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tellerluna-stories · 1 year

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episode 06: the puppy-boy bites back!

CONTENTS: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. m.list!

TW/CW: mentions of violence. manipulative and entitled behaviour but from neither of the main characters.

A/N: I have returned, with eyebags aplenty and an extra chapter for the readers who didn't give up on this fic for some reason. thank u for waiting :((

“What’s on your mind?”

Thoma mirrored your pose, resting his head on top of his desk and gazing at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes; as usual, his hair flopped to the side like a pair of puppy-dog ears, giving him the appearance of a lounging golden retriever.

“Nothing much.” A smile made its way to your face in spite of yourself— the effect of a puppy-boy, no less. “Just wondering why everyone has been looking at me funny. It’s been quite a while now.”

Perhaps it was because of the bandages that still adorned your arms, or the new rumours that now surrounded you wherever you went, but you now had the reputation of a cold-hearted delinquent who ruthlessly picked fights with anyone who dared challenge you. Some whispered that you had done so to valiantly protect the honour of Thoma, but all good intentions were easily washed away in the sea of misinformation that was a school campus.

Well, you had to admit it was better to be feared than to be ridiculed, because at least people gave you a wide berth in the hallways. Now you never had to worry about getting squished to death during the rush for freshly-baked bread in the cafeteria.

“They’re jealous of you, that’s what.” He whispered back, giving you a goofy smile. “Not everyone gets to sport the cool bandage look like you do.”

“I look like I have eighth-grader syndrome.”

“Well I think it’s cool.” Thoma declared with an air of finality as he reached for your hands. “And I also think they're looking a little loose, so let me check them for you.”

You reluctantly allowed him to take your hands in his, ignoring the chills that surged down your arms as his fingers ghosted over your bandages. They were already healing nicely, so why did he insist on checking them every day?

“Just as I suspected.” Your (very clueless) puppy-nurse clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. “I did tell you not to flail around too much— if you keep doing that they’re going to come off and leave the wounds exposed.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I hold a pencil and the whole thing falls off.”

“Then just hold still and let me fix it for you. I’ll keep fixing these no matter how many times it takes.”

Your traitorous heart jumped into your throat and nearly caused you to choke on your spit; it would be wise if someone told Thoma to not spew out such embarrassing lines out of the blue, because even the stoniest of hearts would quiver at such cheesy words.

(But in reality, you knew that it only had this effect on you because of the person who was saying it. Stupid puppy-boy.)

“Is Thoma here?”

Said an unfamiliar voice, causing everyone’s heads to snap to its source; a stranger hovered in the doorway, obstructing the path of practically everyone who might’ve wanted to enter the classroom. She was a fairly pretty girl, with shiny, well-kept hair and sparkling eyes— if you had actually remembered to pay attention to other people, you might’ve identified her as one of the more popular students in one of the other classes.

Her shining eyes fixated on the puppy-boy beside you, who was fiddling with your bandages with an adorable frown on his face; in turn, everyone’s gazes followed suit to stare at Thoma. The weight of their gazes made you squirm.

“Psst.” You nudged him with your foot. “Someone’s looking for you.”

“I’m almost done, wait…” He only scrunched up his face even further, practically burying his face into the palms of your hands as he tucked a loose end away. You almost died right then and there.

“Thoma, I don’t think she can wait.”

Meanwhile the girl had invited herself in, slipping between the rows of desks with a natural grace; silently she made her way to where you and Thoma sat… and then she proceeded to stand there, radiating the most intimidating aura that you’d ever seen a person emit.

“Thoma.” You hissed, nudging him even harder this time. “Hurry up.”

Something sharp and intense practically bored itself into the back of your head, and you looked up to see a pair of slightly puffy eyes looking down on you; somehow, it felt like she was looking down on you in more ways than one.

The girl rapped lightly on the top of Thoma’s desk, finally catching his attention. He looked up just in time for her to ask, “Could I speak to you after school?”

You nearly kicked Thoma from the sheer straightforwardness of her question.

Was this the famed after-school confession that you’d only heard about? Back when you had been counseling regularly, this method of confessing was one of the most preferred by your clients due to its convenience. There was less chance of getting interrupted by class activities or watchful teachers, and behind the football field was a popular place to confess to the one you admired.

(Hey, even if you hadn’t directly advised confessions, it was hard not to hear about all the romance-gossip that people liked to spew.)

“I- well…” Thoma’s eyes flickered briefly to meet yours, a faint shadow passing over his face.

“You don’t have to, but if you can…” The pretty girl’s voice faltered, and her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her uniform. “Please- please meet me behind the football field.”

Yep, it definitely was an after-school confession.

And on that note she left, leaving the classroom erupting in cheers as your classmates all congratulated Thoma.

But somehow you couldn’t shake the uneasiness that hung over you like a dark cloud, weighing over your shoulders like an anchor wrapped in chains. The unpleasant look she had given you was one thing you could easily brush aside, but as for Thoma…

He fidgeted uneasily in his seat, awkwardly smiling as he received congratulations all around. Surely it wasn’t the first time he had received such a request, so why did he look so… uncomfortable? Everyone seemed approving of the situation, and even you had to admit that he looked good together with that girl.

One of your seatmates shoved Thoma by the shoulder playfully, muffled cheers of both awe and jealousy echoing in your ears like a distant dream— it was then that the realisation hit you like a bolt from the blue.

It was as if everyone expected him to automatically accept the confession of a pretty girl simply because he was 'Everyone's Thoma', a pretty face who was destined for a stellar life. A perfect girl who was perfectly suited for a perfect boy, a perfect couple who were both absolutely ideal in every way possible.

(Ah, why did those words taste so bitter in your mouth?)

Anyway, it didn't matter whether Thoma wanted this path or not, because as long as he had the title worthy of a protagonist, everyone would be watching him… and just waiting to pounce on him once they deemed he had fallen from their good graces. He would be judged if he turned down a blessing such as this, and he would be judged if he accepted it.

“Thoma…” Subconsciously you reached out for his sleeve, but something stopped your fingers before they could— at this point, you weren’t even sure if you had the right to ask him if he was alright.

You weren’t someone who was blind to the hierarchy of this world; in terms of social standing, you were currently at the very bottom of the food chain. Perhaps a highschool match-maker would have had better chances of being viewed as an acceptable side character to Thoma’s role as protagonist, but a delinquent, on the other hand… who were you, to drag him down with you?

“Did you say something?” His gaze flicked to you; the way those angelic eyes lit up made you squirm with guilt. Maybe those people were right, after all.

“Nah, it wasn’t anything important.” Your fingers curled into a tight fist, digging into your palms and leaving crescent-moon marks of shame— greedy Icarus, to reach for the heavens. You of all people did not deserve to stand with the sun, no matter how much hope kindled in your heart for such a dream. “Are you going to go see her?”

