliances and answer questions, much like their smart speaker cousins. The difference is that these displays can show you answers, web pages and videos – and also double up as a digital photo frame. Amazon’s Echo Show devices can play a photo slideshow from the Amazon Photos cloud photo-storage service, while Google’s Home Hub can play photos direct from Google Photos, which is where your shots tend to end up automatically if you use an Android phone. For this reason, they make excellent digital photo frames, although you’ll pay a fair bit more for them than for a stand-alone frame.

How much do you want to spend? And how big a frame do you want?

Choosing a digital photo frame is fairly easy; work out your budget then decide what size you need and whether you’re willing to pay for extra features or WiFi connectivity. What’s more, the best frames tend to come in a range of sizes, usually starting in the 7in to 8in range and moving up to 10in and beyond, with some models going as big as 18in. Whether you’re looking for something to place on a shelf or something to hang on the wall, you’ll have a few options. Just be aware that not all frames have a traditional 4:3 aspect ratio, with some smaller frames opting for a 16:9 or 16:10 aspect ratio which is great for landscape shots, but not necessarily so good for portraits.

Will my photos look good on any digital photo frame?

Beyond size, you also need to think about screen technology and resolution. Some models use the kind of Twisted Nematic LCD screen technology found in budget tablets, laptops and monitors, often resulting in low levels of brightness and contrast and narrow viewing angles; not ideal for something you’ll rarely look at precisely head-on. Others have moved to IPS technology, giving you much wider viewing angles and a brighter, more colourful image. More saturated colours isn’t necessarily a good thing – some frames exhibit the kind of brash, unnatural colour balance you’d normally find on a bargain-basement telly – but ideally you want something with a little punch.

As far as resolution goes, expect some mild disappointment. Digital photo frames lag behind tablets and smartphones when it comes to pixel density, and 1,024 x 600 and 1,024 x 768 screens are the norm even on larger models. Luckily, this doesn’t matter so much when you’re usually looking at a 7-inch to 10-inch display from several metres away.

How do you get your photos onto it?

This is the next big differentiator. Some have internal memory, and you transfer photos over a USB connection. Most now have an SD or micro SD card slot and read photos directly from the card. Others have a USB port for plugging in a USB memory key. However, a growing number now have built-in Wi-Fi, connecting to your home network or a cloud-based service, where you work through a Web-based interface to upload files. The great thing about this is that you can transfer files from your PC or your smartphone, not to mention popular picture-sharing or social networking services. You can even send photos to your frame while you’re away on your holidays. These models are even adding social features, enabling you to send photos through to friends or relatives while you’re travelling or just making the most of life.

Is there anything else you should look out for?

Many frames have additional features, including clocks, calendars and video and audio playback. Most recent models also have motion-sensing and other power-saving features, so that the frame isn’t using energy when there’s nobody to see it. It’s hard to find a frame without slideshow features, and the more flexible these are the better. A clear user-interface is clearly helpful here, making it easy to get photos on the device, add them to playlists and control how they look.

How much do I need to spend?

Frames start at under £40 with the larger 15in and cloud-enabled models reaching price points between £150 and £200. Inevitably you’ll pay for sheer size and extra features, but you can get a great frame for well under £100 as long as you’re prepared to compromise on one of those two.

The best digital photo frames to buy from £50

1. Apeman 8-Inch Digital Photo Frame

Price when reviewed: £50

If you’ve got reasonable expectations and a £50 budget, you won’t get much better than this Apeman-branded 8-inch frame. The 1024 x 768 resolution is perfectly adequate at the size and colours are surprisingly clean and bright, making your pics look good even from an angle. What’s more, it has slideshow, photo, full-screen clock and calendar functions, it will play high definition videos and you can keep the time and date showing unobtrusively in the corner.

The design is more functional than fancy, with a single screw-in leg that keeps the frame propped up, but there are no garish logos, the controls are kept simple and the software is basic yet easy to use. You can’t expect wireless connectivity at this price, but with an SD card slot, USB and mini USB ports, you won’t have any problems getting photos on it, though the mini USB seems rather dated. The only other real annoyance is the lack of auto-rotation; you’re better off rotating any shots taken in portrait mode yourself before transferring them to your card or USB memory stick. Still, with a bundled remote and wall-mounting options, this is otherwise a fine entry-level frame.

