fleshhearted
Devils Don't Fly
Denise and Jeana write and cry over fictional idiots.
These are characters we made for rp purposes and now, we cry over them.
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Cursed
Once there was a prince who lived in a castle all by himself. He hadn’t always, but he had come to live on his own over the years. He was used to being solitary- he didn’t like it, but it no longer bothered him. The prince hadn’t always been this way. At one point, the grounds in which he lived was swollen with life, bustling with the movement of servants, scribes, attendants, and even his love. She was his one true love, or so they told him. The prince was betrothed to her since before he could remember, their kingdoms promising one daughter to a son. The prince never questioned if this is how true love came to be, but he accepted it- it was what was right, wasn’t it?
The prince met his bride to be not long before his fifteenth birthday. She was certainly beautiful, but quiet. Always cold, paper thin, and tired looking. The prince wondered if all love was that tissue thin, like the soft skin above a bruise. It was not long after that the two were to be wed, only given fleeting moments of cordial greetings and shy glances. But that was true love, after all.
At the altar, her dress seemed almost too heavy for her to carry. She was paler than usual, quieter than usual, the jewels seeming as if they were suffocating her, slowly. But it was true love, the prince told himself. They were promised to each other. Nothing else mattered.
The prince and his bride were not required to consummate their love, not then. They were far too young, and their wedding was more of a promise than a true act. However, it felt only right, and only traditional that their wedding night was spent together, and not apart. The prince’s bride did not say much to him, only choosing a few cordial, watery greetings before bed.
The next morning, the prince woke up to his bride colder than ever before. So cold, and so unmoving.
The prince’s true love was dead.
Cursed, is what they whispered around the castle. Only one cursed with an evil so strong would have their true love die on their wedding night. Cursed, a prince destined to be without his true love. A cursed prince, cold and alone. It was not long after that the whispers of promise seemed to disappear with the bride’s last breath. Curses were harbingers of death, a promise of bad luck. They were contagious. Who would want to be cursed like one forever destined to be alone?
The prince had not even begun to ever experience what love exactly was, but he knew his chance was gone. His one true love was gone, and he was alone, but that was okay. Perhaps because it was life he never experienced, so maybe it was easier that way. You can’t know what you lost if you never had it.
The prince tried to spend as much time as he could away from the castle. Though very few maids and servants remained in the castle over the years since the loss of his love, they chose to scurry away from his touch and presence. Perhaps his parents pitied him, and paid them substantial amounts to care for a cursed prince. They were simply shadows to him, cleaning around him, scurrying in and out of rooms before he entered. He knew they were there, but never really spoke to them. As far as the prince was concerned, he was alone.
The gardens were the only place he could forget, for a few moments, the coldness of love. The heaviness of a curse. The emptiness of the promise of love. He’d bathe in the outdoor baths, curl his toes through the warm, sun kissed grass, or hide under the shade of the large trees dotting the property. It was on one of these occasions that the prince was lounging in one of the ponds, enjoying the coolness of the water against his skin, that he came upon a frog. It was bright green, the same color of a fresh spring leaf.
The frog had large, dark eyes, and seemed to stare directly at the prince as he swam.
“Hello,” the prince spoke gently, feeling silly as soon as he uttered the words, “Are you looking at me?”
To his surprise, the frog answered him.
“Yes,” he said, almost sheepishly.
“Are you going to be okay out here?” the prince asked. He felt it was a silly question to ask a frog, but it seemed so small and alone on its lily pad. It was the first time anything, human or animal, had spoken to him in a long time, and he immediately felt the pang of longing, wanting more.
“I am,” the frog assured him “It’s getting dark out, soon. You should go inside.”
The prince agreed, grabbing a towel as he exited the pond.
“Farewell,” he told the frog.
The next day, the prince returned to the pond. He normally tried to explore the different parts of the grounds, however, he wondered how the frog was doing. This curiosity never seemed to be satiated, as for the next few days, the prince and the frog would begin their routine- the prince would visit the frog, and would ask him how his day was. The frog would detail his sitting, swimming, and hunting. Then the prince would go back to the castle, and repeat the very next day. It wasn’t until one day, that the prince asked the frog a very important question.
“May I ask you a personal question?” the prince asked politely.
“You may,” answered the frog.
“Why is it that you are able to talk?” he asked, curiously.
“I have not always been a frog,” the frog explained, “I was a prince too, once. But I am cursed.”
The prince exhaled sharply. It all made sense, of course. Curses did tend to attract other curses.
“Oh, but why didn’t you tell me right away!” the prince exclaimed.
“I didn’t want you to stop talking to me,” the frog admitted, softly.
It was then that the prince decided he would do everything in his power to break the other’s curse. While his curse was permanent, scarring, an overwhelming weight on his shoulders, he knew curses like the frogs were reversible. Not all of us have to be cursed forever, he decided.
That night, the frog did not sleep in the pond. The prince, picking him up carefully, took him to the castle, where he made arrangements in his personal tub for the frog to feel comfortable. “We are going to find your true love,” he announced determinedly, too determined to notice the less than enthusiastic nature of the frog.
Despite being exiled, the prince was still a prince, and with that, so was his access to advisors, pages, and other royalty. All he needed was to send the right letters, and within days, princesses from across the land were being sent, hoping to be the one true love for the frog and return him to a prince once again. The frog went along with it, mostly because he enjoyed seeing the expression of hope and love on the prince’s face. He put up with being held and kissed, hundreds and hundreds of times a day. And every day, every kiss, would end the same- he was still a frog.
After the seventh day, and after the very last princess had placed her lips against him, he finally found himself alone with the prince again.
“I’m sorry,” the prince apologize somberly, “I’m so sorry I haven’t found your love yet. But we will, and I will free you from your curse.”
The frog, normally silent through the ordeal, was tired. Too tired, and too sad to keep quiet any longer.
“There is no one true love for me,” he explained to the prince, “I will never break my curse.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell the prince that, he could never love a princess. He was not destined for a happy ending, for a one true love. The ones he chose to love would never love him back, like lonely kind princes who cared about others’ happiness over their own.
“Please, no, don’t give up yet, please,” the prince begged, “I’m sorry I haven’t helped you yet. But I will.”
“You have helped me,” the frog answered, “but I’m sorry. There is no love for me. I’m sorry.”
The prince was silent, for a long time. He wondered why it was so unfair, to live a life this way. He was aware he was cursed as well, but it never read as tragic or unfair till he saw it reflected through the frog. It was not fair to be forced to live a life as lonely as the one he was given. That they were given.
“Please, come here,” the prince spoke finally, more of a question than an order. The frog turned curiously, before making his way to the prince.
“Will you please sleep with me, tonight? Just tonight.” The prince asked. He had never seemed so small before.
“Alright,” the frog told him, wanting nothing more than that since he had known the prince, “Tonight. I will.”
The prince was warm and soft, and smelled of sweet milk and fresh grass. The frog wanted to memorize the way that scent was forever.
“Your curse,” the prince said, finally, “If… even if I can’t break it. Maybe we don’t have to live like we’re cursed.” The prince considered his words for a moment before speaking again, “I will never have my one true love. And even if you are to be a frog forever, maybe… maybe we can be happy, anyway. As happy as we can be,” he decided. “I would like to make you as happy as I can. Even if I can’t help you. I want to make you happy.”
The frog did not have to look at the prince to see the soft pearls of tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I would like to be happy with you,” he answered, finally. “You make me happy. Thank you.”
The prince sniffed, the heaviness of their curses, of love, of eternity tugging at his eyelids. Sleep was all he wanted. Sleep had been his end, but today, it was a better one. Not an end to being cursed, but an end to feeling cursed.
“We can make each other happy,” he muttered, sleepily. And finally, as his eyelashes fluttered closed, he leaned forward to leave a kiss on his frog. “We will be happy.”
The prince had not felt such a pull for sleep in such a long time. Warm, heavy sleep, a kind of comforting weight unlike the one he felt before. However, as he woke up, he learned that heaviness was a physical one- there was another body in the bed. A warm, sweetly sleeping boy.
His frog.
“Hello?”
The prince pressed two fingers gently across the other’s cheek. He merely stirred. The prince leaned forward, pausing as he felt his breath softly catch in his throat, before he pressed his lips against the other. His eyes fluttered open softly, still heavy from sleep. But an unmistakable fresh spring green.
“Good morning,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Good morning,” the prince whispered back with a smile.
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Rattled | Noria
AU based on this comic because it’s cute as shit alright
Maybe she had overreacted.
