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probably-not-star-lord · 6 years

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Meet Cute (Wade Wilson x Reader)

A/N: So we’re just gonna go ahead and pretend Vanessa lowkey doesn't exist in the fic lmao

Request: Oof, if your still up for deadpool request. How about something where she was in similar circumstances as he was in in the first movie. It can be platonic if romance dosent work for the story. Also if you want it can be in headconnon thanks xxx

Request: About the deadpool request, yeah where they both have cancer (or another illness) and get taken to the mutant place where they meet and escape.

Summary: After being diagnosed with cancer, you’re sent to a facility that is designed to be a cure. Not only do you find a torturous way to get better, but also a man with an interesting charm.

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, Deadpool cause he counts as a warning

The day the doctor sat you down to tell you that you had late stage cancer was by far the worst in your life. Your friends and family weeped at the news, but tried their best to keep you healthy and happy in the remaining days you had left. Then, when a suspicious agent approached you on the street one day, you got your hopes up. Sure, the guy gave you the fucking creeps, but he guaranteed you’d get better. He also promised mutant abilities and what could go wrong with that? Everything sounded perfect!

Of course, everything was going wrong.

You had expected the day you found you had cancer to be the worst, but the day you were admitted into this facility with the promise of a cure is definitely number one on your list of shitty days. The cot they rolled you into your room on was dirty, uncomfortable, and made you feel restrained. You expected a cheerful hospital with bright walls and doctors with giant smiles, but instead this place was a living hell. Everything is filthy and dark, all the people are jerks, and you were informed you are going to be tortured until you get better.

Several days went by full of pain and suffering when the workers told you that you were close to being free of your cancer and unlocking your mutant ability. You wonder if it’s even worth it anymore with all of the bruises and cuts scattered all over your body. You felt sore, weak, and hopeless. By now you’d rather just go back to dying of cancer, surrounded by those you love.

“Ooh a room change!” a voice calls out in your room. You look up from your bed to find a man being rolled in on a cot by Ajax. Ajax is the asshole who met you when you first arrived here, alongside his companion Angel. They’re both complete dicks who find fun in hurting the poor people who get admitted here.

“Y/N,” he greets with a devilish smile. “You look like shit today.”

“Ajax,” you spit, glaring at him. “I would say you look like Dr. Doofenshmirtz today with that lab coat but I couldn’t disrespect him like that.”

“Wade!” the man on the cot yells with a cheery tone. How the fuck is he so happy here? Is he new? He sits up as much as he can and flashes you a grin and you suddenly become aware of the bruises and blood on his face. Wade looks like an absolute wreck but you somehow find him madly handsome. “Sorry, I thought we were yelling names,” he defends, pointing a finger at you. “Also, hot chick, that was a fucking amazing insult by the way.”

“Y/N, this is Wade Wilson, and he’ll being staying in this room with you until one of you moves onto the next progression of pain.”

Wade winks at you. “Thanks for putting me in the room with this sexy piece of ass and not that fucker who reeks. I think his name is Greg or whatever the fuck but he smells like shit,” he blabbers. “He kind of reminds me of you in that way, dish soap.”

You snicker at the nickname but quickly stifle your laughs when Ajax shoots you a glare. “Good luck sharing a room with him, Y/N. He’s the most annoying asshole you’ll ever meet,” he warns you before heading toward the door.

“No, that would be you,” you mumble, stopping Ajax in his tracks.

“I like her,” Wade chuckles. Ajax rolls his eyes and exits the room. “See you next time you beat the shit of me with your mutant fuckery!” he shouts after him. He turns his attention to you once again, checking you out more thoroughly. Even if your face is coated with sweat and blood or dark in some areas due to the bruising, Wade still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in his entire life.

“So...” you trail off, unsure of what to say.

“Well, this is the perfect meet cute isn’t it?” he snickers. “I feel like I’m in a Nicholas Sparks novel!”

“I guess so, huh? We’ll have quite the love story.“

“I bet we will,” he agrees with a kind smile.

The innocent flirting makes your heart race and you can feel your cheeks heating up. “Uh, how long have you been here?” you ask.

“A couple days, you?”

“It must be almost a month by now,” you sigh. “But I have no way of knowing for sure.”

“That really fucking sucks,” Wade responds. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry too, Wade.” You meet his eyes and give him a weak smile. He returns your smile, looking sympathetic and exhausted. Some part of you wants to take his pain away, make him feel better and help him get out of this hellhole. He looks like he’s been through a lot, and not just the days he’s spent here.

You and Wade share a room for quite some time, spending your days making fun of Ajax and Angel or sharing stories of times before you were brought here. Apparently his friends made the same efforts yours did when they found out he had cancer, making him eat and drink healthy stuff that tastes like shit. Overtime, you found yourself growing very fond of Wade, and the two of you both decided there is something there that would be worth giving a try if you ever escape. But, deep down, you know that is merely a dream.

Today has been a particularly shitty day. The workers have been hard on everyone, producing some extra pain out of all of you. You lay on your cot beside Wade’s, looking up at the dingy ceiling with tears in your eyes. “Wade?”

“Yeah?” he answers, voice meek and tired. He’s right where you are, hoping for something better and probably on the verge of death.

“Do you have a bucket list?” you ask. “Like what would you have wanted to do before you were taken here?”

Wade ponders for a moment before breaking a grin. “I’d want to get one last blowjob from my friend Weasel.”

You laugh loudly, being genuinely happy for the first time in a while. “What?”

“Oh, Weasel’s a bartender,” he explains. “Blowjob is the name of one his signature drinks that I force him to make.”

“Are they any good?”

“Blowjobs? Fuck yeah, I love a good blowjob.” You’re cracking up now, falling in love with Wade’s sense of humor. “What would you want to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know...” you mutter. “See my friends and family again? Watch my favorite movie? Have a good meal? You know, the usual bucket list shit.”

“That’s too generic!” Wade gasps. “You need something cool like...fucking Ryan Reynolds before you die.”

“That would be very, very nice.”

He scoffs. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

“You suggested it!”

“Well, maybe I meant I wanted to fuck Ryan Reynolds!” he jokes, causing the two of you to laugh even harder. “That man is absolutely beautiful and could have me anyway he wants.”

In between your laughs, you manage to speak. “You look almost exactly like him!”

“Really?” he questions with a smirk. “Are you saying that I am so fucking attractive I could have you any way I wanted? Cause I certainly have some ideas...”

You shrug, meeting his smirk with your own. You watch each other laugh as you continue to joke around, but eventually the giggles fade and the room is filled with a sad silence. “Honestly...if I could leave here the first thing I would want to do is see you,” he states seriously. “Like really see you, not tied down and worn out. I want to be happy with you, like normal people are with each other.”

You smile, a tear falling down your cheek. “I’d want to be with you too...just like normal people.”

“I’d want to kiss you.”

“I’d like that...” you whisper, extending your hand toward his cot as far as you can reach. Wade reaches out as well, taking your hand in his. For a brief moment, everything seems like it’s going to be okay.

“Lovely,” Ajax asserts, waltzing into the room. “I don't know about anyone else, but I'm touched.”

You quickly pull your hand from Wade’s, wanting nothing more but to touch him again. “Don’t worry, asshole, we’re only kidding.”

“No, no. It's okay. I encourage distractions. Wouldn't want you giving up on us, now would we?”

“Hey, don't take any shit from him, Y/N,” Wade says, shooting you a wink. “How tough can he be? You know...with a name like Francis.”

“Francis?” you chuckle. He smiles at you, loving the way you laugh, but Ajax just looks furious. You don’t know what the fuck Wade is doing, but you’re hoping it’s something helpful and not something that will cause him to get killed.

“That's his legal name. He really did get Ajax from the dish soap! F, R, A, N, C, I, oops! I snabbed the dry-cleaning tag off your lab coat. FYI, I could probably get you the super hero discount.”

“You are so relentlessly annoying,” Francis grunts. Yeah, like you’re going to think of him as Ajax now that you know his name is fucking Francis.

“Thanks, never heard that before.”

“Why don't you do us all a favor and shut the fuck up?” Francis threatens. “Or I'll sew your pretty mouth shut.”

“Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you. See, here's the problem with round-the-clock torture,” Wade explains. “You can't really step it up from there.”

