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bubmyg · 4 years

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lost - knj

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre/warnings: travel!au, roommate!au, bookstore owner!namjoon, strangers to lovers, ft platonic reader x taehyung, fluff, lots of angst regarding uncertain futures, namjoon has a cat named marie

word count: 16,451

summary: taehyung’s warning was simple: stop and you’ll never want to start again or the one where you’re left alone in a loft apartment above a bookstore owned by a man with the sweetest dimples you’ve ever seen.

a/n: my first fic in three months omg...i hope u enjoy it as much as i did writing it :-(

Tiny succulent leaves spiraled outward from a central lobe rooted somewhere in the limited space provided by it’s miniature clay home. The pot rattled with the dips of open road, contained mostly to the corner of the dash and the dusty van window yet a victim of the unforgiving lack of traction still attached to the tires that had carried you for miles up until this point.

One thousand, two hundred and thirty-one miles. And counting.

You tucked your knee into your chest, lounging so the seatbelt started to cut into your neck as your head lulled to the side, eyeing Taehyung’s profile.

“You’ve kept that one alive,” You commented absently.

A noise of surprise broke the hard line of Taehyung’s clenched jaw. He glanced at you, genuine innocence shining through his confusion. It mirrored in his blunt, “Huh?”

You nodded toward the bouncing plant, “If you think about it, killing aloe vera would be kind of ironic…”

“Oh,” Taehyung wrinkled his nose, adjusting his wrist where it laid languidly on the top of the steering wheel, “I think succulents are more my speed. Or at least, the speed of traveling. My daisies didn’t appreciate the darkness of the bedroom. The sunflowers protested the living room on day one.”

“At least if a succulent spills it doesn’t immediately shrivel up and disintegrate…”

By bedroom, Taehyung meant the front section of the shades of beige van he’d acquired in high school, the area with a barely functional bed nailed to the floor of the “trunk”, with windows covered by tattered pieces of flannel you’d hand sewn to resemble curtains. By living room, he meant the back half, where a tiny, rainbow rug sat in the center of splintered wood and a few fold out lawn chairs, matching flannel curtains from the bedroom drawn open to allow sunlight to push through the thin layer of grime gathered in each corner of the windows.

His daisies had spilled fresh potting soil into your clean pillow case, one you’d shaken free of debris by holding it out the open window of the van while Taehyung shrieked with laughter. His sunflowers wouldn’t even balance on the tiny lip between the window and the inside, ceramic pot tumbling through Taehyung’s clumsy fingers and shattering onto the rug. A glittering piece of the white pot still sat lodged between a space in the wooden floorboards.

You grunted in acknowledgement, unfurling your legs to heave yourself forward, snatching the tiny plant from its place on the dash. You turned it gently in your palm, “This would have been nice to have a few weeks ago.”

The tiny seaside town you’d rumbled into by accident of the lack of fuel in the van’s tank lead to three nights of camping in crab infested sands, gorgeous sunset photographs you’d clipped to the twine string zigzagging through the living room, and a horrible ripple of blisters sun stained into Taehyung’s shoulder blades.

He gestured to the scarf you’d prematurely yanked from your luggage shoved into a compartment on the bottom of the vehicle, knee directing the steering wheel as he balled the fleece and tossed it at you. “Good thing it’s almost winter. Put my aloe down.”

You unfolded the pleats of the scarf once you settled the pot back against the windshield, curling it around your arms to settle back into the seat. Your eyes drifted to the scenery beyond the plant, coming first in the fashion of a neon highway sign advertising the next town. You glanced at the tiny red tick on the fuel tank meter.

“Are we stopping tonight?”

Taehyung’s gaze met the places yours rested on. He sighed, palm pressing into the steering wheel first until his fingers gradually curled around the leather. “At least to get gas and dinner, yes. Look and see if there’s any hotels around, please? And then maybe how far we are from our next stop? I don’t want to hang around too long and miss the harvest festival…”

The tiny tag clipped on the digital map of your phone showed a tiny motel with a singular Yelp review from someone named Min Yoongi within walking distance of the gas station Taehyung had turned into. Your legs crossed where you sat on the edge of the blow up mattress in the bedroom, eyes squinted as you twirled around the general vicinity of the tiny town with the tip of your index finger.

“Status update, copilot,” The van rocked as Taehyung took a running jump into the open back, momentum causing him to crouch in the center of the living room. Your mouth parted to respond in time with a tinkling crash to your left.

“There’s a motel across the street,” You uttered in an unimpressed monotone, locating the source of the crash as three similar aloe plants to the one on the dash tumbling off your tiny bookshelf to the rug below. Three sad aloe plants a mess between the sprinkle of potting soil in between grains of rainbow.

A sheepish look crossed the geometric edges of Taehyung’s smile. “I’ll clean it up,” His cupped palm swept over some of the more elevated piles of soil as if to prove his point, “Will you go see if they have anything available?”

“Got it, boss,” You stood, crouched still due to the proximity of the top of the van to your head, and began to edge your way outside.

Your hesitation came near the very bookshelf, the sign of the crime, sole of your shoe squashing into the center of the limited pile Taehyung had created by scraping his hands across the rippled weaving of the rug. You stayed crouched at the waist, fingers thumbing through the titles, titles a cumulative collection from your own personal belongings and the various shops you’d stowed away in the growing months of your journey. Their dusted and rough covers slowly transitioned into the item you were looking for, a slick yellow folder bursting at the pockets with the mixture of paper clipped, stapled, typed, and handwritten papers curled within. You squeezed it’s outer edge, thumb feeling into the tiny rip that was begging to form on the spine of the folder.

“I can’t clean if you don’t move,” Taehyung’s hand wrapped around your ankle, startling you to do a hop step into reality.

The imprint of the ripped folded scratched at the crease in your thumb where you rubbed your palms together, quick strides weaving you down a deserted sidewalk to cross a deserted street where a three story, house shaped structure sat. Your palm flexed into the ends of your scarf still dangling from around your neck, tucking it tighter to you to avoid the stream of words that began to ink across the forefront of your subconscious from the simple touch to the folder.

The interior of a structure whose exterior gave off the impression of outdated was instead rather modern, like stepping out of a deserted movie from the eighties to step into a fifties diner in the twenty-first century. Sleek tile in patterned squares wrapped around a black, raising desk, one that had a tiny stack of business cards and a credit card reader clipped to either side. A man was hunched over a laptop placed on what appeared to be a second level to the desk, it’s lid plastered in various hand drawn stickers peaking over the countertop as fingers continued to audibly hack away at a keyboard.

His black curls bounced when the screen door clattering shut behind you, wide eyes either perpetually surprised or simply shocked at the presence of a person in the otherwise desolate area. You assumed it was a little bit of both once his shoulders relaxed into the black polo hugging his toned upper body but the circular innocence to his eyes remained.

“Hi!” He chirped as you squinted at the gold plated name tag strapped on one side of his shirt. Jeongguk. “...how can I help you?”

“Do you have any rooms available?”

The surprise traveled into the rise of Jeongguk’s eyebrows into his shaggy fringe. It was short lived this time, though, movements instead turning frantic as he lifted the sticker covered laptop to the top layer of the desk, resuming his furious hacking with his tongue poked between his cheeks so that a dimple appeared to the side of his lips.

“I do,” He said after a moment, glancing up at you as his fingers continued to work, “Plenty, actually. Just trying to, uhm…”

“There!” Jeongguk cheered finally, voice an octave louder than before and there was a twinkle in his crinkling eyes as he directed his full attention to you, “How many nights and how many beds?”

“One and two,” You rested your forearm to the counter, thumbing one of the business cards out of its plastic tray. A fond smile curled onto your lips when you noticed the tiny logo was the same doodled design gracing a sticker pasted to the center of his laptop lid. GCF Motel and Design. “Please…”

“Of course, absolutely. Coming right up…” His index finger tapped hard at the touch pad a few times before a different color illuminated the stars in his eyes. He blinked, nodding once to himself before he cupped the credit card reader and dragged it toward you. “It’ll just be fifty for the night. Card reader is here—it works, I promise—or I can take cash. And make change for you, if...you know.”

“I have a card,” You said gently, plucking the plastic from the tiny holder stuck to your phone case. The chip reader clicked to life after a few passing seconds of your card sitting idle in the slot, taking longer in its processing that left you in a silence with the bouncing man across from you.

“Have you been busy lately? There’s that harvest festival a few miles from here this weekend, so I wasn’t sure…”

“No. No, uhm,” Jeongguk glanced at you under the shadow of his bangs, “You’re actually my first guest in two weeks.”

“Oh.” Two tiny electronic beeps signaled you to take your card but you were still delayed in doing so. You smiled warmly at the man across from you instead, “Well, then I’m happy we stopped here.”

“We means you’d like two room keys, right?” The tiniest of red dusted the apples of his cheeks, gaze cutting away to the level of the desk you couldn’t see.

“Please. Tae should be here any minute—”

The screen door clattered harshly when your tall best friend tripped through the threshold, loud in his, “I got the living room clean!” while Jeongguk’s perplexity amplified ten fold.

“Uhm, here’s your room keys. It’s on the third floor. Stairs and elevator are behind the desk,” Jeongguk passed over two green cards, holding them separately to each of you. You accepted yours with a gentle smile, Taehyung with a sleepier confusion that almost mirrored Jeongguk’s. His movements grew jerky again as he rustled behind the counter, presenting two sheets of paper in your direction now. “...and here’s a sheet of stickers. They’re mine. I hand draw them and sell them...I have my own website, it’s listed on the logo sticker in the center.”

You fondly assessed the page as you drew it closer to your nose, eyeing the etched star shape and the shaded in hues of a tiger flower. “Thank you, Jeongguk,” You said gently, holding the stickers to your chest.

“Of course!” He chirped while Taehyung continued to squint between the room key and the sticker page. “I hope you enjoy your stay...don’t hesitate to come find me if you need anything. My room is the only one on this floor if I’m not here at the desk.”

You were gentle in turning the door knob to a close while Taehyung flopped dramatically onto the nearest bed corner, still clutching his sticker sheet that he stretched above his face.

“Motto out the window tonight?”

Taehyung hummed, twisting the sheet to the right and then to the left, “For one night only—” He blinked to the side of the paper at you, “—did you look at these?

The motto hadn’t applied for three nights of your travels, the sleepy town with the sticker making motel owner included, the motto Taehyung’s sentiment that if your head ever touched a real pillow again, you’d want to cease your travels. A just keep going, arbitrary reason for continuing to blow through your college savings to travel the country. The first night had been in a storm when it was simply too dangerous to board up in the back of the van. The second night had been after Taehyung had contracted a cold from sneaking into a resort pool in a downtown tourist center. The third seemed to have no other motive than genuine exhaustion. You blamed the third potted plant spill of the month.

Mention of the motto made your mind drift to your travels as a general cloud of thought, one that generally evaporated into the back of your conscious so that you were able to focus on the paper map Taehyung had shoved into your grip from the last rest stop or the delayed play by play instructions on your phone due to the limited signal or simply forgotten due to your laughter at whatever ridiculous song Taehyung had decided to blast over your carefully wired auxiliary cord.

Just like you ignored your dwindling funds in the debit card you’d just mindlessly shoved into the barely functioning card reader, ones that funded the purpose of the sparkly eyed boy perched on a plastic stool in the lobby. Your purpose remained nothing but the ghost feeling of the rip in your yellow folder still digging into the crease of your thumb.

“You should order some from him. It’d make his week,” You said gently.

Taehyung laughed, “I don’t think he delivers to a traveling address, kid.”

You tried to manage the panic in your voice.

“Tae.”

He didn’t answer, just a grunt from outside the van where he was currently pumping air into the front driver’s side tire. Panic could only manage itself for that one call. You tried again, louder and with a slap of your hand against the nearest open door.

“Taehyung.”

The van rocked again and he answered verbally this time, agitated. A peek of one half of his face became visible, “What?”

“Where’s my folder?”

Taehyung blanched, full features coming into view, “What?”

Your hand did a dramatic sweep across the bookcase, collecting your tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice in your wake to let it drop unceremoniously to the floor. “Where is my folder?” Another book, a title you didn’t recognize but a cover you connected with the flea market Taehyung had insisted on visiting near the beach, dropped to the floor from your grip. “It’s not in its spot any longer.”

“I had to take everything off the shelf to get all the soil up,” One foot made it inside the van as your stack of discarded books continued to grow. “I swear I put it right back but it may have fallen—”

“Fallen out? Of the van?” Two more books plopping audibly to the pile. You thought about Jeongguk and his stickers and what would happen if someone threw out all his sketches. His sense of purpose suddenly gone due to someone’s recklessness.

“—behind something,” Taehyung finished, nudging you aside to retch the shelf away from where it was bolted to the wall. It only came a fraction of the way, barely enough for Taehyung to lodge his fingertips down it and effectively rule out any possibility of your folder being there. Instead, every book still clinging to the shelf flopped sadly to the floor.

The miles you’d traveled up until that point seemed to rush by in your peripheral, every open stretch of rolling road, the glittering nightscape of lively cities, the blackness of the sea current swallowing up ruts in the shore, the decades old gas stations that drained your cash from your wallets into the tank to the freshly renovated rest stops that had patterns pressed into the concrete intentionally and not just because a local raccoon decided to test his luck with some half dry concrete. It propelled you back into the moment, thousands of miles ago, where you’d stood in the same spot in Taehyung’s parents driveway with a cardboard box at your feet filled with things still labeled from when you’d moved out of your college apartment.

“Why did you keep this?” Taehyung had teased with a wrinkled nose, handing over your tattered textbook from your world literature class freshman year, the second volume in a group of three you’d paid a month's rent for. Highlighter bled into the outer edge, marking the thin off white pages appeared a mirage of rainbow that contrasted a shade more neon than the rug you’d stretched out below your feet.

“I paid for it,” You defended, settling the paper back between one side of the shelf and a heavy, dolphin shaped paperweight that you’d stuck felt on the bottom of to keep in place on the road. “Besides, it has full, translated classics in here.”

Taehyung pretended to understand the fascination of literature that came with your education with a raise of one eyebrow and a single, gentle nod that shifted his gaze back to the remaining contents in the box. He ruffled for a second before retrieving one of the items draped on the bottom.

“Okay—” He stretched your manuscript folder up in two hands so as to not let the contents on the inside spill out the sides. “—explain why you keep this.”

You snatched it from him, holding the yellow protectively to your chest. It looked a bit comical, the whole situation, you hovering over the disorganized stack of papers that you’d written off, figuratively, of course, chin resting on top of the folder as you stared hard at the worn spine of the text book you’d just placed to the shelf.

“If anything…” You moved slowly with the folder in hand, stretching it toward the felt dolphin and textbook. One hand clutched it while the other brushed aside things to make room for it, tight palm effectively dragging the weeping edges of the folder apart so a tiny rip formed in the yellow near the top of the makeshift spine. Gradual movements turned frantic as you shoved it onto the shelf, pushing the dolphin to hold it in place as your thumb remained on the newfound rip.

“...I paid a lot of money for the printer and pen ink it took to write all of that. It’s like keeping a twenty dollar bar of gold that can never be converted into usable currency.”

The dolphin was the only thing remaining on the shelf, staring at you while you stared at Taehyung, blank, not moving. Somewhere, up on the dash, the unharmed succulent rattled with the gust of wind that curled against the outside of the van.

“We’ll find it, it couldn’t have gone too far. There isn’t much space to search anyway—”

“Why did you touch it in the first place?” Your sharp cut in didn’t register in your mind as unreasonable, not at first. Instead, your mind drifted to all the times in which he’d be apprehensive of your unwillingness to throw away the folder, to, as he put it, simply transfer all the handwritten files into digital versions to zip away with the ones that were already locked in a cloud somewhere, all the times you’d caught him staring, perplexed as you pulled out the folder and flipped it open to make sure none of the pages had shifted order. “You know how much it means to me.”

“This would be different if I was intentionally trying to sabotage something of yours. I moved it to clean. It has to be somewhere in this general vicinity,” Taehyung held his hands palm up to you. Penance. Until he ruined it with a sighed, “Besides...don’t you think it’s time we throw it out anyway. I don’t think a constant reminder of rejection is—”

“Go on with your trip,” You said suddenly.

He paled in front of you, knuckles and all where they grew tighter on the edge of the unhinged bookcase. “Our trip…” He corrected, drawing out the silence at the end as punctuation.

“Your trip,” You shoved yourself off the floor, stepping past him to hurdle to the cracked concrete outside. “Help me get my luggage.”

Taehyung spluttered, lips foaming like a puffer fish out of water, eyes narrowing like you’d just grown a third hand from the tip of your nose. “Dove, we’ll find your folder. We can keep it up front so it never gets lost again. I wasn’t trying to insult your situation, I just care about you and—”

“Tae,” You said his name gently, the calmest you’d managed to spit it out in the entire ordeal, calm like the ghost of a smile that dimpled into your cheeks, “It’s not about the folder.”

“Go on. Go to the harvest festival. Hit the next few cities. I’ll be fine here.”

His eyes bulged now, “You expect me to leave you here? There’s nothing here and I’m no stranger to how our funds have been dwindling.”

“There’s a motel. And a cafe somewhere according to the map. I’ll find a job. Maybe I can rake someone’s leaves when the seasons start to change,” You smiled, “I’ll figure something out.”

“And when I come back? Will you want to go with me?” A bit more forceful, Taehyung set his eyebrows and added, “I will be coming back for you.”

You shrugged, opting for simple, “I don’t know.”

The tension sagged from Taehyung’s person, all the confusion and frustration and bubbling anger, returning him to the default of your best friend complete with a tiny half smile. A loaded inquiry in the way he tilted his cheek into his curled fist.

“Why, dove?”

“The motto,” You stretched out a hand toward him, “I quite liked the bed in the motel.”

“...so I think I’m going to stay around a little longer,” You finished your, shortened albeit, story to the pouty lipped cafe worker, offering a tentative smile.

The man who’d introduced himself as Yoongi and the owner of the tiny building, removed a hand from where it had been perched on his hip, gently plucking the wad of bills you offered to him. The register opened with what would have been a small puff of dust if the space around it weren’t so meticulously clean, the sleek black counter top and the checkered floor free of any imperfections. Yoongi had swept away the little particles of gravel you’d tracked in after he’d handed over your carefully crafted club sandwich.

“So, are you planning on staying at Jeongguk’s place?”

You blinked, a useless piece of collected information about the town in your short twenty-four hours there slipping out. “Are you the Min Yoongi who left a review on his motel?”

A charming smile crossed over the man’s gums, shoulders bouncing silently as he began to pool your change in his cupped palm for you. You took his nonverbal answer, leaning closer on your elbows, “Is Min Holly some of your relation? They left a review, too…”

Yoongi’s nose wrinkled when he laughed a second time, plopping your change down in a small tin next to the register when you motioned him to keep it. “...something like that.”

“It’s a fine place to stay, by the way. Just a dumb joke we have going,” He fished behind the counter for a rag, rubbing it over the places in the counter that had been touched. Dark eyes assessed you playfully from under white fringe, “There’s a review hidden in ours that says we make grilled cheese sandwiches without cheese.”

“Are you...in need of any help making those bread sandwiches?” You panicked when one of his eyebrows disappeared into bangs and a snort racked his shoulders, “Sorry, that was really forward. I just...my travel funds have been running low regardless of me stopping here. I really need a way to make money during my stay.”

“I don’t think Seokjin would appreciate having to split his already limited tips,” Yoongi continued to wipe at the counter, shuffling down the row of bar stools you sat at and back up.

“...you said you have a background with literature, right?” You nodded. “You could check with Namjoon and see if he has any odd jobs for you. He owns the bookstore on the next block over…”

“If anything, he could have you paint the outside,” He meticulously began to fold the rag, shaking his head, “The place looks like it just time traveled from the eighteenth century.”

Yoongi wasn’t wrong. All the buildings in the town seemed to be situated in a similar fashion, curled into strips of three or four businesses about three or four blocks long yet, it appeared that the majority of the buildings were abandoned or at the very least, not functioning businesses any longer. You pinpointed the specific building you were in search of on instinct that the one centered in the middle of a strip of buildings that appeared completely out of place had to be the one Yoongi teased about the exterior. Chipped cream and dark brown lined the paneled walls and thick frames around doors and windows, two stories of windows coated in a visible layer of dust and webs on the corners. As you strolled closer, you could make out the beige pink hue of plastic letters pasted onto the inside of the left display window, Monie’s, with a looping cursive font displaying a phone number and a website. Propped up in the thin stream of dust and crumpled window stickers was a sign, black coated in specks of brown with neon orange advertising help wanted.

You wrapped your fingers around the door, pulling it open to step inside.

The first thing you registered was the temperature difference, winter chill just starting to nip into the air outside but the bookstore was coated in something that somehow bordered the favorable side of cozy and unbearable. Minimal lighting added to that ambiance, bulbs caged in thick metal where they were screwed in planned intervals above the bookshelves. Plants littered the empty spaces in between already crowded furniture, bonsai trees to be exact, curling in their awkward shapes out of hand painted pots. Any decorations that maybe could have been placed on walls occupied by floating bookshelves instead littered the displays in each of the front windows, a massive plastic snowman, fake holiday grass plopped on top of fake winter snow, a myriad of specialty figurines ranging in sizes and shapes and colors all centered around a wooden table that appeared as though it had been made directly from a fresh stump. Perhaps, judging by everything else, it had.

The books were another thing, appearing more like library shelves than those you would see in chain bookstores or in the aisles at various department stores. Titles varied in size, in their positions in how they laid against each other. In fact, there seemed to be no reason to the way they were organized, obscure children’s books tucked in between used biographies of a fourteenth century royal and three new copies of the first book in the latest dystopian young adult series.

You turned down the last aisle, one that seemed to harbor anything from an entire encyclopedia set to preschool board books, to find a steep staircase at the end of the shelf. The dark wood matched that of the outside of the building, leading upward into a shadow until you could no longer see where it went. Careful footsteps carried you across creaking wood covered in various colors of woven rugs, testing a hand onto the rail of the staircase. One foot on the first stair and it creaked worse that the floor, the second a wail just as bad.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the tiger striped cat that bounded down the stairs past you.