2. Nixplay Advance 10-inch: The best 10in digital photo frame for around £100

Price when reviewed: £110

The Nixplay Advance range goes all the way from 8 to 18.5 inches, but the 10-inch version is particularly brilliant value, giving you a 10-inch, 4:3 ratio IPS display with a 1024 x 768 resolution. It’s a simple, well-built frame, standing on a bulging section at the rear where the power, USB and SD card sockets sit, along with a headphone/audio line out. The latter might be useful because the Advance’s party piece is 720p MPEG-4 video playback, complete with tinny sound from the built-in speakers, and you can cleverly mix video and stills within the same photo slideshow. While it hasn’t got the wireless connectivity or cloud capabilities of Nixplay’s pricier Seed series, the clean interface makes it easy to set-up slideshows once you’ve transferred your shots to the bundled 8GB USB thumb drive. There’s even a nice clock and calendar function if you’d like both overlaid. Most importantly, the Advance makes your photos look good, with natural colours, impressive depth of tone and cool transitions. If you’re just after a great way to present your favourite shots, this is the frame to buy.

3. Nixplay Seed 10: The best all-round digital photo frame

Price when reviewed: £170

Like its stablemate, the Advance, the Nixplay Seed does a fantastic job of showing off your photos, with better clarity than you’d expect from a 1,024 x 768 screen, and superb, lifelike colours. The IPS display has wide viewing angles, and there’s a depth of tone here you won’t find in many other digital frames. The Seed goes further, however, thanks to its superb Wi-Fi and cloud connected features. You can transfer photos wirelessly and set-up playlists, drag and drop shots from Google Photos, Instagram and Flickr or even send photos to your frame straight from an iOS or Android smartphone app. Beyond this, Nixplay offers basic photo-sharing and social messaging features, so that you can share photos instantly with Nixplay-owning friends or family. And while Pix-Star’s frame works with awider range of cloud photo services, Nixplay has the cleaner, more intuitive UI, making it easier to use these functions and customise slideshow timings and transitions. Throw in a great design, with a thick USB cable that functions as a stand, plus a choice of colours, and the Seed is the photo frame to beat.

4. Nixplay Iris: The best traditional-style digital frame

Price when reviewed: £170

If you want a showcase for your digital photos but prefer the look of a more traditional frame, the Nixplay Iris has you covered. Available in bronze, silver and copper finishes it looks like an old-school frame from the front but has the innards of the Nixplay Seed, giving you the same impressive image quality and natural colours, plus identical wireless features for transferring photos. You can still sync the frame with your social media and cloud accounts to make sure you have your latest shots on full display, and Nixplay even throws in 10GB of cloud storage space for you to use. Meanwhile, the sound sensor turns the frame off when nobody’s in the room. Otherwise, those with Alexa devices can turn it on and off with voice. You’re paying 10 to 12-inch prices for a small-ish 8-inch screen, but this is the best high-tech frame that doesn’t look high-tech.

Amazingly, you can get a smart display that does more for less than you’ll pay for many frames. Google’s Home Hub has a 7-inch 1,024 x 600 screen with rich and accurate colours and a superb automatic brightness control that makes your shots look like prints in a normal frame. It works in tandem with Google’s existing Photos app and storage service, and because it’s smart you can just ask to see photos from your recent holiday in Cornwall or your trip to Scotland, and the Home Hub will find them and put them on show.

What’s more, you get YouTube Video playback, Google Music and Spotify music and all the benefits of the Google Assistant, answering questions, telling you the temperature and letting you know what you’ve got scheduled for the day.

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optometrist0 · 6 years

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Glasses To Prevent Eye Strain

Contents

Eyeglasses when you use vision

Dry and uncomfortable during

Necessarily prevent eye strain

More about these special glasses

Face – never tilted

Strain. computer vision syndrome

NOTICE THE DIFFERENCE IN DAYS – With these glasses, you'll start to notice better screen viewing and greater clarity after just a few days of wearing them; NO MORE TIRED EYES – Reduce eye strain, eye fatigue and sensitivity to light during long computer sessions. Allow your eyes to blink and function naturally.