Francis smiles wildly, sending you an unsettling feeling. “I was actually here just to inform Y/N her cancer is cured, and that she unlocked her mutation... you know I find so much pleasure in that,” he says, strutting over to Wade’s cot. “But now I think I might have to prove to you that you’re wrong.”

Wade gulps as Francis grips his cot and rolls him out of the room. As he exits the doorway, his brown eyes find yours and you see nothing but fear. “Wade...” you mumble to yourself, clutching onto your restraints tightly in hopes they could break, but you know they won’t. Your heart breaks, knowing you’ll most likely never see him again, but then Francis reenters the room.

“Oh, you didn’t think I was just going to leave you out, did you?” he asks, pushing your cot out of the room as well. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

In the room you see Wade being strapped down in some sort of machine that looks like a clear tube. “What is that? What are you going to do to him?”

“Worried about your little boyfriend?” Francis laughs maniacally, walking over to stand beside Wade as he’s being secured. “If this doesn't unlock your mutation, well... Nothing will. Now, what we're going to do is lower the oxygen concentration in there to the exact point you feel like you're suffocating. If your brain waves slow, meaning you're about to pass out, then we'll turn up the O2. If your heart rate slows, meaning you're able to catch your breath, we'll turn it back down. And that's where we'll leave you...right there.”

Wade groans. “I thought you guys were dicks before.” You can tell he’s trying to keep his humor, despite being completely unaware of whatever is about to happen to him.

“You know the funniest part of all this?” Francis quizzes. “You still think we're making you a super hero. You, a dishonorable discharge hook deep in hookers? You're nothing. Our secret, mate, is that this workshop doesn't make super heroes. We make super slaves. We're gonna fit you with a control collar and auction you off to the highest bidder. Who knows what they'll have you do...terrorizing citizens, putting down freedom fighters, maybe just mow the occasional lawn.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Wade seethes.

“You're never going home after this.” You cringe at the way Francis speaks, knowing something terrible is coming for Wade, who looks terrified. “Now there’s a brave face,” Francis reveals. He starts to close the machine, but Wade stops him.

“Wait, wait,” he commands. “Seriously, you actually have something in your teeth now.” Usually, you’d laugh at his jokes and admire the way he’s remaining lighthearted. But right now you’re far too worried about Wade to feel anything other than pure terror.

“Enjoy your weekend.” Francis slams the machine shut and saunters over to the controls.

“Weekend?” he asks. “Back up, weekend?”

“What the fuck are you going to do to him?” you shriek, but there is no answer. Instead, Francis starts the machine and sends a chilling grin to the two of you before leaving the room. You watch as Wade struggles to breathe, trying to get as much oxygen into his lungs as he can. You hate to see him like this so you scream and cry, fighting against your restraints in hopes that one of these workers will have the heart to save Wade. Your vision gets blurry as your eyes fill with tears, hearing Wade gasp and knowing there is nothing you can do to protect him from the hell he is enduring.

Soon, night falls, and a whole day passes until night consumes you once again. It’s been impossible for you to fall asleep with Wade struggling right beside you. You’ve spent your time sobbing quietly or closing your eyes trying to not watch. But, the exhaustion becomes you, and your eyes start to flutter shut as a few remaining tears fall out of them. You’re barely asleep when you hear Wade scream and your gaze instantly falls on him in the tank. You watch in horror as his skin transforms, covering itself in scars slowly as they make their up to his face, changing the way he looks forever. You’re unable to sleep again that night.

The next morning, Francis enters the room and turns off the machine. Wade sucks in as much air as he can, regaining a steady breathing pattern. “Wade!” you cry, but he’s too angry to answer.

“Fucking hell,” Francis announces, looking Wade over. “Looks like someone lost his shot at homecoming king.”

“What have you done to me?” he bellows furiously.

“I've merely raised your stress levels high enough to trigger a mutation.”

“You sadistic fuck!”

“I've cured you, Wade. Now your mutated cells can heal anything. It's attacking your cancer as fast as it can form. You know, I've seen some of the side effects before...I could cure them. But where's the fun in that? Now I'm gonna shut you in again Wade. Not because I need to, but because I want to,” he conveys, looking to Angel so he can command her. “Ah, well, go ahead.”

You are at a loss for words. The idea of Wade being shut in that machine again, crying for help that will never come, shatters your heart to pieces. You don’t want to be here anymore, you never wanted to be here, but now it seems impossible to stay. Angel fiddles with Wade’s straps as you fight against your own, praying your mutant abilities can somehow bust you out. The workers ignore your suffering and continue to focus on Wade. “You smell like shit,” Angel insults. Wade head butts her but you notice something peculiar in the way he does it. When she backs up, the match that usually hangs from her mouth is missing. “Mother fucker-”

“Hey, hey, hey! It's alright! It's alright. I think we owe him that, yeah? Take off. Go on, off you go,” Francis sends Angel from the room. “Quick question...what's my name?” Wade doesn’t reply, meeting your gaze with sad eyes. You know exactly what he’s planning.

“Wade...no...” you whisper, but no one hears you. He nods to you, hoping you’ll understand. What if it kills him? But, what if it works? So, you do understand, but you don't know if you want him to do it. Francis, however, doesn't understand at all.

“Didn’t think so,” he states, shutting the machine and turning it on once again.

After he leaves, Wade reveals the match he was hiding in his mouth. You shudder as you watch him light it and chuck it towards the oxygen vent. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes smiling, knowing what’s about to come. Within seconds, the facility explodes as fire erupts everywhere around you. To your surprise, you don’t feel as much pain as you thought you would, and all of your wounds heal almost as soon as they are made.

You break free from your restraints as they burn, and run off into the flames in search of Wade. You sprint right into a large body, and are relieved to find who it is. “Wade!” you yell in delight, wrapping your arms around him for the first time. He returns the embrace, holding you as tight as possible, but when you pull away he still looks miserable.

“You definitely don’t feel the same way you did before,” he mumbles.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Now that I look like...like this. You can’t still-”

You roll your eyes and swing your arms around his neck, pulling him down so he's inches away from your face. “Don’t be ridiculous, Wade.” You smirk up at him and quickly smash your lips on his. He’s stunned by your boldness but gives into the kiss easily, loving the way you still care for him despite everything.

He pulls away from the kiss slowly and presses his forehead against yours. The two of you smile brightly and genuinely for the first time in a very long time. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he says, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Wade envelops your hand in his as you look out into the distance, ready for whatever is going to hit you guys next.

So, hand in hand, you and the soon-to-be Deadpool run away together from the fucked up mutant factory. But, in some twisted way, you’re grateful for the facility, as it lead you to the love of your life.

A/N: Yikes that was long as fuck but I really liked how this came out so I hope that’s cool with y’all lmao

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n0velust · 3 years

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2007

When I received the message from a stranger on Myspace, I assumed I was being punk’d.

I heard you get sleep paralysis. So do I. Can we talk about it?

The account that sent the message supposedly belonged to a girl named Rose, but her profile was sketchy. She only had one friend. There were only two photos of her, good quality, not your basic selfies, although they weren’t professional either.

She was a blonde with bangs, her hair cut just above her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and the color of sea foam. There was an angelic quality to her. This was not the first time I had seen her face before, I was sure of that, but I couldn’t place where I reconized her from. It bothered me. Not that I believed the girl in the pictures was the one who actually sent me the message. Someone was messing with me. Someone who wanted me to reveal my weaknesses so they could use them against me.

I had only spoken of my sleep paralysis once in a public setting- a group counseling session all the way back in middle school. Sara, this redhead whom I had my eye on since the moment I first saw her, mentioned having it first in this session. We talked back and forth about it for a minute before our councilor called the meeting back into order. Sara had wanted to know more about my episodes. We met up one day, but she didn’t like that I believed sleep paralysis was a mere medical condition as opposed to a supernatural phenomenon. She committed suicide just a few months after that.

I knew better than to give this troll the time of day, but it was a lonely summer night. Besides, my curiosity had been piqued.

Cute pix but they ain’t urs, I wrote back. Maybe next time add more friends and write an About Me, so it doesn’t look like you just created the account two minutes ago.

She replied in a matter of minutes. Aww you think I’m cute?? (: lol it’s a new profile. I can send you another pic if you want.