The worst part was the night had started so good, amazing, even. But Aria had begun to realize that every day she spent with Norman was so effortlessly amazing, which made the idea of him leaving even more painful. Aria couldn’t even articulate how much she felt about Norm, not the way her pulse quickened when he smiled, or how she swore her skin was burning bright red when his fingers touched her skin. Norman S. Evans was just a force of nature in person, and the fact that he was real and there with her after months and months of internet conversations, texts, and emails was just too bizarre to comprehend.
The fact that he was also immortal was just another added point of confusion.
While she had easily warmed up to the idea fairly quickly, there was an added point of confusion and frustration with her that night. The worst part was, she hadn’t realized it till it was too late. The whole situation would’ve been a lot smoother had she realized it ahead of time, but like anything pertaining to Norman, her feelings creeped up on her before consuming her before she could realize what was happening.
She didn’t blame Norman for pulling over to stop the smoking car on the road. In fact, that was one of the things she loved about Norman; he was always so eager to lend a helping hand, no matter how inconvenient it was for him. Did she blame him for taking initiative to help the driver get her three year old toddler out of the backseat? No. Did she blame him for breaking the window when they realized the doors were broken, even when others urged him to wait for the cops to arrive? Absolutely not. Did she blame him for, despite his best efforts, and despite saving the child, didn’t move fast enough to get out of the car when the engine exploded? Never.
Even when she knew he would be okay- because with Norman, he was always okay- that didn’t stop her heart from nearly bursting when she saw the car go up into flames, Norm still inside. Norman had insisted that it never really hurt that much- only sometimes, but Aria could see that this pain was difficult to ignore, the boy letting out a few yelps of pain before being resigned to being trapped in the car. And that was the worst part, maybe. That Norman, someone who was so generous, so giving, and so selfless, in that moment, was alone. And Aria had been utterly helpless to help him. It didn’t matter that he was immortal and that he would be okay, the fact of the matter was, someone she cared about got hurt and there was absolutely nothing she could do but watch him suffer. And that hurt her a lot more than she realized.
At the moment, she didn’t really realize that effect it had on her; she was too busy consoling the mother and child. “He’ll be fine, he’ll be okay,” she had to keep repeating, though, understandably, seeing a friendly stranger go up in flames wasn’t exactly the most pleasant experience. Aria had a twinge of worry, that maybe he wouldn’t recover this time, but by the time the cops, paramedics, and fire department arrived, the slightly aflame, smoking remnants of Norman S. Evans managed to dust himself off, laughing sheepishly. It was something that, even just being set on fire, Norman insisted on making sure everyone else were okay. In a testament to true Norman nature, he even managed to crack a smile and gather laughter from the mother and child, despite just minutes earlier crawling out of a car as a literal flaming skeleton.
Dinner was ruined- their reservation was hours ago, and Norm added sheepishly that he wasn’t adhering to the “no shoes, no shirt, no service” unspoken restaurant rule, anyway.
“I’m sorry Aria. I’m so sorry,” he kept apologizing, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Aria replied, surprising even herself with how unintentionally cold her answer was.
The drive home was awkward, to say the least. Aria wasn’t speaking much; she felt too many things, too many emotions that she couldn’t quite figure out, just yet. Norman tried his best to keep the conversation light and playful, to crack a smile out of her, but after a few moments of monosyllabic answers and awkward silences, he resigned himself to humming along to the radio as Aria drove back.
Unfortunately, coming back to the apartment wasn’t much better. As soon as she took out her keys, unlocked the door, and stepped through to the foyer, all the emotions she had so carefully suppressed came flooding over her. And before she could stop herself or explain, she found herself bolting to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
It wasn’t Norman’s fault. Truly, it was never Norman’s fault- it was, of course, her inability to understand how she felt and react to someone so emotionally expressive that was the root of most of their contention. She felt guilty, even more so, that as tears rolled down her cheeks and the sobs rattled in her chest, of the concern she could hear in Norm’s voice through the other side of the door.
Eventually, after countless attempts of trying to talk to her, she heard a soft, concerned sigh on the other side of the door.
“I’ll leave you alone for now, Aria. I’m… I’m really sorry.”
She of course, wanted to tell him she wasn’t mad at him. The natural thing to do was to fling the door open, and hug that idiot tight and cover him with kisses and tell him she wasn’t mad. How could she be mad? Because in that moment, as she watched Norm risk his life and limb for strangers, to take on responsibility that wasn’t necessarily his, she realized something. That Norman, the boy who had been given a gift so unique, who had chosen to do good, amazing things with it, a person who made her feel happier and wanted and adored more than any other person than she’d ever met, was special.
And she loved him.
Realizing she was in love with Norm was probably worse than anything she’d ever felt in her life. Because there were so many things about that feeling that could go wrong. Norman gave his adoration and affection so easily. Norman had so many friends, while Aria had few. Norman could make strangers laugh, make the grumpiest people melt their salty exteriors, knew how to make you feel good even when you did something stupid or silly, even at the expense of his own pride. But what did she do for him? Could Norman love someone who’s natural response to realizing they loved him was to lock themselves away in a bathroom and cry? Aria was almost embarrassed at her childish emotions. Because Norman, someone who gave so much, probably deserved to be loved by someone just as giving, right?
Aria didn’t realize how much time had passed, but after a few moments of silence, she did her best to clean up her running mascara, and splash some cold water on her face so it wasn’t that obvious she was crying. Gently, and quietly, she pushed the door open, listening carefully to where Norman may have wandered off too. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long as she heard some soft rustling coming from the living room. Cheeks flushed slightly, her pride and dignity bruised, Aria padded over, stopping in the doorway before getting any closer. She watched in silence as the skeletal frame of the boy she adored carefully plopped himself onto the couch (a plastic sheet, she noticed, placed over it). Even without a facial expression, Aria could tell there was a decidedly forlorn, slumped posture in his body, and the idea that he was upset because of her let another tremor of guilt run through her gut.
“Norman, what are you doing?” she asked, her tone neutral, but still, again, coming off with a slight hint of annoyance, the last thing she could feel for the boy.
“Oh,” Norm paused, the slightest hint of shock in his tone, as he quickly sat up to look at her, “Aria! I, well, I thought you didn’t want me to- I mean, I didn’t want to bleed on your sheets when my body stats growing back, so I thought I could sleep here tonight.”
Aria stood against the door frame in silence, brows furrowed together.
“I don’t care… if you bleed on my sheets,” she added, frowning, “I’ll just clean them or buy new ones. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”
“You don’t?” Norman asked cautiously.
“No. You’re being stupid. I don’t care about that.” A soft blush making it’s way on her face as she crossed the distance from the doorframe to the couch, “I- just come to bed with me, okay?” She paused for a moment, forcing her normally caustic tone to a gentler, pleading one, “Please?”
The thing with Norm, and one of the very many reasons she loved him is, he was so expressive, that even without being able to read his face, she knew what he was feeling, just on his body alone. His mood perked immediately, his excited ‘okay!’ enough for Aria to realize that, had he a face, he would probably have the biggest, stupidest, cutest grin on her face. And he was awful for that.
Aria took her time in the bathroom, getting changed into her pajamas and washing her face, as she mentally rehearsed what she was going to say to Norman. Aria was never a verbally expressive person, but with Norman, she was even worse. It was like all of her ability to act like a normal, coherent person would fly out the window, and she would act like an enamored, bratty child with a school yard crush. Norman deserved to know, and he deserved to be treated with honesty and respect, but the idea of him not reciprocating her love was enough to make the pit in Aria’s stomach clench tight enough to form a diamond.
Heading back to the room, Aria quietly slid into the bed next to Norm, not completely sure if he was awake or asleep. As she adjusted her pillow, the voice next to her quickly solved that mystery.
“Uhm, Aria?” Norm started, unnaturally quiet for the normally excitable, bubbly boy, “I’m really sorry I ruined your night.” Before Aria replied, Norm continued, “All I want to do is spend time with you, but I keep messing it up. I’m sorry I made you mad.”
Of course it would seem like she was mad, and Aria felt incredibly guilty for letting Norman feel that way. Turning, slowly towards Norman, Aria did her best to make eye contact with the boy, but her nerves getting the best of her, could only avert her eyes as she struggled to get her words out.
“I’m not mad at you, Norman. Not even a little bit. I-“ Aria paused, “I was scared for you. I always worry when you get hurt because there isn’t anything I can do to help you. And I know you won’t die, but it’s still so scary? And it’s not fair because you’re someone who does good things even when you’re not obligated to, and I- fuck. Norman, I l-love you,” Aria faltered, pressing her face into her pillow as she said the last two words, barely audible as her face grew hot. She worried, that perhaps in her hesitancy to admit how she felt, Norman didn’t hear her, so struggling with all the energy she had, she repeated, slightly louder, “I love you so much, Norman. I just want to make you as happy as you make me.”