Pixel Eyewear makes designer computer glasses that filter artificial blue light emitted from computers, tablets, phones, and TV. Pixel computer glasses are designed to reduce digital eye strain, eye fatigue, dry eyes, and headaches during long work days or gaming sessions.

Are you staring at a computer screen all day? Checking social media on your mobile device at night? On laptops at odd hours? Even if you don’t wear reading glasses …

Sitting all day in front of a computer harms the body & mind. Tips for avoiding digital eye strain & other ailments of the desk jockey in our infographic.

Today I found out what causes “eye floaters”. For those who’ve never experienced this phenomenon, eye floaters are little oddly shaped objects that appear in …

Apr 27, 2017 … When your eyes feel dry, use artificial tears to refresh them. Adjust your room lighting and try increasing the contrast on your screen to reduce eye strain. If you wear contact lenses, give your eyes a break by wearing your glasses. Many eye symptoms caused by computer use are only temporary and will …

That’s dangerous because screens on your phone or computer emit ‘blue-light,’ a high energy, short wavelength beam that causes eye strain, according to Azenda. Getting a blue-light filter on your glasses can … who can’t avoid excessive …

Eyezen blue light blocking lenses help reduce eye strain from computer use and other causes, and other answers in our FAQ.

The Vision Council estimates that roughly 93 percent of adults look at a digital screen for two hours per day and six out of 10 adults spend five hours per day staring at their phone or computer screen. It can produce problems like dry, red …

Mar 21, 2014 … Just like muscles fatigue and strain through overuse during exercise, heavy lifting and even yard work, so too can eye muscles suffer fatigue and strain through overuse. And just like leg, back or arm muscles need time to rest and recuperate after times of extensive strain, eye muscles also need rest.

Get 60% Off Your 2nd Pair of eyeglasses when you use vision Insurance. Shop Now!

Dec 25, 2016 … Non-prescription tinted glasses – One of my friends likes to use these when using electronics, and it helps them to see with a high contrast display. These have a yellow tint to them and help to reduce eye strain further. I have not tried wearing them over my thick glasses so I'm not sure how they will fit, but I …

Jan 15, 2018 … If your device is consistently brighter than your surroundings, this will lead to eye strain and fatigue. Something else that can help is an anti-glare screen filter on your monitor or phone. If you wear glasses, some experts recommend buying lenses with anti-reflective coatings. This reduces the glare your eyes …

Workplace eye injuries cost more than $300 million a year in lost productivity, …

The American Academy of Ophthalmology offers these tips to help avoid work place eye injury or strain: Wear protective eyewear … You must use special-purpose …

If your glasses are up-to-date (or you don't need prescription eyewear for most tasks) and you continue to experience eye discomfort during computer work, consider purchasing customized computer glasses. These special-purpose glasses are prescribed specifically to reduce eye strain and give you the most comfortable …

Changing from an old-style cathode ray tube (or CRT) monitor to a modern LCD screen can help avoid eye strain. CRTs can flicker, which … If you wear contact lenses, consider wearing glasses when on your computer as contact lenses can become dry and uncomfortable during sustained computer work. The Health and …

To prevent further eye strain, commuters who use their laptop, smartphone or tablet in transit (or e-reader for that matter), might want to consider purchasing …

Read about the symptoms of digital eye strain on the OPSM website. Find out how you can reduce and prevent digital eye strain at work (or at home).

Jun 8, 2016 … Headaches and eye fatigue are common complaints. Dr. Irina Shiyan, OD of Eyes on Second in New York, explains to me over email: "Whenever a patient presents with the above symptoms, we advise glasses to reduce some of the… strain." Glasses, huh? I'd heard about digital screen protection glasses, …

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We enjoy spending our free time surfing the internet, playing computer games or checking out social media, but the fun stops the moment our eyes, head or neck don't … 5 Tips to help prevent Digital Eyestrain … You can wear these glasses all day, and they are suitable for first-time as well as long-time spectacle-wearers.