You yelped, clinging to the staircase as your knees gave out in your brief moment of panic and had you sinking to a crouch. A deep swallow into you cradling the posts between the stair railing and you managed to get your heart rate to calm by pressing the blunt end of your palm against your chest.

A voice acted like the pull start of a generic lawn mower, kicking the roar of blood in your ears back to life.

“Where are you going?”

It was spoken kindly, a genuine inquiry in which the tone matched the man who stood within the row of books. Namjoon, your conscious presumed. He was tall, a long navy coat fluttering against his khaki jogger covered ankles. A deep maroon t-shirt showed off the glitter of a pendant necklace dangling between the defined planes of his chest where the terror of a cat was now cradled. Thick rimmed glasses rested on the very tip of his nose, deep set brown eyes magnifying when he nudged the frames up with the tips of his index and middle fingers. A gentle smile indented permanently into his mouth, showing off dimples that became deeper set the more his laughter grew at your prolonged silence.

“Oh, sorry I...I was just—”

“Unfortunately, my business is not enough to harbor a second floor,” His nose wrinkled with his smile as he dropped his gaze enough to place the cat onto the floor before effectively shoving bracelet covered wrists into his pockets, “Can I help you with something else?”

“I’m looking for a job,” You blurted, still standing firmly on the second stair while the cat, calmer this time, scurried past you once more. It creaked again with the two movements, the cat and the nervous shift of yours, and you allowed yourself to wince this time.

The man tilted his head, dark brown locks sticking behind the glass and frames. “And why would you come here in search of that?”

“Yoongi sent me,” You blinked, “Uh, Min Yoongi. The guy that owns that cafe up the street? I’m going to be staying in town for a little while and I’m in need of something...I have a literature background, if that makes my case any more compelling. At the very least I could reorganize your shelves or something—”

“My shelves stay as they are,” He cut in absently, waving a hand. Go on.

“—besides,” Your finger pointed dumbly toward the window display behind him, “You have a help wanted sign in your window.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the trajectory of your finger, shaking his head, “No...I don’t think I do.”

You clambered off the staircase, pointed in brushing past the tall man to stalk determinedly for the opposite window display. The sign stuck to the window in some sort of build of debris that you didn’t particularly care to question but instead made it hard for you to pull up when you were straddling a tiny train set and a mountain of fake snow in an attempt not to harm any of his decorations. It came in a cloud of dust, coating your fingers and glittering in the baths of afternoon sun that cut through the window.

You found that he’d trailed after you, close enough that when you stumbled out of your awkward stretch position you could press the sign just spaces from his chest.

“See.”

He took it from you, that trace of a smile still prominent as he squinted at the object in his grasp. His sleeve curled over his fingers, gradual in clearing away the grime build up over the printed words.

“Oh,” He simply, “I suppose I do.”

More than the confined heat of the sun through the windows warmed your body from his gentle carmel stare, something that curled your toes into your shoes as your hand had the opposite reaction in jutting out towards him. Quietly, you offered your name.

“Namjoon,” He settled his free hand in yours, giving it a firm shake without pulling away. Instead he tilted his head, “What’s your story?”

You tilted your head in the opposite direction, “Is this my interview?”

His smile grew warmer when his teeth appeared under his lips, “And if it is?”

“I’ve been traveling with my best friend for the past few months. We started after our university graduation and didn’t look back,” A halfhearted laugh followed the slip of your hand out of his, “Truthfully—” kind of, “—I was starting to run out of money. Your town seemed to be about my speed,” You set your shoulders, “...so I told Taehyung to leave me here. Now I’m in your store asking for a job.”

“Where are you staying?”

“The motel, Jeongguk’s right?” You brushed your foot into the floor, “He told me I didn’t have to pay for anything until I left, or at least built up enough to afford his rates, but—”

“That won’t do,” Namjoon dismissed. Curtly, he turned, stalking off between the shelves with the sign tucked to his chest.

You were sure you looked like a personified exclamation mark wrapped around a question mark but you allowed yourself to stumble after him anyway, trailing him between the awkward route of shelves you’d yet to explore in your short venture through the store. Finally, you arrived at a small desk, one with a clear glass top with flyers and charts and business cards lodged underneath it. A register, the most modern item of the entire store, took up most of the desk space, placed directly next to an illuminated desktop computer that displayed a background of a light blue koala character etched out in a vaguely familiar art style. You noticed the cat from earlier had wandered back into view, now perched on a red leather stool that was placed behind the counter and let out a particularly discontented mrow! when Namjoon shooed it aside to take a seat.

Ring clad fingers began to clack away at an outdated keyboard for the modern monitor, features scrunched at the center. Namjoon’s glasses slipped down the length of his nose, this time purposely, as he leaned closer to the screen, mouth parted as eyes darted over the contents. His entire expression shifted when he leaned away, soft smile returning as he gestured for you to join him on the opposite side of the counter.

“Have you ever worked with any type of cataloging software?”

You blinked at the foreign objects on the screen, a whirlwind of passwords and edit options, and ISBN numbers that you didn’t understand other than how to finesse the cheapest textbooks when you were still in university. His whirlwind explanation that hadn’t allowed you any time to answer the initial question ended with a single syllable laugh.

“I’ll help you,” Namjoon promised, spinning on the stool to face you. His gangly legs crossed, elbow meeting the thickest part of his thigh as he cheek settled into his palm. “And dusting? How are you with a rag?”

A smile broke out of your tense uncertainty, “That I can definitely do.”

He hummed, drumming his fingers against his cheek, “I think I can find plenty for you to help me with here, if you’d like. I can’t promise much pay.”

“But no staying with Guk. You can stay here as part of your payment.”

You subconsciously glanced outward around the store, to the crowded shelving and potted plants and lopsided books, as if maybe a bed would manifest somewhere that you hadn’t seen it before. To that, Namjoon laughed, louder and so that his face scrunched up around his eyes.

“I live in the apartment above the store. That’s where the staircase leads. I have an extra bedroom…”

“But that’s only if you’d like,” He rushed suddenly, voice growing an octave as his hands flailed, “I know we just met so if you’re not comfortable living with me, you can absolutely continue to stay at the motel. I just thought it might be easier on you financially and travel wise if you were already here, you know. The bedrooms are on opposite ends of the apartment. There’s two bathrooms, too—”

“Thank you, Namjoon,” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, waiting until he relaxed under your touch, “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I accept your offer, if you don’t mind having me, of course.”

He started to shake his head only to be interrupted by a strangled meow from below your feet. You watched as the cat curled in between your legs, butting into your shin while an audible purr rumbled into its next meow.

“You’ll have to bargain with her for use of the bedroom, actually. It’s unofficially hers at the moment,” The tiny cat continued to nuzzle into your jeans, tail curling happily each time she threw her body weight into you, “It seems like you’ve passed the Marie test.”

You crouched, allowing her to inspect the curl of your fingers before she happily began to settle her chin into the crevices of your palm, rubbing back and forth until you began to flex your fingers in her fur.

“Miss Marie, can we be roommates for a little while?”

She mewled in response, bypassing your hand to jump into the open space on your thighs. You adjusted her in your arms instead, stretching back to a standing position to smile at Namjoon.

“First task complete.”

Namjoon cocked an eyebrow, “Which was…?”

“Befriend the cat that ratted me out,” You grinned, bouncing her a bit in your arms, “What’s next, boss?”

“Why don’t you two start by cleaning out those window displays while I go to retrieve your things from Jeongguk,” He slipped his glasses off between the pinch of his fingers, allowing them to twirl back and forth for a moment, “Who knows what other hidden treasures are in there.”

You found your things stacked in a neat pyramid on a bed. Your bed. You clutched the ‘treasures’ you’d uncovered in the window displays a bit tighter to your chest.

It was a modest room, full size mattress squeezed into a vast majority of the room, leaving just enough room for a dresser and closet doors that folded open to one side. Your things looked massive in the center of the bed, particularly with how they’d been stacked in awkward, Jenga like angles. You frowned until you found a slip of paper dangling off the very top piece of your luggage. You cradled Namjoon’s things, a curly haired teddy bear and a miniature pair of leather shoes, into one arm to pluck the note.

It was another sheet of stickers, different from the first, with a handwritten note in swirling purple marker scrawled to the blank side.

Come back and visit me! Or maybe I’ll come into the store more now...Here’s some of my newest designs as thanks :)

“Jeongguk insisted I bring you those.” You crinkled the edge of the paper in hand, startled by the soft voice. It was Namjoon, now without his long coat, arms folded across his chest where he leaned against the doorframe. He nodded toward the other contents in your grasp, “What are those?”

“Oh!” You passed aside the paper to grip the bear and shoes in separate hands, stretching the items toward him. “Just some things I found hidden in the displays…”

He pushed himself up off the door, pulling the bear into his grasp first. Long fingers tucked into the wirey fur of the toy, scratching gently as a fond smile slowly worked upwards into his cheeks. Crinkles formed underneath his eyes as he pressed the bear underneath his arm, cradling the two tiny shoes next, raising them up above eye level for inspection.

“You’re right, I forgot about these,” Namjoon passed the shoes into one palm, closing his fingers to hold them at the center of his chest. “Thank you for doing that, by the way. It looks wonderful.”

You returned his grateful smile, unsure of how to accept a thanks for a task assigned to you as an employee. It was the first time since the morning that you’d allowed yourself to think of the yellow folder, one that symbolized the exact opposite of the gracious, polite expressions Namjoon had yet to fail to provide.

It’d been less than twelve hours, but you had no reason to assume he would offer anything otherwise. A less than conventional situation with a less than conventional job offer with a less than conventional boss with less than conventional job benefits.

His mouth fished once, twice, gawking at the shoes in his hand before his gaze settled back on you. Lips pressed together, head tilting.

“...would you like some tea?”

The disarray, library aura the maze of shelves in the store provided came as a result of the equally disorienting ordering process from Namjoon, so you learned. He avoided section titles, author groupings, or series shelving. Instead, there was some mental list of steps all based around bogus marketing techniques that accounted for the haphazard strew of books to the point where you weren’t quite sure he had meaning to it anymore and was simply doing it to stay to some imaginary regiment he’d convinced himself of.

Best selling young adult dystopian novels were on the far shelf, the one closest to the desk, and hidden behind the busy leaves of a bonsai in the back left corner. There were three copies of the first and second books but only two of the third book. Children’s books were placed backwards on the shelves, spines facing inwards, the shapes giving them away. Biographies were always placed on the third shelf from the bottom, eye level.

No romance made the cut to “easy on the eye” locations.

“I’d be replacing them every day,” Namjoon explained as he gave you the third tour of the store with a third set of instructions for shelving. You weren’t sure how to politely tell him that he wasn’t in the position to assume he had that much patronage daily.

In the end, he’d left you isolated to cataloging month old shipments, boxes piled high with novels at the top of outdated best seller lists scattered in between obscure titles of obscure genres with obscure authors that you often found yourself squinting at in wonder with their unfinished tab open on the blinking monitor in front of you. Cataloging meant updating the system first so that when your second customer of the eight hour day came in, you could properly run their crossword puzzle booklet or copy of the town newspaper through the bar code scanner without having to employ the help of the tiny red calculator hidden within the contents of the desk.

Eventually, you convinced Namjoon to let you update the website too, starting with the boxes you still had left to do and moving onto those things already existing on the shelves when a customer appeared for something new on the shelf simply because they had seen it online. Namjoon had eyed the customer like they were leaving with a third arm rather than a newly acquired how-to manual on toothpick crafts and promptly requested you do whatever that was.

Your reorganization of the window displays had done a number in themselves, cleaning away the cobwebs to make the neatly arranged scenery, now free of any cheap decorative foliage or precipitation, visible from the sidewalk. Three different individuals had appeared with comments about such, one in question of if the newly cleaned window decals had always been there, one asking if that was the current working phone number, and the third asking if the store was under new management due to the “new changes”.

Aside from updating the website and reorganizing his conglomeration of acquired decorations, you couldn’t get Namjoon to budge on anything else.

Especially not ordering some more romance novels. The best sellers in your short time as an employee. The genre tab you were constantly updating on the website.

You tried to mention it casually over a cup of tea one evening, your feet propped up on a wooden coffee table similar to the one you’d placed fresh flowers on in the shop.

“Okay, former literature student,” Namjoon swung his feet off where they had been resting across from yours. The patchwork red recliner he sat in creaked as he leaned forward, white mug cupped in two hands with the rim resting on his smiling bottom lip, “...and I can’t believe I didn’t ask you this already. What are some of your favorite authors? Go.”

You hesitated. Of all the classics, the literature tailored for a specific class genre, the novels you’d exhausted class discussion after thesis on, you’d still honestly answer that easy to read, cliche romance were your favorite, especially when written by a select few authors you’d claimed to some sort of unspoken circle you trusted.

There were things to learn in even the cheesiest of cliches, in generally the most ideal situations that were few and far between the reality you’d seen, love could and would prevail. Love was the start, the middle, and the end to the spines of worn romance novels, ones often criticized for having the same plot hidden under ten different covers plastered in warm pastels and photographs of flowers draping over bicycles and down the sides of beach side houses.

But just because it’s ideal and not realistic doesn’t mean it shouldn’t exist in what you strive for. At least, that’s what you stood by, particularly when your pencil or your fingers moved to creatively express that very mantra in the plot of your own romance story lines. They were romance at the surface, or at least hidden underneath the flaps of your tattered and lost yellow folder.

The tear itched at the bend of your thumb and you rubbed it as you squinted at Namjoon, pretending to be in thought. “That’s a hard question.”

“Is it?”

He’d garnered enough information about you in the last weeks to understand you were well versed, at least enough to recognize, to understand, and to adapt. Lying could work but would be virtually useless in the face of your almost stranger roommate. The laymen’s, internet speak resting in the deepest recess of your conscious cooed to you quietly.

It’s not that deep just tell him you enjoy the occasional Nicholas Sparks novel.

Instead, the cursed part of your conscious blurted, “Have you ever read Twilight?”

Namjoon didn’t laugh at you but with you. “I have, actually…” His lips puckered to take in enough tea to coat is tongue, another gentle laugh shaking his shoulders, “Is this your way of saying Stephanie Meyers is your favorite author?”

“No! No, I mean...not necessarily,” You shrugged, “I enjoy the occasional cliche. Even in the easiest cliches there can be a lesson to be learned. Just with some padding. Like bumpers on a bowling lane, you know. You still make it to the pins just with some extra help.”

“Right,” He lounged again, taking the natural rock of the recliner with him before releasing his foot so it swayed his relaxed stature, “That makes sense.”

“The artistic value isn’t lost simply because it’s popular or it’s based on something popular, you know,” You glanced behind his head, to one of the various artwork pieces he had nailed throughout the apartment. This one was a canvas coated in navy birds, ones that grew sloppier in shape the smaller they grew towards one corner. “It wouldn’t be popular otherwise…”

“I don’t disagree,” Namjoon narrowed his eyes but they crinkled on the edges, “I also wouldn’t fire you if you told me the Twilight franchise was the peak of literary and cinematic history. I just would...respectfully disagree.”

“Would you fire me if I told you I write romance?”

“Is it about vampires that sparkle?”

“No.”

“Then no,” He grinned this time, “If you can’t answer your favorite author question then who inspires you when you write? Most art is modeled after that of which we’ve already consumed so I can’t imagine you’re any different.”

No thought of the yellow folder burned through the itch on your thumb as you rattled off your extensive list of ever evolving authors, ones you adored in middle school then reread in college to find new light (or some glaring darkness you missed in the naivety of your uneducated youth. See: the glitz and glamour of The Great Gatsby) within, those young adult novels of dystopian future in which you’d always wanted to teach your own university course on all the way down to the grossest cliches that had you and Namjoon wrinkling your noses.

“They’re still wonderful,” You bargained, “In every sense of the word. Wonderfully awesome, wonderfully terrible. Refreshing to read, refreshing to pick out eyebrow raising and quite frankly glaring issues that high school teachers choose not to point out in their lessons.”

“Have you ever thought about ordering more for the store?”

“There are plenty of popular titles in the store,” Namjoon resisted immediately. His mug of tea was empty now, nothing to divert his attention from staring directly at you. For a moment, you feared you’d imposed on something like when you’d offered to reorganize the shelves.

Gently, you tried to express your point and correct him, “Yes, but not that’s currently popular in the last five years, or even the last decade. It would be a good selling point, at least to garner a bit more profit—”

“No.” He wasn’t harsh. Just firm. “I’m content with our current inventory.”

“However, if you would like for me to order you something to read, I would be happy to do so. You know where the catalogs are.”

That’s not the point. You sighed in the defeat of your changed window displays and online catalog update.

“That’s okay, Namjoon. Thank you anyway, though.”

“So, what do you think?”

There were two expectant pair of eyes blinking at you, one the curator of the dish placed just beneath your nose, the other wholly hoping for your features to be unable to hide the disgust of whatever cheese, tomato, and bread contraption currently resting on the part of your bottom lip, ready for a taste.

“I haven’t even taken a bite yet, Jin,” You laughed, testing the warmth of the sub bread against. You turned the sandwich in one hand, wincing when some of the cheese spilled out and singed at the skin of your palm. “It’s hot.”

“It’s delicious,” He argued, dragging the bar stool closer to you.

“It’s already on the menu,” Yoongi mumbled.

“It’s not,” Seokjin slapped his palm on the counter, ears growing red as he fumed at his boss, “This stromboli has nacho cheese instead of mozzarella. Instantly better.”

“If it’s good, you can make it for everyone who orders it,” You eyed Yoongi as you gave it another temperature test and he smiled shyly, “The nacho cheese gets too hot...I don’t want to have to handle it.”

Tentatively, you jutted your teeth out to take a nibble off the corner of the steaming sandwich, managing to acquire a mouthful of bread, pepperoni, and of course, the seeping nacho cheese. Yoongi was right, it was scalding, but it burnt your taste buds enough to mask any horrid taste that may exist and you managed to swallow it down with a minimal wince.

“Amazing right?”

“They can’t even speak—”

“They can’t speak because it’s so amazing,” Seokjin nudged your side while you tried to digest the burning coals currently sliding down your throat, “Right?”

“It’s not too bad,” You croaked finally, making prolonged eye contact with a viscarly annoyed Yoongi as you dragged your ice water closer and downed two, three, five gulps. “Would probably be better if it weren’t the temperature of the sun.”

“That’s not a yes—”

“Maybe, but it’s also not a no,” Seokjin happily clapped in the seat next to you, making a full rotation on the bar stool in victory before he swiped the plate from under your nose and went to take a bite for himself.

His high pitched screams muffled by the way too large bite of yeast and runny cheesy came in time with the ding of the cafe door that had Yoongi straightening and you snorting.

Namjoon ignored the way Seokjin’s palm began to rapidly slap against the counter top as he waddled directly for you, a large cardboard box cradled to his chest as he happily chirped your name in time with the slap of his sandals against the tile. He deposited the box to the empty bar stool on your opposite side, only then allowing his gaze to deviate to a violently coughing Seokjin.

“Is he okay?” He asked simply, that same comforting calmness etched deep in his tone.

“Loaded question,” Yoongi grumbled.

“He’ll be fine,” You dismissed, waving your hand over your shoulder. Seokjin coughed in outrage. You placed both hands on either side of the taped lid, tilting your head, “What do you have here?—” After a second, you perked up, “—Is it this week's shipment?”

Namjoon’s hands covered yours, soft with the vanilla pine lotion you knew he kept on the bottom shelf behind the counter in the store. Gentle thumbs nudged your appendages aside, instead tucking his nail underneath the tape and flicking across it.

“You reviewed my final order list, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, you were going to order some extra crossword books and replace those couple copies of encyclopedia that Marie...had an accident on…”

“Right, but—” He balled the tape when it reached the far end of the box, still holding your eye contact as he began to fold open the flaps on the box, “—I added a few more things before I sent it in.”

“Oh yeah?” You couldn’t help but grin too, “And what did you order?”

“Well, first of all…” Namjoon shuffled around, trying his best to shield the contents inside from you until he retrieved what he was looking for. An exclamation point coated his features when his fingers wrapped around the desired book, drawing it out with a giddy grin.

“Is that Gatsby?” You gaped, reaching for the paperback book in his hand. You took in the horribly refurbished cover, sighing blissfully as you looked at Namjoon. At the same time, you each breathed, “Hate Gatsby.”

“I bought ten copies I think,” Namjoon took it back from you, flicking it back into the box like a frisbee, “If anything, we can put them to Marie’s litter box. Lead her there.”

“I like this already. Show me more.”

“The next one I bought for you, if you want it,” He shuffled a bit longer this time, eyebrows meeting his hairline when he finally latched onto the item yet seemed to struggle a bit more with lifting this one. The veins in his arms strained, bottom lip tucking under his teeth as he threw his shoulder into it, letting the heavy hardback hit the top of the counter with an audible thud that silenced Seokjin’s moaning behind you.

“Twilight?” You laughed, stroking your fingers over the raised text, “I can’t believe you brought yourself to write this on an order.”

“I can’t believe I did either,” Namjoon beamed, glowing in the rays of your praise, “I thought you’d like it and I wasn’t sure if you had a copy of it so…”

“My copy is in the van,” You flattened your palm to ignore the itch on the bend of your thumb, forcing the rush of emotion down past the sudden lodge in your throat, “This is a nicer copy than mine, anyway.”

“Isn’t that the book about vampires?” Yoongi deadpanned. You slid it toward him, letting him turn the heavy text over to read the soft pink cursive that curled a summary across the back cover. He eyed Namjoon, “You...ordered this?”

“I got a few copies for the shop too,” He ignored Yoongi, addressing you as he instead shoved a stapled packet of paper toward you, bits of other paper and an envelope fluttering to the top of the box in the process. “And I...consulted some of the newer best seller lists and ordered the things that sounded interesting from those. I’ll let you shelve them, if you want.”