Alright but draw a dick on your forehead so I know it’s really you, I typed back with a smug grin on my face. Checkmate. Since they wanted to act like a dickhead.

I got up and searched my dark room, my computer screen being my only source of light, for my bottle of vodka. I usually put it somewhere inconspicuous in case my cousin, Jessica, or Aunt Marilyn barged in on me. It’s neck was sticking out from under my pillow. I took several long gulps that warmed my stomach.

I didn’t expect a reply from that account but when I looked back to the screen, endorphins kicked in when I saw the one new message notification. No way. Bad Photoshop?

A grainy picture probably taken a flip phone, but it was her. She held her hair back out of her face, on her forehead she dawned the crudely drawn penis. A goofy smile.

Can we talk now? she asked in a separate message. I’d like this to be interview style. Can I call you to save us both time?

Out of pure boredom, I sent her my number. A few short seconds later, my phone rang. We got past awkward introductions.

“You do look familiar,” I admitted. “Do you go to Apponequet?”

“No, I go to Bishop Stang.”

“A Catholic school girl, huh?”

“I have come into your job at Burger Daze, maybe that’s why you recognize me. That’s where I overheard some kids talking about you and the fact that you had sleep paralysis.”

“Who?”

“I didn’t ask them their names. I just eavesdropped on their conversation,” she giggled. “To be clear, I know who you are. Not just from seeing you at your job. You’re practically famous!”

Famous people have fans, I didn’t even have friends. The main reason having to do with my local legend status in the small community of Freetown, Massachusetts. When you witness your father’s murder as a child, then go missing in the state forest for a week, and the media outlets paste your photo all over town, people rarely forget.

“Maybe I’ll give you an autograph sometimes,” I replied dryly.

“A piece of paper with your handwriting on it? That’d be great. I could use it to cast a love spell on you,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“Look, is this supposed to be a joke or-“ My amusement was wearing thin.

“No joke, Raiden. When I heard those people talking about you, I couldn’t believe it. I haven’t met another living person who’s had sleep paralysis. And for me it’s been especially bad lately so I took it as a sign that I must reach out to you.”

“Well now you have, so what do you want?”

“Tell me, do you hallucinate during?”

“Most people do. Your body puts itself in a state of paralysis, so you don’t act out your dreams. The hallucinations occur because your mind is still in a dream state.”

“Thanks for educating me on the subject as if I haven’t already extensively researched it myself. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then?”

“Yes.”

“And what sorts of things do you see?”

“People who suffer from sleep paralysis tend to see the same things, shadow people and such. Which makes sense because the room is dark and there are a lot of shadows.”

I was so used to only talking about this with therapists that I couldn’t help but parrot the things they told me.

“What about the old hag though? Lots of people report seeing the detailed image of an old woman, usually wearing a veil, who sits on their chests. She’s not a shadow. Explain why that’s common sighting.”

I paced the room, thinking of an explanation but fell short.

“Have you seen the old hag?” I reflected her question back.

“I asked you what you saw first.”

“Yes, it’s one of the worst apparitions. She starts off as a beautiful woman and then morphs. Total succubus situation, it’s awful.”

“Sounds like the scene in The Shining. That part really freaked me out as a kid.”

“I haven’t seen it.” Or any horror movie for that matter.

“The original is better than the remake although Stephen King wouldn’t agree- anyway so, shadow people, the old hag, anything else?"

I hesitated, stumbling over my words. There was something else. Something Sara mentioned seeing too. Something that she claimed the more energy you gave to, the more powerful it got.

“I’ve seen something coming out of the wall. It’s like it comes from another dimension,” Rose went on, since I was at a loss for words. “It’s three dimensional too, not like a shadow. Unlike the other sleep paralysis villains, it can physically touch. It puts its hand over my head. Local indigenous tribes have something similar in their folklore, expect it comes out of trees instead of walls. They call it a Wuagamortchi. Have you ever seen it or heard of it?”

My throat ran dry, so I went back to my bottle and took another drink. There’s no way she could be messing with me. I’ve only spoken of this particular entity to Sara and one of my psychologists. Sara named this entity ‘Wally”. As a kid, I called it the Gatekeeper.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I’ve seen it since I was a kid.”

“Can you describe your experiences?” Rose asked. Her voice was too cheery for the conversation we were having.

“No. I’d rather not. Sorry, I’m kind of freaking out right now. You’re not the first person to come into my life asking me about this shit. This girl I used to know, Sara, she saw the wog-thing, whatever you called it, too.”

“Really?” Rose asked enthusiastically. “Do you have Sara’s number? I’d love to talk to her too.”

“She committed suicide, about four years ago. I felt…guilty about it. You’re reminding me for her right now. That’s why my mind is a mess.”

“Why do you feel guilty?”

“Because she came to me for help so she would feel less alone. Her view on it was even darker than yours. She thought that actual demons were after her, that they wanted to make her hurt herself and other people. I dismissed her after she said all that, told her it was in her head. The ultimate betrayal, in her eyes, was when I told her boyfriend, James, that she needed help. She never spoke to me again. Her paranoia was what led her to take her life.”

“I mean, you reached out to her boyfriend about your concerns. It sounds to me like you did try to help her.”

I shook my head. “I could have done more for her. I could have been more empathetic.”

“I get it.” Finally her voice had some emotion behind it. Before she sounded like some robotic customer service representative. “My mother committed suicide and I feel like I should have done things differently too. The shrink I see says I shouldn’t blame myself but it’s hard not to.” Rose let out a sigh and pulled herself back together. “How often do you experience SP?”

It took me a moment to follow her train of thought. She dropped a bomb on me and then swept right passed it.

“A few times a week lately. I’ll go months without an episode, then it will become more frequent for a while. It has to do with stress,” I told her.

“Have you found anything that helps to reduce episodes?”

“Drinking.” I held my bottle up in a cheers to myself. I sat on my bed, leaning up against the wall with a pillow behind me.

“Alcohol? Does that really help?”

“No, not really. I wouldn’t recommend it. It helped at first but now it just makes me not care as much that it’s happening.”

“Hmm. I smoke weed at night for the same reason.” She paused for a moment, “have you ever smoked before?”

“Once.” With Sara. God, everything that came out of this girl’s mouth reminded me of Sara.

We stayed up talking for hours after that, getting to know each other. Rose told me that she had recently found her mother’s diary, where she described her own instances of sleep paralysis. While Rose did believe it was paranormal and I didn’t, we came to the agreement that there was a link between sleep paralysis and mental health issues- depression, anxiety, PTSD. It all went hand in hand.

I listened to Rose talk about her out of body experiences, how she had been training herself to detach her soul from her body during sleep paralysis and shoot energy balls as her interdimensional intruders. She told me about how her and her mother to share the same dreams and that she would astral project to the astral plane, hoping to find he mother there so she could say goodbye one last time. She said she wanted me to astral project with her, so we could be together, but I said I’d rather just take her out on a date. Her ramblings were nonsensical, yet she spoke them with such conviction that I wanted to believe.

Rose said that since it was summer she had been waiting until sunrise to let herself sleep. We stayed up until then talking. When we finally did go to sleep we left our phones beside us on speaker, so if something did happen to one or both of us, the other person would be on the line. It was the first night in weeks I had slept without having a nightmare or an episode of sleep paralysis.

We texted each other all that next day, then at night we spoke on the phone for hours on end. This went on for a few days. By the end of the first night, I was already hounding her about meeting up. she invited me to meet her at this house party she was attending on Friday night.

Thanks to our late-night chats, not only was I sleeping better but I had also stopped drinking. I wanted to be coherent in our conversations. I wanted her to think that I was smart and funny, not some loser teenage alcoholic. But- before going to meet her at this party in Fall River, a half an hour drive away, I did have a little liquid courage to calm my nerves.

When I pulled up to the house and parked along the street, she was out on the driveway waiting for me. She wore cut-off shorts and a black crop top, and a light jacket over it, despite it being the middle of July and eighty degrees outside. Over her shoulders, she wore a mini black backpack.

Despite her heavy make-up, she was still gorgeous. Even more so in person. Slim build but great legs. Her friend Genesis was starting next to her, holding her hand. Genesis taller than Rose but not my much. Her hair was clearly bleached blonde and fell in tight, corkscrew curls. She was dressed in a similar outfit. They were staring at my car and whispering among themselves. When I got out, Rose let out a squeal that I could hear from all the way over where I was standing.