The silence was almost deafening, Aria didn’t dare move her face to look at Norm, her heart pounding so loud she swore he could hear it.
“I love you too, Aria.”
Aria cautiously peaked just an eye out, her skin still hot from the embarrassment she felt.
“You do make me happy, “ he added, and even in his tone, Aria could hear him smiling.
“You’re… god you’re a dork,” Aria muttered, the affection and fondness evident even with her faux insult, “When you grow lips back, I’m going to kiss the shit out of them, but for now,” she gently leaned forward to press a hiss on the top of Norman’s skill, “this will do.”
“I love you, Aria, good night,” Norman replied pleasantly, “you skeleton kisser.”
“I take it back, I’m going to kick your ass in the morning.”
expi���~TW
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fanart.
James had gotten out of class just early enough to enjoy some peace and quiet. Luckily, his professor hadn't assigned much to him for homework. When he got home, he threw his bag on the couch and flopped face forward onto his bed. Be it a day of classes and taking orders at the diner, or a night of crime-fighting, there was nothing better than coming home and laying down on his bed. James had laid there for a few minutes, nearly falling asleep before he woke up to open a window. It had been too stuffy in his apartment to keep it closed. That and there was a nightly visitor that should have been on his way over soon.
While there was nothing wrong with searching his own name on Google (he knew many heroes who did that), James never really wanted to subject himself to the barrage of comments that came from the supporters of heroes and villains. It was form of protection from the various hurtful comments that the internet is known for, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. With his nightly visitor not present yet, James decided to kill time, just a little bit. He reached for his laptop and opened it. Carefully, he typed in his alter-ego's name: "Titan Hit".
Titan Hit was a hero; he stood tall and stood proud alongside the multitude of Earth's best heroes. He was young, yes but that didn't mean he didn't put his entire heart and soul into the fight for good. Titan Hit was compassionate, caring and one of the toughest fighters that has ever stepped into the battle for good. While Titan received a lot of praise and worship from the other heroes, the fandom side of the heroic life was not quite as forgiving. They were relentless toward the comments of how youthful and twinky Titan Hit appeared. Some comments were nice, "He's like a beautiful cherub ready to kick your ass"; some were not so nice and some were just very pornographic.
"...," James frowned, "That's ...ew."
James' brows furrowed. People were very graphic in their comments, unfortunately. He scrolled past the lot of them until he read on that requested: "Someone draw me Titan Hit fanart! I can't find any!" He knew Titan Hit was a good hero, but he had also been aware of the fact that he wasn't as popular some of the other heroes. Some of the other heroes were considered handsome, beautiful; some of them were labelled as sexy and as hot. Titan Hit was always cute and lovely; young and bold, daring and childish; it wasn't bad but it wasn't what some of the fans wanted to see.
"I wonder," James asked as he searched to see who had the most fanart drawn by their fans. James wasn't surprised that Titan Hit wasn't very high on the list - At least, I beat Pink Chiffon and Captain Mist. Much to his surprise, there were plenty of villains with a heavy following. James' attention piqued up as he saw a very familiar and important name toward the top of the list: Pyro.
"Just ...just to kill time," James said as he clicked on the link. Pyro, of course, was neither good nor bad and as of recently, it seemed that he would always be on James' side. It was only natural that James click on the link, it wasn't unnatural for him to be curious. While the page loaded, James felt like he couldn't breathe - James didn't know what to expect from it, not one thing. When the page finally loaded, James' eyes opened in surprise.
Pyro was incredibly popular.
Fans from both sides delighted in talking to each other about Pyro. There was a gleeful pride that started to swell into James as he read comment after comment about Pyro; good, good comments, all of which James agreed with. Pyro's ass really did look that good in those jeans, yes. Pyro's body is amazing and really does feel good to touch, yes. Being hugged by Pyro really does feel like the best thing in the world, yes. Having Pyro's lips against yours, his mouth on your skin and body pressed against yours whil--James had to take a moment to look away from the computer for awhile. He knew all of the truths that these fans were craving. It was starting to get warm in his apartment, wasn't it?
"You sure are popular," James smiled softly as he looked over the endless comments and fanworks. James skipped over the fanfic section - if reading those raunchy comments started to make him squirm, he could only imagine how terrible all of those 'NSFW' fanfiction would make him feel. James' eyes skimmed over a lot of the links until he got to one that said, "Pyro Unmasked". Even to this point, James had never seen Pyro without his mask. Hoodless, naked, yes. Maskless, no. Not yet, not since Pyro insisted he was ugly and James would hate him. Against his better judgement, James clicked the link.
Instantly, his eyes opened. Wide with such surprise.
Pyro wasn't just unmasked. He was drawn, in the most life-like and accurate fashion, naked and writhing with the most pleasure. James' eyes skimmed down the art, enjoying how eerily accurate it was to his own lover. James took a deep breath as he licked his lips slowly, "Pyro ..."
As he enjoyed the art of in front of him, James heard a noise that signaled that the muse for the fanwork had just arrived. James turned around and was greeted with a pair of brilliantly blue eyes. "HI!" he squeaked out as Pyro, himself, walked over to him.
Pyro unhooked his cape, letting it land on the ground as he walked over toward James. He took his gloves off and ran his hand through James' hair, a familiar smirk accompanied him. "Sorry, I'm late," his voice gruff and tired as he leaned into kiss James. The kiss never came as Pyro's eyes looked over to the page on James' laptop screen, "What on Earth are you looking at?"
James slammed his laptop down. "Nothing," he shouted as he put the laptop under the bed. "I'm looking at nothing. Nothing at all, whatsoever."
"Unmasked," Pyro said.
"NO."
"Are you that curious?"
James looked up at Pyro. The mask was still on. James' lips twisted as he look up, he shook his head, "I know you'll show me when you're ready. I don't mind waiting. I trust you, Py--," James stopped. He shook his head. "I trust you, Chase."
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"But what do you mean you're not going to open the rest of my presents yet?"
Chase whined. He'd been whining for almost an entire two weeks since he brazenly announced to James that he was going to start Christmas shopping. Buying James' gifts was easy - Chase bought everything that he thought James wanted and needed. Money was no object for internationally renown actor Chase Garrity. There was just no limit to the presents that he could have bought James.
The only problem was his boyfriend had other plans.
"You're not going to open my gifts?" Chase asked, betrayal and frustration evident in every syllable of his words. He looked at James with such confusion, "Not even one of them?"
"Not until Christmas," James sternly said to him.
James was always stern; he had much better self-control than Chase ever had. Unfortunately, Chase the complete opposite - he would cave in as soon as James would ask him. James was not someone that he could have ever wanted to say no to, not even for a second.
"But ...why? Why James?" Chase asked, frustration taking over his expression as he did. He put the colorful Christmas gift bags down on the couch. His brows furrowed, "Why?"
"Not until Christmas," James repeated.
Chase stared at the presents scattered across the living room. His brows furrowed as he scanned all the different sized presents hidden under the tree. He sighed, his shoulders fell.
"Okay, fine," Chase finally said. He turned to James and shrugged, "I guess we can wait for you to open everything until Christmas. I can be patient. It's not too long from now."
Chase sat down on the couch. He leaned back and stretched. It was just a few more hours and some odd minutes - one more sleep before he could watch James open all of the presents. There were lots of them, plenty of them he knew James would tell him he didn't need to get but with James, Chase just wanted to give him everything and anything that he could. There was, of course, just one present that he wanted to give James.
This was their second Christmas together and after, it would be the second time they ring the new year in together. The past year with James was filled with so many different emotions and experiences - some bad, but over all, the year with James was more than anything he could have ever wanted. The parts of the last year that hurt had healed, but they'd healed even stronger. Chase could knew it, he could just feel it.
Chase loved James with every part of his entire being. He couldn't imagine living his life without James. He just knew that he couldn't do this life - or the next or any other life that he could ever live - without James. He wouldn't want to. He wanted to spend the rest of his entire life with James and he already bought the ring to propose, to make concrete and permanent ...but that was a present that he couldn't just give. Not yet. Not now. Soon, soon he'd give that to James but not now, not at this time.
He knew already but that didn't mean he could jump the gun.
James was worth the wait.
James was always worth everything.
"You know what," James said, catching Chase's attention. "I could open one gift, Chase. One before Christmas."