“You haven’t read this, have you Joon?” Yoongi continued to gape at the cover, flipping it back over to stare open mouthed at the table of contents.

“I could help you next order too,” You flipped through the list, running your index finger over the highlighted titles, “...if you like.”

“Uhh…” You heard an excessive amount of extra fluttering, peering over the top of the packet in your hand to see him ruffling at the papers and envelopes that had slipped out of his grasp when he passed you the list. You watched as he pried open the singular envelope with crooked index finger on the flap, wincing as he did so. “Yeah...yeah maybe.”

“What?” You asked gently, trying to laugh, “Is that the bill for all this fresh content?”

“Yeah—” Yoongi had stopped where he’d been rubbing at bits of nacho cheese Seokjin had spilled over the counter, watching Namjoon carefully. A smile met his lips, one that never even touched the crinkle around his eyes or the sparkling softness in his irises, “—something like that.”

“Can I tell you something?”

You paused where you’d been mid chopping vegetables, a task you’d handed off to Namjoon only for him to show sizable difficulty with. You tasked him with dishes instead, handing off each new soiled piece for him to dunk in the basin piled high in bubbles. He hesitated with his wrists hidden underneath the suddy mess, fingers holding onto the wire edges of one of the charred racks from within the oven.

After a second, you started again, allowing the slice of metal through the onion slices under your moist fingers to fill the cramped kitchen once more. “Of course,” You glanced at him once you’d finished the row you were on, absently sweeping the pieces back and forth across the cutting board underneath a cupped palm, “What’s up?”

“I’m not very good at ordering books for the store,” He held up a palm when you tried to suppress your reaction, “I know you know this, but I’m just...acknowledging that it’s always been like this. I don’t like to think of myself as pretentious, but I suppose my ordering and stocking habits are a bit on that side.”

“In the beginning, I had a reason for it, or at least, what I convinced myself was a viable reason. I’d purchased the shop after living in the apartment above a quickly failing bakery for far too long. I wanted it to be something that thrived in this secluded little town.”

“Like a bookstore,” You nodded without any sort of teasing or malice. You were a book person, after all. You craved the homey feel of a locally owned bookstore in any crevice of the Earth, probably contributing to some twisted fate in the universe to how you ended up in one particular place in one particular line of employment after being lost on the road for so long.

“Right, but not just any bookstore. I wanted to give the place something unique,” White bubbles gathered and slipped down the length of his knuckles when Namjoon drew his hands out of the water, letting them grip on either side of the sink as he leaned into it, “A scavenger hunt of sorts sounds appealing, right? Once you find the book in the store, there’s some sort of satisfaction to it. Especially if you don’t really know what you’re looking for and you end up stumbling upon an extensive history of stuffed animal fur.”

You wrinkled your nose, “We have that?”

“Somewhere,” Namjoon nodded gravely, cracking a smile at your indignation, “I would have no idea where it is.”

“And to an extent, that business plan works. Keep just enough popular titles to appease to the general public. Keep more obscurity to draw the crowd craving originality. Garner revenue from individuals on any spectrum of literature pretentiousness,” He shrugged, letting his shoulders roll up to his ears as his chin dropped, “It worked for maybe five months. Then the newness wore off.”

“I’ve never really been able to recover even with our normal patronage. Now that there’s appeal for business in neighboring towns, all of us have started to suffer. People would rather stay in a Hilton next to a Panera and shop at the three story Barnes and Noble than tour our locally owned amenities that provide damn near the same thing.”

“Jeongguk and Yoongi have been able to adapt, though,” Namjoon’s shoulders relaxed again, letting his hands dip down into the water to grab at the wire rack. He passed the rough edge of the sponge over the edges now exposed out of the water, soft enough that the fibers barely pulled any of the grime from the utensil. “I can’t seem to find my way out of a rut.”

“Have you tried?”

Namjoon laughed, “I ordered Twilight, didn’t I?”

“But did you order New Moon too? Or the other two books in the series? What about the DVD adaptations?” You started to dice the onion now, speaking to the tiny pieces you nudged aside with the tip of the knife, “Did you put them in alphabetical order? Or did you at least consider creating a young adult section? Or a vampire romance section? I can offer more recommendations—”

“I can’t afford to pay the bills,” Namjoon said gently. “Not...not anymore. Way before I hired you, even.”

You grew silent, letting yourself sink into the lip of the counter top.

“I had to start using my monthly order funds to pay rent on the store. And my personal rent. And the light bill. And…” He sighed, dunking the wire rack a few times in silence to rinse it of the bubbles.

“That’s what those envelopes were today. Notice of eviction.”

Your mouth fished, pursing at the seam of your lips and puffing your cheeks out as you pondered the terrifying thought. Never mind that this was your temporary home and temporary place of employment but this was Namjoon’s livelihood, his greatest accomplishment, his love.

Behind convoluted marketing strategies and a quietly picky selection in what he read in his personal time, there was a man who absolutely adored the power of literature in its simplest form, tangible, physical books. You’d witnessed the way his eyes lit up when the tiny bell at the front of the store tinkled with the arrival of someone new, his long legs and eager persistence quick to beat you out from behind the counter to assist the customer, whether that be to point out a general area as to where something may be located, to recommend something of his own, or to simply offer a casual conversation over a cup of coffee he offered in a floral paper cup from the tiny room underneath the staircase.

“So, what do we do?”

He was puzzled only for a moment, the furrow in his eyebrow traveling upward with the smile that appeared as he dragged his hands out of the water. Massive palms dabbed to his thighs as he backed away from you, bumping into the edge of the counter on his way but he found his target, the massive stack of sliced open mail. Some ruffling with semi damp hands that splattered visible water droplets over the counter later, his pinched fingers appeared triumphant holding a mint colored envelope with a red printed logo stamped on the return address corner.

“There’s uhm…” Namjoon’s fingers pried inside, drawing a folded piece of paper out. Through the back, you could see the same red logo, bold and in the center of the page this time. “One of the companies I order from sent this not too long ago. I don’t know if it’s a sign but it kind of seemed like a sign.”

You abandoned your chopping to accept the paper, now doused in vague water spots, from his grasp. He voiced the contents your squinted eyes began to scan.

“Basically, if we can get sales above a certain threshold by the end of the month, I can apply for a grant worth—” He was in front of you now, reaching his index finger over to hover above a bolded monetary amount, “—that. That would give enough time for you to help me implement some of your ideas…”

“And if none of it works,” Namjoon shrugged, folding the paper back into it’s neat little pamphlet, letting it dangle to his side, “then I guess this wasn’t really meant to be.”

A small part of you envied him in that moment. Perhaps there was more than what presented itself outwardly, but Namjoon was frustratingly calm about simply giving up something he worked so hard to achieve simply because of a couple of setbacks. The yellow folder that triggered you to step off the trunk of Taehyung’s rickety travel van certainly could not relate.

Instead, you blurted, “You want my help?”

His normal composure fractured a bit, longer pauses, hums even, stationed between stumbled words, “If you’d like to, yes, I’d love to have your help. Outside perspective is the only way I’m going to change my ways. I don’t think I could do it, not productively, by myself.”

“And of course, if you’re still around by then,” Cautious brown irises met your own, swimming in something unreadable, a guard almost, “I know you’ve said you aren’t sure when Taehyung will be back. If he does come back—”

“He’ll be back,” The skin behind your neck grew hot with how quickly you assured that, a statement mostly spoken to sate the tiny nagging part of yourself that was left lost with your entire situation as a whole. Namjoon blinked, unwavering, chin twitching just enough to nod.

“But I’d be happy to help for as long as I’m here,” You allowed yourself to smile even if the line wobbled a bit. You resumed your chopping in silence, only long enough to finish off the vegetable underneath your palm before you were sweeping your work space clean, dusting your fingers off in the process.

“Where should be start, boss?”

You were tasked with reorganization while Namjoon took to his computer, conjuring up flyers dedicated to those few events you’d agreed upon after exhausting a list of potential, quick ways to garner attention and profit. Aside from making the store more navigable for the average person (as well as setting aside some funds specifically to order the missing books in series), bringing people into the store seemed like an obvious answer to gaining short (or long) term interest in the store.

An easy way to bring people into the store was to host events.

Armed with three massive stacks of flyers in the basket on the front of Namjoon’s spare bike, you took off on an advertising run. You stopped at Yoongi’s, watching Namjoon wallpaper flyers to the glass windows outside the cafe while Yoongi looked disgruntled between the spaces in the fluttering paper yet made no attempt to remove any of them and quietly took a stack you handed him to hand out to customers as they came in. Jeongguk barely let you get the question out of your mouth, appearing with a sheet of thick, round, metallic stickers of his own design that he used to plaster the various event flyers over the front of his desk and a promise to photocopy the flyers and post them to every gaming community he knew online.

The first event advertised was in connection with the local elementary school, parents pouring through the doors one Wednesday after school while their beaming teacher brought up the rear. You settled them in with fresh baked cookies and hot chocolate while Marie made her rounds, resisting gooey chocolate off of chubby fingers and happily deciding upon a small girl in the corner who was completely enamored with a dinosaur themed pop up book she’d discovered with Namjoon’s help.

You’d watched quietly where he knelt next to her on the shorter shelves, one’s you’d specially arranged for the event and as a way to pinpoint the location of the children's books previously scattered aimlessly about. He’d murmured gently too her, offering books on the shelves she couldn’t quite reach until she made grabby hands at a slightly disgruntled stegosaurus when Namjoon had flipped open the first thick page.

Hoseok, their teacher, drew you out of your fond trance. His arms were filled with educational books, ones a level between the ages he taught and that of high school, glossy pages filled with just enough text and just enough pictures to appeal to all ages. Wavy red hair parted down the middle, fluttering against shining apple cheeks as he beamed giddily at you, rainbow cartoon smiley faces in a repeated pattern on his shirt almost blinding you all the same.

“I did some shopping while you two watched over them,” Hoseok admitted bashfully, a slight pink tinting his ears as he glanced at the book on top of his stack, a midnight blue cover with an abundance of jungle animals spilling across the surface. “I hope they weren’t too bad.”

“Not at all,” You softened, pulling your gaze away from Namjoon when the little girl proudly parked herself in his lap and began to chatter absently about the next dinosaur that popped into view, a triceratops by first glance. “I could give you a discount since they’re for the school?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—” Hoseok’s eyes widened, tossing his fringe as an absent habit, “—I’d like to support anyway. I feel as if I don’t do that enough lately.”

“It would be no problem.”

He brushed past you to place his towering stack on top of the counter, already digging deep in the pocket of his bright purple jeans. A wad of cash was pushed across to you before you could even begin to swipe barcodes through the system.

“Consider it a donation.”

The dinosaur popup book sold during the event along with a dozen other children’s books that Namjoon assured you were relics, books he’d forgotten were on the shelves at all let alone ones that would sell instantly upon being relocated to an easy to find vicinity (whether that be grouped or closer to the ground where two foot tall humans could scan at eye level).

Other things started to leave too, filling the space in between scheduled events. You saw a fair amount of hand sized romance novels leave the door, ones you plopped randomly onto a singular turnstyle you assembled from multiples hunks of plastic in a dusty cardboard box in the room underneath the staircase, flowery covers with fraying spines shoved into purses and jacket pockets. Magazines started to go, new and old issues alike after you ordered them in stacks on Namjoon’s wooden table as it sat in the front window display. Series started to go as a whole, limited in quantity but at least as a whole rather than in the first and third book with the second book to be ordered from an online delivery or serviced from a nearby chain.

You sold out of crossword puzzle books when the second event came, murder mysteries and a fair few of the popular horror authors leaving the store too when the local florist used the space to teach a beginner’s bouqet workshop. The blonde headed man, Park Jimin in all his charming giggles and devastating smile, brought in his self written gardening manual, giving Namjoon a sizable check to be able to sell them while he did his workshop.

You had every reason to believe it wasn’t the atmosphere of the bookshop that had elderly women kissing red lipstick stains into his blushing cheeks and selling out his small stack of green pamphlets but Namjoon wasn’t one to turn away the check.

“What do you know about daisies?”

Jimin’s expression immediately grew amused, glancing at you from under shaggy fringe as he hunched to untie the cat covered apron pressed to his stature. He freed the knot at his spine, straightening once more as he shrugged it over his head and began to meticulously fold it.

“A lot,” His eyebrow cocked, letting the apron fall to his now empty table, “What are you wanting to know?”

“Let’s say you were trying to grow a plant in a moving van—” You crossed your arms, “—could you do it?”

His nose wrinkled at the bridge, “With a lot of finesse, probably. But if we’re talking about a plant that’s good with traveling...succulents might be a good bet.”

The dip between your thumb and palm itched and you rubbed it at your hip, smiling, “That’s what I figured.”

Locations around the store were progressively growing blurrier each time you glanced up from the harsh lighting off the computer monitor in the shop. There was a soft glow from the moon where it reflected on the floor panels at the front of the room but it didn’t quite reach through the rows of thick shelves (you’d rearranged books, not furniture. Namjoon wouldn’t budget on layout) but otherwise, you worked in the dark, fingers working on muscle memory around the keyboard as you continued to plug in information to the online application.

The events worked, giving the store a two month boost in sales that granted you, at the very least, a chance to save the store. It was just that, a boost, nothing that could sustain long term even with newfound organization and aggressive attempts at community engagement. Even with all that, you lacked the funds to properly distribute across all things that needed tending to, particularly the ordering that would require you to keep up with the amount of product that went out the door after the first event.

It was a curve, one with a sharper downfall than the first.

Creaking on the staircase alerted you to Namjoon’s presence, phone flashlight outlined Marie where she sat cradled in the curve of his elbow. He placed her on the floor when he reached the bottom, allowing him to properly balance the basket curled on his opposite forearm.

“...alright?” He murmured. The wicker container was slid to the counter top next to you as he slid onto the free stool.

You hummed, flicking your index finger up and down the scroll to send the typed text whirring by. “Just about done,” You placed your chin on your shoulder, gaze cutting away from his gentle smile to nod at the basket, “What do you have there?”

“Oh!” Namjoon thumbed at the lid, digging inside to present you with two plastic wrapped sandwiches. He placed those aside, returning with a metal thermos next, followed by two paper plates and forks you recognized from the utensil drawer in the apartment. “I packed us a little paperwork picnic.”

You dragged one of the sandwiches closer, careful in picking apart the wrap to discover sliced tomato, floppy lettuce, and careful strips of bacon stuck between two fresh buns. Lemonade was dunked into two plastic cups by the careful hands of Namjoon, his smile growing when you shot him an inquisitive glance.

“I said packed for a reason,” He teased, nudging you when you pinched at one of the ranch drenched piece of greenery, “Jin insisted I take them when I was picking up lunch earlier.”

“Was the picnic part your idea?” You accepted a glass from him, drawing it to your bottom lip without taking a sip.

His gaze remained unwavering as his hand dipped back inside the basket, tripping it across the glass counter top a bit but managing to retrieve the checkered strip of fabric at the bottom of the basket in the end. It fluttered from its folded position when he lifted it higher, showing that it wasn’t a full checkered blanket but instead a strip of fabric, sheared at the edges and appearing to be a leftover from something sewn. It was just big enough for each of your glasses to sit with a comfortable distance from each other, something Namjoon completely by gently drawing your cup out of your grasp and settling it next to his.

“Maybe,” He watched as you continued to squint at the end of the sandwich, “...that means the food is safe to eat. Promise.”

You let yourself take a sizable bite, chewing thoughtfully through the crunchy bacon. You swallowed, serious into the next nibble you tested, “You have more trust in Seokjin than I do.”

It was quiet as the two of you began to dig into your meals, the first of any sizable food you’d had the entire day as a result of being cooped up in a mountain of tax papers, profit spreadsheets, generic online bell curve generators, and the daunting application that hung on the thread of an accidental click to send its incompleteness spiraling into the cloud of uncertainty for the store.

Your typing resumed in silence too, scrolling rather as you simply scanned over the answers you’d provided for the longer answers, open ended questions reminiscent of essay portions of school applications. The words by themselves registered but the combination of such into sentences didn’t comprehend in your mind, subconscious elsewhere as the pixels flashed through your blurred peripheral by means of your own flicking fingertip.

“So what’s your story?”

The screen stalled at your command, shoulders sagging. Softly, you wiggled the mouse to click out of the screen at hand, bringing up the smiling koala cartoon whose name you’d learned was Koya. “Is this another interview?”

Namjoon’s fingers warmed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until your stool spun on its own accord. He continued to hold onto your wrist, thumb traveling upward to brush across your knuckles.

“No,” His voice grew warm, quiet for the ambiance created in the quaint shop near the midnight hour, “I only know a fraction of your story, the rising action, maybe? I’m not too sure. I don’t have enough information to even begin to plug it into the imaginary literary equation.”

“You graduated with a literature degree and you have questionable yet defendable taste in books read in your free time,” Namjoon squeezed your skin, “What else am I missing?”

“I write sometimes,” The words came so quick that your conscious had to pause to gather your next thought, trailing your gaze over Namjoon’s head. You squinted, blurring the darkness of the children’s shelves a bit more as you corrected, “I’m a writer.”

“I had a book deal right out of graduation, something I’d worked ages on. Revised three different times to appease to different agents, none of which ended up signing me. Self publishing was an option I just saw the other side. Heard too many pitches that made me a bit too hopeful.”

“And then finally I found someone who wanted to take me on. Who assured me that I could make big waves within their agency. Said they’d never quite seen anything like my writing style, something that didn’t quite fit in my declared genres,” You laughed bitterly, letting your hand drop from Namjoon’s to rub across your lap, “Said they’d never quite heard anyone as headstrong about my particular beliefs either. Said it was a good thing, made me memorable.”

“I got all the way to their corporate office in the city to sign off on the rights. I even went to the effort to type up my notes and my drafts and whatever else I could find—” You offered a smile, “—I prefer handwriting—” sighing, you spread your fingers apart, pressing at the bend in your thumb, “—Had it all stapled and put together in a nice folder.”

“Then they told me they couldn’t sign me. I don’t remember the exact reason. I think I stopped listening to them after my potential agent was called out of the room for a phone meeting with another prospective client.”

A shaky inhale kept the mist of tears that involuntarily gathered in your waterline at bay, gaze darting to your wringing fingers, “Have you ever played that jelly bean game? The one where half the blue ones taste like raspberry and the other taste like disinfectant wipes or something? It kind of felt like that. Going in expecting one thing and leaving with the exact opposite.”

“I didn’t know I could feel that lost,” You admitted out loud, further elaborating, “I had no plan other than that. It seemed like all my other friends were graduating with a perfect bridge into their new lives,” You let yourself smile, “...even Taehyung. He was always planning on traveling after graduation.”

“He never really understood what I was going through. I didn’t expect him to. Like I said, he had his own plans, one that hadn’t included me until a week or two before they were to begin. I don’t blame him for not understanding how to handle me. And in a way...I feel guilty for placing that kind of responsibility on him. He didn’t need to feel obligated to care for me but he did and he always had and for that I’m sorry.”

“I guess I thought doing something impulsive would give me a purpose again. At the very least, maybe it’d renew my purpose. Maybe I’d want to start a whole new book. Maybe I’d want to try self publishing if I forgot about the horrors I endured through the other process,” A tear appeared now, slipping down the bridge of your nose as your lips wrinkled into a shriveled petal and you shook your head, letting your palms lift and fall back into your lap with an audible slap, “Nothing.”

You startled when something scuffed on the floor, gaze focusing on what you could see in front of you once more. Namjoon had shuffled closer, bringing his stool with him until his knees bumped into yours, close enough for the warmth of his palm to cup your cheek this time soft in using the curve of his thumb to collect the stream of tears as they began to fall more freely.

“Can I tell you something?” You murmured, waiting until his silent gaze met yours.

“This gave me a purpose again. You gave me a purpose,” You grinned, some of the excess tears spreading over your tongue, “At first it was just wanting to figure out why this strange man with a cat wanted to arrange his bookstore like that.”

“Old dog new tricks,” Namjoon insisted, voice gentle for the first time since his initial question.

You let both your hands cup his wrist, holding his hand against your face, “You reminded me of my initial purpose. What I grew so far from...that there’s so much warmth in literature and books and the written word.”

“There’s always worth in spreading that type of love to the community,” Your lips curled in the edge, not quite reaching your teeth, “It’d be a shame if you didn’t get to continue to do so.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” The intimacy expanded outward, encasing your statures in a safety bubble when his forehead touched yours, holding you there by means of his hand on your cheek and your fingers around his forearm. He waited until he no longer felt new splashes of tears underneath his diligent thumb before he spoke again.

“Have you ever thought about trying again?”

Namjoon was so close, the warmth bleeding off his dark irises giving your uncertain heart a squeeze. It didn’t cut into your confusion, “Try what?”

“To get another book deal,” He straightened just enough to pick at your opposite cheek with his free hand, placing stray hairs aside in a meticulously soft way, “Just how far have I inspired you, honey?”

You swatted at him, squawking until he held up a hand in surrender.

“I haven’t, not with...that book anyway. Truthfully, I trashed everything but my handwritten notes that day. I think I even impulsively deleted the files or if they’re still out there I wouldn’t know where to find them.”

“I suppose my next question as to if I can read anything by you is moot now.”

“I’m sure there’s some embarrassing poems out there on my undergraduate literary magazine website…”

Namjoon cocked an eyebrow, “That’s a scavenger hunt I’m willing to have.”

“And it’s one I’m willing to help you with—” You giggled, managing to catch his hands when they went to do grabby hands around your body at the computer mouse, “—after we submit this paperwork.”

“Ah, right,” Warm hands landed on your hips, spinning you to face the monitor while a heavy chin settled on your shoulder, “The whole save my passion thing. I suppose the poems can wait.”

You wrote a poem in undergraduate about a divorce as told by the family cat, the detached perspective of an animal who has no conscious understanding of anything in the human world, yet is still watching his life crash before his eyes. He’s not getting food as often. Everyone is always yelling. Suddenly, dad isn’t there anymore. His tiny human, the child of the family, comes and goes in a confusing schedule. But he still has to be a cat.