Rose looked terrified, her eyes as wide as saucers. She had never even had a first kiss before and while I wanted to rush over and give that to her, what I wanted more was for her to feel comfortable.

“Hi Raiden,” Genesis called on Rose’s behalf as I approached them.

“That’s Genna,” Rose said, still clutching her friend’s hand. I could barely hear her.

“I know. I recognize her as your only Myspace friend.”

When I got up to them, it struck me how much I towered over them. A though occurred, what if she’s lying about her age? But I pushed it back to the far corners of my mind. Rose told me she was fifteen, sixteen on November 27th. My birthday was exactly a month after hers, I’d be turning eighteen. Our age difference wasn’t too bad. She had mentioned on the phone that she was petite.

Genna pealed Rose’s hand off of hers and shoved her in my direction before turning her back and walking away. Rose watched her friend go before turning to me. I stood still like I was offering food to a timid deer. Where was the bold girl whom I had spoken to over the phone?

Suddenly she was running towards me. She leapt up and I caught her in my arms. She wrapped her legs around my waist and initiated the first kiss. I let her have a little peck then tilted my head back farther. She groaned, her fingernails pricking the back of my neck. Our noses brushed before we kissed again. I melted into it.

I put her back down and we looked each other over.

“I’ve never been to a house party before,” I said, to break the ice.

“I don’t really like these types of parties,” she confessed.

“Why are we here then?”

“It just so happens that this party is only a couple blocks away from where a dear old friend of mine lives. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to pay him a visit.”

Him? Confusion, jealousy, rage bubbled up in my chest.

“You can come with me,” she clarified. “I want you to.” She batted her eyelashes at me and held her hand out for me to take but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to.

“Who’s your friend?” I asked, looking down at her with narrowed eyes.

“Andrew. You probably know him since you went to Freetown Lakeville Middle. Andrew Arslanian.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Mr. Arslanian? The fucking science teacher?”

She giggled at my surprise. “That’s the one. Part science teacher, part pervert. He stays busy.”

“How do you know that? Did he hurt you? What are you going to do to him?” So many questions and finding the answers wouldn’t make me feel any better.

“No. Not me,” Rose chuckled ironically. “This girl, Danielle. They had an affair. She was too young to know what she was getting into-“

Two girls stumbled out of the party, leaving the door wide open. The music was playing so loud that I could feel the bass in my bones.

Rose lowered her voice, “he knocked her up, then tried to throw money at her and threaten her into having an abortion until she moved away. Dani and I aren’t even friends anymore but that’s a whole ‘nother story. This was all long time ago.”

“Why wait til now to go after Mr. Arslanian? What are you going to do to him?”

“Chill. I’m not going to burn his house done or anything.” She took off her tiny backpack and unzipped it to allow me a peek inside. A single can of red spray paint and a wallet.

“And honestly, I haven’t thought of him in a long time but since I’m in the neighborhood…” She cocked her head and smiled at me, batting her eyelashes persuasively.

“How do you even know his address?”

“The internet.” She shrugged.

“I just-“ I didn’t want to come off like a buzzkill or an asshole. “I came all this way to hang out with you not to vandalize my eighth-grade teacher’s house.”

Her cheeks blushed. “I want to hang out with you too. This won’t take long, and you can pick what we do next.”

“I guess I’m in then,” I said with a scoff and an eyeroll.

She jumped for joy and let out a big, “Yesss!”

“But next time, tell me ahead of time when you have a crazy idea like this.”

“For sure I will.” She took my hands, intertwined her fingers in mine and started leading me down the sidewalk. “I’m so glad you agreed to join me because the Lucy I took should kick in soon an-“

I stopped dead in my tracks, bringing her to an abrupt halt as well. “What?!”

“Lucy. It’s slang for-“

“LSD,” I finished for her.

“It’s probably best that someone will be looking after me when it kicks in.”

I looked at her, then back to my car, and really contemplated leaving. Rose had told me about her experiences with various drugs, Xanax, coke, and of course weed. Genesis brought her into this world and Rose liked to experiment.

“I saved a stamp for you.” She looked up at me with angel eyes.

I knew a time would come when I’d be offered something questionable. Under different circumstances, I’d be more inclined to want to try LSD but not at a damn party. Not when we both have a history of mental illness. It seemed like an awful idea. I wasn’t about to explain that to her because I didn’t want her thinking I was a loser.

I liked her. A lot. There had other women, I was no virgin, but I had never had a serious relationship before. No one’s mind enticed me as much as Rose’s. I had never shared a connection like this with anybody. No one’s eyes had ever hypnotized me in such a way that my brain shut off entirely. I couldn’t blow this so soon, so I forced a smile over my haunted expression.

“Let me give you some money for mine at least.”

“No, it’s okay. Genna and her boyfriend TJ just gave them to me.” She fumbled in her purse and took out her wallet, out of her billfold, she handed me a stamp. Not the postage kind.

“Don’t chew it or swallow it, just leave it on your tongue for a while.” She held out her finger with the tiny white square on top and I took it and did as instructed.

“It’s my first time taking acid too so this should be interesting.” She giggled.

“How long ago did you take yours?” I asked, trying to judge how long I’d have until it set in.

“Right before you got here,” she replied. “TJ said it’d take about fifteen minutes to half an hour before I felt anything. He’s a total douche but at least he’s good for party favors.”

We locked hands again. My hands were so much bigger than hers and she had to hold hers above her waist to align it with my own.

“Why don’t you like TJ?”

“He’s a pedo too. Dude’s twenty years old. He has no business hanging out with girls as young as me and Genna.”

“Why don’t you tell your friend that?”

“She knows how old he is. She doesn’t care. Just thinks he’s with her because she’s so mature. Trust me, if I told her what I really thought about him, she’d choose him over me. Love makes people stupid and blind.”

I could see that now…

“Girls get obsessed with these random ass guys that come into their lives. No depth or anything unique about them. That’s why I never bothered dating. I never met anyone who truly compelled me.” She squeezed my hand. “Until now.”

“I must really like you because I can’t say no to you.” I grinned at her.

She lit up when I said that. There was no point in either of us trying to play it cool. No way she could have hidden that ear to ear smile. Under the streetlamps, I spotted freckles on her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, underneath all that make-up. Such a shame that she covered them up.

“Are you a natural blonde?” I asked.

“Yeah but my natural color is a little darker than it is now.”

I kept looking at her. Her familiarity drove me nuts, like when a word is on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite remember what it is.

“It’s weird that I have no memory of interacting with you when you were a customer at my work.”

“You see a lot of customers come through there every day.”

“Yeah but I remember the pretty ones. And I’d definitely remember your face. Especially since you said you come in there a lot.”

“You were the main reason I was coming in there for a while. Just because I thought you were so handsome.” She laughed at herself. I could feel her hand shaking in mine. It was a little sweaty too.

“Are you serious? That’s…slightly creepy but also flattering. Does that mean you have ulterior motives when you friended me on Myspace?”

“I saw that as my way in, yes. When I heard those kids talking about you having sleep paralysis, I took it as a sign that we were meant to get to know each other.”

“When you first invited me to this party, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to come. I’m really glad we’re hanging out, just you and me. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Me either. I have social anxiety. I’m more comfortable with a small group of people. Or with just you.” She led us across the street, onto a different road.

“You’re pretty social though. You’re more outgoing than me.”

“It’s all an act, I’m actually pretty shy.”

“You don’t seem very shy to me.”

“Really. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt like something was wrong with me. Something that everyone else can see too. I became really withdrawn so obviously, it was always hard for me to make friends. But then I learned this thing from Dexter, have you seen that show? Or read the books?”

“Dexter’s Laboratory?”

“No!” Rose laughed. “Dexter the serial killer. He only kills bad guys. Anyway, he talks about having to wear this mask to blend in with the rest of society because duh he’s a killer and he works around a bunch of cops but I kind of took that concept and applied it to my own life. Did you know that Paris Hilton is actually smart? She just plays a character to mask her true self?”

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“That’s what I do. I play a character. I say and do crazy things because….people think of me as one thing and my true self hides behind that persona. I pretend my life is a realty show, and I do whatever I want. I know that all sounds weird. I’ve always been real with you though.”