Chase's fingers went to his pants' pocket. the ring box was in his pocket, he could feel it. It was too early, far too early. Not this year, not yet. Next year, maybe. The timing had to be right. It just had to be right. James was worth the wait. He shook his head and then smiled at his boyfriend, "Unwrap me, James. Unwrap me, I'm the best present."
James laughed and leaned forward to kiss him, "The best present."
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I pride myself as a writer but when it comes to you?
Your perfection takes over and I forget the words I knew.
#Leo Parrish#Darrien Dawson#a: jeana#writing#idek i need to get back into writing so this is a start.#i'll write more as Darrien for Leo.#words
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Chase Garrity is a loser. 1/?
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Jase Month | A Masterpost
All Works
Jeana's Writing | Denise's Writing
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• August 24 → Jeana | Denise
• August 25 → Jeana | Denise
• August 26 → Jeana | Denise
• August 27 → Jeana | Denise
• August 28 → Jeana | Denise
• August 29 → Jeana | Denise
• August 30 → Jeana | Denise
• August 31 → Jeana | Denise
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Jase Month | Aug 31 [Fin]
Sleeping in wasn't something James had the luxury of doing, not for a long while. When he used to work at the bank, he'd be up well before seven, and now, as a stay at home dad, there was even less opportunities to sleep well past into the afternoon. So when James found out that for once, as the stars aligned and the Earth was in perfect orbit, that he and Chase both had a pretty quiet day off, he planned to spend as much time in dreamland with his baby as he could. God knows he and Chase needed it.
Their children, on the other hand, had different plans.
"DAAAAAAAAD. PAPA. WAKE UP."
James groaned, rolling over into his pillow as he felt not one, not two, but three bodies (plus, the heaviness of a certain oversized dog) jump onto the bed with an excited fervor.
"WAKE UP. WAKE UP. WAKE UP."
James, still too bleary eyed to look over to see how Chase was faring, merely tried to pull the blanket over his head, but to no avail.
"Papa," JJ whined, "I'm hungry."
The small boy rolled dramatically, as if to demonstrate his point, over James, smacking his head against the back of James's skull with a pretty sizable whack.
"Ouch," James groaned, rubbing his head.
Quickly, he rolled over, grabbing the boy with him to keep him from crying from their collision. Immediately covering him with kisses seemed to work, as he began to giggle, and completely forget about hitting his head. Grabbing blindly, James also pulled over the closest person with his other hand .In this case, an unsuspecting Morgan, who let out a slight yelp as James dragged her over and wrapped an arm around her. James quickly glanced over, amused as Noelle sat on Chase's stomach and proceeded to play the drums on his chest.
"Daaaad, dad. Daddy," she proceeded to chant, drumming hard as Chase let out a tired groan.
"Couldn't you guys sleep in? Just once?" James laughed, alternating between Morgan and JJ as he gave them extra giant kisses.
"We tried," Morgan admitted honestly, "but sleeping is boring."
"Yeah," JJ agreed, proceeding to turn and yawn in James' face, sending the worst flurry of morning breath right into James' person.
"Okay," James snorted, lightly tickling the two, "We'll get up. Noelle, leave your dad be. He's tired."
"He's faking it," Noelle whined, trying her best to pull the pillow off of Chase's face, which he was grasping onto with a vice like grip, "He's pretending to sleep and he's not!"
"Maybe," James agreed, "but give us a minute, okay? If you guys wait, I'll make pancakes."
Pancakes, it seemed, was a magical word that all three children and the dog, Hambone, seemed to understand, because in what seemed like seconds, the three children whooped and scrambled off the bed to run downstairs faster than James had ever seen them move. Laughing to himself, he turned to his poor husband, possibly catatonic by the whole exchange.
"Babe?" James asked tentatively, gently placing a hand on the other's arm, "You wanna sleep in some more?"
Slowly, and silently, Chase moved the pillow off his face, a bewildered expression that paired well with the messy bedhead his hair was in.
"No. I'm awake," Chase nodded, still slightly groggy, "Why... why are our children that way?"
"I don't know," James laughed lightly, rolling over to place a kiss on his love's lips. Whether Chase was content with that answer, James wasn't sure, but based on his blissed out expression, he was certainly content with James' kiss.
"I love you," he said, dreamily, a soft smile on his lips as he regarded James with such love in his eyes, regardless of sleepiness.
"I love you too," James smiled, pulling Chase closer to him as he left him another kiss.
Sleep or no sleep, waking up next to his one true love would always feel right.
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blind date. | jase month | aug. 31
Chase didn't want to go on a blind date. Blind dates were hard for him, he could never figure out the right timing with the other person on the date or sometimes, he couldn't even figure out how to start a conversation with them -- and for Chase, that was tough. Chase didn't like not knowing, not having a grasp of anything especially since he normally had a good grasp on how to talk to people.
Chase was an actor. He often did roles that stretched from different genres, often going for going for dramatic roles that pushed emotions that pull and push people's own feelings. On the other hand, Chase also managed to take on those comedic roles with just the right timing to get the whole audience laughing. Chase was an actor; he knew how to talk to people, especially in large crowds. It was easy.
Blind dates?
Dates in general?
Chase was pretty shitty at those. Especially blind dates.
"Maybe he realized that he didn't wanna go on a date. Not with me," Chase sighed. He tried to rationalize why his supposed blind date wasn't here yet, "Nah, it's true. I wouldn't wanna go on a date with me anyway."
The blind date was set up by his friend, Ann and partially River. Of course, Chase was willing to bet that Ann sort of, maybe bullied River into it. Ann had gone on a double date with River and his girlfriend. Apparently, one thing led to another and suddenly, Chase was brought up and River's girlfriend's gay best friend was brought up - they were both nice, sweet people who were both shit at dates. A weekend later and suddenly, there was the date set up for Chase and his date. His name was "James, he's an accountant" - that's how they kept introducing him to Chase.
"Yeah," Chase decided to accept that maybe, he just wasn't the dating type. "Another date to add to my long list of failed dates."
"Except it's not over yet," a voice said. The man attached to the voice sat down in the set across of him. Chase watched the man's smile grow and suddenly Chase didn't mind that he was late. Not so much. James, the accountant - that's who it was. "Sorry I'm late," James smiled, grinning at him, "Work longer than I expected and I'm really sorry about it. Probably the worst first impression that I could have given you, huh? Especially since you thought the date already failed, huh?"
"First impression can be changed with a second chance," Chase said as he pointed over to the menu, "Your second chance is picking the right appetizer. Then, we'll see how it goes from there."
---------
By the time dessert came, there had been no weird pauses, awkward conversations and somehow, it didn't feel like they were running out of conversation topics. Chase was enjoying it; he was enjoying his date with James, the accountant.
"I chose appetizers, so you should choose dessert," James said, passing the dessert menu to Chase. "I trust your judgement, Chase Garrity. Pick something good for us."
"You've put your trust in me, I won't fail you," Chase grinned at the other man. He quickly scanned the menu, looking for something that sounded appetizing. "I say, we go with the peanut butter and chocolate chip molten browning. That would be delicious and the most perfect way to end the night."
"Peanut butter sounds good with me," James added with that most beautiful smile present.
Chase sat back in his seat after the waiter took the order. There was a pleasant smile on his lips as he looked over at James. He sighed contently.
"So, do you think the date's still a failed one?" James asked. His eyes looked over at Chase, nervousness within his eyes.
"No," Chase let out a small, gentle smile. A faint blush came to him as he admitted to James, "This is the first time my dates have ever ended at dessert."
And then James smirked. There was a look in his eyes that made Chase take a sharp breath and wish they were the only ones present, but of course, they weren't. James smirked at Chase with those green eyes filled with excitement and promise as he said, "The date doesn't have to end here, Chase."
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memory. | jase month | aug. 30
His name was Chase.
That was something that he remembered. He remembered how old he was and his birthdate, how much he weighed and how tall he was - sometimes, he did forget but it was okay (his driver's license had it written out and he could always look there!). He remembered where he lived and how to get there. He remembered his brother and his sister, his mother and his father; they were easy for him to remember. And what he didn't remember, he would take a picture of and write what he needed to remember on it - sometimes, he could only trust his writing and no one else's.
"Jaaaames Meaaaaander," Chase said the name slowly, stretching out the syllables as he wrote down the boy's name on the polaroid. He finished writing down the last letter and smiled up at the other boy, "There. Oh, wait," Chase added the words 'A smile as lovely as he is' under the name. "There we go, all done. Now, I'll remember tomorrow."