A smile worked its way up Thoma’s face, but this one was different; it was not his usual honey-sweet smile, forged from gold and sunshine eternal. This smile was of bitter resignation, the realisation that he never would truly be free from the expectations weighing down on his shoulders. You wanted to wipe that bitter smile from his face in an instant, even if you had to use your very lips to do so.

Sorry, what? said the small, intrusive part of your brain. Didn’t hear that last part clearly.

No, you told yourself firmly. This sick, unpleasant feeling that twisted in your gut like an angry snake was certainly not jealousy, and you were not going to let this or your own personal feelings get to your head and possibly ruin your friendship with Thoma. You were going to be fine and wish him the best with a smile on your face, and whatever outcome he chose, you would support him— that was what Thoma needed right now, and that was all you were going to do.

“Oy, Thoma.” Your voice cracked slightly. “Don’t… don’t let yourself be a piece of bread anymore.”

He gave you a look, and you suddenly realised what you had just said.

Was that seriously the best you could do?! You screamed internally, suppressing the urge to bash your head against the nearest wall— not even something comprehensive, like ‘I support whatever decision you make’ or ‘Follow your heart’?

Emerald-green eyes stared at you unwaveringly for one heart-beat, two heart-beats… and then the bitterness in Thoma’s smile disappeared, melting away like a bad dream as he broke into a real smile. “Again with the bread?”

Heat flooded to your face. “I- Well, in my defense—“

“Don’t worry, I understand what you’re talking about.” For the first time, you noticed the faint dimples on his cheeks as Thoma grinned even wider. “But even if I’m not bread, I’m still a snack, right?”

“…Shut it.”

Your heart throbbed painfully as he laughed, and part of you wondered if you had done the right thing. Reminding him that he had the freedom to choose was one thing, but could you really support him if he chose something that you did not like? Were you selfish enough to turn away if he didn’t choose you? The rolling, unpleasant feeling from earlier returned, simmering in the pit of your stomach as you thought of that pretty girl and her shining, disdainful eyes— oh, how you desperately hoped that you would never have to suffer through the pain of making such a choice.

It wasn’t her fault she was pretty, nor was it your classmates fault for pairing her up with Thoma… but why did you feel this way?

You swallowed hard, devouring any feelings that might overstep the boundaries of your friendship; it wouldn’t matter if a garden flourished in your lungs from all the times you swallowed your blooming emotions. And he smiled away, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

“Well, I suppose I can’t run away from things forever.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched, pushing his notebooks to where you could reach them. “I’ll just be out for a minute, but I’ll be back for you.”

I’ll be back for you…?

Before you knew it, a warm, ticklish sensation landed on the top of your head— Thoma’s eyes softened as he ruffled your hair, his fingers tracing briefly against the curve of your cheek as he pulled away all too soon. You could only stare mutely as he slipped out of the classroom, taking every colour in your world with him.

Time seemed to pass slowly without Thoma by your side.

The perfect-attendance student who never skipped a single class was missing from the classroom, with no hints as to where he had gone. From the reactions of everyone else in your class, they were just as equally in the dark about the matter as you were.

You told yourself it didn’t matter; it wasn’t like you weren’t used to being alone in the first place. You’d simply return to the same old routine as before.

But deep down you knew that it did matter to you.

Somehow your world had become muted, the colours dull and lifeless wherever you looked; everything was mechanically routine, a dull blur of ordinary life that felt so empty. Open your notebook, write down what the teacher was saying, then open your textbook to highlight the sections that were to be studied for today. Line up your pencils and pens into a straight line next to your eraser, with the ruler placed across the front of the desk like a nameplate. Your free periods were spent just as you had always wanted— in peace and quiet, and alone.

It was as if Thoma had never existed in your life in the first place; there were no conversations brimming with laughter during free period, no passing of little notes when the teacher’s back was turned. When lunchtime came, no-one came to drag you to the rooftop and feed you home-cooked food with his own chopsticks. Was this really what your life had been like before you met Thoma?

If so, how truly miserable, you thought ruefully. By the time the last bell rang, it had already sunk in how truly alone you were without him, and you loathed yourself for feeling that way. Somewhere along the line, that puppy-boy had wormed his way into your life and now you were left with an aching heart when he wasn’t around. How wonderfully pathetic.

Your grip tightened on the straps of your backpack as you marched out of the classroom, hyper-aware of all the eyes that followed you as you left. They all probably thought you were pathetic, too.

Where was he?

“Yo, have any of you seen where Thoma went?” One student asked loudly, intimidating everyone in the classroom with his extreme height and bright red eyeliner that was almost certainly against the dress-code. Next to him, a tall girl with dark bobbed hair tutted, smacking the top of his head with a rolled-up sheaf of papers. “Lower your voice, Crimson Idiot.”

“I didn’t ask you, Bird-brain.”

You ignored their squabbling and listened closely to the people around you, fishing for any info on where Thoma might’ve been. Seriously, how hard was it to find one puppy-boy?

“…Probably headed for behind the football field……”

“Isn’t that where people confess?”

“So that girl from earlier…”

Your gaze fixed on Thoma’s backpack, lying where he had left it. Perhaps you were just projecting, but it looked almost as lonely as you felt without him— and thus an idea sprung to mind.

Gritting your teeth, you swung what must have been at least fifty tons of overpriced educational material onto your back and stalked out of the classroom, ignoring the stares of your classmates. Get the backpack to Thoma, you chanted to yourself. Go behind the football field to see what’s really going on. But not because you were jealous or anything like that.

Find Thoma and bring him his backpack.

Go behind the football field and figure out what was happening.

FInd Thoma, because anything— anything would be better than this dull, lifeless world. Anything would be better than holding this ball of nauseating jealousy and insecurity in your stomach. For all you knew, he actually might’ve liked that girl, but- but…

You tightened your grip on his backpack straps, grounding your reality with the feeling of rough fabric against your trembling fingertips. It was time to get a move on.

Filled with a reckless bravery that was most unlike yourself, you had set off on another journey, similar to the journeys you had taken before. But this one was not a quest for delicious fresh-baked goods-- it was a quest to seek out a fair-haired prince who might or might not need rescuing.

Oh, and while lugging what must’ve been the world’s heaviest backpack in tow.

Flinging down the backpack with the last of your strength, you practically collapsed against the nearest wall and heaved for air— oxygen, sweet oxygen, don’t abandon this poor soul just yet.

You’d hauled Thoma’s bag all over the school as you checked all of the places he might’ve been, running upstairs and downstairs in search of one very elusive puppy-boy. Maybe it would’ve been wiser to just go straight to the football field and wait for him there, but there was no guarantee he was even going to be there if you had looked there first.

(And you had ended up dragging that bag everywhere only to end up at the final destination anyway— that is, behind the football field.)