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Computer Eye Strain Symptoms Contents American optometric association That's more than 50 Eye fatigue include For about 5 Use those eyes to read about the symptoms of Computer Vision Syndrome and how to deal. … you know, doing work), but it can also cause computer eye strain. computer vision syndrome (CVS) is strain on the eyes that happens when Eye Strain Cure Contents Eye strain causes symptoms Cost more than Condition that requires treatment. … the Eye Strain Double Vision Contents Call this computer With double vision for about 5 Factor that causes double Including: eye strain nearly Eye discomfort during computer Eye strain and dry Sep 20, 2016 … WebMD discusses what can cause eye fatigue and how you can treat and prevent it. … Sore or irritated eyes; Trouble focusing; Dry or watery

from http://bestoptometrists.net/glasses-to-prevent-eye-strain-14/

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sheenawilde · 7 years

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Whatever I said - Chapter 1/6

Set in 2014. Robbie has left the band for the second time, and this time stayed on good terms with the boys. But leaving is still what it is, and Gary can't seem to be able to deal with it and his home life... (FINISHED, updated regularly)

So, this is the first Take That fic I started to write. I've been sitting on it for 2 years, slowly progressing with it while working on other stuff, but finally it's ready and here. I'll see in what periods I'll add the chapters, but I think it'll be 1 or 2 weeks between them.

You can read it on my AO3 as well.

“Whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn’t mean it…”

“Gaz?”

“I just want you back for good…”

Robbie stared at the air in front of him, shocked as he listened to his friend’s hushed voice through the phone. When he picked it up there was no answer, just Gary singing slowly, silently and in a hoarse voice that sounded like he had been crying.

“Whenever I'm wrong, just tell me the song and I'll sing it…”

“I’m not going back to the band, Gaz, if that’s what you’re aiming for…” he forced a chuckle, trying to make a joke out of it, trying to pretend he didn’t understand…

“Want you back, want you back, I want you back for good…” Gary didn’t even seem to hear him as he continued without a stop and Robbie had to gulp before he could speak.

“Gaz, we’ve spoken about that…” he tried silently but to no avail.

“And we'll be together… This time is forever…” Gary went on, not even once stopping to react to Robbie’s responses. This worried him even more.

“Gaz… Where are you?” he asked and finally his friend stopped with the singing.

“At home…” his voice was very quiet and he sounded distant, but at least he answered him and that made Robbie sigh in relief.

“Has… anything happened? Are you okay?” he asked worried, trying to figure out what was happening, why Gary sounded so… crushed.

“Do I sound okay?” Gary countered, making Rob bit his lower lip in worry. He did have a point there, unfortunately.

“Are you alone? Where’s Dawn? The kids?”

“She left for her parents. Said that she couldn’t watch me dwell on… this anymore… She won’t be coming back. I don’t blame her. Don’t miss her. She took the kids with her…” Gary answered slowly, silently and Robbie had to digest the information. It seemed so unbelievable that Dawn would just up and leave Gary but… It had been a few months since he left the band again and remembering how they parted on personal terms, how Gary reacted first when he told him his real reasons… Of course they had spoken since then and saved their friendship but he knew that it wasn’t over with yet. He thought a lot about that one conversation, the hurt in Gary’s eyes, but just what was he supposed to do?

“What are you doing right now?” Robbie asked, trying to get some time to think through what he should do.

“Just sitting in the living room alone and… I miss you” Gary whispered and Rob closed his eyes for a moment. He made up his mind, he had no other choice.

“I miss you too, Gaz…” Robbie answered, his voice hushed too, as he got up and strode over to his laptop, quickly searching for the airport’s website and started booking a ticket for the next flight from LAX to Heathrow.

“I hoped so… But it’s not quite the same, is it…” Gary sighed, sounding even more broken than before and this worried Robbie even more. It sounded like Gary hit rock bottom. He knew he had to drag him up from there before it’s too late, one way or another.

“Gaz…” he whispered, closing his eyes. He didn’t know what to say, how to express what he wanted. He quickly typed an email for Josie, asking for a taxi in ten minutes and to explain to Ayda when she comes home that he had to be in London for serious personal reasons which he would tell them later.