Chase knew that James thought it was weird but he seemed too polite to voice it out. Chase greatly appreciated it, especially since the usual reactions he got were less than pleasant.
"Yeah, hopefully," James smiled at Chase. It really was true - James' smile was so lovely, so breath-taking that Chase found himself nervously stammering as his eyes met James' green ones. "Hey, I'll come by again tomorrow to say 'Hi', and maybe, if we're both lucky, someone will return 'Watership Down'!"
"I hope so!"
---------------
Chase liked working in the library. It was easy for him, he could function in a library.
The library was fun for Chase. Everything was written down, recorded and there was a place for everything; everything was organized and simple enough for him to get by without people making a big deal about his memory condition. Since Chase was young, he had always had short-term memory loss. At first, his family thought it was just something that would pass by but twenty-two years later, Chase couldn't register anything in his short term memory. It would all just slip by and suddenly, he would forget why he walked into a room or what he was doing before or what he was even talking about.
Chase had to take pictures, write things down and always trust what he wrote down.
"Hi," a boy walked up to the information desk and smiled. "How're you doing today, Chase?"
"... uh, good?" Chase stared at him for a few seconds, he couldn't remember who it was. Was he supposed to remember him? Why did he talk to him as if they were familiar with one another? But why would any boys as cute as this boy come talk to him? He shook his head, frowning at the boy with green eyes. He sighed, "Sorry, please give me a moment."
Chase reached for his notebook - the words 'Work Notes' were written across its cover. He shuffled through the pages, looking for yesterday's notes and there it was. The picture of the boy in front of him was there; "James Meander - a smile as lovely as he is".
"James!"
"Yeah, that's me," the boy known as James to him said, smiling. "I came by just like I promised."
Chase nodded slowly. He didn't remember the promise, but if it was made yesterday and James came here, he was happy.
"Thank you for coming, I'm glad you're here. Sorry if I don't remember much, but I'm glad you're here!"
Promises were hard. He could never remember them and most people didn't bother to keep them with him.
But James remembered his promise.
---------------
"I don't like grape jelly," Chase said as he sat down with James at the picnic table. He pulled out his foil wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He looked over to James - he was surprised that James visited him for lunch again, most people didn't bother.
"But you said peanut butter and jelly is your favorite. Isn't grape jelly what they normally use on it?" James asked, grinning with amusement.
"I don't like grape jelly," Chase shook his head. He frowned, "I don't think it tastes good. It doesn't taste taste sweet."
"You like sweet stuff?" James asked.
Chase nodded slowly, "Yes."
James grinned, a knowing expression on his face. He turned to his lunch, humming as he began to eat it.
'James is a cute eater,' was the only entry Chase managed to write that day.
---------------
Chase's brows furrowed. He didn't remember the boy in front of him. Not one bit, not even how the boy looked at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry," Chase apologized, "Let me get my notebook really quick. If we met yesterday, I'm sure you're in it!"
Chase didn't like that feeling.
He hated not remembering the person in front of him. Especially when he felt like he should have known the boy in front of him. His heartbeat accelerated too fast, he felt too many nerves for him to not know the boy.
Why couldn't he just remember?
---------------
"It's gone," Chase cried as he walked up and down the aisles of the library. He looked on the shelves, under them and in between them; he searched in the corners and under the tables but he still couldn't find it. Chase whimpered as his eyes blurred, tears threatened to fall as he kept rushing through the aisles of bookshelves. "No, no, no. It can't be gone."
He sat down on the ground, sitting at the corner of fiction and non-fiction. He pulled his knees to his chest and started to cry. Chase tried to keep his crying to soft, silent whispers but it wasn't happening; he let himself sob aloud. He sobbed, whimpering as he tried to stop crying but it didn't.
It was gone.
And then he felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up to see a boy there. The boy sat down beside him and gently brushed away Chase's tears.
"Chase, what's wrong?" The boy asked.
Chase looked up at the boy. He knew Chase's name which meant that Chase should have known him. Chase was supposed to know him but he couldn't remember and that was the worst thing about it.
"I lost it," Chase cried between sobs, "I can't find my notebook. I don't remember where I put it."
Chase put his entire life into his notebook. He could go day by day, writing down what happened and reading it the next day to keep him up to date but now, it's all gone. He couldn't remember what happened to it, he tried to remember but he couldn't.
"Hey, it's alright, I'll help you find it. No more crying, okay?"
"I'm supposed to know you," Chase whispered between breaths. He frowned, "I don't remember."
"I know," the boy said, "It's okay, Chase. I'll try every day."
---------------
Chase had never been on a date before. Or maybe he was in one, but he couldn't remember. It didn't matter because he was sure that if he ever had a date, it wouldn't be anything compared to the date that he was having with the boy in front of him. James, that was his name, that was the name of the boy in front of him.
James grinned, "You look so cute right now."
"Sorry," Chase blushed as he looked down. He fiddled with his fingers, looking up at James through his eyelashes. "I hope I can remember this date."
"Me too," James admitted, "But even if you didn't, I'll remember and I'll help make sure you remember. Even if I have to go on a first date with you for the rest of my life, babe."
James.
Chase wanted to remember that name.
---------------
It took a long time for anything to be moved from Chase's short-term memory and put into his long-term memory. It took him a long time, longer than most normal people needed.
Chase stood behind the information desk. He stood there, smiling as he watched the strawberry haired boy with the most beautiful green eyes head over to him. Chase smiled and he swore that smile kept getting bigger as the boy walked toward him.
"Hello," the boy said. He smiled a smile that was lovely as him.
And this time, Chase smiled back.
"Hello, James," Chase finally remembered.
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Jase Month | Aug 30
"And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you."
James was tired. It had been a long time coming, and if it wasn't for the sliver of a promise of being able to see his love once more, he may not have held on for so long. Love was so undeniably fickle, wasn't it? A man could give up the urge to eat, the will to survive, but when it came to the love of another, what wouldn't he do to keep that safe? And when it came to Chase, there wasn't much James wouldn't do for him.
Death trumps love. James knew that. He knew that as soon as Chase fell ill, the once rosy cheeked, healthy king wasting away till he was frail, brittle bones held together with skin. James went many days watching the love of his life grow weaker and weaker, till it soon became too painful to do anything but lay in bed all day. And unlike dragons, barbarians, assassins, or pillagers, this was a foe James could not protect him from.
There was a loophole. Wasn't there always a loophole? The god of death wasn't unfair, merely one who wanted to upkeep the balance. But if there was a way to keep the balance while James still got what he so desperately wanted, they were not unreasonable.
A hundred lives and your love would return back to you.
A hundred worlds and you will be reunited again.
James would trade a hundred deaths to be with his love, once more.
"Not many could survive," Death assured him, "a soul can only take so many lives."
But he was worth it. Wasn't it always this way?
Chase never knew James. In none of his lives, he never remembered James, not how much they cared for each other, the pain they shared, the moments they have. Every life they started over. Yet somehow, despite James' fears and preconceptions, Chase always found him. No matter how short, how late, or how tentative, he found Chase, and Chase would always find him.
James swore he'd lose count one day, but as he reached the end of ninety nine, he clasped Chase's hand tightly. He hated those lives where he left Chase first, because that meant James had to wait for him in the next one. This life had been a happy one, and they lived together for a very long time.
"I'm so excited to see you again," James told him, "You'll see me soon."
James, for the first time in his life, could say this with utter certainty.
It was always the same cycle, the light, then darkness. Then light again. Reborn, constantly, ninety nine times. Ninety nine lives. Ninety nine worlds. Ninety nine James. Ninety nine Chases to fall in love with.
And maybe, for once, in this one, Chase would remember him.
James liked the lives where he met Chase when he was young. He hated the worlds where Chase wasn't allowed to be his. He didn't like when he had to work so hard to love him, but somehow, didn't it always work out, anyway? It didn't dampen James' fervor any more or any less; with Chase, he had an unlimited amount of effort.
But now he was tired. He was so, so tired. Maybe Death was right, maybe a hundred was too much. Death had warned, if James grew too tired, he could make James forget Chase. Isn't that what most lovers did in the face of death? Die, and hope to start again? But he came too far, fell in love too many times, lost and gave too much to give up now.
"Please find me, Chase."
There was always their spot, in every life, they had one. Despite the different geographical locations of every world, it was always in the same place, in a sense. It always felt right to James, like he'd know, right away, that this is where they'd meet. When, or how, he never knew, but his heart knew before his body or mind did.
The park was a nice place to meet. Much nicer than previously places in other lives. James sat idly on a swing, running a hand over the chain, wondering if his love had been here before.
"James."