The script on that section of the university page barely functioned any longer, drawing your poem into mismatched fonts with spacing that surely wasn’t what you’d originally intended. The flit of your gaze over the up and down scroll of the page fit the same detached sense that the cat in the story had.

Life still went on around you as the crippling rejection email for the store grant hovered in the next tab over from your poem. Namjoon’s absent restocking of the shelves at the front of the store proved that.

You clicked out of your poem, letting the etched red logo at the top of the email cover your vision once more as you sighed. A bitter tap of your index finger later and the image was hidden, just leaving the wall of text that was just several different ways to say you didn’t receive the grant. You’d opened all their resource links, those hovering in the next browser over while Koya watched on behind them.

None of those would work, either. You didn’t buy from their partner supplier. Your store square footage wasn’t enough. You didn’t specialize in one specific genre. You didn’t offer library-like services alongside the business aspect.

One tab had the generic question plugged into a search engine, easy ways to make money. You felt like you were applying for school again, scrounging for scholarship opportunities on survey websites that did nothing but implore armies of viruses into your hard drive. Some of those resources still sat in unorganized folders in your email, ones you mindlessly scrolled past with your cheek scrunched into your curled fist, fingernails pressing crescents into your palm the harder you squeezed.

University emails changed from graduation subject lines to assignment subject lines to personal sprinkled within, exchanges with members of group projects or monthly subscriber updates from clubs you participated in.

Junk emails continued to pour in on the daily even if your email was virtually untouched since you’d sat out on the road which meant the folder continued to dump an unprecedented amount of data into your deleted file never to be cleaned out where you used to diligently empty it. You did that with a clear conscience, a small victory in your hazy consciousness as your finger misjudged and you found your drafts opening.

There was a singular email, the body text left blank and the subject line half typed. Manuscript...A tiny paper clip indicated that something was attached.

For a second, you feared you’d overloaded Namjoon’s system with the file size until the PDF materialized across the screen, blank at first until the last of the near eighty pages downloaded and you found yourself face to face with the typed contents of your lost yellow folder.

Your laughter drew Namjoon from his task, his silhouette shadowing over what was already dark in the store, another late night venture between the two of you when the news of rejection had the both of you searching for something to do that wasn’t nothing. He was smiling at first until he caught a sheen on your cheeks, laughter slowly materializing into sobs before he could properly reach you.

He uttered your name, hip catching on the edge of the counter as he lunged for you yet reeled back at the glaring title on the screen. The initial hug his instinct wished to provide stalled, hands instead landing on your shoulders as he squeezed.

“What’s this?”

“I think this thing is haunting me,” You groaned miserably, “Either that or your computer itself is haunted.”

Namjoon kept a firm grip on you as he shook the mouse, minimizing the tab and all the others until Koya’s smiling face spread across the screen. Gentle pressure turned you, hands leaving to spread palm up, fingers wiggling.

Softly, Namjoon encouraged, “Let’s go to bed.”

Marie’s meow managed to piece some of the scrambled pieces together once your slow advancements at the lead of Namjoon’s hand paused, leaving you to realize this isn’t your room.

“This is your room,” You audibly expressed, flinching away from one of the two foot tall character’s he had curled in the doorway.

He let go of your hand to allow you to make your decision, assuring that his searching gaze ducked to find your own. “Is that okay?”

Your whimper welcomed the stretch of one of his hoodies across your torso, snug to the fresh coffee ground and fresh rain scent that clung to his duvet as long fingers tucked it around your body. He settled in next to you, just close enough to stroke at your cheek with his thumb and the flat of his mouth.

“Hey Namjoon?”

He shifted closer, curled knees encasing yours as his fingertips began to stroke down the back of your head. “Yeah, love?”

“Do you want to try again?” You regarded him with just your eyes, mouth and nose hidden underneath the hem of his sheets. “To keep the store?”

His lips lingered on your forehead this time, cradling the back of your head until the shaking of your shoulders subsided. The tip of his nose pulled back to brush where yours would be underneath the blanket, nodding so the skin brushed accidentally a second time.

“What else is there to do?”

You found a warm bagel and a handwritten note on a napkin in place of Namjoon’s stature when you woke. Raw eyes found it difficult to decipher the shapes he’d quickly scrawled with a blunt tipped marker but somehow you made out store. You abandoned the plated bagel and headed for the staircase.

“If that’s not Marie I don’t want you down here,” A laughing voice ordered your descend when you’d barely made it to the fourth stair.

“Why?”

“Did you not read my note?”

“It said that you were working in the store.”

“And that you’re not allowed down here yet.”

You continued your descent a few slow stairs at a time, “I won’t look.”

Namjoon snorted, an image you saw when you already broke your promise to find him seated at the counter completely swamped in crafting materials. Strips of construction paper, jagged cardboard, stacks of printer paper still half hanging out of their packages.

“What are you doing? DIY decorations?”

He looked up where he was furiously spinning a shard of pipe cleaner, “I thought you said you wouldn’t look.”

“Oops,” You shrugged, bare feet chilled all the way up your legs to where your sleep shorts began as you shuffled toward him, squinting at the mass chaos he’d created. Your gaze trailed upward from the browns and purples and metal utensils, starting to offer a generic question once more until you found your manuscript still open on the computer monitor. “What are you…Namjoon what are you doing?”

He grunted into the last spin of his fingers, securing the last, electric blue pipe cleaner in the poorly jabed hole through the top of the object he held in whitening knuckles. An audible breath slipped through his lips, hanging ajar for a second before his lips drew upward into a smile.

“I, uhm,” Namjoon thrust the object toward you, “I made you something.”

It appeared to be made of three separate pieces of cardboard, a front and back cover with a sizable strip bent to accommodate either, acting as a mock spine. Purple construction paper was glued over the brown substance, dobs of glue staining some of the edges but flat otherwise. A trio of electric blue pipe cleaners sat in neatly spaced, tightly spun balls on the far left side, binding the ball of pages instead that had already begun to bend at the cardboard covers. The same messy handwriting that covered the napkin now forgotten in Namjoon’s bed graced the front, the title of the novel larger than your name. The back held similar penmanship, the synopsis you’d provided to various companies scrawled just above a tiny, attempted portrait of you.

“I know you said you got rid of the other one but if you ever wanted to try again, you know, to get it published—” Namjoon smiled, tucking his arms between his legs shyly as he leaned toward you, “—now you have a potential mock up to show them, too.”

You kissed him with your palm pressed into the pair of scissors he’d dropped when he heard you descend down the stairs, body leaned awkwardly over the counter until he stood to intercept you. His palm held onto the side of your neck while you clutched the book to your chest, breathing into the open seam of his lips.

“Thank you so much.”

“I’d make you ten more copies if you wanted me to.”

Your laughter stopped just a hair short of kissing him again when there was a knocking at the front door, gentle at first and then frantic when you jumped away from Namjoon. Through the spaces in the shelves, you could see Jeongguk, his over exaggerated waving growing smaller as you and Namjoon approached.

“Was I…” Jeongguk’s gaze flashed to Namjoon’s flushed cheeks when you pulled the door open, “Was I interrupting something?”

Namjoon did an astounding job of holding in his irritation, “What do you need, Guk?”

“Oh!” He perked up again, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. A sheet of paper was thrust against your chest, “Special delivery. You need to look at it now.”

“What—”

“No time to explain,” Jeongguk shot you a thumbs up, taking backward steps that had him stumbling over pieces of gravel on the sidewalk as he went to dash in the opposite direction of the hotel, “See you later!”

Namjoon went for the sheet of stickers while you came to inspect the tiny piece of notebook paper balanced on top of it.

“Are those tiny aloe plants?” He continued to awe, pointing at the characters on the sheet.

Hey dove, good news! I found your folder. If you want it uhm...look up. I guess.

Taehyung stood across the street, hair entirely longer than how’d you’d left him, adorned in a matching baggy grey sweatsuit with your yellow folder clutched against his chest.

He braced for the impact of your arms throwing themselves around his neck yet still managed to stumble back two or three paces in a fit of laughter as you clung to him. “Hey there,” He greeted, nose in your hair as he managed to properly weave his arms around your waist and squeeze. “How’ve you been?”

The initial joy seized in your heart as you pulled away to look at him, softening, “I’m not going to go back with you.”

Taehyung’s grin grew wider, all geometric edges and bouncing fringe as he nodded. A gentle understanding, leaning in closer to murmur, “I didn’t think you would, kid, not from the second you stepped out of the van—” After a second, he said a bit louder, “—and besides. That’s not what I asked you.”

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing over your shoulder to where Namjoon continued to regard the interaction fondly. You smiled, turning back to Taehyung.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

He shook his head, gentle in sliding his hands down your arms before taking your hands, shaking them gently between your bodies, “I’m not going to stay much longer,” One hand left you to take the folder he’d shoved underneath his arm, “Just wanted to bring you this.”

You took it gently, rubbing thoughtfully at the old rip in the spine. A few more had joined it from whatever turmoil it had endured in the last months. “Where did you find it?”

“I’d put it underneath your seat when I cleaned. To keep it safe,” Taehyung’s smile was regretful and amused all the same, “Forgot I put it there…”

“Are your succulents okay?”

“Mhm…” His hand cupped yours where you held the folder, “You still haven’t answered me. Are you okay?”

Another involuntary glance behind you to Namjoon who offered you a thumbs up this time. “Yeah,” You nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, Taehyung, I’m great.”

Taehyung’s smile was equally as fond, nodding once to your rapid ones, “I’m glad…” He trailed off, patting the folder in your grasp, “Well I, uhm, just came to return that to you so—”

“Can you keep it?”

“What?”

“Can you keep it safe for me?” You pressed the folder back against his chest, “I don’t think I need it anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah I can…” Taehyung gradually pulled it closer until it was hugged against his chest, taking a step backward, “Yeah. I’ll keep it safe.” He made prolonged eye contact with you, smiling, “I’ll see you?”

“Of course,” You touched his chest, “And hey, Tae?”

“Hmm?”

You patted him and then your folder.

“Don’t get lost out there.”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #namjoon imagines #bts fluff #namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #fic: lost

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burndownthehousetonight · 7 years

Photo

((Holy hell, a lot happens in this @tinyredartist RP, it’s like a twenty layer dip make of pure drama and feels and I love it))

It was only barely ten in the morning, and most of the present customers were clearly not there just to drink. Manic's walk almost made it look like he was showing off, channeling some old way he used to act for his new identity. He walked right up to the bar, sitting down and calling down the bartender.

"Hello," He cooed out in a smooth voice. "I heard you have a special on some new drinks here? Something called a black pearl? I've heard it's real... addictive~"

Manic brushed his quills to the side, sneakily turning on the small camera hidden in his earring and showing off the voids in his glove where he seemed to press three of his fingers against his palms, to make it look like some of them were missing. "Or am I coming to the wrong place?" Manic knew the right fake name to imply what he was looking for. He also knew exactly how to use his little make-up kit to make his arm look like it had some kind of healed track marks. He leaned over like he was hitting on the bartender, just enough to show off his little make-up effects.

The bartender that Manic called over was young, clearly new at his job, and very, very intimidated by Manic’s flirty attitude. Overwhelmed, he called Aria over.

“Black pearl? I’ll get the boss for you then." They were never told what black pearl was, or any of the other codenames, but Aria had figured it out pretty early on. She opened the secret door and disappeared from Manic's sight. Scourge came in, ordering a shot of whiskey from the male bartender.

Aria knocked at the door to the bat's office “Ma'am. There’s an order for black pearl downstairs.” It wasn't their most popular product, but the customers that came were very steady. The woman motioned at Aria, the implication obvious as she went to retrieve some from their little storage space. Manic waited impatiently, tapping his fingers on the bar top as he waited for whatever his next cue would be. And sure enough, Aria arrived down the stairs not long later to usher Manic in. Manic stood and strolled behind the bar like he'd done this many times before. He only gave Aria a nod before continuing in to the building. The office he ended up in wasn't necessarily oppressive, it was just the circumstances that made it feel that way. Slightly dirty, but not in any real noticeable ways. Dark colors, but nothing too sinister. If an innocent inspector entered, they wouldn't suspect a thing. "Bartender sent me up here," Manic added as he strolled up to the desk. "What kinda prices we looking at?" Aria waited patiently by the door until she was ordered by the bat to go downstairs.

The bat herself opened up a file on her computer. “Depending on your current tastes. I figure an… Individual such as yourself wants the high end stuff? But first I need your information for… Security reasons. Name?”

Aria waited, able to listen in from behind the bar as she talked casually with Scourge. The king himself had been hit with Manic's makeup skills as well, adding scarring and age. The bandages came off, the classic jacket replaced with an older looking one, making him into a unique but non existent alternate.

“Hey broad! You call this whiskey? Its dish water!” He said, slamming the glass on the bar. He even donned an accent.

“I’m sorry sir. Perhaps I could offer you another drink from our vast selection? On the house.” Aria gave her best customer service smile again, protecting Lukas.

“Yeah, that’s more like it. Gimme a beer, full to the brim, no foam” he demanded. The second it was set before him, he picked it up and chucked the contents onto Aria's top. The men and women in the bar cheered, most very happy for the show. Aria covered herself and checked for her spare shirt.

“Lukas I have to go upstairs. Hold down the fort.” And Aria climbed up the stairs to knock at the door again. “Ma'am? May I come in? Someone threw a beer at me and I’m soaked through… And my spate shirt is in the wash back at home… Can I borrow one from you?” "My name?" Manic said back. "If you say so. Scourge Castillo." He brushed his bangs aside, grinning. "Don't look much like a Scourge, do I?" The bat woman tapped away, Manic watching on eagerly. It was a slightly outdated model, nothing he couldn't get into easily. "Looks like this isn't your first visit?" She looked at the monitor, before turning back to Manic. "You stopped here two years ago, did you? Don't remember your face..." Manic shrugged and played along with the unexpected turn. "Get my fix, get some booze, it's a good place. Just haven't been around lately." Manic was tempted to try and say something, just anything to fish some more information. But then, Aria knocked. "Yes, come in," her boss replied, doubtless wanting to perv on Aria as she could. "Who's screwing with you?" Manic was half focused, just praying he'd get a chance to dig through those files himself before turning them over to Zonic. Aria stepped in, top soaked through, her bra clearly visible. “Green hedgehog. I just had him kicked out. Not a regular.”

The bat licked her lips and got up, locking the cabinet that contained her stash. “Please excuse me Mr. Castillo. I have to help my poor bartender.” The bat walked over, leading Aria away from the room into a bedroom. “You poor dear… Its soaked right through. Your bra is too. You can borrow one of those as well.”

“Thank you Ma'am.”

Their voices and the sound of their heels clicking on the stone tile faded away and they walked off, giving Manic ample time to get to the computer.

Aria allowed herself to be lead shyly to a closet. The boss pulled out a crisp white uniform shirt and then had Aria remove hers. “What cup size are you?” She asked, clearly eyeing Aria's boobs.

‘Buy Manic time,’ Aria thought to herself. “I don’t know ma'am..”

The bat smirked, licking her lips again and sitting on her bed. “Well then, Let me help you with that… Take yours off and throw it on the pile of dirty clothes. Then come here.” "What on earth is this storage system...?" Her files were saved under convoluted names, important program files saved in completely different folders and information seemingly scattered around at random. A strange slapdash collection of file management that absolutely should not have worked, but somehow fell together into a barely functional web of coding. He'd need all of it. He was forced to silently tap away at the keyboard and backtrace any files connected to her strange storage system, and prayed they would transfer well. Twenty percent... Forty... The numbers crept by. Sixty... Eighty... He was almost done, but Manic wasn't completely comfortable. She was gone an awful long time, and he still hadn't heard her walking back. But it gave him a chance to look at the information she'd brought up on 'himself,' which was nothing more than a few sentences of plain text. "Scourge Castelli Marks - Two scars on chest, one on left shoulder, middle fingers and left ring finger missing, tracks Ad - 692 Clark Drive Anstey Purchases- Feb 2 15 - 120g h (wht, fl q), 18k - cash" Those words were burned into Manic's mind. He covered up his tracks easily. Putting the mouse and keyboard back in place, even down to adjusting the wires to their original positions. Every detail had to be perfect when he sat down in his seat... and shivered. For just a few moments, he couldn't hide his nerves at what he was going to do with this information, and whatever was happening to Aria... He received a text sent from Scourge. “If you get finished and she’s not back yet, wait until its not as suspicious and go looking for Aria.”

Aria meanwhile was assuring her boss that the bat had adequately measured her chest and had picked out a bra that fit correctly, even if it was made for looks more than support. She wasn’t sure how long Manic needed, so she was waiting for a signal of some kind.

“Oh my. It seems that the beer split on your skirt too..” The bat insisted, making as if to pull that off of Sria too.

“That’s quite alright, you’ve been more than helpful. I’ll bring these back to you clean on my next shift.” Aria insisted, stepping back and opening the door. Manic could now hear their voices, probably.

“Thank you for the shirt, Ma'am, but I have to go. Lukas cannot be left alone.” "She's getting outta there now," Manic shot back at Scourge. "We're good." The bat was clearly very much against letting Aria leave so soon, but Aria was getting out of there as soon as she could. Manic just sat still, getting more and more anxious as he kept thinking over that information. Scourge wasn't the type to buy this stuff in bulk, but that... was an insane amount. What the hell was Scourge doing here? He did his best to look like he was bored and twiddling his thumbs when the bat returned. "Sorry about that," she said simply. Manic gave her a dismissive hand gesture, certain she wouldn't notice anything different from before. The transaction was short, sweet, and probably a little suspicious with Scourge's previous purchase, but what was he going to do about it? He just had to play along. A small amount - enough to give a sample to the zone cops. Knowing these places, this sample was probably some part strychnine, but he wasn't taking it. Either way, he was done as soon as he could be, slightly worried about the drugs he was hiding in his jacket, unsure of what to say or feel. Aria was alright... right? She didn't seem hurt, but he knew that whatever that woman did when she was alone with Aria couldn't have been good. In an out. It was short, easy, and now all he had left to do was rush to the van and hope Aria was going to be alright. Scourge met him at the van with an undercover Zone cop. The Zonic showed the other his credentials and held his hand out. “Evidence please”

Scourge stood next to Manic. “He’s absolved of all crimes. It was decreed before we left.” He handed over the permissions.

Zonic opened the baggie and shook some of the powder into a bottle of liquid, turning it a bright blue.

“I’ll be calling this in then and we’ll raid within the hour. How many innocents currently in the building?”

“At least two. The bartenders. One didn’t know and one is under duress.” Scourge explained. "Zonic," Manic said as he unfastened the rectangular earring. "We kept this on hand while getting our data, this shows everything that happened. Just a sec." Manic flipped open one of the backseats, revealing the laptop and devices. He pushed the power button and plugged the earring into the laptop with a thin wire between the two. But a laptop this powerful still needed to turn on. So as they waited, Manic pulled out his phone, and started texting something to Aria; "Good luck <3" "Scourge, I have some information. On Scourge, I mean." He said, not quite thinking his wording through. She asked for a pseudonym, and- He was already in the system. Not just in the system, but in the system with an address." There was a desperation to Manic's voice as he prayed he still lived wherever he said he did. "We can finally get some answers! Wait, I want to- hold on, before I show it." Manic almost pushed Zonic aside, shifting to random points of the video and guessing his way to the moment he wanted to show Scourge as the video quickly buffered. All the same information, except this time, there was a Zonic looking on... "You know the man who purchased 120 grams of heroin?" He stated, interpreting the acronyms easily. ”… Is that a lot?“ Scourge asked and both hedgehogs turned to look at him. "What? I’m a king, I don’t know this shit. But hey, a lead is a lead right? I’ll help you follow up after we get Aria out of there. Don’t you have a raid to call, Commisoner?” He asked the Zonic, who nodded and walked away, making a call.

A text from Aria, unusual in how quickly she responded to it. “How long until the raid. I don’t know how long I can handle this. She’s all over me. I managed to hide in the bathroom.”

Scourge was wiping his makeup off and grabbing his jacket from the backseat of the truck. The bandages were off and if Manic was watching he would see the layers upon layers of scars. Manic would have been more concerned about what his scars could have meant, if it wasn't for the text they received from Aria. "I thought you got out of there!" Manic fired back as fast as his fingers could manage. He was starting to panic again. "Ari, this raid is going to happen soon, you're going to be alright." If he knew that THIS was how she wanted the plan to go down... Manic was impatient for a response, sitting down in the driver seat and tapping his leg impatiently. "Yeah, it's a hell of a lot." Manic finally said. "3 grams is a large buy, I don't-" He shut himself up. "We've gotta keep Ari safe. Is there, like, a bathroom window? A crawlspace- I don't know!" He gripped his fringe. realizing just how mag this situation had gotten. "I don't know...! What the hell have I done?" Scourge grabbed Manic by the shoulders. "Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He read the texts and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll go in and get her. Commissioner, one of my people inside is in danger and I know for a fact that there is at least one gun in the place. If I can’t get her out, you call the raid as fast as humanly possible. Manic, put your game face on, literally, and join me when you’re done. She wouldn’t dare hurt aria if both of us are there."

He booked in, speeding into the bar to try and get Aria out of there.

Aria sent another text. "I did. She followed as soon as she was done with you.I’m safe for now. Shes rather… Amorous at the moment so she’s not gonna hurt me. I just feel sick”

Zonic put his hand on Manics shoulder. “Um.. There there? It will all be okay?” Through his anxiety, Manic still found a desperate chuckle as he went for his kit. "I thought some kind of zone Scourge would be the cops in this place?" Manic said, half serious as he started contouring his face once again. "Thanks, dude." It was weirdly cushy for a moment... and then he went right back to his make-up. "Alright, we're getting this done, and we're doing it right." He said, almost smearing the made-up around his eyes and making them look somehow less vibrant. "We're getting this done now." Zonic just watched as Manic redid his hair, his outfit,, even scrubbed off the fake scars across his chest, turning into a less elegant-seeming person within a few minutes. He gave Zonic a firm slap on the back as encouragement, and dashed down in Scourge's footsteps. Dasvidania. Was it always like this? He knew there were vague memories years before, but he didn't remember Scourge disappearing to buy anything. Maybe they just wanted a drink and made a terrible choice? He honestly couldn't remember. All he knew was Aria was stuck somewhere, and they had to get her out of there quick. "He is.I’m the drug trafficking specialist. Damn. That was fast.” When Manic left, he started making calls.