“It’s alright, Rob… I understand. I know your reasons and I understand them… Damn, I don’t even know why I called you… I feel so pathetic…” Gary muttered in the other end of the phone painfully as Robbie shut his laptop, ran to his bedroom, and started throwing clothes in a bag frantically.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way, I just… Jesus, Gaz, you’re not pathetic…” he shook his head, although he knew the other wasn’t seeing him. He was battling with packing his things with one hand, while he had to think about how to get Gary out of this miserable mood, to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. He knew Gary wasn’t like he used to be, but you never know what sadness might do to people. “Look, it’s… it’s around midnight over there, right? Please, try to get some sleep… It will make things look a bit brighter than they do now. I promise to get back to you when you wake up” he said as he realized he had to hang up if he wanted to get changed and going. He didn’t have much time to catch his plane.

“I’m not sleepy… Besides, it’ll be late night when I wake up if I do sleep… Wouldn’t want to bother you…” Gary said slowly, his voice failing him at the end.

“You’ll not be bothering, Gaz” Robbie protested firmly. “I gotta hang up now, mate. Please, try to sleep and… Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

“You know that I wouldn’t… But sure, I promise” Gary sighed, making Rob feel relieved again. “Bye then…”

“I’ll call you as soon as it’s morning over there. Sleep well!” he said as he, despite being concerned about leaving Gary alone in a state like that, hung up. Then he quickly changed his old sweatpants and T-shirt to something more acceptable, got his bag, and left the house. The taxi was already there waiting for him, bless Josie, so he jumped in, told the driver where to go, and he was already dialing again.

“Hey, Markie!” he greeted his friend as the other picked up the phone on second try.

“Gosh, Rob, do you know what time it is here?” Mark grumbled in a sleepy voice.

“Yeah, almost one in the morning.”

“If you know it, why’d you call? I was sleeping! Can’t it wait till morning?” Mark asked in an exasperated voice.

“Actually, it really can’t. Look, I need you to check on Gaz. Call him and make sure he’s not doing anything reckless” Robbie said in such a worried voice that Mark felt completely awake all of a sudden.

“Why? What happened that I don’t know about?” he questioned immediately, and Rob could hear his concern, too.

“Dawn left and took the kids. He called me and we talked about what happened, but he hasn’t convinced me that he’s fine. I’m on my way to the airport but the flight is fucking ten hours, so I’ll be there only around noon. I don’t trust him alone” Robbie explained and sighed in frustration. Why did he have to live so far? Why couldn’t he be there when he had to be?

“I’ll go over to him then. If my wife left me, I wouldn’t bear to be alone for sure” Mark muttered but there was a short pause before he hesitantly continued. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I have the feeling the break-up wasn’t why he called you…”

“Yeah, well, not exactly” Robbie admitted, smiling slightly at how easily Mark could figure it out. “It’s because of what happened before I left. But I can’t tell it to you right now. And I’m pretty sure you have it figured out for yourself.”

“Mostly, yes” Mark agreed with a sigh that make Rob ready himself for an upcoming speech but there was none. “I’ll get ready and go over to Gary’s, then. See you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see you” Robbie muttered as well as he hung up.

When he looked at the screen, he noticed that there were several calls from Josie. So as soon as the taxi stopped at the airport and he paid the driver, he called her back while searching for where his plane would depart from.

“What the hell are you doing? Where are you even going?” the woman asked him immediately, not even waiting for him to say hi.

“I’m at LAX and about to fly to London. I need to speak with Gary” he explained her as his eyes scanned the monitors. When he found his, he hurried over and started to check in. There wasn’t too much time left, and the lady at the counter wasn’t happy about him being late, so he gave her the best smile he could muster.

“And that’s enough reason to just get on a plane and fly 10 hours without any warning? Are you insane?” Josie asked, sounding incredulous.

“Definitely. But that has nothing to do with the flight” Robbie said grinning as he ran towards the departure lounge to catch his plane before it took off. He had about ten minutes- he was lucky they even let him on.