“I get where you’re coming from. Blend in with the normies so they don’t question you too much.”

“Right because when you’re quiet, people can fill your silence with whatever they want.” Her words hung in the air, echoing on a loop in my mind.

She pulled her hand from mine and I worried she was suddenly upset with me. She took off her backpack and dropped it on the ground. I picked it up and held it for her.

“It’s so hot,” she said as she took her jacket off.

Before I could open my mouth to ask her why she was even wearing it, I saw the angry, red welts on the pale skin of her freckled bicep. Four of them at least, but there were more that looked faded.

“What are those?” I asked, running my index finger over them raised scars.

“Oh, right. That’s why I was wearing the jacket,” Rose said, more to herself than to me. She sighed as she shoved her arms back into it.

“You don’t have to cover them up but what happened to you?” I pulled her jacket back off to get another look at them. “Are they cigarette burns? Who’s hurting you?”

Rose chuckled at me. “It was just me, don’t worry.”

“I am worried though. Why would you do that to yourself?”

“I get overwhelmed sometimes, and it helps to ground me. Don’t judge.”

“It’s not exactly a healthy coping mechanism.”

“Neither is your drinking,” she shot back. Her eyes were narrowed but she wore a ‘gotcha’ smile. “You don’t want to be like my dad, unable to hold down a job. He tells us he quit, he’s gonna sober up, but he just tries to hide it. He never knows what’s going on, it’s really embarrassing.” Her voice was louder and more emotional than usual.

“You’re right. I know. What I do is another form of self-harm. I’ll make you a deal though, I stop drinking and you stop burring yourself, okay?”

“What about a wager?” she asked with a grin. She pondered the terms of the wager for a moment. “Whoever loses has to give the other person oral sex.”

Laughter boomed from my chest. “No, that’s fucked up. I don’t want to benefit from you hurting yourself. Besides, if we did that, I’d just go back to the party and have a drink.”

We shared a laugh at that.

“I rather just make it a pact,” I went on. “If you feel the urge, just reach out to me and talk to me about it – or your friend Genesis. And I’ll do the same, okay?” I extended my arm for a handshake.

“Deal,” she said, taking my hand. I pulled her in for a hug, our lips found each other’s, and we kissed softly but hungrily. Euphoria pulsed through my veins. She pulled away too soon.

“Let’s just this over with, before I start tripping.”

She led the way through the neighborhood, knowing exactly where she was going. We walked at a quick pace until we came upon a two-story yellow painted home.

3342 Snyder Lane.

She took out the spray paint can and shook it, I worried about the noises. There was no car out front in the driveway but there was always a two-car garage, so it was hard to tell if anyone was home.

Wind blew in through the trees overhead. Rose looked up at the swaying branches in awe. She waved back to them.

“Rose! Hurry it up,” I urged her in a whisper.

She looked to me, confused, and then down at the spray paint can in her hand. Dropping to her knees, she was mesmerized by the paint exiting the can. “I’m creating universes,” she told herself.

She put her other hand into the stream of paint.

“Stop,” I said. “You don’t want to get caught red handed, do you?”

She looked up at me and then down at her red palm, laughing at my pun. I took the spray can away from her and told her I’d do it.

Ask me about Danielle, I wrote on the driveway in messy print. Underneath that, I added, I’m a pedo, to make our accusations clear.

I looked up for Rose and nearly had a heart attack when I saw her peeking in through the first story window. I ran up behind her but then froze.

There was sheer, red, fabric over the window but we could still see what was going on in the house. People, maybe ten of them, all wearing plain black masks but with a red upside-down triangle drawn over the forehead. They were dancing around. In the center of their circle was a man tied to a chair. He was slouched over, still, eyes open and unblinking. They were taking turns stabbing his already dead body.

“Get away from there,” I said, a little too loud. Because one of them stopped in their tracks and looked out through the window, right at us. This person’s sudden stop in rotation caused the others to bump into them.

Without thinking, I picked Rose up and threw over my shoulder. I ran out of there like a bat out of hell. Her backpack clapped against her with every step. The adrenaline must have given me extra strength because I ran like that with her on my back for blocks and blocks, until, I couldn’t take it anymore. I set her on the ground, and we ran together hand in hand for what felt like an eternity. All I knew was the run. A running being was my identity. I couldn’t think of anything else. I can’t tell you how long we ran or how far we got. Rose led us and not in a straight direction, to confuse whoever might have been following us. We went through people’s backyards, up and over fences. Repeatedly.

I could have kept going but Rose was out of breath and collapsed herself onto someone’s yard. She repeated, “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t do it.”

“Did you see what I saw?” I asked, my hands rested on my knees as I gasped for air. When I closed my eyes, I saw geometric shapes breathing. Circles morphing into triangles, then into diamonds, then into hexagons.

“They were killing him,” Rose said in a weak voice, burying her face in the grass.

“He was already dead.”

My voice didn’t sound like my own. I felt like we were in virtual reality, like I was at home playing video games and none of this was even real. “They saw us. We need to keep moving.” I reached my hand down to help her up.

“I can’t run anymore. I always knew if I was in a horror movie, that I wouldn’t survive the run. Go on without me. Save yourself.”

“It’s my responsibility to protect you,” I replied. “You’re my girlfriend.”

I was just as surprised of those words coming out of my mouth as she was. She smiled and it was like everything was okay. For a second there, time stood still, and I felt perfectly sober. But then everything got wavy again.

She allowed me to help her to her feet. “I’m your girlfriend?”

“Why else would I be going through all this shit for you? Now c’mon. We can walk but we have to move forward.”

“I don’t know how to get home.”

I looked around my surroundings, only now realizing that we were utterly lost. “You mean back to the party?”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that stupid party.”

“Did you want me to take you home? Because I would.”

“No way. I couldn’t bear to see my mother right now.” I just looked at her. Her mother was dead, but it probably wasn’t the best moment to remind her of that.

I tried to remember the route we took to get to where we were. If I could remember where Mr. Arslanian lived, maybe I could get us back to the party. What I needed was a weapon though, to make sure that we got back safely.

The best I could find in the moment was a large stick. I picked it up and held it over my shoulder. “This way,” I told Rose, leading her in the direction that felt right.

The threat might have been gone but my paranoia remained. All the houses looked the same. We were in an endless labyrinth. I tried to have a conversation with Rose while we walked, to add some normalcy to the evening. My mind would loop, and then I’d completely forget what I was thinking about. I’d forget what I was saying, midsentence. My words came out a mush. We didn’t see any people outside or even cars driving by and that had me feeling like I was in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Soon the zombies would come.

Things got weirder when I had the sudden sensation that I was actually my father and I was lost in the void between Earth and the afterlife. I was his ghost, trying to escape from some evil force that beckoned to me. My breath hitched. I could feel my insides vibrating. Everything was vibrating. I sat down in the grass, hoping that the feeling would pass.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked, the first time she had spoken in a while.

“I’m going to a bad place.” I covered my face with my hands in shame.

“You don’t have to,” she told me. “Genna warned me about bad trips. She told me that if you think bad thoughts, of course you’ll have a bad trip. But you can have a good time too, it’s all in how you approach it. You’re thinking too much,” she said. I couldn’t fathom how she could say so many words.

“Just lie back and enjoy the ride.”

What a concept. All my life, I’ve never been able to do just that.

It was a clear night and the stars were visible. For a moment it felt like I was the pilot of a spaceship. Then after staring at them for too long, they didn’t even look real anymore. A hologram. I broke the celestial trance and shifted my gaze over to her. The most beautiful being I had ever laid eyes on, she made this all worth it.

Feeling my stare Rose looked over at me, brushing her fingers over my face. “This is all worth it because we’re together.”

“I was just thinking that exact same thing,” I said, finally finding my words. “You read my mind.”

She rolled over on her side and I did the same. We were almost nose to nose.

“Remember what I told you on the phone? If we practice reading each other’s minds, soon we'll be able to dream share.”

I thought of the game she taught me to play over the phone. One person clears their mind and closes their eyes, holding a picture of the other person in their mind. The other person focuses on sending a mental transmission, through a beam of light from their forehead, the other person. I wasn’t very good at the game.

“What am I thinking?” she asked. “The category is fruit.”