Even if it was an inanimate object, the offending backpack was not spared from the venomous glare you shot its way; you made a mental note to teach Thoma a couple of things, such as packing light for school, or the magic of digital textbooks. Maybe you’d even teach him the forbidden knowledge of free textbook websites— anything just so that he’d stop hauling around the Library of Alexandria in his backpack.

“-excuse me, but…”

The faint sound of voices brought you out of your self-induced misery, hushed tones coming from right around the corner; one the soft notes of a girl’s voice, and the other a very, very familiar way of barking– speaking. You pressed close to the wall, straining your ears to catch any words that he might be saying.

“You’re the friend of the girl who came to my classroom the other day, right?” Yep, that voice was definitely a puppy-boy’s.

Your curiosity (nosiness) got the better of you, and you dove into a nearby bush in order to camouflage your presence. You couldn’t see much with all the branches in the way, but you could at least make out Thoma standing with his back to you, a slight slouch in his posture and his hands shoved in his pockets.

…Weird.

You frowned slightly; for as long as you had known him, he had always stood with perfectly upright posture wherever he went, even to the point of nagging you about your own horrendous slouch. Now seemed like an odd time to be hypocritical.

“Ah, yes, that’s me…” Slouch or no slouch, the girl still blushed at the sight of Thoma, fanning her face with one hand. “Thank you for meeting me out here today.”

"Is what she said true— that you have feelings for me?"

Your heart caught itself in your throat; even though you absolutely hated to admit it, they looked good together. Two upright main characters in a world of their own, the perfect confession scene set up and the sidekick (yours truly) sitting in the bushes till your legs cramped over to death. And of course she’d have feelings for him, too– even you weren't immune to his charms, something which still made you want to pull your hair out every time you thought of it.

She blushed even more and hid her face behind her hands, mumbling some response that you couldn't quite catch… but from her body language, the answer was most likely a yes. Of course it would be a yes.

“...I see.” His jaw tensed, and you suddenly noticed why he had been holding his hands in his pockets this whole time— for the entire conversation, Thoma had had his hands balled into fists.

What was going on here?

You clamped a hand over your mouth to suppress an ugly shriek— calm down, calm down, he didn’t seem to be postured to actually throw hands with some random girl. He wasn’t the type to start fights, anyway.

(All the same, you stole a guilty glance at your bandaged hands and mentally begged for forgiveness from his parents. Thoma was far too kind-hearted to actually hit someone, but still… sorry for being a bad influence on your son!)

Blissfully unaware, the girl coyly peeked through her fingers and smiled at him; it was clear that she was waiting for the “right” response to her confession, a perfect fairy-tale ending to this scene if this had been a rom-com film. But on the other hand, you weren’t so sure if Thoma was in the same genre…

His fist released slightly, the sound of a soft exhale barely audible over the background noise. “Frankly speaking, I…”

You waited with bated breath, every nerve tingling as Thoma paused to think over his next words. Your rival– er, the other girl also eagerly awaited his response, her eyes shining with anticipation through her fingers.

“...I’m not too fond of people who twist the truth for their own convenience.”

The blood chilled in your veins, freezing to a sudden stand-still from the sudden temperature drop.

At the same time, the smile froze onto the girl’s face. “Pardon?”

“Oh, I think that you and I both know what I’m talking about here. There have been some strange rumours flying around, and, well…” Thoma’s voice was light and easy-going once again, as if the sudden coldness had never existed in the first place. He very well could have been discussing what he had just had for lunch, or his plans for after school.

“...Well, rumours are just rumours, right?” She gave a nervous laugh, the sound of footsteps echoing against the asphalt as she stepped back. The branches rustled conspicuously as you squinted through the foliage– you couldn’t get a good view of the conversation if she kept fidgeting around and away from where you could see her.

“I certainly agree with that statement,” He replied. “But rumours cause more problems if they’re not taken care of– why, I heard that a fight broke out recently because of a small misunderstanding.”

“Oh, my. That- that sounds awful, really…”

“It really is! What a horrible incident, too.”

Thoma shook his head ruefully, crossing his arms in a less-than-friendly manner; the girl nearly stumbled as she backed away, her smile twisting as her nerves began to show through. “Someone I hold very dear to me got hurt because of this, and the worst thing is that I can’t even find out who spread such dreadful lies.”

Was Thoma still hung up on that? You frowned– you could’ve sworn that you told him to let it be. And he was the one telling you not to be offended by things on his behalf. Hypocrite.

“I don’t take very kindly to such things, especially when it involves the safety of the people I care about.” A beat, before he continued, “You understand what I mean, right?”

“...Yes.”

“Really? I’m so glad to hear that.” A light, airy chuckle fills the air. “In that case… why did you spread those rumours?”

Silence. Fabric rustled as Thoma shifted his weight back to presumably look her in the eye. You did not want to know what sort of face he was making (okay, maybe you did. But just a little bit.)

“Ah- I think… I think you may have misunderstood something here. You may have mistaken me for someone else—”

“Oh, but I happened to hear a different story.” He seethed— no, growled would have been a more fitting description, though by some miracle Thoma still barely managed to keep a semblance of politeness. “The chemistry club, the president of the astronomy club… even the head of the student council and Ms. Minci herself. They all heard someone going around telling people about poor, innocent Thoma being manipulated by some troublemaker who kept hanging around him. Does that sound familiar, by any chance?”

Dread and ill-omen rolled off of Thoma in waves; this… was no puppy-boy, you realised.

(At this point you took a moment to pause and contemplate your life choices, because seeing him all riled up was making your heart skip in weird ways that were probably mildly concerning.)

This was a fully-grown, trained guard dog equipped with the knowledge of hunting and military training, and he was angry; the girl who stood so tall and proud only a few moments before now looked like a mouse cowering before a predator, looking for a way to run. You suddenly came to the bone-chilling realisation of how intimidating of an opponent Thoma actually was, considering the vast amount of connections he had and what sort of information — or favours — he managed to earn with the sheer power of puppy-politeness… all while he was still a student.

It was enough for you to consider turning tail and fleeing, and you weren’t even the target of his anger— and it didn’t help that you were also pretty sure he was holding back.

(Wait, surely this couldn't be your fault, right? You had told him to let him live for himself, but then again you'd expected something like ‘Hey, please don't do that anymore, thanks’ and not… whatever this was. No amount of heart-racing could justify you being a bad influence, no matter how handsome he looked when absolutely royally pissed off.)

“Like you said, rumours are just rumours. By themselves they don’t necessarily cause trouble, which really makes me curious…” Thoma’s voice dropped, lowering to a tone which you might’ve mistaken for almost friendly if you hadn’t known him better. “Do you mind telling me what you said to your friend that made her start a fight?”