“I’m being serious here! You asked me to explain it to your wife when I don’t even know what I have to explain! At least tell me what is so important that you have to fly to London!” Josie sighed frustrated.

“Gaz is… he’s feeling down…”

“Sir, you can’t use your phone here!” a staff member said, trying to stop him when he arrived to the gates.

“Just a sec!” he told the man, then turned his attention back to his irritated assistant. “Look, Josie, Dawn left him, right? And there’s a reason he called me. I asked Mark to watch over him for me but…”

“Sir, if you want to board the plane…” the man started again, this time more impatiently.

“Right, right…” Robbie nodded at him. “Josie, I gotta hang up! Get back to you as soon as I can!”

“At least write me an email!” Josie shouted into the phone before Robbie hung up and shut it down. He was immediately ushered up on board and about the moment he sat down on his seat, the stewardesses started their usual speech, then the plane took off.

The flight was a torture. Robbie was exchanging emails with Josie and Ayda, explaining why he was away, that he was sorry, and that it really was an emergency. Josie eventually calmed down and got a taxi waiting for him at Heathrow. Ayda’s emails on the other hand weren’t angry at all but Robbie had a feeling she knew more than he wanted her to, even if she wasn’t saying anything and told him to give Gary her condolences. It made him feel guilty but he couldn’t help it now – and he didn’t regret what he was doing. About six or seven hours into the flight, when he woke up – he tried sleeping, but was waking up in every hour – he found that he received a new email from Josie. It said that she had called Mark who told her that Gary was alright, even got some sleep but was feeling horrible. Robbie wasn’t surprised, although he was getting more and more impatient. He wanted to talk to Gary, to finally be there with him… He had no idea what they would do once he got there, but he just wanted to be with him. He would figure the rest out later.

When the plane finally landed after ten hours of agony, Robbie couldn’t bear it anymore. The moment the doors opened, he was off the plane, rushing to get his bag while he turned back on his phone, and instantly dialed Gary. Worry was killing him by the time it was eventually picked up on his third try.

“Gaz, finally!” he sighed relieved.

“It’s me, Rob, Gary’s sleeping” Mark answered him in a hushed voice. “You arrived then, I assume?”

“Yeah, waiting for my bag. What takes so fucking long for it, I’ve no idea….” he grumbled as his eyes scanned the upcoming baggage but none of them were his. “How is he? I suppose it’s good that he’s asleep…”

“Yes… He was up almost all night, I could only talk to him to sleep around four in the morning but he woke an hour later…” Mark said but paused for a moment. “You know, he hasn’t spoken a word about Dawn. He… he said he missed his kids and hoped he could see them soon again, but otherwise he only talked about you… Rob, I know it’s not really my business, but I woke up in the middle of the night, drove through half of London, and have been listening to Gary for hours… And then there’s you, flying over half of the world for him… Is it what I think it is?” Mark asked and Robbie bit his lower lip. He knew he couldn’t ask anyone without them figuring out, that’s why he asked Mark in the first place.

“Yeah… I guess it is… I don’t know…” he whispered, sounding weaker than he intended.

“Robbie, if you come here, he’s gonna hope, y’know? If you show up, it’ll be a promise for him…” Mark started and it seemed like the kind of speech he so knew he was bound to get at some point… But he couldn’t stand to listen to it right now.

“I know! Fuck, Markie, do you think I don’t know?” he bursted out, a bit louder than he intended, and a few people around him gave him weird glances, so he took a deep breath and continued on a quiet voice. “Believe me, I thought about it all. I have no idea how I’m going to solve this whole but… I need to be there for Gaz. I want to be there for him. It’s me who caused this, I have to make it right. I figure the rest out in the meantime… Look, I just got my bag” he told him as he finally saw it roll out on the conveyer. “I gotta hang up now. Be there in ten minutes or so, depends on traffic. Bye!” he hung up, shoving the cell to his pocket, then grabbed his bag, and finally ran out to search for his taxi.

The driver was waiting for him at arrival with a paper with his name on it in his hands. He greeted the man, said where to go, and in the next minute they were on the road. Looked like Josie warned him that Rob was in a hurry, he noted.