I did as instructed and waited to receive her transmission. “Grapes,” I said as the image suddenly popped up in my mind.

“What kind of grapes?”

My eyes tried to flutter open, but I forced them shut. “Was I right? They’re green.” The picture was so clear, I could almost taste them. I looked at her for conformation.

She nodded and smiled. “Yes, green grapes.. The acid must be helping us connect.”

“I’ll try to send one to you,” I said. “It’s a shape and a color.”

We both laid back in the grass. I closed my eyes, held her in my mind. The light stemming from my forehead was so bright it was like I could really see it.

“Blue, a circle- no wait now it’s a triangle.” She opened her eyes and asked if she was right.

I nodded and told her to close her eyes again. “I’ll send you a number now.”

“Twenty-seven,” she said, in no time at all. “I can see it clear as day. And the numbers are in white bubble lettering with yellow polka-dots.” I was in awe, unable to speak. Good thing that I didn’t need to anymore.

“It’s the date of both or birthdays,” she went on.

“That’s why I was thinking of it. You also mentioned on the phone that you liked that number.”

“Wow,” Rose said. “I can’t believe we mastered teleportation.” We both laughed as she realized she said the wrong word.

“Telepathy,” I corrected. “I think we’d need a little more acid for teleportation.”

Music started playing out of nowhere. It was really creepy until we realized it was coming from Rose’s phone. I had completely forgotten we carried such devices.

“Whoa, the screen is all over the place,” Rose said before answering.

“I just wanted to check in,” I heard Genesis say. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re lost,” Rose replied.

There was a male’s voice in the background. Genesis had us walk to a street corner and tell her the names of the roads on the intersection we were on. It was hard to read the sign. The letter flew off and were carried away by the wind. After discussion with the other person she was with, Genesis told us to stay where we were and that she’d come find us.

I told Rose that it might be dangerous for Genesis to be walking the streets by herself. The masked ones who had engaged in the ritual could still be looking for us. Rose tried to tell Genesis about Mr. Arslanian and what we saw through his window, but Genesis just started laughing.

“You can tell it’s their first time tripping,” she said to someone else. “TJ’s coming with me. We’re on our way. Just sit tight,” Genesis told Rose before hanging up.

When we saw two figures approaching us, walking in the middle of the road, Rose jumped up and down with excitement. “They found us! We’re saved.”

She took off running towards her friend. I was shocked when both girls lifted up their shirts, revealing their bras underneath. They howled when they bumped their chests together.

Genesis’ boyfriend must have noticed my expression because he explained that was like their secret handshake. He introduced himself as TJ, while the girls were jumping all over each other. He looked like how I imagined he would, old as hell. He had long greasy hair, with a black cap over his head. A full beard, I must have looked like a child next to him. He wore a white t-shirt with holes in it and jeans that hung down below the waist. I didn’t like him. He instantly gave me bad vibes. I would have rather been lost with Rose forever.

As we walked back to the party, which apparently we were only a couple of blocks away from, the girls walked together ahead of us, chatting gleefully back and forth. Rose was telling Genesis that I was her boyfriend and Genesis was really excited about the whole thing.

TJ pulled me back to slow our pace, he grabbed my roughly. “You be good to our Rosie.” That instantly pissed me off. Rose was not his. “She’s a wild one. No experience but she’s ready to learn to fuck.” I was ready to kick this fucker’s ass.

“I coulda had her but she didn’t like the idea of a three-way relationship. She thought Genna would be mad at her but Genna said she woulda been cool with it.”

If Mr. A and his friends needed another sacrifice, I had just the guy for them.

“I never met two girls with such dirty minds,” he had the audacity to continue. “You’ll have fun wit her, I bet. But yo, if you’re gonna stick it to ‘er, don’t go ghost after tonight. That would make her sad. Which would make Genesis sad. Which would fuck wit my own life, ya feel me?”

“I don’t plan on ghosting her and I don’t plan on sleeping with her tonight either. I like her. I’m not trying to rush anything. I want to see where it goes.”

“Bro sex on acid is fucking magical. You should try it sometime. Are you having a good trip?”

“I’d be enjoying it more if I didn’t just see my old science teacher having a satanic ritual.”

He laughed at me, “You’re funny, man.”

We could hear the music from down the street and started to run towards it, grateful to be freed from the maze. Back at the party, my mood did a three-sixty. Genesis and TJ shared a joint with us, which put me on another level for sure, but the euphoria was back. Genesis kept taking pictures. Rose and I even danced. Our bodies moving to the music without having to think twice about it. After working up a sweat, we went to the refreshment table and drank some water.

“They’re so many of them! They’re multiplying,” Rose said, mesmerized by a tray of cupcakes. “Why’s no one eating them? I don’t want to be the only one who eats one. What’s wrong with these people?”

I encouraged her to just take one and she looked at me, her eyes mischievous.

“I have a better idea,” she grinned. “Carry the tray upstairs for me, I’m scared I’d drop it.”

“What do you want to do with them?” I asked.

“We could put the frosting on each other’s bodies and lick it off.” She didn’t have to tell me twice, I grabbed the tray and we headed to the second floor.

#fiction writer #romance writing #horror writing #poetry #writeblr #creative writing #amwriting #grunge asthetic #sleep paralysis #demons #cult

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catbrainswriting · 7 years

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[mikomisa] cut your losses

ship/fandom: suoh mikoto/yata misaki (k project)

chapter: 1/?

word count: 1.7k

summary: mikoto suoh has a lot of enemies. usually, after they try to face him, they run home with their tail between their legs - but every so often, some will come crawling back with the urge for revenge. and what better target than the one the king holds dearest? (or, alternatively, misaki is kidnapped by a rival gang formerly defeated by mikoto, and the king is given an ultimatum.)

notes: not beta read so sorry for any stupid mistakes. i started this aaaages ago and never got around to finishing it until @shy-canadian-snowflake popped up and magically motivated me like an angel - so a huge big thank you to them!! this is also the first post on this shiny new writing blog, and there’s no initiation quite like one of my oldest rare-pairs. enjoy!! (and pls let me know if you did so i’ll know to continue!)

Mikoto is wandering alone down one of the less crowded streets of Shizume, heading back towards HOMRA with several new packets of cigarettes held in a bag in his right hand, when his phone vibrating in his back pocket interrupts his lazy train of thought.

It is mid-January, early evening, and the snow on the streets has yet to melt so the slicing cold air hangs with it. Mikoto had left the bar early on a mission to track down a smaller gang stirring up trouble on the other side of the city, but his body temperature (heightened considerably by his aura) continues to attempt to oppose the winter. Cringing as the hand that had previously been seeking refuge in his jacket pocket is exposed to the air, he draws his phone clumsily from his jeans. The blue light of the phone screen is harsh in the dusk and it takes several long moments for his eyes to adjust so he can check the caller ID. Izumo. Mikoto stares at the screen for a moment, before its incessant vibrating reminds him that Kusanagi is actually waiting for him to answer.

He swipes to answer the call and holds the phone to his ear, trying not to think about the fact that the last time Izumo called him, Totsuka was dead.

“Hey, Mikoto?”

Kusanagi’s voice over the phone is as even as ever, casual lilt carrying the words in a way that in any other situation would be relaxing. But Mikoto has known the man for years, since they were teenagers, and they've been through too much together for him to not immediately notice an underlying sense of anxiety. His mind, as ever, goes to the worst scenario first.

“What is it?”

Kusanagi barks out a laugh after hearing his tone, but it sounds inappropriate and somewhat forced. “No one’s dying, I promise.”

Mikoto quirks an eyebrow. The joke is in poor taste, though he doubts the man intended it as such. “Then why’d you call?”

“I was gonna ask if you knew where Yata was.”

“Yata?”

“He hasn’t come in today. I wouldn’t be worried - well, I’m not, really - but he’s not answering his phone. Kamamoto offered to check his apartment, but I figured I should call you first. Make sure I’m not interrupting some steamy date.”

Mikoto considers informing Kusanagi that the closest he and Yata have gotten to a date has been a make-out session in HOMRA’s rec room while some action movie played in the background (that’s basically a cinema date, right?), but he bites his tongue.

“I haven’t heard from him.”

That statement brings Izumo’s laughter to a nervous standstill. There is a long beat of silence.

“Since when?”