“I… I didn’t tell her to do anything for me. She was the one who–”

“But I’m sure you knew that she would do that for you if you were really that close with her, right? If you fed her just the right information, she would go ballistic for you just because you’re her friend.”

Silence once again, and Thoma clicked his tongue ruefully. “She might be a little hot-headed, but she’s certainly a loyal friend. You should treasure the friends you have while you still have them.”

“Thoma, please- please understand… I...” She stammered out. “I was- My friend made a mistake! She gets mixed up sometimes, it’s really not–“

“I’m really not the person you should be explaining that to.” His voice was dangerously soft. “I’m not the one who was directly affected by your actions.”

Now there was really no way for this girl to escape, now that all of her plans had been exposed– after manipulating the people around her with her words and throwing her classmate under the bus, you could only wonder: just how far was she willing to go for this? How low was she willing to sink for a stranger who she probably barely knew?

“Why do you care so much?” She spat; now she was changing tactics, going from blame-shifting to being defensive. You had to admit that in spite of the amount of secondhand embarrassment this was giving you, it was somewhat fascinating to witness such a fine example of how the human mind works when put in difficult situations— but also unfortunately for you, the secondhand embarrassment was far from over.

“Because it's not right. I…” A sigh of frustration, a rustle as Thoma reached up to rub his temples. “Look, it’s really that simple. You just need to apologise and stop doing what you’re doing right now. Can’t you see that people are suffering because of your actions?”

“Why should I? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

A tiny ladybug crawled past on a nearby branch, slowing as it drew nearer to you. It probably was wondering what was happening; it was unusual to find three strange humans here, two of whom were having a telenovela-worthy quarrel outside while the third crouched in the bushes to eavesdrop.

It gave you a questioning look, to which you responded with a shrug. Don’t look at me, I’m just the eavesdropping sidekick here.

“I was just expressing my concern for you, that’s all! I know you have a tendency to be taken advantage of—”

“You don’t know me.” Thoma’s voice became only quieter, barely above a murmur at this point. “You hardly know anything about me.”

Ooh, ouch.

Both you and the ladybug flinched on her behalf; true, she was acting weirdly entitled to him, but still… hearing that from him would sting, and not just a little bit.

(On another note, at least you knew that Thoma was definitely someone straight out of a telenovela— maybe a heartthrob-student-by-day, mafia-boss-by-night type of main character? Either way, you really should've brought popcorn for this.)

“I’m sure you’re a nice person, really… but we hardly know each other enough to warrant this sort of behaviour from you. If you were my friend or my classmate, perhaps, but…”

“So what?” She snapped. “Why does it matter who likes you? Is it so wrong for me to do that?”

“That is not what I said.”

“But why is it okay for that little friend of yours to cling to you like a leech?” A harsh, disbelieving laugh fills the air. “What, don’t tell me you have a crush on that- that—“

The girl continued laughing, but Thoma remained oddly quiet. Something twisted in your gut like a knife– she was referring to you, like it was some sort of joke that he would ever like you. A part of you wanted to agree with her.

“...Yeah, I do.”

He paused a beat. “Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?”

You nearly face-planted into the dirt as you clapped both hands over your mouth, just barely suppressing the unseemly shriek that you almost let out.

No, you couldn’t possibly have misheard him this time. You’d heard him loud and clear.

“...What?”

“You heard me the first time.” His voice was clear and firm. “I wasn’t lying when I said that, so why do you look like you don’t believe me?”

“You- you’re kidding, right? Very funny, Thoma, but–”

“I wouldn’t joke about such a thing. That’s just cruel.”

Meanwhile, you were very close to becoming the person to ever successfully shapeshift into an earthworm and bury yourself in the ground while those two were duking it out. The ladybug watched as you went through the five stages of grief in under a minute, offering its silent support in your hour of suffering– at least, you assumed it was offering its support. For all you knew, it might’ve found it enjoyable to watch your emotional turmoil for the sheer drama.

“Liar!” Her voice was sharp, the faintest hint of tears showing its edge through her words. “You just feel sorry for that loner, right? Thoma, I know you can do so much better than that—”

(In the midst of your agony, your eye twitched– oh, for goodness’ sake, this one was even more delusional than her best friend Panda-Eyes. Where had they even gotten the idea that they knew what was best for Thoma despite barely knowing him? And to top it all off, she sounded so desperately sure of herself that it made you want to melt into compost right then and there.)

“Thank you for having my best interests in mind, but I think I do a better job of deciding what’s best for me.” Thoma cut her off firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Thick, heavy silence settled over like a dismal fog; neither party wanted to speak. Until…

“It’s not fair…” You caught a glimpse of shine as her shoes shuffled forward, her voice eerily quiet. “It’s not fair at all.”

“...Pardon?”

“What did I do?” Thoma was shoved backwards, and those shiny patent shoes continued marching towards him. “Tell me, where did I go wrong?”

“I don’t know—”

“Tell me!” The girl nearly shouted, her voice cracking and breaking down. “I was the one who cared ever since the beginning, Thoma. I was the one who took on all sorts of tasks so that you wouldn’t suffer so much. So why… why isn’t it me?”

You held your breath, hardly daring to move a muscle.

“Why is it some nobody who won’t even notice you until it’s too late?” She murmured– an unpleasant chill went down your spine when you realised she was talking about you. “I did everything, but…”

Even in the heat of your anger, there came a fleeting moment when you almost felt sorry for her in this pathetic state; from all of your counselling, you knew how difficult it was to muster the courage to stand before the person you liked.

No, you corrected yourself. That wasn't quite right, because it wasn’t just from your counselling— you now had firsthand experience thanks to Thoma. To like someone so much that you started to behave irrationally, to leave your comfort zone and cross over into unknown territory just so you could walk their path with them— there were many beautiful, colourful memories that you had gained just from staying by his side. It was only natural that this girl would want to experience that too, even if she went about the wrong way to try and achieve it.

(Now, since when did you ever become this empathetic?)

For a moment, you wondered if you'd have done the same thing if you had been in her place; in a twisted sense, the two of you had been two sides of the same coin, both yearning for the same person in different ways. You knew nothing about who she was or what she did, but for a moment— just this moment — you pitied her.

A loud, hiccuping sob interrupted your train of thought; the girl raised her head unsteadily, covering her face with one hand. The other hand raised itself in the air to harshly shove Thoma backwards, his shoes scraping against the ground as he tried to steady himself.

Did she just…?

That white-hot sensation from the other day reappeared, searing even brighter right behind your eyeballs and burning any semblance of pity you might’ve had for her; unconsciously, your bandaged hands curled into fists once again.

“Hey– wait just a second here.” Thoma’s voice sounded strained. “You don’t look so good. Are you–”

“Don’t touch me!” You flinched at the sharp sound of skin hitting skin, and once again he stumbled backwards. Through the leaves you could barely make out her silhouette as she raised her hand ready to strike again— and suddenly everything seared blinding white.