James' heart raced. His fingers, suddenly warm as he exhaled slowly. He hadn't heard him come, he hadn't seen him, smelled him, felt him.
"James, my love."
He was almost afraid to look. Like maybe too many lives had begun to play tricks on his weak, tired soul. That maybe he had wanted to hear those words so desperately, he was making them up.
James turned slowly, as if fearing looking too quickly would make Chase disappear.
But his love, in this world, just like the ninety-nine before him, was just as radiant as ever.
"I'm sorry for making you wait for me."
James swallowed, standing into the soft sand as he took a tentative step forward.
"I don't mind."
"I do," Chase said softly. He took a step towards James, resting a hand against the side of his face, "How long have you waited for me?"
"A long time," James admitted, softly exhaling as the warmth of Chase's hand reassured him that the man before him was very much real, "But you're here now."
"I am," Chase smiled.
Ninety nine lives of pining and gentle touches. Ninety nine worlds of missing him.
The hundredth first kiss.
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champagne. | jase month | aug. 29
Weddings were so beautiful. Everything about the ceremony was just so breathtaking; from the way everything looked to the way that the groom looked at the bride as she walked down the aisle, Chase thought that everything about weddings was right from a fairytale. Of course, he knew that there had been so much hard-work involved in planning it but that hardwork paid off so much. And as Chase sat at a lone table at his brother's wedding reception, he wondered if he would ever get a chance to have a wedding like this.
"Here's to hoping," Chase sighed, raising his champange glass to no one in particular. He took a sip from the champange flute and enjoyed the sweet taste of the alcohol. It was light and bubbly, nothing related to what Chase felt.
He was lonely.
He wasn't going to deny that.
Chase sighed, as he watched the couples dance around. There was a date for everyone at the reception, even his younger sister. He smiled as he watched her nervously take her date's hand and step into the dance floor; he smiled as he watched his older brother dance with his bride (of course, he laughed when the bride's face contorted into one of embarrassment as Chandler started a corny dance move). Romance was definitely in the air, but it was expected, they were at a wedding.
With his champange glass now empty, Chase stood up from where he sat and headed over to the bar. The bartender smirked as Chase approached him - his nametag said 'James' but with the bit of alcohol now slushing around his system, Chase decided his new name was 'Please take me to the bathroom and do your way with me' but it was too long for him to remember.
"Shall I get you another glass?" James asked politely as Chase took a seat in front of the bar. His eyes looked upset, almost pitying Chase but he held that terribly delicious smile. "Feeling alright?"
"Nah, just lonely but I'm not gonna drag people down. Just going to drink until I'm done," Chase said as he shrugged toward the bartender. "Got anything a little stronger?"
Chase watched as the bartender's expression changed. Then he watched those rosy lips press together into a frown before they opened to speak, "It's your brother's wedding, right?" He slowly poured Chase a new glass of champange, "It's pretty wonderful."
"Yeah, wonderful," Chase said, watching the bartender pour champange. He asked for something stronger, but maybe the bartender didn't hear him over the music and chatter. Alcohol was alcohol and if he drank enough, it'd all lead to the same, anyway.
"What's got bubbly as your best friend tonight?"
Chase looked up at James, quietly wondering the truth as he sipped his champange. "Just a little lonely tonight," he revealed to James. He twisted his lips, mild annoyance in himself. "Sorry, I don't mean to be the only raincloud in a wedding such a sunny disposition."
"You've got the right to be. All feelings are validated," James smiled at Chase. "Just don't over do it, no bad memories to the groom's brother, you know?"
"Hopefully. I'll just try to keep to myself for a bit, but I'll get on the floor soon," Chase nodded. He was being mopey and it was supposed to be a celebration. He might have been feeling shitty about himself, about being alone but this wasn't the place to do it. Not at Chandler's wedding. Chase put the glass down, "I think that's my last one tonight."
James raised an eyebrow, "Officially?"
"... yeah."
"Good," James smiled at Chase. "You're too cute to be drinking by yourself."
Chase shook his head, "Pfffft, is that why you've been letting me drink so much? To hit on me?"
"Yes," James laughed. His laugh was too cute, why was he this way? Chase squinted, glaring at him almost and James caught that. He looked over at Chase and grinned, "You don't believe me?"
"No."
"You should," James said, scrawling his number on a napkin. "Call me in the morning, when you're sober enough to believe me."
"Don't be stupid," Chase said, scowling at him but he snagged the napkin, pulling it into his pocket as he stood up. His siblings were on the dance floor, he'd join them but every so often, he'd steal a look at the bartender.
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Jase Month | Aug 29
James had crushed on Chase for a really long time. Scratch that, maybe forever; James couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like Chase. Chase was just everything James wanted to be. Neither of them were particularly popular in terms of the social hierarchy, but Chase was definitely a likeable person, someone everyone had nothing but food things to say about. He was fun, easy going, silly, but still managed to be honest and real with people in the right situations. He was endlessly talented and intelligent, he was the type of person you wish went to your parties. And he was cute, to boot. Chase had the bluest eyes, soft brown hair, and the type of grin was was mischievous enough that you wanted to know what joke he was in on, but at the same time, knew it said “I’m laughing with you, not at you”. James was just so helplessly head over heels for him.
He always worried once they went to high school, he and Chase would drift apart. But despite how many friends Chase made, James was always his number one, his constant pal. At least, till recently. It started out gradually, at first. Over the last year, Chase would be busy once in awhile. He’d go out on day trips, sometimes, even over the weekend, but was always full of excitement and energy by the time Monday rolled around. James wasn’t a clingy friend, and Chase certainly wasn’t his only friend. If Chase wanted to tell James what he was doing, he would. But lately… it was hard to get to talk to Chase, let alone, see him when they weren’t in school.
The thing was, it’d make sense if Chase had started to ditch him for other people at school or they began to drift apart emotional. But they hadn’t. James thought the mystery behind it made it worse, somehow; at least then he could know who Chase chose over him, but this way, it was just a mystery.
As James toyed with more theories of what Chase could be doing (“Maybe he befriended a group of cool college kids?”), he realized the very person he was fretting over had been standing before him for quite some time.
“James,” Chase smiled, gently. James’ heart raced as soon as his name left Chase’s lips, “What’s up?”
James swallowed the lump in his throat, disguising his nerves by slapping a grin on his face.
“Hey! Uh, nothing. Nothing’s up,” he smiled, before frowning slightly, “I mean, well, actually… I uh, wanted to ask you something?”
“Yeah, shoot?” Why did Chase have to look so cute, the way he was so interested, the way his eyes focused on James so intently, like James was actually important? James trembled slightly as he found his voice.
“Oh, well, it’s not a big deal but uh, my parents surprised me with tickets to uh, to the Strawberry Morning gig Saturday? Do… you want to go with me?”
James always wanted to look away, because he feared the rejection. Unfortunately, he was a glutton for punishment, because as soon as the words left his lips, he saw the expression in Chase’s face change immediately.
“I… James, I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m-”
“Busy, yeah,” James smiled, trying to disguise his disappointment and bitterness, “Are you sure you can’t-” he paused, casting his gaze down, knitting his eyebrows, before he lifted up his gaze to meet Chase’s, “It’s fine. Sorry for bothering you. I’ll just ask someone else to go with me.”
“James, I really wish I could go, I mean it.” His tone was sympathetic, or maybe, Chase was just a really good actor.
“No, it’s okay. Sorry for… yeah. Sorry Chase. Have a good weekend,” James replied softly, turning around and quickly walking away.
Stupid.
“I’m so stupid,” James mumbled, his cheeks flushing red hot with embarrassment.
“James!” Chase called out.
James didn’t turn around to look at him.
__________________________________________________________________________
“Fuck,” Chase cursed.
Chase wasn’t lying. He wanted to go, he really, really wanted to go to the concert with James.
But how could he go with James if he was the one performing?
Despite it being almost five months since their album dropped, Chase still couldn’t believe how popular they’d gotten. Strawberry Morning was just a joke, something to do to kill time and fuck around. Chase’s brother, Chandler, and his friends had all wanted to play in a band, but none of them had the vocal prowess to complete it. It was by accident that Chase stumbled into one of their practices, and, lo and behold, stepping in to fill in the lyrics for their songs while they searched for a lead singer became a reality, and Chase soon became the lead singer, despite only being a seventeen year old high school student. None of them really wanted to get big, they just wanted to hang out with friends and make fun songs. They even came up with dumb gimmicks for shits and giggles; staying anonymous, wearing bizarrely crafted masks in a sort of mysterious Daft Punk sort of feel (“For our future rider, we’ll just put like ‘A bottle of water from an Antarctic glacier, and a single grape’,” Chandler had joked).