Scourge was already at the bar, Aria staying close to him as the bat lusted after her from afar, forced to deal with the junkie customers.

Aria relaxed as the musician sat down, his presence clearly calming. Aria was a bit of a mess. Lipstick smeared, makeup on her collar, subtlety marked by the bat.

“Hi Manic” she smiled, tense. “How’s that friend of yours that you went to go see? Is he coming soon?” "I dunno," Manic said, looking out the window with a grimace. "Dante said he wasn't gay, but I said it wasn't a date, and he said it was still awkward..." Manic rattled off some nonsense as he looked over Aria. This was utterly terrifying. "Weird, there was this other green guy I ran into outside who hit on me? Normally I gotta go outta my way to get people to like this frumpy clump." He made an exaggerated expression, not just to act casual, but to try and give Aria something to smile at. "Oh, you got a little something on your..." He waved his hand around, motioning towards her collar and smeared lipstick. "You want me to grab something from my car real- Nah, women's clothes and stuff is private, right? I could walk you over. You know I ain't into girls, I won't peek." The bat was clearly peeking as she dealt with some customers. Now was their chance. He just had to lead her to the car... and try and comfort whatever kind of new trauma she had to deal with. ”Yeah, thanks. My break is in five… I had to send poor Lukas home, he couldn’t take being hit on. Poor thing… And I’m like, 85% sure that Dante is into boys and just said that so you wouldn’t get freaked out.“ His joke made her smile softly, still nervous. "Aw, don’t say that. Cause its a lie.”

Scourge was quiet and Aria tilted her head. “You alright?” Trying to comfort him.

“Yeah yeah.. Just pain. The meds haven’t been working lately. Rosy said she’s not gonna bump up my dosage.” He shrugged, playing it off as nothing.

“Why not? If you’re in pain..” She seemed concerned, fully engrossed in the lie until her phone went off, making her jump.

“Ooh! Break time! I’ll be back in 15, boss!” She gathered her things quickly and motioned for the boys to follow her. “Coffee, anyone?” "Yeah, sound ace, mate." Manic said, standing up and walking out the door with his usual strut that he dropped the moment he was out of sight of the woman. He dashed down the street towards where their van was, desperate to grab that old rag and help wipe off the remnants of whatever Aria was forced to suffer through. He was barely gone before he started rushing back to Aria, who'd fallen behind. "Dude, I thought you were gonna get in a FIGHT with Scourge in there!" He said, patting the wet cloth on her collar to clean up some foundation. "I thought this was just gonna be- If I'd known, I would've changed the plan, I'm so sorry. You gonna be okay?" The look in her eyes told him that no, she wasn't going to be completely alright just yet. Scourge caught up to them. Once more, all of those scars were on display, and Manic could only imagine what could have caused them. He was sure they were responsible for whatever pain he spoke about... at least in part. "Hey, Ari. I don't know if that was a ruse or not, but do you actually, like... wanna pick up a coffee or comfort food or whatever? Food helps with your nerves, right?" Aria shook like a leaf, letting Manic wipe away traces of the bat. The shaking had started again, just enough to denote that she would, in fact, NOT be okay.

Zonic came over, and Aria looked up at him. "When are you gonna do your thing?”

“Snipers are aiming at the building from all sides as we speak. My advice is for you to leave the vicinity. Go get something to eat.”

Aria nodded and Scourge hugged her tightly. “Come on. Let’s go get you some kind of pastry… Manic? You coming?” "Of course, dude." Manic said, walking up next to them. "You need all the comfort you can get." He gave her a gentle pat on the back, barely enough to make contact. He didn't want to give her the normal kind of hit's he'd give people, he didn't want to actually startle her. He kept turning back and looking at the building, before turning away, only to keep repeating the process It was done. He got what was hopefully all the information she had. Aria seemed to know her way around the area, and more or less lead them to a chain coffee shop. Pastries, drinks, a gentle atmosphere, all the kinds of things Aria had to deal with. Manic didn't know how far her boss had gone, he just hoped it wasn't too far. He leaned up near Scourge. "I don't care what I get, just keep an eye on Ari," he said. He quickly walked away, taking a table with a plush chair for Aria and watching carefully. She seemed like if they didn't act just right, she would be on the verge of a breakdown. Aria attempted to calm her nerves, sitting in the plush chair. Scourge left Manic to watch her as he went to go order for all three of them.

Aria put her head in her hands, sighing. "You don’t need to worry Manic… I just need to calm down…” The gentle comfort did not go unnoticed to her, she knew Manic hit hard, and the sudden timidness was surprising.

Suddenly, multiple cop cars, swat vans and a few zone cop vehicles drove by, blocking off the street. Looks like the raid was starting.

Scourge came back, a croissant and black coffee for Manic, tea and a chocolate croissant for Aria and black coffee for himself. He rotated Arias chair so she couldn’t look out the window.

“You gonna be okay lamb shank?” He asked, petting her gently. She nodded and purred. The sirens weren't easy to ignore, but they were distant enough that they could at least try. Manic nibbled on the pastry. It was too sugary and he could tell it wasn't anything special, but it was something to eat. Manic chewed quietly and looked on, not entirely convinced Aria was going to be alright. Some of the other customers were clearly interested in the sudden number of emergency vehicles, gossiping among one another about what kind of nonsense must have been happening. But none of them could hear what they were saying, and that suited them jsut fine. They were safe. "Ari, do you think you're gonna want to hide out for a while?" Manic said, softly so no one else would hear. "Or do you think you want to stay here and keep staying with Scourge?" It was clear she needed some kind of company right now. She ate her food quickly, the tea disappeared much slower. Tiny sips. Debating her options.

"Well… Either I can stay at home, stay with Scourge or hide out…. I kinda wanna go home… Although if either of you two are worried, I do have a pull out couch in case either or both of you want to stay the night”

Scourge picked up on the subtle invitation. “Sure kiddo, I’ll stay at your place for the night, if you want."

The sounds of sirens grew louder and Aria's ears pressed to her head. She took out her sketchbook and started sketching the other people in the café.

"So um… I was thinking… The casino we were at last night? They’re hiring bartenders… Maybe I should apply?” "Hey, I know this chick who used to work that kind of job, and she said it pays pretty well!" She seemed like she was already thinking about ways to start over, that was good. Although if Manic's suspicions were correct, she must have been thinking about this for quite a while. "No need to tell us, you can apply wherever-" Uh oh. Manic made that smarmy grin again. "You just wanna see Terra again, don't you?" Even when they were all trying to comfort Aria, Manic could still find the time for some stupid, stupid mocking. "Honestly, I was just planning on heading back home tonight- Nah, I'm making sure you're okay. But I guess for now, we should try and calm down." Just from the way he looked to the side, it was clear he had something he wanted to say, but he didn't want to say it just yet. A few times back and forth with himself, and; "Uh, I used my old boyfriend's name as a pseudonym..." He tried to find the right words to finish. "He was already in her system... with an address." Aria blushed heavily, playing with her cup. The mocking made her feel a bit better.

"Well.. She did bring it up to me… And it's not a bad idea… It's within warping distance, the people seem nice enough…” She let herself trail off, glad for the company later on in the night. Aria tilted her head as Manic struggled with himself, closing her sketch book.

Scourge stayed quiet as Manic explained himself to Aria, who was clearly happy for the distraction.

“How far away is it? We can pop right over if its less than 100 kilometers away! If it's more than it’ll take a day of rest between warps but..” "It's in Anstey. I think that's about... half an hour by car?" Manic didn't know the area TOO well. "Let me look up the address quickly, see how far it is." Without waiting for a response, Manic was tapping away at his phone again. "692 Clark Drive..." He looked at the results for longer than he would if he was just looking up an address. Link after link... He covered his mouth. "It looks like the last owner moved out a year ago." Manic said, but he clearly wasn't broken up over this. "We've got his pseudonym, I can probably get a forwarding address out of this." He brushed his hair to the side and smiled. "This is... This is great." He smiled at the screen, and simply thought. And thought more. "Uh... Ari?" Manic said, thinking. "I know you said you didn't see Scourge, but he stopped there a year back. Do you think...?" He didn't want to admit it, but it was clearly there. "Does she have cronies who push for her anywhere else? We could find whoever sold all that to him, if we're lucky." Ari made a soft noise of happiness, not a purr, but close. Seeing Manic so excited was… Infectious. Even Scourge was in a good mood now. All three ready to go and find Manic's missing lover.

Of course, Aria and Scourge were worried. What kind of life would Manic get dragged into? But they said nothing. Don’t kill his mood, not after the long day they had.

Aria thought long and hard. "I don’t think so. She’s a bit of a control freak… But what day was this, maybe I can dig around in my calendar and see if I was at work… Cause if it was I could probably check my tip receipts.”

Scourge pipped up. “Maybe you wanna warp up there anyways? See if anyone has kept in touch with him?” "The day? Febuary second, 2015." The date was engraved into Manic's mind. "It didn't have a time or anything, and it said he payed in cash. Remember, he was missing three fingers. That should be enough to go off of, right?" He didn't face either of them directly, and some of his enthusiasm seemed to dull. "Uh, you sure you're fine with warping up there? I mean he's still a Scourge, dude, he was involved in a lot of messed up stuff." He scratched his arm. "Well, if he was involved with your boss, I guess that's kind of a given... But still, it ain't safe to lurk around a life like that." There was a silence as he went to drink his coffee. He didn't even like it black, but it was a gift, and it wasn't poison or anything. It was mostly just to keep himself quiet. "But if you think it'd help... yeah. Yeah, that's be perfect." "February 2nd..- oh my god. I wasn’t at work that day cause the bartender that Lukas replaced had died in an accident... They suspected foul play but never proved anything… I was planning the funeral and given free reign on the company credit card, which was weird… That’s why the bos-… SHE. didn’t come to the funeral, not cause she was emotional, but because she was moving a large amount of product and needed the bar empty… Later on that week I was offered an insane cash bonus if I would do some… Favors for her… That explains a lot…” Aria sat in silence for a while, thinking. Maybe had overshared a bit, but it was explaining random closings over the years.

Scourge nodded at Manic. “I think we both agree that warping up there is a good plan. You can’t go up alone.” "18k ain't much in terms of how much stuff she was moving," Manic said, "But I'm guessing he wouldn't have been her only client. Guessing a lot of business was going on when Scourge was there... ... Just how many people had this woman been involved with? Moreover, was Scourge actually pushing it? It was hard to believe that he would buy that much for himself, but it wasn't impossible to think of it, as much as it pained Manic. "I know the kinds of people Scourge hung around with, I know how he acts. Don't worry about me, I'd watch your own necks if I were you." Manic exhaled. "Point is, we have a lead, and if something big comes up, we can just warp away to... anywhere. Are you guys sure you want to get involved in something like this?" "Yes. We wanna help you Manic.” Scourge insisted, reaching out to put his hand on his shoulder.

“Wellll… Not anywhere. I can only warp 100km in any direction without getting tired.” Aria stated, thinking. “But out of harms way for sure. We’re in. Let’s pay and get going then.”

Aria got up to do so and Scourge stayed behind. “Manic. Are you gonna be okay? This is gonna be a lot to deal with.” "Thanks, guys. Come on, let's head out somewhere so we ain't warping in front of a billion people." Manic said, pointing towards a back exit to the building. He didn't even give them a chance to respond or object before leading them out. "I've thought about this stuff for two whole years, I've used to it. I just want a lead, dude, and this is a huge one." His smile was strangely genuine, given the implications of everything they found out. "Even if it's a bust, we still get an adventure out of it, right?" Manic patted himself over, checking his possessions and locations. Pocketknife? Check. Bills hidden in inside of vest? Check. Lockpicks tucked into quills? Check. "Alright, I'm ready whenever you guys are. Just stick close." Aria double checked herself as well, checking her purse and backing away from the boys. She let her claws out one at a time, then pulled them rapidly in and out. Basically stretching her muscles. She giggled as Scourge clapped, impressed.

The green hedgehog zipped up his jacket, covering those scars. He had at one point pulled his quills back into a ponytail to keep them out of his face and was now fixing some brass knuckles under his gloves.

"Ready boys?” "Let's hit it." He was more prepared for the warp this time. There weren't going to be any special effects, and any kind of dizzying lights, they would walk through and be at their destination. He eagerly jumped through the portal the moment it was summoned, expecting the lack of transition now. What he wasn't expecting was the kind of town they ended up in. There were rows of tiny brick houses, likely rented out rather than properly sold. It wasn't a grimy city, a city that had been destroyed, some mass of addicts and ruined lives. The street was lined with some randomly-planted trees and a few small gardens. The buildings were clearly well maintained, if not high end by any stretch. It was a pleasant neighborhood with no real signs of danger or malice. Manic had to do a double take and check the building they were in front of. Yes, it was numbered 692. Somehow, this empty-looking house in the suburbs was owned by Scourge at some point. "You sure this is the right place? Anstey. 'A - N - S - T - E - Y,' right?"

"I’m never wrong.” Aria shrugged, putting her claws away quickly and shutting the portal behind them. Looking up and down the street, she shrugged. “Cute place… Let’s knock and see what secrets this town is hiding.”

Scourge agreed, motioning for Manic to lead the way. Grabbing onto her arm gently. “Manic wait. Aria need to rest for a second.”

The hedgie sat down and inhaled slowly. “Whoever or whatever lives here had warping disabler on. Not recently, maybe a year? But I’m definitely feeling the after effects.” "That makes sense," Manic added. "Scourges always have their ways of making sure no one messes with them. Brute strength or numbers... Mine was smart enough to use tech." He sat down with the two. not entirely sure what to say. He peeked around at the neighborhood. It seemed like some young child across the street had seen the three warp in, and was now calling their confused and likely tired parent to look out the window with them. A pleasant, normal family in a pleasant, normal-seeming neighborhood. "And I guess he was smart enough to go somewhere no one would think to look for him," he smarmed. Another peek back revealed it was not much different from the others along the street. The downstairs lights were on. "I mean, it doesn't seem like this place is evil or anything. We could just try being direct and ask the new owners, or something. Aria rubbed her forehead. Waiting for the aura of the sensors to fade. The sound of a child calling for his parents made her get up. "Let’s ask the people who live here now. If they don’t know, we can ask the neighbors.”

Scourge got up as well, offering Manic a hand so he could do the same. He pulled the other up and they started up the small walkway. Aria was the one to knock, stepping back behind Manic. He would do the talking. The door was eventually opened by an elderly moth woman. From what they could see of her house, it seemed like rather stereotypical grandmother fare. This went beyond nonthreatening into cozy. "Yes, may I help you?" He voice reflected the kind of power one would expect from a leader, but with a kind of gentle compassion. "Yeah, this is... kind of a long shot, honestly." Manic wouldn't have to act, she seemed trustworthy. "I might look a little familiar? My older brother used to live here." Not true, but he wasn't sure if this woman would care to help if she knew that Scourge was his old lover. "I'm wondering, do you know anything about the last person who lived here? Did he ever give you a forwarding address?" "Forwarding address..." She thought back for a moment. "You may be out of luck, the last owner moved out without notice. I haven't seen or heard mum from him. I'm sorry." Manic was expecting that response, but not for her to continue speaking. "There is an attic in he house I haven't entered. These bones are too brittle to climb a ladder, perhaps there would be something up there?" She stepped aside, and motioned. "Please, come right in." Aria bowed her head as a sign of respect. Scourge got directions to the ladder from the old woman and followed Manic to hold the ladder in case it was fragile. Aria stayed behind with the elderly moth.

"Thank you very much for letting my friend check around. Is there anything I can do in return? It's the least I can do to repay you for your generosity.”

Meanwhile, Scourge and Manic had found the ladder. The ceiling it was embedded in was too high for either to reach. Scourge knelt down and laced his fingers together.

“Come on, I’ll give you a boost.” "If he's looking for his brother, it's the least I can offer." The old woman told Aria as she entered a small living room, with a tiny outdated television and shelves upon shelves of all manner of adventure movies. "Although if you could help me find an old disc, I would be more than happy. These things need to be organized one of these days..." There was a thump from upstairs as the attic ladder quickly descended and made contact with the floor. "It seems they found it," she joked. The attic area they climbed into clearly wasn't meant to be used much. The short ceiling was steeply angled, and the only source of light was a blinking lightbulb and a small, dusty window. There were some things in the attic, mostly old newspapers used to wrap whatever was kept up here. It looked like it had been cleaned out for the most part, save for some boxes. The main thing that caught Manic's eye was some boards along the far floor. "Scourge always had the same hiding places, south-east corner every time." The planks easily hinged open, revealing a small compartment in the floor. Manic pushed some old papers aside, revealing an old tote bag with a logo for some band on the front. "This was where he always hid his stash," Manic said, "why'd he leave it here?" Opening it revealed nothing but the faintest traces of powder and a pamphlet for somewhere called the 'Maddoc Addiction Centre'. "This is it," Manic said, flipping open the pamphlet. "We know where he disappeared to." "Of course! Which one are we looking for?” Aria knelt to check one of the stacks. She recognized very few, most of the movies were older than she was.

“Its an old Indiana Jones movie dear. I'm afraid that the case fell behind the shelf and I can’t reach it,” the moth woman insisted and Aria merely nodded and started looking through them.

Scourge read over Manic's shoulder. “He was going to try to get clean? Maybe after he sold that stuff he had enough to retire? Enough to get clean and then try and find you?”

He was getting his own hopes up, but they were close to the end of the trail that he couldn’t resist being positive. Manic was grinning fondly. "That's why he moved to a nice place. People in a place like this don't know how much it's really worth, he could sell it at a huge profit... I think you've got it." He closed the pamphlet, and held it to his chest. "He always talked about rehab, but never did it. Still, ditching an apartment without paying rent and going wherever's exactly his M.O. Come on, let's see if he left anything else back here." The boxes that were left in the attic were all rummaged through and left emptied some time ago. They clearly had empty for some time, due to the layers of dust inside the open flaps. "I think I'm gonna have to look into this place myself. Medical centers keep their records locked really tight, and I've got all the gear to get into them." He patted Scourge on the back. "Unless you're another hacker, I think I'mma do this bit on my own tonight." Downstairs, they had finally found the missing disc. "Oh, thank you so much," she said as she looked at the jewel case. "I knew I didn't sell you, you're one of my favorites!" She spoke to the case as though it was a person. Manic and Scourge walked down from the small stairwell. "Did you find what you were looking for?" "That’s fair, Manic. You can park the van next to Aria's building, they’ve got free parking for one vehicle per unit and since she doesn’t own a car, hers is empty…. And I may not be a hacker, but Aria’s sister in law has a brother who may be able to help you. He mostly does sound systems at the bar, but this is just up his alley. You might remember him, he was the tiger who set you up at that first show.”

Aria smiled, “Yup. Indiana is safe and sound. I take it you have good news?” When Scourge explained that they had a big hint to the bother's location, Aria's smile lit up. “That’s great guys!”

They said goodbye and thank you to the old woman and left, walking down the street a ways.

“A rehab center? Maybe if we go and ask, he may still be there?” Aria suggested. "Looks like it's a short term facility," Manic said, flipping through the pages of the pamphlet. "I don't really know how treatment's supposed to go, but he's kind of stubborn. I'm pretty sure he's long gone, but we just need the patient data. Anyone he might had known, when he left, it'd be invaluable. I'll grab it tonight." He gave Scourge some friendly sass. "And trust me - I don't need help hacking." Manic checked the time on his phone quickly. They were in some town in the middle of nowhere, there was no way they'd be in danger from their little scheme at Aria's bar. "Hey, it's been a little while since the raid started. Do you wanna check the news, see if anything's going on?" His smiled faded a bit. "Or are you still kinda shaken...?" Scourge looked offended, clearly in a playful mood. "Ugh, how ungrateful. We bust a drug lord, take you to knockoff Vegas and this is the thanks we get?” He teased, draping himself over Aria's shoulders. She merely laughed at his theatrics.

“No thank you. I’m trying not to think about it. You can check if you want to though,” She admitted as they walked into a small park. Aria gladly took a seat on a bench and relaxed.

Scourge sat on one side, looking over at her, clearly concerned. “You okay, lamb shank?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just…. Processing. Can we go home to get Manic's van now?” She asked, quite eager to get into comfortable clothes and out of the bra she had borrowed. Manic didn't want to cramp Aria into the bench, so he just stood near the bench and leaned his back against the tree. Again, not a great park, but Manic didn't visit any parts. It definitely was more calm that most of the places he visited, much less anywhere he'd been with Aria or Scourge. "Maybe let's wait juuust a minute," Manic said. The masses of ivy crawling up the nearby buildings might have made them look cheap, but there was still a weird charm they provided. Manic wouldn't call it charm of course, but he did know he wasn't hating it. They all needed a moment to relax. They all needed many, many moments to relax. "If you're up for it, let's head back." Manic said sighing and standing from his spot. "Come on, I can only take so much tasteful scenery." Aria yawned, stretching out. Natural spaces were always calming for her. She could have fallen asleep on the spot if Scourge hadn’t gently nudged her to keep her awake.

"Where am I warping us to?” She asked, yawning again. The shock of the days actions had hit her hard and all she wanted was a nap.

“Your place. We can wait there until Zonic gives us the clear," Scourge insisted. Aria complied and scratched a portal open.