“Enough.”

Leaves rustled and scattered about you, the afternoon sunlight flashing in your eyes enough to leave you dazzled– in a blur, you barely registered the gaping looks of shock that met your gaze. Something warm struggled in your grasp, your nails digging into the unidentified object by instinct; apparently you had launched yourself out of the bushes and caught her hand just as it was about to hit his face, a flurry of leaves and flower petals showering around you in a horribly dramatic entrance.

Your first realisation was that you were very glad nobody else was around, or else you might’ve had the unfortunate experience of having your dramatic entrance caught on video. The second realisation was that you were very displeased with the idea that someone had actually just tried to hit Thoma— not on your watch, not now and not ever.

All the bitterness seeped into your voice and turned your words into a frigid cold. "If you have such a problem with me, then face me instead of taking it out on someone else like a coward."

Two pairs of eyes stared at you, completely stunned– Thoma could only gape at you in shock as you trudged forward to plant yourself in between him and the other party, a grumpy look on your face as you crossed your arms. Meanwhile, the offender in question stared at you with frightened, wary eyes, tears still dripping down her face like a leaking faucet.

“You…”

“Yep. It’s definitely me.” You replied, eye twitching as you desperately tried to restrain yourself from jumping her. If she was so keen on painting you as a violent delinquent, then congratulations! She was about to get her wish.

“Why– why are you here?” Thoma choked out, his jaw hanging slack as he gaped at you in shock— well, to be fair, you had literally just launched out of the shrubbery like some sort of vegan jack-in-the-box. You couldn't really blame him for staring.

“Oh, I was just passing by and saw something going on. Thought it looked like some fun violent activity that a troublemaker would enjoy.” You managed to muster the most bubblegum-flavoured, saccharine-sweet voice that your raging temper could allow, allowing yourself to give a side-eye to the girl in front of you. Look, you could only pity her so much— you could understand where she was coming from, but that didn't mean you agreed with what she was doing right now.

“You.”

She jumped nearly a foot in the air.

"What kind of head do you have screwed on your shoulders, huh?" You asked, the bitter edge of a taunt revealing itself through your words. "'I did everything for him, so only I have the right to monopolise his feelings.' It doesn't matter how Thoma feels about the matter— no, no, it's all about you and how you feel."

Sick satisfaction washed over your senses as her lower lip began to tremble once more, tears welling up in her shiny eyes— but then again, it was best to nip feelings like that in the bud. It was never good to attempt to resolve conflict by viewing the other party as your enemy, and from the beginning your goal had never been to hurt this girl.

Restrain yourself, said the slightly more rational part of your brain. Do not hold back on your honesty, but if only for Thoma’s sake, no more and no less than that.

For Thoma’s sake, you begrudgingly agreed. Even if you were reasonably pissed and just wanted to go home in peace.

“I– look.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, wondering where to even begin. “"You might not see it now, but what you’re doing is hurting him more than anyone else. Can’t you see that?"

The girl’s eyes wavered, teary pools of resentment and anger glaring at you hard enough to bury you six feet under. You hesitated for a minute— you had so many things to say to her, so much advice to give from all your experience as a bonafide relationship counselor. But would she even receive it from you?

But once again– for Thoma’s sake and his alone, you gritted your teeth and continued anyway. If doing this would ensure him a better future where he didn’t have to worry about his boundaries, then so be it.

"Why don’t you believe him?” You ask bluntly. “Has Thoma ever given anyone in this school any reason to doubt him?”

“Never!” She shot back.

“Then why don’t you trust him?” The back of your eyes sear white as you try to keep your cool, your grip instinctively tightening over Thoma’s hand. “The entire conversation you had just now was just you calling him a liar or trying to prove him wrong. If you like him so much, then why don’t you believe in him?”

She opened her mouth, but no response came out.

It was a tough lesson for her to learn, but putting down other people and trampling on their lives was never going to win over someone's heart. No matter how good your intentions were or how earnest your feelings were, if the recipient was not ready or willing to accept your feelings, then it would never work out.

“Trust is an important part of every relationship, but if you can’t even believe him when he clearly states his boundaries, then you’re already setting yourself up for failure.” For the first time that day, your logic returned to you as you switched to counselor mode. “If you really cared for him like you said, then you wouldn’t have to pull strings on the people around him so that he’d come to you like a dog on a leash.”

You must’ve rattled on and on as you listed down everything she did wrong, from using her friend like a pawn and throwing her under the bus, to disrespecting Thoma’s choices and treating him like a trophy instead of seeing him as a person with thoughts and feelings, to using her influence for ill-intent instead of trying to win him over with honesty and sincerity. You kept going even though you were pretty sure her eyes had glazed ten times over and she had already cried multiple times, because one thing was certain; what this girl was doing was not out of love.

You knew this because love felt like… love was…

Suddenly a soft warmth gently pried your clenched fist open, encircling your fingers with a sense of safety— you looked up to see Thoma mouth, ‘I’ll take it from here.’

As your gaze locked with his, everything clicked into place like a jigsaw puzzle, the picture becoming perfectly crystal-clear to your eyes.

Love is patient, and love is kind.

Love is forgiving and welcoming, even at the times you felt dirtiest and most unlovable. It went beyond infatuation, which felt like a swarm of nervous butterflies that played push and pull with your emotions with hormone-infused strings— no, love felt safe and warm, like a fire crackling on the hearth of a home. To be loved and to love was to protect and to trust, to hope and persevere for the other person. Things that you and Thoma had already been doing for each other long before you had ever come to this conclusion.

And it scared you.

The weight, the seriousness of it all… it terrified you to no end, because it meant that perhaps you were wrong about yourself. Perhaps you had been wrong all along and that you really were capable of experiencing love and romance— perhaps it had never been a question of if, but when.

“…Thank you for asking to meet me here today.” Thoma’s voice was quiet but serious, and the girl flinched a little at the sudden change in atmosphere. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more for you, but I hope you’ve fully grasped the situation now. Please don’t do this ever again.”

The finality of his tone was enough to get the point across.

Now stripped of her fangs, she nodded mutely, her eyes furtively glancing between the two of you— you still couldn’t entirely reconcile yourself with her actions, but at least she had the grace to accept the outcome without fuss. In the end, she was still just a girl with a broken heart.

“I… I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. I really am.” The girl mumbled, giving a slight bow in apology. You watched as she walked away, the faint sound of her sniffling fading into the distance.

As soon as she was out of sight, his shoulders slumped; Thoma’s eyes slid wearily shut, his entire body deflating like a balloon as he practically leaned on you for support. Any traces of anger disappeared completely, slipping off his shoulders like water on a duck’s back.