It was a snowball after that. Chase helped write some songs, and they’d record them and put their demos on the internet. Chase actually contributed a lot to the band than they anticipated, from the vocals, to the lyrics, to even the name, named on his favorite memory in the world; waking up to his absolute best friend and forever unrequited crush, James Meander. But none of them had expected to ever get as big as they had. That’s what happens when one celebrity musician shares your bandcamp site, then another celebrity retweets it, till soon, every big name producer is sending you emails asking when you want to meet in the studio.
And for some reason, people wanted to buy their songs.
Most of the songs were lighthearted; their sound was rock, but definitely on the more indie and folk spectrum. Some songs were about friends, about loss, about happiness, and some were even about love. And every single love song was written by Chase. And those songs in particular? Well, Chase considered them love lettesr to James, things he was always too cowardly and embarrassed to say. Even writing them down in his notebook, to singing them in the studio, he felt as if he was shouting I love you, James Meander. And I hope one day you can love me too, if you want to.
Since Chase was still in high school, and was only seventeen, they demanded that they hold off their North American tour till he graduated. They had to fight tooth and nail with their label over that; most of the executives argued that radios would stop playing their songs and no one would no longer be interested in attending concerts if they waited that long. But funnily enough, they managed to spin it as another “mysterious” gimmick. Allowing them to play tiny, low key venues in Los Angeles with little to no advertisement, as well as the allure of never showing their faces just added to their draw. Their shows were already selling out in record numbers, and just Google searching their band name was enough to get results demanding to know who they were.
Maybe, if Chase could finally gather the courage to do so, he could finally confess to James and tell him how he felt.
__________________________________________________________________________
James couldn’t believe he was crying in the parking lot. He really, honestly, was crying because Chase didn’t want to go to the concert with him. Of course, Chase said he was busy, and maybe he really was busy. But it had been months, and they had hung out less and less. What could Chase possibly do? He didn’t have a job, he wasn’t in any clubs or sports. James just had to come to terms with the fact that Chase didn’t want to hang out anymore. That was that. It was better that way, James thought. They were graduating soon, and once they went to college, they’d make new friends, and slowly drift anyway. It was better to have a clean break now, anyway.
James sniffed, turning the ignition key as his car purred to a start. And, lo and behold, as the radio switched on, James heard those familiar words on the radio.
“And I’d choose you. A hundred lives. A hundred worlds. Any version of reality,” the radio crooned, “I’d find you and choose you.”
How ironic, that the very band, the very song that inspired James to take the initiative to ask Chase out so he could confess was playing after his rejection. James really loved Strawberry Morning. They had a very different sound that a lot of other bands that were popular, and there was this unpretentious honesty about them that made James so happy whenever he listened to them. They were just gaining momentum, but as everyone on the radio said, it was so unique that such a new band could hit it big so quickly; they were bound to only get bigger, once they went on tour. The fact that James’ parents had managed to get tickets for him was amazing in itself, considering most of their venues were tiny, and hard to get tickets.
James had dreamed about it. That after they played his favorite song and their current single, “Choose You”, he could tell Chase that’s how he felt about him. That he cared for him as much as the person in the song. That Chase would always be James’ special person.
But James was not that special person for Chase. This was obvious.
“I don’t think anyone could ever love me like that,” James replied softly.
__________________________________________________________________________
Chase was naturally a good performer. He never joined drama, even though he wanted to, but he couldn’t help but think he’d be pretty decent at it. Somehow, being in front of large crowds of people didn’t make him nervous. Especially not when he pretended that he was singing to James. Only James.
But James was actually here tonight.
Chase wondered if he could spot him in the crowd. Despite the small venue, there were at least a couple hundred people packed around the stage. He saw Hannah before he saw James (her bright red hair was easy to pick out in the crowd), and next to her, all pink cheeked and smiling, was his favorite boy in the world. He wore a soft plaid button down, and his short hair stuck up in it’s normal fluffy way. Chase felt his heart pound, but luckily, the screams of the crowd was enough to get him to focus.
“What’s up Los Angeles?” Chase roared into the microphone, the crowd roaring back.
“We’re Strawberry Morning! I’m The Fang,” he nodded, the crowd clapping and cheering louder, “On the guitar we have The Shadow,” Chase nodded, pausing so the crowd could do their stomping and clapping, “On the bass is The Root,” he nodded to Chandler, who held a hand up as the crowd screamed, “And on drums we have The Rock.”
The nicknames were initially just dumb jokes in their then hypothetical band; secretive like Kiss and Daft Punk, but with an edgy psuedo-Wiccan type theme. “To feed into the hipster frenzy,” they’d laughed.
But there they were. And as Chase pushed the half mask up his face and locked eyes on James, the way he bounced and grinned with excitement, a horrifying thought occured to him; the only thing separating him and James was the thinnest piece of plastic.
He was glad he had secured it tightly.
“Who’s read to rock?”
The crowd roared, almost making him forget the pounding of his heart.
__________________________________________________________________________
Breasts were amazing, that’s what James decided. When he told Hannah how much he really liked the band, and how much he adored their lyrics, Hannah took it upon herself to get them backstage.
“They won’t let us back there, Hannah!” James insisted.
Yet somehow, a simple tug of a shirt, a strategically worn push-up bra, and a simple flutter of eyelashes was enough to get the two backstage.
“Good thing I’m eighteen already, huh Meander?” Hannah laughed.
“Y-you’re…” James eye’s widened, “You’re not going to-?”
“Sleep with one of them?” Hannah snorted, “Are you kidding? Hell no. I’m gonna see if there’s some music journalists I can network with,” Hannah announced, waving a hand as she skipped over to where a few guys with press passes were huddled around.
James swallowed hard, suddenly nervous as he realized he was alone. Being a young man backstage at a rock show, he was glad he didn’t stick out as much as he thought; everyone mostly was weaving around, talking, and leaving him to his own.
Till someone collided into shoulder.
“Ah, s-sorry,” Chase stammered quickly.
It was the lead singer of Strawberry Morning.
__________________________________________________________________________
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
How did James get backstage?
“Uh, it’s fine,” Chase coughed, forcing himself to speak in a slightly deeper tone than he normally did. He quickly pocketed his phone, hoping James didn’t notice that on the screen, “James Meander” in very bold letters was the title of the thread. Chase was just about to text him and tell him he wished he could watch the show with James (not a lie, not technically), when the very person he was concerned about was before him.
“I uh,” James stammered so cutely, a pink flush appearing on his cheeks, “You guys played really well today! I mean, not that you play bad other days… I mean this is my first show I’ve ever seen you play, but I’m sure the other ones were really good!”
Chase couldn’t help but chuckle- there were no if, and, or buts about it; James Meander was just, all around, an adorable person. How could someone look at that kid and not just be totally charmed by everything about him?
“Thanks, that means a lot,” he grinned, before clearing his throat, adjusting is tone again, “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“I did!” James gushed, eyes sparkling bright in such a way that Chase just wanted to lean over and kiss him.
Every part of Chase told himself that he should leave. As much as he liked talking to James, as much as he loved being around him, James could find out at any minute, and then, that was it. He was finished. James would hate him for lying to him, and he’d never want to be around Chase again. But James was like a drug, James was the most addictive drug that could float through Chase’s veins. James’ influence pumped itself quickly to Chase’s heart, making anything or anyone else impossible to penetrate. His heart was James, and James’ only. Now, and forever.
“I know it’s your single and the song most people know,” James stammered, as Chase realized he had begun to talk again, “But Choose You is my favorite song, he grinned.”
It’s about you, dork Chase wanted to scream, but instead, he smiled. “Yeah? What do you like about it?”
“Uh,” James smiled, “I-it… it reminds me of someone. Someone who I-” James paused, his already adorable expression turning into the most sugary, diabetes inducing look as the most darling flush spread across his cheeks, “I have a crush on.”
But as soon as Chase was charmed, his heart fell just as quickly. James liked someone. James had a crush on someone.
“Oh…” Chase trailed, softly.
Just as he said this, he saw Hannah pass by, giving him a soft clasp on the shoulder and a thumbs up.
“Good show, man,” she nodded, before following after a woman with a notepad, mentioning something about Rolling Stones’ peak era.
He stared at her for a few moments, before looking at James, and looking at Hannah again.
“That’s her…?”
“What?” James gaped, sputtering, “No! I mean,” his expression softened, “Hannah is one of my best friends, but uh,” he paused, laughed, an apologetic expression on his face. “This is so boring, I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about a teenager’s one sided crush.”