As soon as he was in the car, he dialed Josie. He knew they had time for a quick chat, and maybe that was enough to calm her.

“Finally! I thought you’re not gonna ring me at all!” Josie said immediately after she picked up.

“Yeah, well, I called Mark first” Robbie said, and it wasn’t technically a lie as he did only speak to Mark, even if he called Gary’s phone…

“Why am I not surprised? Well, whatever… Did you find the taxi?”

“Yeah, sitting in it already. Thanks” Robbie answered and looked out to the crowded streets of London. “And for keeping me updated on the plane, too.”

“That’s my job, isn’t it? But have you spoken to Ayda? I know you two exchanged emails, we spoke on the phone, but you should call her…” Josie started, and Rob had to take a deep breath to stay collected.

“No, I haven’t yet, but I will, later…” he said silently, guilt building up in him.

“Robbie… You do know how it looks like to us, don’t you? You just up and leave on his first plea… I know it’s serious, but still. We all know what’s there between you and him. Don’t make me say what it looks like…” Josie said, his voice completely serious.

“I know, fuck, I know! Please, just, just let me sort it out for myself. Alright?” he asked, and his voice sounded awfully desperate.

“Right. It’s not my task to speak for you, anyway. I just wanted to warn you” Josie sighed, and Robbie knew she was right. “Be careful, okay?”

“Sure thing” he mumbled. “Bye.”

“Bye” Josie said and she hung up. Well, this was a conversation Robbie certainly didn’t need at this moment… So he tried to focus his thoughts on the way instead.

The traffic was a fucking joke. They had to pull into small streets to avoid getting stuck in a traffic jam, and the driver was choosing streets Robbie swore he’d never been to. But fortunately he got there relatively quickly. He gave the driver some extra, then basically ran to the house, knocking on the door furiously.

“Coming!” he heard Mark’s voice through the door. There was something Gary shouted after Mark but he couldn’t quite make it out. The door opened, and a very tired looking but nevertheless smiling Mark stood there. “Hey, Rob!”

“Hey” he returned the smile as he hurried in. He threw down his bag and kicked off his shoes in the lounge – he didn’t have a jacket, only a sweater, it was hot in LA and he couldn’t be bothered with English weather at that moment -, then stopped, realizing he didn’t know where to find Gary.

“Living room” Mark answered his unasked question. “I’ll be in the kitchen, so I wouldn’t bother” he said with a small, understanding smile, then turned to leave.

“Thanks, mate! For everything” Robbie returned his smile, then went to the living room.

“So, who was it?” Gary asked as he looked up from a newspaper he didn’t seem to be particularly interested in the first place, and gaped when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Gaz…” Robbie gave him half a smile as he walked closer to the couch the other was lying on with a blanket around his shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” Gary asked, incredulous, and sat up.

“You feel down and I know it’s my fault. The least I could do was that I came here” Robbie answered as he sat down beside him and looked at Gary. There were a few brief moments of silence, then Robbie leaned forward to hug him. Gary practically melted into his arms, resting his head against Robbie’s shoulder and buried his face into it.

“I missed you, I missed you so much…” Gary muttered, clinging to him tightly.

“I know, I missed you too…” he whispered, nuzzling to Gary’s hair and breathed in his scent, something familiar and sweet, something he longed to feel again. They sat there in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence, before Gary slowly pulled back, looking up at Robbie.

“I’m glad that you came but… I didn’t mean to drag you away from you family…” he said silently, a bit awkward but he didn’t miss how Robbie flinched at the last word.

“You didn’t ask me to come. I came because…” he paused, a thousand thoughts rushing through his head at that moment. What had happened when they first talked about him not joining Take That on the next album, Gary’s voice over the phone the day before, Ayda’s emails, Mark’s warning… “I came because you are important to me. I couldn’t just sit at the other end of the world, knowing that you’re suffering…” he finished, looking straight at Gary’s eyes, and took a hold of his hands. He knew that he was building a house of cards but for the time being it was easier to just ignore it.