He looked so… young. Vulnerable.

With the way he was completely drained of energy after today’s events, you began to wonder if being angry was entirely out of his comfort zone– no, maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe he wasn’t used to being angry for himself.

“...Should we report her to the teachers?”

“Maybe. I don’t know anymore.” He answered, leaning only further into you. “I’m just so… tired.”

The urge to reach for him returned, even stronger than before. Your fingers twitched and burned to nestle themselves in his soft, fluffy hair, to return the comfort that he always gave to you so freely. But like the coward you were, you didn’t dare– instead, you settled for giving his hand a tentative squeeze in reassurance.

Wait, his hand?!

Let’s try to recap! shouted the overly enthusiastic part of your brain. We managed to remove the problem of your rumours and confirm that Thoma does not like that girl! And we also managed to accomplish 10,000 steps in a day AND do some weight training, just by hauling his backpack all over the school! And in a surprise accomplishment, we also managed to confirm that Thoma…

That he… that he…

You gaped at your intertwined fingers and looked back up at him, every nerve ending short-circuiting into a miniature fireworks shower as you struggled to process what had just happened. And judging from how a certain puppy-boy’s eyes had just snapped wide open to stare at you, he had also happened to arrive at the same conclusion you did.

“How long were you hiding in there?” Thoma’s face flushed tomato-red, his green eyes filled with something like panic or— gah, you couldn’t tell anymore. How could you tell what other people were feeling if you couldn’t even figure out your own problems? “No, wait— how much did you hear?”

“Well I… I, uh–”

You took one look at his pleading, anxious puppy-dog eyes, and at that point your brain broke from the strain. And so once again, you did the only thing you knew best when it came to situations like this: you ran away.

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hinatastinygiant · 5 months

Text

4 | Oklahoma

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Fem!Reader

Serpents and Roses

By the next morning, you've got all your things in your new room. You put on your new Ravenclaw robes and grab your bag. Classes start later this morning so you have some time to yourself before you have to go. When you step out into the common room, Luna and Amit smile and wave you over.

"Hey, how'd you sleep?" Amit asks you as Luna shuts her sketchbook.

"Not bad," you shrug. "For the first night, I suppose."

"I hope you're hungry, Y/N, cause we're going to the great hall for breakfast," Luna grins.

"Famished," you nod.

The three of you make your way down to the dining hall. As soon as you sit down, Luna and Amit go over today's schedule with you.

"What class do you have first?" Luna asks you as you pull out the paper James gave you the other day.

"It looks like... Potions," you say as you look up at them hopefully.

"No, sorry, I don't have that now," Amit admits to you.

"Me neither. Sorry, Y/N," Luna sighs.

As much as you wanted to know someone in your first class, it might be a good thing they're not coming with you. Part of you is dreading to tell them that you're a muggle. You have no idea how they're going to react.

"It's fine, I'll be okay. I mean, I'm sure I'll manage," you shrug.

"Hey, we'll all see each other later, don't worry," Luna assures you.

"Yeah," you nod. "Thanks."

After breakfast, you use the map that James gave you to wander around. Then, once it is time for class, you make your way to the potions classroom. When you get there, you find a station furthest away from the professor's table, hoping to blend in as much as possible. Unfortunately, the professor makes sure that you stand out.

"Good morning, everyone," the professor greets the class, a smile on his face. "We have a new student joining us today. Miss Y/N Bennett."

"Hello," you mutter quietly, flashing the professor a quick, polite smile.

"It is a pleasure, Miss Bennett. My name is Professor Sharp for those of you who don't know," the man nods. "Now, let's start class. We are going to brew a potion called Calming Draught..."

As Professor Sharp continues to speak, the student beside you calls out to you. "Psst, Bennett, is it true you're Professor Bennett's little sister?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "Is that a problem?" However, the second you look at him and see his handsome face, you immediately straighten your back. "Sorry, I, uh..."

"Not at all," he shrugs. "My name's Garreth Weasley. It's nice to meet you."

"Same," you nod.

"On your tables are valerian root, lavender essence, and moonstone powder," Professor Sharp's voice says loudly, as if to silence all other conversations.

"Man, this is boring as hell," Garreth groans. "You any good at this, newbie?"

"Afraid not," you shake your head.

"Then it's a good thing you're next to me. I'll show you how it's done," he smiles.

You gulp, not sure whether or not that is a good thing.

"Begin!" Professor Sharp's voice rings out. You've got no idea of any the directions, so you pull out your textbook, hoping for answers.

"Aw, come on. You're not really going to use that old thing, are ya? Can't believe they make us carry around those heavy books," Garreth comments. "Look, just follow my lead."

You watch as Garreth gets to work, chopping the root with precision and stirring the potion slowly. A moment later, Sharp walks over and places his hand on Garreth's shoulder. "I hope you're not trying to help Miss Bennett cheat, are you Mr. Weasley?"

"Of course not, Professor," Garreth smiles sweetly. "She was just watching, that's all. I didn't want her to have a hard time."

"If you don't want her to have a hard time then perhaps she shouldn't be watching you at all," Sharp suggests.

"Aw come on," he groans. "Why'd you have to do me like that?"

"If you need help, Y/N, please let me know. But since no wands are required, you should be okay. Ingredients are ingredients," he nods before walking away.

Garreth looks at you strangely, causing your face to heat up. You swear to Merlin if he asks you what Sharp meant by that-

"Man, it really sucks when your want breaks. Glad I'm not the only one that happens to," he smiles brightly at you.

"Yeah," you nod, chuckling awkwardly before continuing to flip through your book.

Once you finish your potion, Professor Sharp walks over to check on you. His expression sours when he smells your brew.

"What did you put in it, Miss Bennett?" he asks, glaring down at you.

"Um, the stuff from the table," you say, looking between him and your pot. "Right?"

"Are you trying to kill me, Miss Bennett?"

"No, Professor, of course not," you frown, confused.

"You didn't add any essence, did you?"

"Crap," you sigh, rubbing your temple.

"Well, we'll just have to try again," he huffs, waving his wand to make the concoction disappear. "Next time, maybe don't get distracted, hm?"

"Tough luck," Garreth comments while on his second attempt already. "Professor's a stickler for detail. Good thing I'm here to help, eh?"

"I suppose," you sigh.

"Don't worry, newbie," Garreth nods at you. "You'll get it."

Just then Professor Sharp's voice rings out again. "Once you have perfected the potion, you are free to leave. The rest of you may pack up and depart. Good job, everyone."

"Guess I better get it sooner than later," you grumble.

"Push over, I'll help," he smiles kindly.

"You don't have to. If Sharp sees-"

"If Sharp sees then I'll just have to explain that I'm teaching the new student how to brew a potion which really should be his job. Don't worry about it, Y/N. I don't mind," he tells you.