When the boys joined her on the other side, she would already be lying facedown in her bed. "Oh my god, it's like you read my mind," Manic said, flumping straight onto the ground and sitting against the foot of her bed, legs crossed and his body looking deflated. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled. It was only when he breathed out that he realized just how much stress he'd been holding in. "Oh man, today was..." He swiveled his head to the floor. "Holy crap, that was a lot. So we called the police on a drug lord... barged into an old lady's house... found out my boyfriend might be a drug pusher..." He tilted his head. "You just gonna leave the warp open?" He wasn't complaining. The royal purple color and swirls of sparkles were mesmerizing and beautiful... if also probably dangerous to leave opened and laying around. "Don’t sit on the floor. I haven’t vacuumed..” She waved a clawed hand at the portal and it snapped shut with an audible yet quiet click. Scourge was clearing the couch of books and art supplies and moving the coffee table to pull out the bed inside. Since it was already made, he flopped down on that.

“How about a group power nap and then we reorganize afterwards?” Scourge suggested. Aria nodded and grabbed an oversized sweater. She put it on and tucked her arms into the sides, fiddling around until she pulled out her work top and her bra. She tossed them in a laundry basket and slid under the covers for a nap.

“There’s room for two on the bed Manic.” Scourge insisted, shifting to make room for the other. "That's... sliiiiightly gay, but okay!" Manic said, as though he was not massively and totally gay. He curled up on the side opposite Scourge. To say that laying down with a Scourge was strange would be an understatement. Especially after spending a day learning so much invaluable information about his old lover. This Scourge was very different. Different scars and marks, a different face, a different voice, but it was a Scourge. And it would have been more awkward if his relationship hadn't been opened, but Scourge clearly had another love in his life, and Manic was just looking for a place to nap. That simple gesture was making Manic exceptionally uncomfortable. But he just curled up in his place, clutching the sheets and drifting into a short nap as he pretended to let the stress melt away. Scourge and Aria were out like lights before Manic crawled into bed. Scourge stayed with half his body hanging off the bed. The jacket had been discarded on a chair, and Manic could see the fine network of scars. Looking closer, Manic could tell they had been left by a whip. A few scars looked fresh, reopened probably by Scourge's everyday movements. But they were old wounds.

Aria had burrowed into her blankets, exhausted and purring quietly in her sleep. He didn't want to ask where those scars came from. They criss-crossed and wove together in a chaotic mess Manic didn't want to bother decoding, the details of each scar wasn't important. All he could do was close his eyes and drift to sleep, letting the news of the day cross his mind time and time again until he was too tired to keep thinking. He didn't dream in extreme emotions or strange scenarios, it was a mundane dream he would forget as soon as it was over. Simple day to day situations, nothing more. He woke up feeling newly refreshed, just as he'd hoped. It didn't seem anyone else was awake. Maybe they were heavier sleepers than even Manic? Scourge and Aria made quiet snoring noises in their sleep. Even if it was a different Scourge... it was a Scourge. It wasn't going to hurt either of them if he didn't know, and it wasn't anything immoral... right? He turned onto his other side as Scourge slept, and curled up with his eyes closed. He didn't want to make things awkward between them, of course. He just had a chance to lay next to his old Scourge, if he imagined hard enough. That's all he needed, he lied. He just needed a few more minutes next to his Scourge, and he'd be happy. Scourge barely moved in his sleep, face buried in his pillow as he slept dreamlessly. The way he was curled up hid his hands and his back from the other as well. It wouldn’t be bar for the other to pretend that he was laying next to someone he loved. Scourge wouldn’t have minded if he knew what Manic was thinking.

Aria woke up a little bit later, making soft mewling noises as she fought off sleep. She got up, still wrapped in a blanket, and went to the only door in the apartment that didn’t lead to outside. As one would expect, that door was to the bathroom. Manic barely noticed. He almost wanted to reach out and hold onto him, but he didn't want to freak out Scourge. He clutched to his pillow like it was a person, just imagining that he was there somehow once again. This didn't help as much as he would have liked it to. All he did was pull out his phone, and silently start tapping away into a notepad; "I can't have the past stay prologue when I'm dying to feel your touch But I can't bear to take replacement With a faker's pathetic clutch" Would he do anything with the words? Most likely not. He just stared, and left them for later, knowing he's most likely revise them to the point where they were unrecognizable. But as much as he pretended a falst touch would only hurt him, he certainly didn't mind the thought. Scourge's ear started to twitch and he rolled onto his back, one arm splayed out. Stretching himself before curling back up again. Even though he was fighting it, he still woke up, grumbling. Lots of unsatisfied rumbles and soft squeaks as he sat up, looking around the room . He blinked slowly at Manic, letting it all sink in.

A louder grunt was his ‘good afternoon’ and he got up, stumbling to the kitchen for a drink.

Ari came out of the washroom in a fluffy robe that hung to her ankles, her hair soaking wet. She stepped behind a screen and closed it, changing into soft PJs and a t shirt. Manic gave polite hellos to both Aria and Scourge when they came, continuing to tap words and strange shorthand into his notepad. Not other lyrics, more vague ideas for instruments or even just notes about random other thoughts he had. He didn't feel like he needed to change his normal outfit, just rolling out of bed and going to the mirror to check his makeup and hair were still set. Perfect. He left the bathroom with his phone still in hand, this time connecting to whatever internet Aria's building got. He'd waited long enough, he had to check the news. "Breaking news!" The local paper's website bore loudly. "A raid is currently underway at local bar Dasvidania. G.U.N. officers and zone police have been spotted taking aim at the building, with certain officers rushing the building. Neither group has offered a statement on the raid just yet." That was all he needed to read. It was half an hour ago, the building could have blown up by now for all he knew. But serious time was over, and he had another clumsy transition away from those kinds of worry. "Ooooh shoot, dude, where'd you get that fluffy mess?!" Manic said quite genuinely excited at the sight of her fluffy pajamas. "Those are like the best clothes! You know, the ones that are almost half as fluffy as a Silver!" “Thank ye. Got them as a birthday present from the little old lady who lives downstairs. She got them from a shop downtown I think?” Aria thought as she went to her fridge and opened it. The fridge was mostly empty. Whole shelves with no food on them. Some bread on the counter and a jam jar in the pantry were utilized to make Aria's snack.

“You guys want anything?” She offered, motioning for the boys to take anything they would like while she went to sit at the table.

Scourge looked over at Manic. “Have you checked the news yet?" He whispered, keeping his voice low as to not disturb Aria. "I'm good," Manic said, waving off Aria's request. When he saw she was distracted with her snack, he went back to talking to Scourge. "Yeah, I just looked it up. Looks like no one's supposed to know what's going on yet, but officers are entering the building and it didn't mention any gunfire. I think maybe she realized she was screwed," Manic said. "Guess we'll have to check again in a bit." Manic brushed his quills aside, putting on his smile. "But I guess nothing we can do now. Just try and relax..." Manic pretended to lounge back and relax with his phone, but he was scoping out a different website. The Maddoc Addiction Centre. Maybe fifteen minutes from where Scourge used to live? And judging by their website and brochures, they specialized in treatment for heroin and other opioids. He just gazed down the webpage, as though he'd find anything on Scourge there. “Okay. We just need to keep our guard up. Until they’ve got her for sure, I don’t think Aria is safe. She’s the primary target of any retaliation.” He mumbled to Manic, watching as Aria flipped through a book on art and design.

The door rang and Manic saw Scourge reach for his pocket where his brass knuckles were stored. Aria got up and peeked through the hole, opening it with a smile.

“Miss Nelson! What a pleasure to see you! Please come in, let’s get you a seat”

A old mouse woman shuffled into the room, taking a seat on of the stools next to the island in Aria's kitchen. “Hello dear. I’ve brought some cookies for you for your birthday. And as soon as I saw that story on the news I had to make sure you were okay.”

She seemed kind and gentle, clearly was a very maternal figure to Aria. Hadn’t seen Manic yet. Was he still in his jank clothes...? Nah, it was his normal outfit. Hell, if Aria hung out with a Scourge and no one cared, no one would probably care about a Manic, either. He hoped. He assumed. "You sure? If her boss liked her- I dunno, she might be looking for your fake alt Scourge, or even the one I acted as." Manic shrugged and pulled out his phone. "I think Aria should be safe, at least for a little bit." He decided to check a few other news sites now that this woman openly mentioned the press releases. They all either reiterated the same basic information, or were too broad-scoped to focus on such a local event. The arrest probably hadn't occurred yet. He stashed it away, wondering what they were supposed to do next, if not hide out. When the elderly mouse woman looked at the two of them, Manic gave a lazy wave as his greeting. She waved gently at him, returning to her conversation with Aria. Fixing her spectacles, she peered up at Aria.

“When I saw all that fuss in the paper I got very worried. You weren’t involved in any of that nasty business, were you?” She seemed worried and Aria patted her hand.

“Don’t you worry Miss Nelson. I wasn’t involved. Between you, me and the boys, I was the whistle blower. The cops aren’t after me.”

The mouse relaxed and got up. “Well then, so long as you’re alright. Now I’ve got to get going dear, its polka night at the seniors club!” She exclaimed excitedly, shuffling towards the door and waving goodbye at the boys. “Good bye scourge. Goodbye Scourge's new ‘friend,’” she hinted at something then left.

“Food!” Aria squeaked once she was gone, unwrapping the cookies. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Manic was not Scourge's new boyfriend. He wasn't his boyfriend, he wasn't dating more Scourges. It wasn't just an off-handed comment, but a venomous off-handed comment, chewing away at bits of him and making him feel every second it was in his body. It was just a few off-handed moments in a bed, it wasn't serious thoughts. It was just a fantasy. It was just a fantasy. For as coy as the comment was meant to be, it stabbed around Manic's chest for just a few moments. "So what kinda cookies did you get?" Of course Manic wouldn't let any of that through. He had to be silly, it was just his character. Rather, it was just the character he wanted people to think of him as. But as long as he was acting happy, he was going to be fine. This was entirely untrue, but the lie was enough to keep him calm for the moment. Scourges stomach sank as well and when she left he apologized to Manic quietly.

“Sorry about that.. She means well. If you need a moment I can go…” He offered, gesturing to the fire escape outside the window.

Aria hadn’t noticed the comment, having started to snack on the home made chocolate chip cookies. She offered some to the boys and Scourge took one, purring quietly. It was awkward between them now. He hated it. He knew how it felt and what Manic was going through, but said nothing. "Man, it was just some smarmy nothing," Manic reassured him. "I'm all about smarmy nothings, don't go jumping off the fire escape or something!" Fixing the problem would probably fix the pain. But they were doing everything they could to fix the problem, so all he had left to fall on were his own joke and smarmy nothings. Manic was happy to take one of the chocolate chip cookies. Easily one of the best flavors, even if he wasn't going to complain about getting any kind of cookie. "Wait, I thought tomorrow was your birthday?" Manic added, not quite certain. "Or was she just being a soft and lovely not-quite-grandma-but-very-close?" “She’s totally one of those people who adopts all of the kids they can, unofficially. My birthday is technically on the twenty third, but she’s going out of town later on today.”

Scourge stayed quiet. He knew that Manic wasn’t fine, but said nothing. Let the other cope in his own way.

Aria nibbled on more cookies, quite content. She did love her sweets. “So whats the plan? Do we go to the addiction center and ask before you hack?” "This site shouldn't be hard to get into," Manic said between bites. "I figure we check the database first and see if anything comes up. We get nothing, we save a trip, right?" Manic was already standing up while he kept talking. "I'll just drag my laptop up here, I ain't having you two sit around in my van while I do dorky tech stuff." Before he left, he did take the time to face Scourge. "Really, mate, I'll be good. Trust me." It was clear he was pained, but pushing through. It was just a mistake, he could get over this with time. The two were left to their cookies while Manic strolled down the halls and towards the parking lot. He could do this, easy. He'd done it many times before with more high security systems, he probably wouldn't even need to get out the big guns for this. He was so close to having his answers, he could almost taste it. He was just a few lines of code away from some new lead, some new... anything! He had gotten so excited, he barely even realized how fast he was running until he almost slammed right into Aria's door. Aria and Scourge were laying in the bed that Manic had shared with Scourge. The other hedgehog had the TV on and was watching mythbusters

Aria had cleared the island in the kitchen for Manic. “It's a clean space for you to work. Let me know if you need anything else,” she insisted, as she sketched one of the hosts. "Alright, sweet," Manic said, wasting no time in getting his Laptop running. He pulled out a pair of large headphones, putting on some music to drown out the sounds as he focused. He actually cracked his knuckles in anticipation. It was go time. The system wasn't as insecure as he'd hoped. It was poorly coded enough that it was actually hard to penetrate. If he changed the wrong code, the database would become a tangled mess that simply didn't work. Strings and blocks of code were long and jumbled with little regard for how they interconnected, resulting in tangled jumbles of security that threatened to shut down and not work for anyone if he made the wrong move. Brute forcing passwords probably wasn't an option, either. So he had to comp through the code carefully, seeing what problems he could find. He onl took occasional brief breaks to let his mind regroup, but that's all he needed to find a massive problem. No, not in the code. He made a serious face and motioned for Scourge to join him, completely silent like he didn't want Aria to know. There was a news article opened, published mere minutes before with a few lines of text highlighted. "...Zone police have stated that all five arrests made were of patrons to the bar. A tip hotline has been set-up for anyone with knowledge of the whereabouts of the bar owner, who police failed to arrest." Scourge getting up was enough to distract Aria, squeaking as he walked between her and the tv. She watched them talk quietly, feeling much like the younger sister whose brother had friends over. She attempted to see between them, but Scourge's body was in the way.

“Shit… Okay, we need to get her out of here now. Come on, let’s move this operation to the castle. I’m not risking lives”

He rubbed his forehead, clearly planning something as he closed all the windows and blinds. Aria squeaked again and walked over to Manic. “Hey! What’s going-”

She read the highlighted bit and Aria's heart sank, starting to shake in fear. "Aw, Ari-" Manic wanted to help Scourge with his plan, but he had no idea what it was. And Aria's fear was clearly the more important thing here. He walked up and let her huddle against him. "Look, I know she's dangerous, but I've always lived around dangerous people like her. I know how to keep you safe, we're all going to be alright." He quickly switched back to the wall of code he was looking at, closing the article entirely. "So what's the deal?" Manic said as he held onto Aria. "We just leaving lights and the TV running, make it look like she's still here and warping the van to the castle, or-" He covered his mouth. "No, we should leave my van here. We can warp around without it, it'll make it look more convincing. Lemme grab my stuff outta there quickly." Manic didn't even give them time to respond. He sat Aria down on her bed and rushed down to the van as fast as he could go. Down the employee stairwell, to the car- thankfully, there weren't any goons or anything hanging out. Alright, they still had time, they weren't in the red yet. When he burst back in, he was carrying a binder full of CDs and that old leather jacket from the back, wrapped tightly around his make-up kit and all the electrical boobahs he used for hopefully innocent hacking. "Lemme jot some things down," Manic said, opening a digital notepad and tapping out strings of bizarre words and weird shorthands only he understood. "So what's the plan, what're we gonna do?" Aria was shivering so badly, afraid for her life. Grabbing a suitcase under her bed, starting to pack the essentials slowly. Functioning on auto pilot. Toothbrush. Art supplies, Dress clothes. Books.

She had an idea, mixing up some paint water and leaving an old brush in the water. Leaving the bread out. Making sure her bath towel was damp. Hid the pull out bed. Messed up her own sheets and tossed a pair of boxers she had as pj pants on the floor. Tossing the lingerie as well. She was staging a scene.

Manic came back and she turned to him. “No, you and Scourge take the van. She won’t attack if she knows you’re in here. She’s fought Scourge before. You two leave with the van, I’ll warp your stuff to the castle and call Zonic.” Manic turned his head to Scourge, before turning back to Aria and nodding. "If you're sure you'll be safe... Let's get moving." Manic unplugged his computer and forced a shutdown, not caring about whatever progress he made. He grabbed his laptop and held it under his arm, the binder in one hand and the jacket of supplies slung over his shoulder. "Come on, Scourge, we've gotta rush." Manic clearly took after his brother. His running went beyond a sprint, jetting down the stairs and to the van in considerable time. By the time Scourge was back to the van, Manic had already thrown his stuff into the back and gotten the engine going. Manic was out of the parking lot with what he felt was no time to spare. They were probably breaking many speed limits, but he didn't care. The quicker they got to the castle, the quicker they could get to keeping Aria safe. Scourge followed, stealing a cookie or two to go. Kissing Aria on the forehead protectively, he left. He sighed and reached into his pocket, pausing. He wouldn’t smoke here. Manic slept in the van sometimes. However the pack was out, waiting at a moments notice.

For the first time in what felt like days, Aria was alone. Quickly, she messed up the place a bit more and sprayed some cologne. Her goal? If her former boss got jealous she would lash out and hopefully screw up. After it was done, she called Zonic, a number that Scourge had given her for emergencies.

“Zonic. Its Aria. She’ll come for me, just get someone who’s good at stealth to wait here for her…”

By the time the boys got to the castle, Aria was already there.

Manic was simultaneously surprised and not surprised in the slightest to see Aria there. He left most of his things in the car, still grabbing his laptop and that makeshift bindle of electronics before stepping out. "Alright, good, you're safe," Manic said, almost ushering the two of them into the hall. He seemed more than rushed. "Alright, we'll be safe here, let's get to- anywhere, I guess."

He exhaled. This was the firs time he'd let either of them see him actually shudder through his anxiety. "Alright, I'm gonna get back into the system while I remember most of what I did." He didn't seem to waste time, immediately walking into a sitting room and dumping his stuff down on the floor next to the nearest seat. Once again, he'd have to wait for his computer to turn on, impatiently tapping his fingers on the armrest while Aria and Scourge just followed along.

Aria, of course! "Right, I'm so stupid! Anything I can do to help, Ari? You want me to put some music on, or something?" The initial panic was disappearing the more he spoke.

Scourge felt a little overwhelmed, being pushed around and trying to deal with Manic's nervous habits and Aria's almost stone-like hyper focus. Once Manic had settled down and turned to Aria, he would notice it too. How her eyes weren’t quite focused on anything in particular. Like she wasn’t there.

Aria herself felt like she was floating. Her eyes were working fine, but her mind translated everything into fuzzy pictures and shapes. Like she was looking through clouded glass at the world.

“Aria? Hey, Ari? Hello?” Scourge waved his hand in from of her face, to which he got almost no response. He guided her to sit down, concerned. Manic would find Scourge's phone suddenly tossed to him.

“Call Rosy. Tell her were in the frontmost sitting room and that Aria is acting odd. She’ll know what to do.” Manic didn't need to be told twice. With a few quick presses, he was already on the line. "Rosy? Scourge tossed me his phone... Aria's in the front sitting room, she's acting weird... yu-huh... alright, got it." It was barely thirty seconds before Manic hung up, leaving the phone on the side table. Was Aria going to be alright? He'd seen this once, maybe twice before, was this that dissociation thing? Whatever it was, it meant that Aria wasn't there. At least with Scourge sitting so close to her, she couldn't have been violent or harmful in this state. Right? Manic sat down near hear, within her line of sight. "Aria, it's Manic." He said softly. He had no idea what he was doing, but he could bullshit his way through trying to keep her grounded. "Listen to my voice. I'm sitting here. You're here, I'm here, Scourge is here, we're safe together, okay?" He ran his hand over Aria's, only tracing his fingers. "Focus on what's around you. My hand is on yours. Can you feel that?" He prayed she would give some kind of response. He moved his hand appropriately as he spoke. "Here, it's a few gentle pats... There's nothing to worry about here, you're safe. You're okay." Aria's eyes were still clouded and unfocused as she tried to ground her thoughts. She could barely feel Manic touching her hand, but her fingers twitched gently.

Rosy came into the room, slowly and delicately. Not wanting to startle Aria or Manic.

“Hello little one…"She cooed. She sat on the couch, gently lowering her body down. "Sweetie? It's Rosy. You’re spacing out again.” Manic was growing to the idea of Scourge. He'd met good Scourges before. This didn't feel like a Rosy in any way. Rosy was mentally ill, not a mental illness caretaker. It felt like they were only a counterpart in name, rather than in character. No one else was batting an eye, so this must have been Manic assuming things again. She was doing her best to help Aria out of whatever fugue she was in, Manic wasn't going to complain about that. It felt like he was watching some absurdist deconstruction of Rosy rather than an alternate. But she was here, and she was helping. Manic backed away slowly, letting a woman who knew what she was doing take over. "Is this normal for her?" Manic said, turning to Scourge and speaking quietly. "No. I’ve never seen her like this. I… I don’t know what to do…” He was speechless and unsure of what would happen. He ran his hands through his quills, pulling on them gently. It was a painful experience but it helped him focus a little. He left the room, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lighting one.

Aria meanwhile, was gently shaken by Rosy, and when that didn’t work her head was leaned on the maternal woman’s shoulder. Rosy just let her lean there for a few minutes until Aria's eyes slowly closed and she nuzzled into the warmth

“That’s it. that’s my girl…. Come back slowly, no need to rush… You’re safe, I’ve got you… You were just in shock… You’re okay,” she cooed. Looking after Scourge with worry. Manic didn't even seem to notice the smoke. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do. Rosy needed her space, he didn't want to leave while she was in this state, he didn't want to do anything to distract Rosy as she did her work. He couldn't do anything but sit down on one of the couches and wait. If Scourge had no idea what this meant, what was someone who barely knew her supposed to do?! Their eyes all darted to Aria when she started to nuzzled against Rosy. It was still delayed and slightly robotic, but it was a lot of progress. They were hopefully going to be alright. He spoke quietly between Scourge taking puffs from his cigarette. "Hey, I'm just was confused and scared as you," Manic told him. "If Rosy says she'll be okay, she'll be okay." Yet he still found his eyes falling on Rosy more than on Aria, not quite sure if he could trust her just yet. "Do you have to do that in here?” Rosy whispered, seemingly annoyed with the smoking hedgehog.

“Sorry. I’ll take this outside. Call me when she’s better.” Scourge said coldly, getting up and leaving the room, going out on a balcony. He was so stressed he could FEEL his quills turning grey.