“It’s very kind of you. When I called you… God, I don’t know what’s got into me that I called you… like that…” Gary started, turning his head away in embarrassment. “I would never have done that, have I been thinking clearly. But at that moment, I just felt utterly miserable for fucking up my life, my marriage, and my relationship with you… I just remembered you, our fight and-“

“Okay, Gaz, stop there for a moment!” Robbie cut in, making Gary glance up at him in surprise. “I know that we’ll eventually have to discuss that part as well but for now, could we just catch our breaths? I haven’t seen you in ages, Dawn just left you and I travelled ten hours straight… We have time now. I’m staying as long as needed. We don’t have to rush and have this conversation while half-asleep. As I gathered from Markie, you weren’t big on sleeping last night. We go there when we are prepared for it, physically and mentally.”

“And until then?” Gary asked, frowning, because what Rob said did make sense but also left him with a couple of questions, such as what to do with them right now.

“Until then we do what all grown-ups do when things are difficult” Robbie stated, looking back at Gary completely serious. “Ignore everything” he deadpanned and he had him. Gary cracked and started laughing so hard, he had to lean against Robbie for support, so he could stay sitting. He knew it wasn’t the best joke ever but he needed a relief from all the tension and it was just perfectly timed for that.

“Oh, god, are you ever serious?” he asked, shaking his head slightly as he calmed down a bit.

“Only when I need to be” Robbie grinned with a shrug and put his arms around Gary, pulling him into a hug. He was quite pleased with himself that he could make him laugh.

“Thank you. For everything” Gary said as his laughter eased into a smile and looked at Robbie’s eyes.

“Any time” Rob responded, smiling back at him. They just sat there like that, looking at each other for a while and Gary just wanted to say or do something, when Mark made them aware of his presence by awkwardly clearing his throat.

“I, uh, don’t want to disturb you two…” Mark started slowly as the other two turned their attentions towards him. “But Em called me and I have to go now. I left her alone at an ungodly hour, with three kids and without a proper explanation, so yeah” he explained as his eyes avoided Robbie and Gary on the couch, although trying to hide it and failing – he knew that. “You two will be alright now, right? I mean, I’m not needed anymore, am I?” he asked, desperately trying to make sense of his sentences while he was trying to hide what he was thinking was happening. He knew they figured out what was going through his head, at least Rob definitely knew, but he was trying to be polite.

“Right, we’ll be fine, Markie. Thanks!” Rob smiled at him gratefully and ignored the nervous cautiousness Mark spoke with.

“Yeah, it’s alright now, thank you for helping me survive this night” Gary sent him a smile, too.

“Right. Good. Then good day to you! Call me if you need anything!” Mark said, returning their smiles, even if a bit unsurely and left the room.

“Thanks, Markie! Bye!” Rob shouted after him. Sometimes he didn’t know what he would do without Mark. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to fly here – he wouldn’t have hung up on Gary if he didn’t know someone was there to help him. “Well, now I propose sleep. I could use some and judging by those bags under your eyes, you too. What do you say?” he asked, untangling his arms from around Gary and put his hands on his upper arms.

“I couldn’t really sleep, even when I tried…” Gary muttered, although he wouldn’t admit to Robbie that since he was here, he felt so much better, he might as well be able to sleep now… “But I guess trying wouldn’t hurt… If nothing else, I could relax a bit” he agreed finally, and got up from the couch. Rob smiled at him as stood up, too, then they started walking upstairs.

Gary was already trying to prepare himself mentally for sleeping, so he didn’t pay much attention to Robbie as they made it up the staircase. He had been more than a few times to his house over the past few years, he knew his way around, so Gary took it for granted that he didn’t have to show Rob around. That’s why he was surprised when Robbie followed him to his bedroom as if it was the most natural thing to do, and lay down to the bed beside him. Not that he was complaining – he didn’t want to be alone now, and especially not without Robbie. They snuggled under the blankets, facing each other and just lay there, waiting for sleep to take them. The last thing Gary saw before he could eventually fall asleep was a peacefully sleeping Robbie.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

#whatever I said #take that #tt fic #take that fic #writing #my writing #writings #my writings #barlliams #gary barlow #robbie williams

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