"Alright," you agree, stepping to the side. "What am I doing wrong?"

Together, the two of you work together and finally make an acceptable potion. Sharp congratulates the two of you and dismisses you from the room. Garreth winks at you as Sharp walks off and you smile nervously back at him.

On your way out, Sharp calls out to you, asking to see you before you leave. You walk over and give him a questioning glance.

"Y/N, I hope Mr. Weasley didn't distract you from your work. He's not a bad student but he has a tendency to cause a stir. Remember, I am your professor. If you have any troubles, you can ask me. No question is a dumb question. Especially not to a muggle still learning the ways of magic."

"Oh," you hum. "Yeah, he was a great help."

"Okay," he nods. "Good."

"Thank you, Professor," you say to him before walking out of the room.

After you walk out, Garreth scares you as he grabs your wrist and pulls you behind a nearby pillar. "So, you're a muggle, huh?" he asks, his blue eyes sparkling with interest.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," you say, your heart beating quickly as he stares down at you.

"I didn't know muggles were so..."

"What?" you ask, rolling your eyes. "Bad at potions?"

"So fucking hot."

"Excuse me?!"

"Relax," he grins. "I'm just teasing."

"Don't do that," you snap, pushing him away from you.

"Seriously, though, was Sharp talkin' shit about me? I can't stand that guy."

"He was just telling me that I should come to him for help, not you," you shrug.

"Well, then you should know that he's a total prick. Come to me for help anytime," Garreth nods. "I'm a much better teacher than he is."

"You know, I've only known you for about an hour but it really seems like you're hitting on me," you tell him, crossing your arms.

"Maybe," he chuckles. "Hey, why don't we have lunch together?"

"Sure," you say, taking out your schedule. "I don't have any more classes today anyway. Why not?"

"Great," Garreth grins.

The two of you walk to the great hall and have lunch. During that time, you get to know Garreth and learn a bit more about him.

"So, is it just the two of you or do you have any other siblings?" he asks, taking a sip of his drink.

"Just the two of us," you reply, looking down at your plate. "We're all we've ever had."

"Well, besides your parents, right?"

"Yeah," you nod, your mouth suddenly feeling dry.

"What're they like? I mean, they're muggles, too, right?" he continues to ask.

"I, uh," you begin, your eyes starting to water. "I don't know."

"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry," Garreth apologizes. "Let's change the subject."

"Thanks," you nod, trying to keep yourself together. "What about you, Garreth? You're related to Professor Weasley, right?"

"She's my aunt," he grumbles. "Annoying that she's always watching me like a hawk. But pretty handy when I get in trouble, I must admit."

"Do you get in trouble a lot?"

"Only when I have a good reason," he chuckles.

"And what would those reasons be, exactly?"

"Well, sometimes people can't handle my charm and beauty," he winks. "I've been known to cause some girls to break down crying. Not on purpose, of course."

"I'm sure," you roll your eyes.

"If you don't believe me, maybe we should spend more time together. Get to know each other a bit better," he grins.

"Maybe," you shrug. "I'll think about it."

"Brilliant! That's all I ask," Garreth smiles. "Now, let's eat. I'm starving."

Serpents and Roses

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non-un-topo · 3 years

Text

The wonderful @happensweet requested the immortals with flowers that remind me of them! I think I had way too much fun with this so thank you for the request! Here we go <3

For Nile, protea. It’s a very unique flower that symbolizes change/transformation and courage. It is also very sturdy and strong and often used as a centrepiece in bouquets, which I thought was appropriate for Nile’s place in the team, as the newest member and audience surrogate.

For Andy, I chose aster. Asters symbolize wisdom, faith, and valour, which I thought was very fitting for our eldest immortal/leader. The name also comes from the Greek word for star.

For Quynh, datura. I thought they were a good match for Quynh because they bloom at night, and her name means “night blooming flower”. They are also extremely poisonous but very beautiful, which I thought could be a sort of tragic metaphor for her ruthlessness and madness post-iron maiden.

For Joe, I actually chose two! Tiger lilies and sunflowers. The bright orange colour of the tiger lilies made me think of his warmth and passion and they also have freckles like he does! Lilies are usually a symbol of love (and tiger lilies happen to be my favourite flower). Sunflowers represent happiness and longevity, a good fit for the oldest and most joyful man in the world.

For Nicky, gentian. Gentians are upright and sturdy, and they represent victory. Nicky’s birthname translates to “victory of the people”, so I thought it was fitting. They’re also a very deep and vibrant blue, which I thought worked well with his calm and cool demeanour.

Finally, I chose chrysanthemums for Booker. In France, yellow chrysanthemums represent death and mourning, which I thought was appropriate for Booker’s tragic fixation with dying and the death of his family. They’re also considered a symbol of loyalty, so there’s an extra stab in the gut. Additionally, and kind of contradictory to the death symbol, they can also represent immortality.

#psst. they're all supposed to be in pairs #tog #the old guard #this was seriously so much fun apple thank you #should i tag em all?#nile freeman #andromache the scythian #quynh #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastien le livre #just me spamming the tag with more of my art... hope you like!!!#chrysanthemums are hard to draw fam #siggy draws #also here they are. my best nile and my best nicky so far. i might cry

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Ghost fights his hurt feelings and discovers something in the process. Could this be the key to locating Samantha?

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Delayed Flight

Chapter 18 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Lurking in the Shadows

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

400 meters east of Safe House 110197, Brazil

Ghost checked his phone by the hotel nightstand. It's 3:34 am and not a single notification from the team. They probably believed he was out to get intel and didn't bother to look for him. He was fine with that.

"What time is it?" a female groan murmured beside him as she circled her soft arms around his bare chest.

"3:34" he whispered, making the girl giggle as he ran his hand on her hair.

"We aren't supposed to be cuddling like this, remember?" She said, sighing as she got up slowly. Ghost immediately followed, groaning as well.

"I'm sorry Alexandra. It's just…"

"Don't worry. I know this sounds too odd for you at the moment. To be honest I got carried away too…" the interpol agent frowned and wrapped herself up with a towel, making her way to the showers. Ghost trailed his eyes at her and sighed.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Simon?" he murmured and turned to his phone, rereading their conversation.

It was as clear as day that they both agreed to this whole "No strings attached" thing together and he only said yes because he was too broken about France. He needed someone who could treat him well but this was the closest thing he could find.

Sure, he had no regrets about the woman, she was amazing, but while his body was happy, the heart yearned for something more. It was getting worse every day especially when he woke up to see the two lovebirds chasing against each other around the house.

Just as he placed his phone beside hers, Alexandra's notification tone beeped and her screen lit up, as it showed a message from an unknown number.