“Last night at the bar. I last saw him the same time you did, unless you’ve talked to him since.”

Mikoto hears a slight ruffle, and assumes that Izumo is shaking his head. “No...no. He said goodnight and then he left on his own. It was late.”

Mikoto’s slow pace down the street draws to a stop.

“What are you implying?”

Izumo pauses, the only sound through the phone his deep breathing.

“I can’t stop thinking about Totsuka.”

Mikoto feels something like anger rising in his throat, but he knows it’s closer to anxiety. “What are you implying?”

Izumo sighs deeply. “I’m not--I’m not saying anything. But, fuck, Yata’s just a kid. And, yeah, he can look after himself and I get that but I can’t help worrying. I feel like, with Totsuka, I didn’t worry enough. And look where that got us.”

Mikoto lets the silence hang, watches his breath dance in the cold January air like the smoke of a cigarette. He finds himself craving one suddenly, but he doesn’t have a free hand to draw his open pack out of his jacket pocket.

“I’ll go check his apartment.”

His tone makes it sound like an offer, like something he’s willing to do to calm Izumo’s nerves, but they both know that there is now the beginning of panic coursing through Mikoto’s own veins. Misaki has always had such an effect on him, and more often than not he finds himself cursing the teenager’s innate ability to cause him such grief.

Izumo makes a noise of affirmation, another rustle to indicate a nod. “Call me as soon as you find him,” he says, with an air of confidence that disappears like smoke in the wind the moment he continues, “And call me if you don’t.”

Mikoto hangs up the phone and breathes deeply, deciding after a moment’s hesitation that Yata is more important than his body’s craving for nicotine. He sets off again at a significantly brisker pace, turning off a few streets away from the bar and heading instead to Yata’s apartment, tucked far into the worse side of the city. He hasn't been there many times, since Yata basically lives at the bar, but he’s also aware that Yata’s financial situation is a bit of a sore spot. God knows how many part-time jobs the kid’s working to try and keep up with the rent, for no real reason other than a desperation to provide for himself, rather than rely on other people. Yata had been taught the rather harsh (and false) lesson in his life that relying on others always got you hurt, and Mikoto is always trying to encourage him to loosen his grip on that belief, but his efforts are largely in vain. Yata’s mistrust of people on any level deeper than the surface was ingrained in him, through pain and loss and regret, and no amount of encouraging was going to get him to let go of it. Especially not with the still-raw grief of Totsuka’s death in his heart.

It seems to get colder the further away from the shopping district Mikoto gets, as the buildings thin out and the streets grow broader - intended for vehicles, rather than slow-paced shoppers - but with a sense of purpose burning in his mind, he doesn't notice it as much as he had before Izumo’s call. He walks through alleyways and under footbridges, keeps his distance from the guys lingering under them with their hands shoved deep in their pockets, no doubt gripping switchblades. He doesn't have the time to get into a fight, especially not one that he can't end with an effortless wave of his aura. He can feel it itching under his skin, burning in a way that it hasn't since the evening of December 7th, and he knows it well enough now to know that it means ‘danger’. Anxiously, he chalks it up to his surroundings, to the guys holding nail-embedded baseball bats eyeing him from the alcoves of shuttered store fronts, but deep down he knows better. His aura is unsettled with the need to protect, to shield...and the knowledge that it is helpless. Something is happening. Someone is going to be hurt. And, as he pauses at the bottom of the metal stairs leading to Yata’s second-storey apartment, he can only selfishly hope that it is anyone else.

He begins to scale the stairs slowly, steadily, but his anxiety gets the better of him and soon he is taking them three at a time, leaping over the bannister as it angles around to save him a few precious seconds, and then he is stood at Misaki’s front door and time seems to freeze around him, like he's been plunged sixty feet into freezing water. The lock is broken, and there is a dull trail of blood dragging from underneath it.

No.

No. No. No.

Mikoto is bursting through the door in a moment, but there is nothing he can do. He is hours too late already.

Misaki’s apartment is only one room - two if you count the semi-divided kitchenette, three if you count the bathroom - and it is in chaos. Shelves formerly housing photo frames and books and DVDs are overturned, the small old-fashioned television smashed from some apparent impact with wires dangling it precariously from its previous perch atop a chest of drawers. The drawers are all opened, too, sorted through and their contents dumped on the ground, but Mikoto doesn't notice any of it, not really. Because the old mattress on the floor, including its single unwashed white sheet, is covered in blood, and there is a message spray-painted in purple on the wall above it.

“CUT YOUR LOSSES, KING”

What the fuck? Mikoto is lost too suddenly to immediately feel the rage that he knows is coming, and instead stares dazedly into the ransacked apartment. Is this revenge? Revenge. For something that he has done. Misaki is paying the price for something that Mikoto has done. The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach, but before he can do anything he notices the note on the table. It looks so out-of-place amidst the chaos that Mikoto is shocked he didn't notice it before, but he approaches the table cautiously nonetheless. He snatches up the paper and begins to read.

“Red King. Or, rather, Suoh Mikoto. Did you really think you would get away with fucking with us?

You tore us down. Thought you’d defeated us once and for all. Taught us a lesson good and proper, yeah?

We don't play no fucking games like that.

We remember. Bide our time. Act with more strategy that you HOMRA fuckers do.

Bet you feel pretty fucking stupid right now. Don't worry; the grief’ll kick in soon.

And then you can really feel like shit.

But that's not really what we’re after. We’re after suffering in the broader sense. More shame-filled. More regret.

We did consider that little princess of yours, but even we have standards. Besides, the other type of love is always more fun.

Depending on how long it takes your stupid ass to realise what's happened, your boy here probably won't be dead. Maybe. Depends how loud the fucker is.

All we’re asking, Mr. Suoh, is for you to cut your losses.

Let us win and we’ll spare the rest of your boys. And the girl.

But if you come chasing after us, you’ll find pretty boy here with his throat slit and a hundred men off to do the same to the rest.

Now, I want you to think long and hard.

What are you willing to lose?”

#k project #mikomisa #mikoyata #mikoto suoh #misaki yata

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noahpoligy · 5 years

Text

An entire “album”, written on 9/13/2019

So I got super inspired in the bathroom to “write an album” whatever that means. So, I sat down, and forced to write a ton of lyrics all in one sitting. The most I’ve ever written has been 2-3 songs at once, and well, here’s 10. I started grasping at straws towards the ends, whatever was coming to mind honestly. I was listening to “Rape Me” by Nirvana in the shower and I thought to myself “Why not change that to “Hate me”, because I personally feel like I have a fair share of haters, but none of them hate me as much as I hate certain aspects about myself, ya know? Anywho, I might fuck around and see if I can find demo versions of songs w/o lyrics or whatever and see if I can produce any of these into actual listenable songs. We’ll see. Sadly, my motivation goes away with as I sleep. It took me 3 hours to write all of this, and honestly I think I should mention that it’s a bit funny comparing the second thing I wrote to the last.

So I guess this is a “light” concept album. I think the one present theme that all these share is self perception and belief in one’s emotions and beliefs. I’m pretty tired as I right this, I can’t think of the word for that, if there is one. I’ll probably rewrite aspects of tracks 1, 4, 6, and 7. 1 looks too much like Rape Me, 4 needs “more”, I’d honestly like a rap section in there, 6 I’m just unhappy with some of the lines, it comes off as corny to me. 7 needs a chorus and the ending I just randomly threw in, so that needs to be fixed too.

Track 1: Hate Me

I hate me

You hate me, and my friends

hate me

I’m not the only one

I hate me

I’ll say it again and again

You’re a waste to me

You hate me and my friends

I’m not the only one

Every time I do anything it’s for the worst

A kiss would tag you as a whore

I appreciate your concern

I’d like you to die so you can burn

I hate me

You hate me my friend

Hate me

Hate me and my friends

I’m not the only one

I hate me

hate me

It sates me

========================================================

Track 2: Something More

She waits at windows

She daydreams all day

And sleeps away her frowns, for now

She just waits around wishing she

Could meet that single another

At night in a parking lot wearing that new dress she bought

Only for her to go back home, she’s let down easy

She goes out to buy a drink

I noticed the one Friday she didn’t, she was locked up high

There’s something about her innocence

That makes her chafe for love

And she’s down to explain what she’s looking for

She says she wants me and will help me become someone more

Dead leaves, the sky desolate of summer

I’m underage so I’ll stand outside while you get the drinks

Tomorrow you can smoke me out, and we can hang around the cemetery

Do we need each other?