Rosy looked after Scourge, concerned. “Go after him, would you? I’ve got Aria. He doesn’t smoke until he’s crazy stressed. The doctor told him he needs to stop.”

Aria slowly relaxed, becoming less and less stiff. Clearly Rosy's presence was enough to help bring her out of it, bit by bit. He didn't want to leave Rosy alone with Aria, but he didn't have any real proof that this Rosy was psychotic aside from his own prejudices. So with some blatant hesitation, he left after Scourge onto the balcony. It wasn't a long walk, but the sights of the halls reminded him of his night here. The stories of the haunted wing, that strange door, there was too much in the castle that he wanted to run off and see. But he couldn't just yet. He'd have to wait and carefully craft his excuse before doing that. Scourge needed help, it seemed. Manic's entrance wasn't as delicate as Rosy's had been, but for him, it was still rather subtle. When Scourge did turn to see him, he kept that same relaxed pose. "You're stressed as hell, ain't you?" He said bluntly. No point beating around the bush. He leaned against the wall, staring out at the land. "You wanna talk about it? Or just wanna suffer with someone else?" The wind blew gently as Scourge looked out over his castle, whisking away the smoke. His jacket had been abandoned on a couch inside, scars out in the sunlight. Manic's entrance had been careful, but when Scourge turned to look at him, he saw just how deep the bags under the others eyes were.

"Sorry… I’m just a little frustrated. These past few days have been… Overwhelming. I don’t know why I’m complaining, you were being hit harder with all this information than I was. I mean, I knew about Aria's past already and her money problems, but the rest was a surprise. Can’t imagine how you feel.”

Empathizing was not his strong suit, it seemed. Scourge looked out across the castle grounds again, blowing a puff of smoke that the wind carried away. The view itself was breathtaking, miles and miles of green lawn and a small town in the distance. But inevitably, Manic's eyes would come back to Scourge. He wasn't used to seeing older Scourges. He was only in his mid thirties, but the bags made him look a few years older. And he couldn't keep himself from looking at the scars, either. Think, long scars from some kind of whipping. But those were questions for another time, a time when he wasn't trying to recover from some mass of stress. Manic just shrugged. "I'm used to feeling overwhelmed," he admitted. "I don't feel any better than you do, I'm just real good at hiding it." He was still doing that impatient finger tapping on his own elbows. "We all want it to slow down. I know Aria's gonna agree." He stared out over the landscape, not knowing what she should have been thinking. "I guess... Aria's getting over her panic. She doesn't have her job, we're keeping her safe from her boss. We know Scourge was trying to clean up, we've got leads on him- as bad as the past is, the present's looking pretty ace to me." As usual, he tried to break the tension by smiling at him. "We've all gotten through worse. We'll be fine, dude." "Feh. You think I’d be used to this by now. I’ve done shit more dangerous than this before. When I was your age no death-defying thrill was out of the question. I was reckless. But a few years later, when I settled down on the action stuff and was declared the proper king, I had all of this responsibility. I didn’t get overwhelmed then, I don’t know why it's happening now. Maybe I’m just getting old…”

He listened to Manic speak and nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. “She’s been through a lot. I’m surprised she’s as emotionally stable as she is… But I can’t help but worry about the both of you. Like you said, you’re good at hiding things. Stress. Anxiety. It’s impressive but concerning. Suppressing things isn’t good for you.” "Smoking ain't either, but it's better than having a total breakdown." Manic crossed his arms and leaned over the balcony. "This ain't the fun death-defying thrill, and this ain't a normal responsibility. Watching people fall apart around you's terrifying. It's the worst kind of responsibility, of course it's overwhelming. You're trying to parent a woman with problems out the yin-yang and some guy who used to date someone just like you." He closed his eyes. He wasn't able to act off all of the sadness that was starting to build. "We've all got really crap hands. We'll just learn how to play them and see where we go." He let out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe we can find you some of that death-defying thrill again? The real fun kind?" "I swore off the death defying stuff a long time ago… Doctor said that my heart couldn’t take the constant adrenaline. It's already pumping super fast as it is…. You’re right though, I try to parent Aria and you as best I can because she needs guidance and you… You remind me of me when I was a little bit younger than you are. I’d hate to see anyone with so much potential destroy themselves the way I did. Besides, I didn’t have anyone at that time. I don’t wanna see that happen to you." He was holding back a bit.

He smirked and crushed the now finished cigarette under the heel of his shoe. “I f*cking suck at cards.” Manic just smiled. "Dude, you're a king. Not just a king, but the real good kinda ruler. You're fun, you ain't a snob, you made bad puns - If that's wasting potential, I'm gonna have to screw up more often." He joked. Their was a lot of underlying sadness to everything they said. He couldn't help but look on and feel like they were hurting each other more than they were helping. His eyes kept falling onto Scourge's scars, knowing full well that however he screwed up, this was the direct result of that. "Honestly? You wear 'em well." He smiled up at him. "You clearly survived a lot worse than this. And if surviving every kind of trauma's failing to you... You're just wrong, dude." Another sad smile. He gave Scourge a pat on the shoulder, making sure he didn't touch his scars. "Don't act like you aren't repressing stuff, either. You ain't a great actor." "Thanks kiddo. That helps… A lot more than you’d think.” He ruffled Manic's quills playfully. He didn’t say which part of Manics rambling speech helped, but clearly he was in a better mood. The cigarettes were put away. His eyes closed and he basked in the warm breeze for a minute.

“Come on. Let’s go and check on the pipsqueak. Unless you had something you needed to get off your chest?” "Nothing too serious," Manic said. "I still keep thinking about Scourge, and hanging with you... you remind me of him. In a lot of ways." He found his smile and laugh once again. "But you already know I've got damage. Let's get a move on. We need to make sure Ari's okay, and we've got a database to hack into." It was strange to see a scourge without his jacket, and it would have been strange to see Scourge without his bandages, anyways. Manic didn't want to say anything to offend him. Just what had he gone through...? It wasn't Manic's business. He at least seemed to be in better moods, even if it was after what felt like a constant stream of drama. Sneaking off into the castle didn't even occur to Manic this time. He was just happy to be with Scourge... "Hey, dude." He quietly stopped Scourge short of the door. He seemed fidgety. "It's been a while since I've seen him. I just wanna think of him, you mind if I...?" He smiled and motioned like he wanted to hug him. "Hmm, Imma assume that’s a compliment. But if you ever need to talk I’m here.”

The walked thought the brightly lit halls full of color and life. A maid or two bustled past them, briefly greeting their king by his first name. Manic was right, he was a relaxed ruler, full of charm and kindness. Definitely not a typical alternate.

When he was stopped at the doors, Scourge's glance went from inquisitive to caring as Manic asked his favor. “Of course. I don’t mind. Just watch the scars, they don’t like to be touched.”

He pulled Manic into a hug, happy at least that the other was at least trying to seek comfort from others. That was good. Manic closed his eyes for just a few moments. It wasn't a serious guy, just a gentle hug between friends. He was very particular where he put his hands, making sure he didn't touch any scars. And it was perfect. For a few moments, he was back in Scourge's arms. It was all he needed. He pulled away, smiling strangely softly for who he was. "Thanks," he said sincerely. The strange sadness of the moment didn't affect him. They were feeling more comfortable around one another. Even if it was in bad circumstances, they were happy. "Alright, enough mushy time," Manic added. He slowly swung the door open, hoping that Aria hadn't panicked or gone berserk. Scourge let him go, smiling back as they peeked their head in. Aria was sitting up, rubbing her forehead gently. Rosy was gently rubbing her back.

"Hey pipsqueak… How you doing?” He knelt at her feet, gently holding her hand.

She spoke in what Manic could only assume was another language. A rich tone, full of rolling sounds. Everyone looked at her, confused.

“Aria, we can’t understand you." The sounds seemed to come together into some kind of coherent structure, but Manic didn't know what that structure was. It sounded beautiful in a strange, exotic way, but she was speaking in this tongue around people who couldn't understand what she was saying. Either she was saying insulting things about them in tongues, or... "Ari, you know we can't understand what you're saying, right?" He asked softly. Maybe she was in a strange fugue where she couldn't tell where she was, and she reverted back to her native tongue in a confused stupor. Maybe she was struggling to collect her thoughts, and these foreign words were all she could come up with. He turned to Rosy, flecks of fear visible in his face. "Uh, do you know what's going on?" "Let her process. She’s probably overwhelmed by all of this. English isn’t her first language so she’s processing in… Her native tongue. I don’t know the name of it.” Rosy explained.

Slowly Aria relaxed and took a shaky breath. “I'm… Sorry. This is unusual for me” her accent was thicker than usual, her rs rolling in the slightest of ways.

Aria rubbed her eyes, stretching out gently on the couch. “Fessus sum- sorry. I’m tired.” She whined and Rosy got up, helping Aria up as well.

“Come along then. Time for bed.” She insisted, leading Aria to her room. Scourge followed, motioning for Manic to come along. She got in bed and looked up at the group. “Could someone stay? I’m… I’m scared.” She admitted quietly, almost ashamed. It was almost pitiful to see Aria like this. She always acted strong, but this news about her boss had her seemingly terrified to be alone. He'd gotten in trouble with serious figures many times before, but he always had Scourge with him to help clean up their messes. Aria? She didn't have a lover like that. By the sounds of it, she didn't open up to seemingly anyone. "Of course, mate." Manic sat down in a small chair meant for a vanity, pulling it closer to the bed. "It's a lot to handle at once, I get it. I don't know how you're feeling, but we're here to help." He was careful where he put the chair. Not too close, not too far. Just enough that they could talk without him hovering over her. "Do you wanna talk, or just want me to put on some music for you?" Rosy pet Aria gently and the hedgehog snuggled into the affection. "I’ll get you something warm to drink. A tea maybe?”

Aria nodded to answer Rosy's question and Scourge pulled out his phone. “I’ll go call to beef up security.” He left and Aria and Manic were left alone. She snuggled into the blankets more.

“Music and talking would be nice… Got anything calming? Not that I don’t like the rest of your stuff but I don’t think it’ll help.” She tried to joke, pulling up the extra duvet on top of her. Manic chuckled a bit while he searched through his phone. "If this was any other situation, you know I'd go straight for some kinda hard rock immediately." What Manic finally ended up playing was some downbeat hiphop, simple beats and slow melodies that sounded like sleeping music. He left his phone down, and leaned over towards Aria as she huddled up in her blankets. "Ari, I've been in these kinds of situations before, y'know. Pissing off the wrong person, but here I am." He held his arms out, as if to show off the fact he wasn't dead. "There's always a way to survive and thrive. I've got tons of experience. And trust me." He reached over and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Having friends around makes it a hell of a lot easier." "Of course you would. I know gentle is not your style but I..uh… How do you say…” She paused, clearly trying to think of a word. She gave up after a short time and continued with a different word. “.. I am thankful, I guess is the closest…”

She snuggled into the blanket, listening to Manic talk. Smiling as he patted her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re my friend.” She said, yawning. Drained of all her energy. The gentle sounds of music could have lulled her to sleep, but her body fought to stay awake, fight or flight mode still activated. Rosy returned, setting the tea on the table gently. She didn’t stay in the room, merely bowed softly to Manic and left. He couldn't help but think to his own alternates. The Rosy he knew was... more extreme than this, to say the least. Hell, all of the alternates he knew were different than this. It was a surreal experience for him, seeing people he knew as anywhere from jerks to homicidal maniacs being pleasant. His mind would drift off from time to time, not to his Scourge, but to himself and Aria. He'd met alternates of himself, but never alternates from an anti Mobius. And what would Aria's alternates be like in a normal zone? If she was good here... "You know, I have some friends back in my home city," Manic started as he sifted through his phone. "They're kind of the more normal jerkish Destructix crew, but we're tight. If you want some extra muscle..." He showed her a photo saved to his phone. An old one, of himself arm in arm with his old Scourge in the front of his van. A few other Destructix members could be seen in the back of the van, posing for the photo with what appeared to be small gems of some kind. "...we've got the best of the best on our side." Aria took the phone from his hand, smiling gently at the picture of Manic and his Scourge. Manic looked so much younger, clearly in love. It made her feel better as she handed the phone back.

"Thank you but no… I think just the castle security will be enough… But thank you for staying with me anyways…” She stopped talking for a moment, formulating words.

“You look so happy in that photo… You must really love him a lot,” she said, purring quietly. He smiled. Not with the same kind of consuming, excited happiness, but with a genuine happiness all the same. "Like I said, we've got the best of the best on our side. I ain't just talking about security." He looked down at his phone for another moment, remembering an old gem heist that went far better than they hoped. "Hey, I'm gonna be riiiight back, okay?" Manic said, slowly standing. "We can talk while I work on getting into this place's records. I won't have to love him from a distance for long." Despite the distance to the living room, Manic was back in barely a minute. He channeled all his speed to sprite downstairs and around to the room, grabbing his laptop and charger before speeding right back. As he plugged his laptop in to charge, he sat down again, looking over that strange shorthand he wrote for himself. Maybe some fond memories could help her relax. "Hey, Ari? You ever been in love?" Despite his supersonic typing, his words and posture were soft. Hacking came naturally to him, it seemed. Aria let him leave, wrapping herself in another blanket or two, quiet. She felt bad for Manic and wondered if there was anything they could do to help him more. She would have to grab a book on magic later. For now, she settled into her blanket cocoon.

When Manic returned to ask his question she thought for a while. Pondering people in her life. "Not in the way you and your Scourge were. I’m kind of closed off romantically? I just didn’t know how the b-… SHE would react to me seeing someone. She almost attacked a pretty girl who was flirting with me at the bar once.” Her sentence trailed off as she smiled at a memory.

“My parents were a textbook case of true love. So its not like I haven’t seen it in others.” "You don't have to worry about she's going to react," Manic added as he turned to face her. "She's gone. You can date whoever the hell you want." He kept trying to come up with things to say as he waded through a certain part of the system, not an easy balance. "Hey, speaking of, you haven't called Terra yet, right? Don't you think you're leaving her hanging? Come on, you can shoot her a text, one message ain't gonna hurt. Just send like ten hearts and an eggplant, it's not gonna make a bad impression." Manic's computer made a whirring sound, as he looked. "I think we're just about...! Yeah, we're in!" Manic delivered the line with a bit too much excitement. Even if he'd probably need to brute-force his way into getting a password, he was close enough to an answer he could almost taste it. "Haha. You’re hilarious” Aria said, sticking her tongue out at Manic playfully. She did grab her phone and text the bat though. Just a simple ‘hi how you doing’, nothing flirty or fancy, but clearly shy.

She scooted over on the bed to look over Manic's shoulder. “What you got? A forwarding address? Maybe something we can use to track him?” "Uh, this'll take a bit," Manic admitted. There was some kind of program running in the corner that, unknown to Aria, was testing password after password fitting the string length. "These kinds of programs can take a while to get into, and-" The program stopped as a seemingly random string of seven letters and numbers was displayed on the running program. "Wh- Nevermind, guess the password was real weak." He said, pleasantly surprised. Although given the shoddy coding, he wasn't too surprised. Manic put some information into a patient search database. "Scourge Castillo." With an embarrasingly long wait time for a modern website, a patient profile showed up. There was a photo of who was clearly the same Scourge from the photo. His skin looked dry, his quills more ragged, and he was a bit older, but there was no doubt that this was the same person. Manic started to read through the information. "Scourge Castillo. Age: 27." He listed the information off with an intend tone, clearly invested in everything he was saying. "Birthday, height, weight- His forwarding address is still that place in Anstey. Uh, let's see. Treatment for addiction to heroin, plan is..." They came across the same line. "He's still at the clinic." "Then what are we waiting for!?! Come on let’s go!” Aria rolled out of her cocoon and fell face first onto the floor. She got up and dusted herself off, smiling sheepishly. “Heh. I’m okay!”

Aria opened the door and borrowed a radio from a guard. “Scourge, come back to my room, Manic found something!!!” She insisted, then gave the radio back.

“I think I can warp us to that facility! It might be a strain but I can do it!” Aria insisted, stretching out. Clearly preparing to go right that second.

Scourge came in, judging by the breeze he had used his superspeed. “What did you find?” "Check it!" Manic said, spinning his laptop around and showing off his profile. "Scourge is STAYING THERE! We know where he is!" All anxiety was gone from Manic's mind for just a few moments. "Come on, Ari said she can warp us over! I- Wait, wait!" Manic ran up to the vanity. He scrubbed off all of that make-up he had caked over himself, putting on his olf feminine face. He pulled out his hairclips again, straightened out his vest, just made sure every part of him was alright as he rapidly tapped his foot on the floor. "He doesn't know how I've been dressing up, he's gonna wanna see the real me!" And one more detail. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pendant in the shape of a drum, dangling it from his neck. "Come on, let's get to it!" Aria pulled on her shoes and read the address off the computer, reaching up to scratch open that swirling rip in space time. She was the first one through to secure it, but once they were all outside the main facility, she snapped it shut.

The building was inviting yet formal. Clearly designated as a rehab center. Scourge held open the door for aria and Manic into the well lit foyer. A squirrel tapped away at a computer behind the desk. Aria nudged Manic forward so he could talk to the secretary and ask to see his mate. Manic didn't waste a second, running up to the desk as fast as he could manage. "Hey, are visiting hours over? I'm here to see Scourge Castillo." "Scourge Castillo..." The squirrel mumbled as she tapped into the computer. "He's staying in room 505. Right down this hallway, take the third right turn. It should be down that hall." Manic was already gone. He barely even gave Aria and Scourge chances to follow him as they rushed towards where Manic's lover was staying. He was so close, so close...! He wasn't expecting to run into a maintenance man locking the door. "Wh- No, wait, I'm here to visit that patient!" "Sorry, but he just left." He said, shrugging his shoulders and sighing. "Left with his great aunt about half an hour ago." "G-Great aunt?" Manic said, almost shocked. "He never talk to his family!" "Don't exactly think that was a bad move," the maintenance man joked. "She seemed reeeeal pissed at him. Maybe you can still catch up with her? Overweight bat woman, you know her?" “No, we don’t. Did they leave by warp?” Aria asked, panting slightly from over exertion.

The maintenance man rubbed his scruffy chin, thinking hard. “Most possibly”

Aria rubbed her forehead. “Alright, okay, we can work with this, which door did they leave out of?” The employee pointed and Aria took off, Scourge following her lead to the outdoors.

“If they warped, I can track them by looking at all the warps that have been opened here, maybe reopen the portal if I can find where it was in the first place. But this feels sketchy to me, Manic.” Aria insisted. "That's cause it is." Manic said, thinking hard. "I don't mean Scourge doesn't talk to his family, I mean he doesn't HAVE a family." There was an ache in Manic's mind that was stopping him from calming down. It was ridiculous, it was hard to believe in every way, but he had an idea of just who Scourge had run off with. "Uh... Aria, are you okay?" Sure enough, it looked like Aria had tired herself out from all the warping she'd done. "Hey, hey, let's sit down. I'm sure he's going to come back in the morning," he lied. "They can't be gone forever. How about you check the warps you can find, and I wait to meet him in the lobby, alright?" “I mean technically he has you, but that’s not the point here.” Scourge mused, staying quiet.

Aria continued feeling around for discrepancies, eyes closed. Tuning Manic and Scourge out to focus. Scourge sat down next to Manic. “She’s in the zone right now. She can’t hear us.” He explained.

Soon, Aria found a seam that felt fresh. She opened her eyes and looked back at the boys. “Found it. Try using a warp ring on the spot, it should re-open” she insisted, marking the spot with a stone and going to sit down next to Manic. She leaned on the door-frame and closed her eyes for a second.

Scourge looked at Manic. “So what now? This is your call.” The only other bat in a Scourge's life would be a Rogue, and they never matched that description they received. Manic didn't want to admit it, but there was only one woman the maintenance person could have seen. "No." The word trundled out of his mouth and awkwardly dangled in the air like it was waiting for him to add something else. He wanted to say yes. He NEEDED to say yes. But if they said yes, Aria's old boss was liable to kill at least one of them, if not all of them. They had no idea where she was. "It's too dangerous," Manic added, once again searching for the right words and leaving the fragment hanging. "We can't follow-" Manic was getting genuinely more terrified the longer he spoke and let the fact sink in. Whatever had happened exactly, they knew exactly where Scourge was. Manic wasn't sure he wanted an exact location anymore. Aria opened her eyes in shock, almost falling off of the steps leading back into the building. “No? Manic, we’re so close. He’s one warp away, why…”

Scourge got Manic by the shoulders, inspecting his face and looking him the eyes, looking for something to piece together Manic's actions. He was only slightly behind him.

“No way… You don’t think he would go with her, do you? He owes her nothing. There’s literally no benefit for him… I’ll call Zonic. Two people are easier to track than one.”

They looked towards the portal and aria just couldn’t keep up with unspoken words. “Guys? What’s going on? Who did he go with?” Was it worth it to lie? After all, if both of them were together and they were that desperate to find them, it was eventually going to come up. But Aria was in such a vulnerable state, she probably couldn't handle the idea. Was betraying her trust going to cause more problems than letting her have another episode- "Rogue." It stumbled out unconvincingly, Manic forcing himself to say the wrong thing and struggling to let every syllable escape. It was one of the least convincing lies he'd ever told, easily. Aria could have told in an instant that this wasn't true. ANYONE could tell in an instant that it wasn't true. Manic was going into panic, and turned to Scourge again to beckon for some kind of answer, hoping she wasn't going to piece it together in those last few moments of silence. She pieced it together when the lie came out weak. Manics lie was nothing but sweet. “I’m glad you’re trying to protect me Manic, but you don’t need to. I just figured it out. Scourge is right… And so are you. We call for zone cops and let them handle this. They’re the only ones who can reopen portals other than me, that I know of. Then they warp you boys home and I find a way back by myself.”