Simon wanted to take a peek but the message itself is encrypted, his mind wandered more as the security detail of such a message meant that it was of high importance. It might've been from the EMP machinery they're still investigating on which could also be a lead to Nero. He's debating whether he's going to ask her for information just as he intended to, but he's scared that she'll think he's just using her.

"Hey, you got a message." Simon called her from the bed.

"Who's it from?" she asked, her voice was faint as the shower sounds concealed it. Ghost wore his pants and grabbed her phone, leaning by the bathroom door as he announced the details.

"It's encrypted." he murmured. The water stopped pouring and the shower curtains peeked open.

She didn't even bother how she looked as she quickly wiped off her fingers and grabbed her phone.

"Shit." she cursed scrolling to the contents of text, which Ghost observed as very lengthy.

"Wh-" he paused and hesitated. He didn't tell her of their little rogue act so any questions might come off as suspicious.

"Shepherd wants to exchange Samantha for the I.P. Address." she mumbled, looking at Ghost.

"What's his deal?"

"To fund his EMP Nuke that he'll get from Nero." she replied as she continued scrolling.

"With New York already in chaos, the President would most likely be desperate enough to fund this, now that the economy is in shambles."

"What's stopping them from fighting against the New York attacks?"

"We have no idea where the small EMP interferences are, and our strongest lead is that the missing persons are being manually controlled to travel and situate themselves near the stock exchange where they blindly emit blasts through their phones. Like the one we found back in Europe."

"They walk and interact like normal civilians, so with millions of people around the city. It'll look like we're looking for a needle on a haystack." She added, wrapping herself with a towel and quickly dressed up.

"Where are you going now?" He asked as she walked past him.

"I'll try to talk some sense into someone who can talk some sense to the president. The EMP nuke is not a joke." She spat, the worry in her eyes made Ghost want to console her. But now was not the time for that.

"Can I ask a question?" Ghost said.

"Be quick." She said, putting on her jacket and collecting her stuff.

"Do you have any idea where Shepherd is?"

The sun wasn't up when Ghost decided to return to the Safe house. He expected that it'll still be closed but it looked like Price and Jack were already sipping coffee by the balcony.

"Where have you been?" Price asked, his tone wasn't that strict so Ghost decided to lie.

"I just took a walk around the town." he replied, hoping that there will be no more follow up questions.

"For Twelve hours. Okay." Price noted as Ghost got inside the house. Ever since he started this little team of rogue soldiers, Price became protective. And Ghost knew that it was bound to happen. Any injuries under his care will not be funded by any higher department and they need to be careful.

He immediately accessed their little command center and began searching. He got two locations to research on, and he needed to act fast.

He did the best he could, hacking into public and unsecured CCTV footage, squinting his eyes over the poor quality videos just to look for Samantha. She was last spotted in Moscow about 30 minutes ago. Ghost had to admit his cryllic knowledge is a little low and his fingers were trembling in panic. He needed help.

He slowly creaked the door open and saw Alex, Soap and Roach peacefully sleeping, Roach was upside down and clung onto Alex's metal leg, a sight worth taking a photo on but he didn't. It almost made him guilty to wake John up, but knowing the guy, he'll understand the urgency.

"Psst." he nudged his shoulders. It felt very awkward now that he's still frustrated about the guy winning France's heart but he needed to act professional, besides no one but Alex knows about his emotions toward the duo.

Soap groaned and slowly opened his eyes, flinching at the skull face that woke him up.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed, making Alex and Gary shuffle and reposition while Ghost quickly pulled his mask and shushed him.

"Sorry Soap. But I need your help." he whispered as he slowly got up and collected himself following him outside.

"What about?" his heavy accent echoed against the quiet halls while he rubbed sleep off his eyes.

"Russian Alphabet."

"Okay." he murmured lazily. "What for?"

"A lead on Samantha." he said. The expression on Soap's face changed from sleepy-scotsman to what-are-we-waiting-for as he jumped to the control center and began typing.

The two teamed up together translating codes of texts and typing commands on different kinds of webcams all across Russia, all they had was a barely readable plate number of a black van which allegedly housed Samantha and three of Shepherd's men which were designated to protect her.

Hours passed and they barely got through any possible lead. The rest of the team woke up one by one and slowly helped the duo. Once Alex woke up, they got another additional pair of hands to help and it made them more efficient. If only Ghost knew that Alex knew Russian, it would've been less awkward. But then again, he needed this kind of interaction with Soap, so he could finally be comfortable around them.

Then there it was. The first solid lead with Samantha's face on it. A hotel not far from the airport. Alex couldn't help but creep his head close to the monitor, his eyes had that longing look on the blurry screen. He was sure it's her.

They later reported their findings to Price and Jack, and it was indeed a lead worth pursuing. But when asked how they got such info overnight, they all turned to Ghost to which he said that it's still within the phone's encrypted messages. Price and Jack nodded and Ghost sighed in relief. He didn't want anyone to know about his little fling.

"Then let's have breakfast and have a little briefing after. I'll make calls to Nikolai to arrange us a visit to his homeland." Price announced as everyone, especially Alex's, face lit up and felt energized.

HAPPY TRAVELER INN PARKING AREA

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

8:52 PM

Ghost set up his little command set up at the back of the van. The plan was easy, Alex, Soap and Roach sneaked inside her room, silently knocking down the three guards, taking their clothes and escorting her back to the van to safety. While Price would take down their driver and replace the getaway vehicle with this one.

The group of five didn't bring any weapons so as to not raise suspicion, after all they're just sneaking Samantha from Shepherd's hands. No need for violence.

"Can you hear me, lads?" Ghost muttered softly against the microphone.

"Loud and clear, mate." Gary responded.

"Yes pal." Alex commented.

"Aye lad. I can hear ye." Soap added.

Price gave a thumbs up from the driver's seat. Ghost pressed some buttons and after a few moments, he now had access to the whole building's cameras and some controls.

"Chuckles, I'm in." Ghost commented to which Gary snickered. It looked like he was the only one who understood the reference.

"Okay lads. The janitors are on their break. They're inside that incoming elevator." Ghost informed as he looked at the live feed. The three carefully grabbed the janitors without intention of hurting them. Carrying some rope and cloth, they quickly tied the janitors and hid them on a blind spot away from the camera's eyes. Ghost could hear Alex muttering something to the three in Russian, he couldn't translate it fully but it had the word sorry, don't worry and okay in it. After that, they immediately wore their janitor uniforms and the janitors were already on their way to the 10th floor.

"I don't have cameras inside the rooms. But your hallway is clear."

"Okay. Your ride home is ready." Price muttered, Ghost never noticed the old man exit the van but apparently he already took care of the driver.

"Great. It's all on you three now. Let's save Samantha." Ghost said as the cameras show three janitors knocking on Samantha's room.

Next Chapter : Vlad the Janitor

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @ricinbach @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

#horrayfic #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes #horRAYfic

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