We’re two discount lives without any numbers in our bank accounts

Do you think that if I wait around that maybe she

Might go back to her room and say it was all a lie?

She’ll tell her parents that she doesn’t know my name and I’ll sigh

Get out of my head demon, you’re dismissed

I will change for love

And she explained how long she’s waited for

Something more

Come, Goodbye, I might just see you another night, and if you don’t I understand if you can’t find that definite reason why you should stay. I’ll watch you walk away

She says that she will change for love

And she explains how long she’s waited for something more

And as these days go by, it ends that track of how long we’ve waited for

In love there’s more

In love there’s something more.

============================================================

Track 3: Self-Faith

Wrap me up in my true skin

Drag me in front of my mother’s eyes

My innocence is tragic

My innocence is damned

And in a sense I’m gifted because of it all

I can breathe underwater

I can fly high in the sky

I can burrow deep inside my chest

and stab another with my teeth

and I live underground

If you spend your love around me

You’ll know fantasies beyond your wildest dreams

And before you know it, your love is gone

Cause there’s nothing as awkward as what I see

And in your fear, you’ll disappear.

You saw my dreams, you saw death.

I believe in no one

I believe in another way

But my beliefs are not noticed

My beliefs are all held of faith

Faith in me, and that’s why I must escape

And in this ring our wedding will be true

And with this wring I will separate us in two

And with this ring you’ll see what’s in my head

And inside you’ll find the truth

Now let me tell you, if you spend your love around

We’ll enact our fantasies so they’re no longer dreams

You’ll find that your love is hard

And that it’s exactly what it seems

And no one will disappear

Even during the darkest hour

To the revelations

To the fresh baked victims

To the weak that have succumbed

They hate me

So speak your peace

While the drum drowns you out

You’re not wasting

A single breath at all

Because strength is your weakness

Your weakness is your hate

And it’s something you just can’t explain

You’re sniffing on some roses

They’re so beautiful

You’re getting so lost inside their smell

The others have come, to make you dumb

The others have come, to hold you down

The others have come, to hold, you, down

========================================================

Track 4: Run Away

Monkey see monkey do, run away

Fuck around and follow you, run away

I don’t like you, I’ll keep it in, run away

Another fool with pencilled skin, run away

There he is, take him out, run away

He never laughs he never smiles, run away

He can’t run he’s a cripple, run away

Let’s beat his ass, it’s good fun, run away

Run away Run Away

Run Away

Monkey see monkey do, run away

Fuck around and follow you, run away

Cut him up but keep it in, run away

Another fool with poisoned skin, run away

Run Away Runaway

Run Away

Run Away Runaway

Run Away

Away, Runaway

Run Away

Don’t Stay

Run Away

Don’t Stay

Get Away

Rat-a-tat-tat.

========================================================

Track 5: Who the Fuck Are You?

You say I’m gonna fall

Well I can’t wait to let you down

You say I’m gonna fail

We all know you’re a fucking joke

Get out.

You’ve lost equality.

Get out.

You’re below a fail.

Can anyone anywhere believe that you’re true?

Does anyone anywhere wanna be you?

You say I’m a faggot

Well at least I’m not a bigot, kid

You say I’m lucky

It takes knowledge to play the cards

Get out.

You’re a waste of sperm.

Anyone anywhere can beat you

Does anyone anywhere actually wanna face you?

Who’d wanna bother with you?

I guess I’d like to, bring it fucker.

Lousy, you’re knocked out sky high

You’re flat out dead in the head

Does anyone wanna support you?

Does anyone anywhere actually believe in you?

Does anyone anywhere wanna be you?

Do you wanna be you?

=========================================================

Track 6: Family Crest

I bathe in silence

I want you to notice

I’ve got a god complex

I already know I’m gonna pass the test

I’m on fire

I’d hold on their hearts from the inside

And squirm myself inside and take control

I want everything they have and I want it now

I’ll find a way

Today I can waste away

I once flew away

Far away, from all of this, and I nearly died

Miserable dust and homeless mutts

Hating my face and wanting to wither away without a trace

I didn’t hate anything else but my own and me.

I’m gonna bleed

To make me believe

That my hearts still there

But is it really? I need a fucking shovel

I’ll clean off the dust, our faces will meet

I disconnected by cutting the string

Anytime that you’d try to talk to me

I bathe in silence

I want you to notice

I’ve got a god complex

I already know I’m gonna pass the test

I’m on fire

I’ll hold onto their brains from the inside

I’ve got their heads believing in me

It’s not enough I want fucking more

I wanna bleed

To make them believe

Someone hurt me

So then maybe I’ll feel something

===========================================================

Track 7: Horribly Ever After

Let out the stampeding horses

Suffer in your suburban houses

Withdraw from the taste of the devil and God’s affair falling from the sky

Scream all you want you’re in a silent movie

Kiss up each other while your lives go tick tock

Beached by the groupies that are sick of your stuck-up hinds

Vacant is your deposition

Dead is your fleet of propogandic sources

Your sister is actually your aunt your father had an incestual affair

You scoffed away the very true sources

You chose to go to war against another’s imaginary friend

Blood is the key to eternal life and that’s why Earth wants more death

It’s about time

It’s about, concluding you

Black skies bring fears

Unleash armageddon, tute yourself and say one final prayer

it’ll be one last moment before you’re off where you belong my dear

Lust for a reality that is like the movies

A life where you survive the locusts

It all goes away when a angels voice says you’re damned for eternity for being a stupid sheep, you need to be fucking sheered.

It’s about time. Maybe now you can see

Too bad you suck

Too bad you’re dumb

You looked directly at the sun and now you can’t see

This is the final message

Soon you’ll be stabbed by the ancient armies

Death by thousands of roses

It’ll take years but that’s what you deserve

You’ll be raped by the soldiers

They’ll embroider their band on your skull

You’ll probably enjoy it, it’s like your inverted cross tattoo

I guess you got what you desired, your spot in hell.

Black skies bring blood

Black skies bring flood

Black skies bring you

Black lies bring truth

==========================================================

Track 8: Hysteria

I woke up to a message of love

Though I don’t think we’ve ever spoke on the phone

I’m obsessed with the poison of us

I wonder why I can’t seem to find one to trust

Is there even a soul living inside of ya?

Oh yeah oh no, there’s nothing in that stereo baby

I’d try to bridge on over and see what’s up but it’d crack under your pressure

You need a miracle

And I’m no miracle

You’re honestly hysterical

What the fuck is going on inside of ya?

I’m unimpressed with my presence at best

I get depressed from the needles of sunlight that bleed through the blinds

I make shit up so I think I’m the best

Honestly though, there’s no one I can trust

There’s no one living inside this universe

You can call me No Paranoia Noah baby

I’m the last motherfucker that’s not hysterical

I’m not one to crack under any amount of pressure

If you’re looking for a miracle it’s me

Now now, come on, get your broken soul out of bed baby

What’s so funny? I’m at least trying and you’re staying a degenerate

You’re lying in your bed about a broken phoney bone

Come on I see a spark of something in ya

Skip the jokes, escape living in hysteria

=======================================================

Track 9: It Will Become

The doorbell has rung, it’s coming true

The silence and the dread, it ends here

You’ve waited and now it’s time

Come into the utopia of....

The future of earth will become

There is a past yes, it’s clear.

You better take this face and choose your race and face the race for the constant search for anything

You’ve waited and now it’s time

Come into the the utopia of....

The future of your life will become

=========================================================

Track 10: Falling Apart

I’ve got no legs

Fuck the shadows are in me too

These thoughts they won’t leave my head

Wait.... Why are my legs on the other side of the room

I was your everything

You were the one last thing I’d ever think of doing anything wrong to

Yet you’re right next to me with blood and blades all around you

I was yours and you were my one true love

And now arms are stuffed with lace

And my you’re chewing on one of my eyes

My tongue is stapled to my nose

And my legs, oh god, you’re eating my toes

I was yours and I guess now I’m yours

Why did you cut me into this

We were best friends

And now I’m just meat

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

Oh, hey, good morning!

=========================================================

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