Scourge nodded and got on the phone. Calling up Zonic and letting him know where they were and the story. Manic was unsure of what to say. Was Aria in shock, did it just not hit her hard? She was taking this way too well, although that last line let him know that maybe she wasn't in the best state of mind... "Hold on. You can't go alone, dude, she's still angry at you. I'm fine sticking around, mate, don't worry about me. I've slept in crappy vans and stuff, I'll stick with you." He spun around and looked at Scourge. "I'm gonna stay with Ari 'til her warp powers are recharged, or whatever the word is. We could-" Manic slapped his forehead. "I'm such an idiot-! We're checking out his room, seeing if we can find anything." Manic pulled a set of lockpicks out of his quills. "It's probably just a three, maybe four tumbler lock. You guys good with that?" “Zonic is coming to get me now, we can coordinate from out here. Aria, find somewhere to nap while Manic searches.” Scourge dictated to them as a warp opened behind him and Zonic stepped out.

Aria and Manic went back inside. The door popped open for Manic like he had just used a normal key. “When this is over, you’re teaching me how to do that,” she insisted as she walked in. "Don't tell me what you're gonna do with that power," Manic added. His usual smarm was gone. Scourge was in serious danger, and they had a messy room to sift through. Bed? Nothing but discarded clothes and blankets. Desk area? Pamphlets on recovery and ODing and an ashtray with a few old cigarette butts. The dresser was Manic's goldmine. The bottom two drawers were just clothes, but the top contained more personal possessions of Scourge's. Two leather jackets - Scourge was always buying new brands with new embellishments. Goods that were invariably stolen, the kidns of small valuables Manic would expect out of him. Even a few loose photos of Scourge's old crew. A fond, tear-jerking moment for Manic. The only other thing in the drawer was a letter in what Aria would find as familiar handwriting. "If you contact your friends, they will die. If you run away, you will die." Manic felt like he was going to faint. Aria felt her stomach drop. Grabbing onto Manic tightly to steady them both. Aria took the letter and looked it over. Front. Back. Front. Back. Holding it up to the light. Hiding it in her shadow. Looking for any other kind of clue. Especially who it was addressed to.

“Manic… ” Aria said, clearly terrified. “Manic I’m so sorry… This… This is all my fault…” She started to cry just a little, actively backing away just in case Manic got angry and lashed out. Unlikely? Yeah. But it was still possible.

Outside, Scourge and Zonic were planning a path to attack. Scourge looked back at the hospital. “Keep on that idea and I’ll approve the plans in a minute… Imma go check up on those two.” "You didn't do anything wrong," Manic said through his daze. "This must be that bat who sent it... No wonder he didn't contact us." He looked at the letter again. Now that he looked at it, some of those photos in the drawers had similar creases, like they'd been folded when this letter was sent to him. And judging by the yellowed edges of the paper, that was some time ago. "We just have to-" he gulped. "Keep going. I know he- He must have wanted to see me this whole time. I guess he didn't give up on me...?" He smiled, and started to even laugh a little. Not a little, rather loudly as Scourge burst in. "We're so close, he's right there!" He said, still laughing partially from panic... partially from relief. He still loved Manic. "What do we know about Scourge?" Manic said sadly through a melancholy smile. He moved to put the letter back in the drawer. Just at a glance, Scourge could tell those flame decorations on the jackets in the drawer were the same as the ones from the jacket in Manic's car. Scourge just looked confused. Turning to Aria. “Ummmm… Explain?”

“The bat was blackmailing scourge to run away. She’s come back to get him now. We need to move and find them as fast as we can,” Aria explained.

Scourge nodded. “They’re ready to move in. Ari, Zonic wants you on standby, just in case. They warped back to the bar. You’ve got to walk them through the hiding spots.”

Aria pulled Manic outside to the portal. Zonic and the others were waiting. "Alright... so we good?" Manic said, still shuddering from the thoughts. "Ari-" Manic finally broke down, starting to sob slightly as he spoke. But he quickly brushed off the tears, trying his best to hold up. "She's such a bitch," Manic eventually said as he started to breathe raggedly. "This woman's going down. Do you think- Scourge is alright, right?" He pleaded to one of the zone cops. His Scourge had no idea where he was. All he knew was be was being forced down into some kind of a trapdoor. He didn't recognize this place, he didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that needle she was holding to his arm was dangerously close to being pressed down. "The fuck are you gonna do with me?!" Scourge shouted at her as he was stuffed into the small hiding hold in some unknown building. "Oh, it's very simple." The bat said. "You want to see your old lover, I'll be happy to let you go. I just want to talk to one female friend of his." "'N what's gonna happen to her?" "You ask too many questions," the woman said, holding the plunger of the syringe like it was a threat. "You don't agree, I'll tell the police all about your debts... and get a nice big dose of your favorite heroin." Scourge shut up immediately. “Alright boys, listen up! Chances are this guy did NOT go willingly. Our goal is to get in, get him and get out. Now he IS a Scourge alternate. And I know all of you have your issues with us. But just imagine it's me in there! Alright? ” Scourge called out and the cops nodded. Everyone scrambled. Tactile gear on, riot shields, big guns.

“HOLD IT!” Aria screamed to get peoples attention. “SHE'S CALLING ME. HOLD YOUR ENTRY, WE NEED HIM BACK ALIVE.”

She picked up, shaking. "Hello?“

"Hello my dear~ remember me?” The bat cooed, making Aria shiver.

“How could I forget. Where are you? Is Scourge still alive?” She tapped the side of the phone and the cops started tracking her call.

“Oh he’s fine dear, just a little worried. Did you know that most overdoses are caused by rehabbed junkies trying to use their former dosages?”

“I’m aware of that. What do you want from us? What will it take to bring him back?”

“Oh it's simple really. I want you. Specifically I want you to get here through a warp ring, so that way I don’t have to worry too much about you struggling.”

Aria looked up at a shaky Manic, saw the worry for his lover, for his friend. Scourge, who was listening in through the tracker, shaking his head for her to say no.

“…Deal. But I want to talk to him first. I need proof of life.” A pause as the bat pressed the phone to the green hedgehog's ear. “Scourge? My name is Aria, I’m a friend of Manic's. He’s here waiting for you. Do as she says and we can all go home happy, okay?” There was a surge of emotion going through Scourge at the moment. The needle pressed to his arm, the sudden kidnapping... "...Manic?" He asked. It sounded like the gruff voice of most Scourges, but most would never have that wave of surprised sorrow to them. Aria wouldn't know this was a rare sound for this Scourge, but she didn't need to. "What do you mean, he's there?!" The bat pulled back the phone quickly. "He's alive, darling. Now what are you thinking? Can we expect you to hop through soon? I'm don't want to hurt you too hard." Manic was standing unnaturally stiff at the side of the building. He should have run in there. He could have rushed over and heard his voice again, but he didn't. The moment was over. It was- It wasn't a move to delay the conversation or piss Aria off, he felt like he didn't have a choice. He almost shoved Aria out of the way and stole the phone from her hands, desperately holding it to his head. "Scourge, are you still there?! Baby, it's me, say something!" Something clicked in the woman's head. "Oh? I thought you were Scourge Castillo." She said, he implications obvious. "If you used any other pseudonym, I wouldn't have known to grab him. Give it-" "NO!" He screamed into the microphone. "No, I need the proof of life! We need to know it... it's Castillo, not some decoy!" It was a desperate move for himself, but it stalled. It stalled for just enough extra moments to get the call triangulated. The signal wasn't blipping from the now police-ridden bar, but a few blocks down the road. Not down the road from the bar, down the road from the rehabilitation clinic. An abandoned warehouse used for producing the former bar's many, many exports... Aria looked surprised but she was instantly taken by Zonic, given a needle with a tracking chip in it right into her vein so they could find her. Thin Kevlar under her shirt. A pill version of a stimulative drug to help her bounce back after the warp.

The bat scoffed. "You’ll get your proof when I get my girl.” And click, she hung up.

Manic could only watched as his friend suited up in the most subtle of ways, little things to protect her. Finally it was time to step through. She hugged Manic tightly and smiled at him “I'mma bring your boy home.”

Scourge was hugged as well, not as tight, more of a brief one. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

“It's been an honor gentlemen." She saluted the zone cops and stepped through the portal. Seconds later, Castillo was pushed out of it, safe. A little scared and squinting in the bright daylight, but otherwise unharmed.

The portal snapped shut, and then she was gone. Armed zone cops moved out, driving in vans to the warehouse once they realized they couldn’t warp there anymore because of blockers. Aria's Scourge was left there, alone, shaking with worry. Manic and Castillo faced one another for what felt like the longest time. There was such an intense rush of emotion between them both, they didn't know what to say. Scourge's face was clearly scarred at some point in the past, but now the only signs were tiny, barely visible scars. His quills almost looked thinner than the last time they'd talked, although it could have been a trick of the light. Those scars across his chest looked more fresh somehow than the last time they spoke, but Manic didn't say a word. He couldn't say a word. "She- actually risked h-herself." Manic said, staring straight at his Scourge. The rush of zone cops and panic around them should have instilled some kind of fight-or-flight response in the two criminals, yet they stood oddly serenely in spite of all the chaos around them. Manic was the first to slowly step forward. He held out his hand like he was going to touch Scourge's shoulder and make sure he was real, with him retorting by holding out his left hand. All that remained of his middle and ring finger were stumps, the other three fingers now wrapped around Manic's. Scourge grinned. "I'm home, baby." Manic couldn't think of the words. All he could think to do was wrap his arms around Scourge and start sobbing into his chest. Buckets of tears streamed down his face as he made them most desperate, exhilarated smile he could manage in the moment. Scourge held him to his chest, as if he was staying strong while Manic broke down. But his own head was tilted towards Manic's forehead now, and just from the tight way he held on, it was clear he wasn't any less invested in the moment. And he would have carried the moment for longer, but there was too much at stake. He'd known enough of what that bat was capable of. Castillo motioned for Scourge to come closer, never once letting go of his lover. He was blatantly sizing up Scourge, wondering what to think of Manic hanging out with another. "Her name's Rosolio." He said, grip on his partner tightening. "Got two pistols 'n a lethal amount'a heroin ready to go. Kept talking about lovin' this girl, so she ain't bouta die just yet. She's hiding through some kinda trapdoor, it was under a table? Uh... It was covered in those electronic scales and colored dust crap. Maybe ecstacy?" He nuzzled into Manic's quills, patting him firmly on the back as he held his lost-lover close. "T'sall I know." "Zonic, you got all that?” Scourge asked into the radio that he removed from its place, hanging off its belt.

“Yes sir. Sending in the alpha team now. Warping blockers are on and snipers are trained on the building. She isn’t going anywhere,” the cop reported back.

“Good. Someone warp these boys back to the castle and get them first aid if needed.” Scourge's nervous twitches got worse, he fumbled to pull his cigarettes and lighter out of his jacket. He lit one and took a long drag, but it didn’t help. All he could do was wait.

~~~~ On Aria's side of the portal, she dropped like a stone. It felt like all her energy was ripped out of her, and all she could do was groan in pain and suppress the urge to throw up her lunch.

The bat didn’t care much, picking the other up like a sack of potatoes over her shoulder and carrying her to another room under the warehouse. She was tossed on a bed and the bat gave a devilish smile.

“Now lay back like a good little girl and maybe I’ll let you see those pathetic friends of yours when I’m done with you. After all, funerals do provide closure.”

Aria merely scoffed, laboured breathing from her nausea. “You don’t get it. No matter how you… You slice it… I’ve won… Castillo is safe… The zone cops are on their way here… Even if you kill.. If you kill me… My family is waiting on the other side… And you’ll die alone, with no one on this world or the next to want you.”

The taunt was buying her time. She only hoped the cops could move fast enough. "That's no way to talk to your boss," she almost flirted out as he held down by her arm. "And that's no way to talk to your lover..." ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ It was a back utility door that was already creaked open. Zonic peeked through the crack in the door. A vast, open room. No one was inside, no motion. He motioned for the others to follow him in, creeping slowly with guns raised and every instinct on high alert. If they'd heard closely, they would have heard a tiny, almost inaudible snap of a string as the door was opened. The warehouse was clearly a carefully managed facility for all kinds of illegal drug operations. There was no kind of greenhouse area, but the masses of beakers, scales and strange powders told them they'd come across the motherlode. eeeeeeeee The only thing they could hear was a high-pitched whine, from a set of beakers- That snapped string was a trigger to start heating devices around the lab. All of a sudden, beakers started bursting as the violate chemicals inside set of explosions across the lab. Table after table of paraphernalia was destroyed and flung at high speeds through the building, prompting the cops to duck for cover. Most of them. Was it bravery or stupidity? Zonic felt like he didn't have a choice, and rushed towards the vague outlines of trapdoors he could see through the warehouse. His footsteps were whisper quiet under the mass of shattering glass and clanging metal. He had to find some way to sift through the numerous vague outlines of trapdoors, most likely used to actually store the drugs, or even hide- "AAaampmphh!" Zonic let out a quiet scream and bit his hand as shrapnel dug through his thigh. He just had to keep moving, keep going- but he fell. He toppled to the floor under the excruciating pain, knowing everything that had happened to him was his own fault. He just had to reach for anything he could for support. And as luck would have it, the nearest thing on the ground was the handle to a trapdoor, hidden under a shifted table covered in electronic scales and vague remnants of colored dust. Zonic managed to crawl through the trap door and land with a thud. The room was dark, but there was light from down the hall. The many tunnels suggested that all the trapdoors were connected. The blue hedgehog tied his bandana around his thigh to keep pressure on the wound. It hadn’t hit anything fatal, but he was losing blood. He radioed it in to scourge. "the building has blown up. I’m in a bunker underneath the place. Its stable, I think. Scourge, I need you to get my men out of there.”

“On it. Where’s Aria?“ The green hedgehog replied, taking off towards downtown at superspeed, leaving Manic and Castillo behind.

"I think I found her.” Zonic creeped forward, peeking thought the door. Aria was laying on the bed, the bat having tied her down to it. Aria was struggling clearly, frightened by the explosions above them. Rosolio had used her knife to cut away her top, and the bat was taking pictures of the vulnerable Aria.

“You’re sick.” The hedgehog spat, weakened, but gaining strength due to anxiety and adrenaline.

“Well there’s quite the market for photos like these… Perspective buyers were willing to pay thousands to see legitimate fear in your body. But none of them will ever get to enjoy the pleasure I get from being able to grab the real thing.” The bat crawled on top of Aria, discarding her camera and forcing the hedgie into a kiss.

On the floor next to the door was a needle. The liquid inside matched the contents of the table in the room and Castillo's description. Clearly this was the needle that the bat had threatened to use on Castillo. Zonic grabbed it and made a plan of attack. His weapons had been dropped in the collapse. This was his only option. The needle was warm. Very warm. Was it even warm enough to keep the contents as a liquid? He trepidatiously pressed the plunger ever so slightly, letting a faint trace of the fluid escape. He was armed... barely, but he had something he could use. The door hinges were spotless... he could only play there weren't going to make too much noise. kreeeeeen By the moment the bad had registered the squeak of the door, Zonic's arms were already wrapped around Rosolio. The woman was stronger than she appeared, and the moment's surprised as only enough to tug her away from Aria. Zonic took the chance and dug the syringe into the bare flesh of her arm- "Off of me!!" The woman shouted, the pain giving her the adrenaline to force Zonic away for just a moment. The syringe fell to the ground and cracked, the inner fluids pooling onto the floor. Zonic deftly flung the woman against the wall, restraining her down by her arms. He had no weapon, no nothing he could have used to his advantage! He just had to think of something. Her eyes were starting to haze over, sure, but she didn't take a lethal dose... ... ...dose! She'd still received a heroin injection. It seemed she was already going semi-conscious from a large plunge. He had no time to waste, undoing one of the strong knots tying Aria to the bed and using the rope to tie the furious but delirious woman's hands together. Aria's other arm was released, Zonic this time taking the time to restrain her boss's legs. "Stay calm," Zonic said as he undid the final ropes tying Aria to the bed as Rosolio screamed and kicked desperately as she broke her daze momentarily, "We're getting out of here." Aria got up as she was released, tying a scrap of blanket around her chest to keep everything in place as she ran. The ceiling started to crack, little flakes of concrete raining down on them. The building was going to collapse before they left, Aria used the remaining rope to tie the bat's hands to a random hook set deep in the cement wall. Then the hedgehog grabbed the bat's wings and with two sickening cracks, snapped the main bones connecting the wings to her body.

"Just in case.” She explained, supporting Zonic as they walked out of the room. “I can warp us out.” She insisted, popping two pills from a hidden pocket on her skirt.

With a scratch, the portal opened. However this one was an angry red, not a cool purple. They stumbled through to the other side, landing right at Scourge's feet as the building collapsed. From the portal, a scream could be heard, followed by the loud and sickening crunch. Then all was silent. It was over. They had won.

Almost.

Medics rushed to Zonic and Aria and the portal snapped closed as Aria lost consciousness. The warping back and forth had made her weak. "Ari!" Several people yelled or pleaded to Aria as she was losing conciousness. Zonic, Scourge, Medics... and Manic, who broke his bond with Scourge for just long enough to try and dash forward to make sure she was alright. But they were too late, and she was barely breathing as they could hear the crumbling walls of the building from several blocks away, the woman doubtless dead from the experience. They had certainly won... technically. But technically didn't mean much for Ari. Nothing could have in her unconcious state. She regained conciousness to the tune of a heart moniter slowly blipping away and a stream of morning light filtered through the dusty window. Aria found herself lovingly laid in a hospital bed and hooked up to a few moniters. Even in her dreary state, she could tell she wasn't seriously injured. The window hung over a couch on the sied of the room opposite the door, clearly for visitors. She did have two visitors, in fact. Manic was sleeping soundly, covered up by what looked like that old leather jacket from his van. He was cuddled against the chest of- The few moments she's seen Manic's old lover was enough for him to remind her of what had happened that night. But unlike the violence and drama, he was letting Manic use his chest as a pillow as Scourge petted his hair through tired eyes. "You're up," Scourge said. He stood up slowly, Manic instinctively clutching to the cushions of the sofa as he was left to lay on his own. The old jacket was actually Castillo's, and Aria could now clearly see the scars from old track marks along his arms. "Y'know, Manic tried staying up all night to make sure y'all were alright. Kid was worried as hell about you." He gave a grin that clearly influences Manic's own smarmy grin, at least a little. "You saved my life. Thanks." People say that when everything is sore, you feel like you’ve been run over by a steamroller. Well, Aria felt like she was hit by a steam roller, an 18 wheeler, a crowd on black Friday and the stampede that killed Mufasa all at once. Not injured, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t hurt.

Aria looked over at the other Scourge, taking a moment to register the events of the day prior, and the fact that this was not her Scourge. "That’s sweet of him… Although I think he’s upset that his pillow has moved… He was looking for you the whole time, you know? That what I figure anyways. He almost cried when he found out you still loved him. I haven’t seen anything that passionate in a very long time. But regardless, no thanks are needed. I'm the reason she came after you yesterday… We busted her drug business in an attempt to get her to stop harassing me at work”

The door opened and her Scourge came in, talking with a doctor. She beckoned Castillo closer and dropped her voice. “You know, this is just the fatigue giving out advice, but Manic Castillo has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Her implications were clear as her doctor coughed to get their attention. Castillo went to sit as the doctor started talking to Aria. “You’re in good health. Just a day or two of observation.”

The Doctor left and Scourge sat on her bed. “They found the remains of the evil bitch of the west. She’s gone. Its over.” Castillo sat back down, letting Manic rest on his lap. He didn't seem flustered by Aria's little prod at his name. Actually, he seemed more than amused by it. "Good," he said as soon as Scourge was finished talking. "Didn't I hear that the whole building blew up? How they sure it's her all crushed up 'n not another lumpy bag of assholery?" Manic was still clutching at Scourge's fur, starting to shift more in his sleep. It didn't surprise any of them when he finally woke up, tired eyed and still in shock that he was sitting next to his old lover. "'ts me, punk," he added, as though he hadn't said that many times already. But this time, it was instead punctuated by a less serious ruffle of his quills and a delighted giggle out of Manic. "Whatever, dude." Manic snorted, clearly trying to mask some amount of his blatant joy behind the sarcasm. He nuzzled up to Scourge again, with him wrapping his arm around Manic's shoulder and back. The fluid way they fell into position said that they sat like this many, many times before, although likely not with this level of almost visible relief. "Uh, how long've you been up, Ari?" Manic said, clearly embarrassed at waiting so long and still missing seeing her. "Hell... Wait, what time is it, anyways?" Scourge just laughed a bit in response. "Five in the afternoon. Y'all missed the whole day." "DNA testing, fingerprints, the fact that she was tied up exactly where Zonic said she was. It's her. Its over.”

Aria suddenly started crying. It started out as sniffles, then the tears of joy came streaming down her face. “It-its over… Its finally over…” She leaned back and let the tears come.

Scourge actually pulled a pudding cup with a tiny candle on it from behind his back and set it down on the tray in front of her. Everyone looked confused until Scourge showed Aria his phone.

“You slept through most of it, but its still your birthday.” He insisted. The date was Thursday February 23rd. Aria seemed just as surprised as the couple sitting across the room from them. "Birthday?" Castillo added. Manic's expression immediately leaped straight from confusion to total excitement. "Ah, hell, weren't we gonna have a bit dinner- No, hold up, we're totally doing that!" Manic said, pulling out his phone. "We're calling up everyone that was gonna come over and have a crappy hospital food feast." "I dunno." Castillo added. "Think this is alright. The hell happened to all of us... I don't wanna see other people for a while." He leaned over and gave Manic a goofy smooch on the forehead. "Just the people who saved my life~" "And the green turd who was also there sometimes," Manic joked as the candle was lit. And in spite of everything, the four of them found the time to have a jowful, close evening. A lot of stupid jokes, some dumb games, and it all started with a few familiar lyrics sung in an inharmonious, out-of-tune clamor: "Happy birthday to you..."

#TinyRedArtist #Show's Over #There's A Melody Playing #Strong Language #Drug Mention #((Like honestly we both really like how this one turned out :000))

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