“No, I do,” Chase insisted, “Don’t think just because you’re young or inexperienced, that your feelings are any less valid. What do you think I write my songs about?”
James regarded Chase so seriously, Chase’s heart raced, wondering if James had figured out who he was. But soon enough, a small tentative smile appeared on the boy’s face.
“Thank you. That… that means a lot,” he grinned, before sighing, “It’s the most cliche crush in the world. You want to hear it, for real?”
“Yeah,” Chase smiled politely, “Tell me.”
He expected to hear a lot of things; head cheerleader, James’ teacher, the class president, or anything of the sort. But never, in a million years, did he expect to hear the words come out of James’ mouth.
“My best friend. I- I’ve been in love with him since we were little,” James replied softly, making sure to put emphasis on the him, “But he could never like me. Not like that.”
Chase gaped. Best friend… who else had James knew since childhood? Unless James had managed to have another secret male friend since he was a kid, the only other person James could be referring to was him.
“James,” Chase whispered softly.
__________________________________________________________________________
James blinked, his already red cheeks burning hotter.
“Uh, how do you know my name?”
He wondered if maybe, Hannah put him up to this. He wouldn’t be surprised; Hannah was a determined woman, and how much James cried and ranted and spilled his guts about how Chase would never love him, he wouldn’t be surprised if she took it upon herself to cheer him up as much as possible.
But then, the most absolutely unbelievable happened, more unbelievable even than meeting the lead singer of your favorite band, writer of your favorite song.
He took off his mask and stared into James’ eyes
Chase.
James blinked. He stared. He gawked.
“C-chase?”
He was dreaming. Maybe the second hand pot smoke got to him, and he was hallucinating. Maybe he was so tired and sad that he had begun to imagine things. But as the other boy took a step towards him, eyes locked on James, there was no question about it. It was Chase.
James nor Chase even paid attention as the various groupies, press, or anyone else back stage immediately took out their phones and began to snap pictures of the finally unmasked, revealed lead singer of Strawberry Morning. Because his eyes were focused on James, his gaze intense.
“Yeah. James, sorry, I didn’t… I should have told you sooner.”
“But, how?” James stammered, suddenly, everything he’d done in the last ten minutes flooding back to him, “Oh my god, I’m so-”
“No. James, listen to me,” Chase finally bridged the distance, gently taking James’ hand, “That’s your song?”
“What is?” James stammered, even though, he knew, very well what Chase meant.
“Your favorite song is your song,” Chase repeated, his voice wavering a bit. James didn’t even notice that Chase was shaking, looking more nervous by the second, “I wrote it for you, because… because I love you, James.”
The best songs get stuck in your head, and you can hear them over and over. You can go to sleep, take a shower, just idly go through your day and your favorite song will stay with you. But in that moment, James’ favorite sound was the utter silence that seemed to fall upon the room as his eyes locked onto Chase’s.
“I love you too.”
The soft gasp that came out of Chase’s mouth as his lips and James met would be James’ new favorite song.
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killer. | jase month | aug. 28
Why did the elevator have to be so far away?
Chase took a deep breath as he glared at the elevator all the way in the corner of the parking structure. He sighed in defeat as he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag. He could complain some more, but he decided against vocally voicing out his complaints; it would just make his walk to the elevator even longer than it already was. Laziness had taken over and he knew that after he got in the elvator, it was just a short ride to the ninth floor and he would be greeted by his beautiful, comfortable bed.
"Just a little longer," Chase sighed, practically dragging himself to the elevator.
Luckily, the elevator was empty. Chase stepped in the elevator and pressed the '9th' floor button. He closed his eyes just briefly as he leaned against the railing. The young photographer sighed, it had been such a long day. The few brief moments of peace were broken when he heard someone call out: "Please, hold the elevator! Hold it for me!"
Chase quickly opened his eyes and reached for the button to keep the door open. He might have been tired but that didn't mean that he was a dick; had he been the one calling for the door to be held open, he would have seriously wanted someone to do the same.
"Thank you! Thanks, really," the young man breathed out as he stumbled into the elevator. Chase watched as the boy tried to catch his breathing.
"Uhh, what floor?" Chase asked politely as he averted his eyes from the other man. The other man was beautiful, in a way that he couldn't explain and right now, he didn't need to stare at someone that he just met. Not when they were in the elevator together. Such a small, crowded space; no need for sexual tension, right?
"Nine," the other man smiled.
"Oh, I'm already going there," Chase nodded.
"Cool," the other man nodded at Chase.
Chase didn't say much as he returned to his position against the elevator railing. He tried his hardest not to look at the other man, but it was hard to avoid gazing at someone who looked as beautiful as the Adonis in front of him. It wasn't like Chase didn't see other beautiful, attractive men - he worked as a photographer, it was common for him to meet beautiful male models. Though, none of them were ever as close as the other man. Who happened to live on the same floor. Was this fate? Chase shook his head, frowning at the dirty thoughts that started to flow into his mind the longer he stared at the other man.
There was a soft silence between them. Just the quiet buzz of the elevator as it moved them up, slowly up the different floors.
"Wha--," Chase began as he felt the elevator stopped, shaking them inside of it. The elevator shivered and shook, and Chase was suddenly so happy that the elevator had railings. They were actually helpful. Chase looked over at the other man, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice sounded just a little shook up.
Chase watched as he readjusted his clothing, straightening it up just a little. He frowned, his brows furrowed as he watched the other's movement; it was so enchanting, a spell that captured Chase's attention without needing to do anything else. He pressed his lips together and tried to shoo away those thoughts.
"Man," the unknown man said as he slid down against the elevator wall. He sat down on the ground and stretched out his legs. He sighed, "Did we get stuck here? Did the elevator stop?"
"It should only be for a little," Chase reassured the other man, "It's happened to me before. It should only take an hour or so, but don't take my word for it."
"I might have to take your word for it," the man chuckled, "I just moved here, so I don't know much about the building, really."
"Ohhh," Chase nodded, "You're the one who took the apartment next to me. I'm apartment 915 -- err, my name is Chase, not apartment 915."
"917, my name is James," the man smiled as he held his hand out for Chase. Chase reached for it and shook it -- James had soft hands, warm hands. "It's nice to meet you, neighbor."
Chase gave him a smile back as he sat himself down on the elevator floor across James. Chase sat cross-legged and he put his messenger bag on his lap. He sighed, a heavy breath of defeat as he accepted that he wouldn't be able to lay in bed, not for a long while.
"Long day?" James asked, offering Chase a sympathetic smile. "Hopefully, the elevator can get going, right?"
"Incredibly long day," Chase confessed. He shrugged, "That's just how it goes, huh? Busy day for you too?"
James shook his head. He smiled, "Not really. It was mostly filled with trying to figure out my apartment. I got food and then I'm here, stuck in an elevator with you. Not that I'm going to complain too much, I could be stuck in an elevator with someone worse."
Chase laughed, "How do you know I'm not someone worse? I could be a serial killer?"
"A serial killer? You're too polite to be a serial killer but you've got killer looks," and then James laughed - what a nice laugh, Chase thought to himself. James' smile was also nice, incredibly cute and yet the most beautiful that he'd ever seen. James grinned at him, "Sorry, that was corny."
Chase didn't respond right way. When did he start blushing? He shook his head, "If I was a serial killer, I wouldn't have to do anything since you're already drop dead goregous."
And then James started to laugh. Chase liked that laugh, it was nice. "Oh, but you'd kill me with those eyes of yours since your looks could definitely kill."
Laughter wasn't too difficult to let out, not when they were both terribly punny at that point. Chase smiled at James. It'd been awhile since he'd laughed this much and yet somehow, it felt so easy to laugh with James. With all the laughter between them, the hour passed by and the elevator moved.
"Oh, cool," Chase stood up, reaching for the railing as he did. He stood up and stretched his arms upward, "That hour passed pretty quick."
"It's because you're serially killed it," James joked. He grinned as he got up and looked over at Chase, "At this point, I would invite you in but honestly, my apartment's a mess right now."
"I've got left-overs and I make a mean cup of coffee," Chase offered, "I mean, if you don't mind walking over to such a far apartment, you know?"
"That'd be killer."
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Jase Month | Aug 28
And damn it all to hell if he wasn’t the best kisser James had ever had the pleasure of making out with.
They were still kind of buzzed, so coordination was exactly up to par, and they both had just finished scarfing down some pretty loaded burritos, but it didn't even come close to tainting that kiss. It was so instinctual, so natural, that James had almost forgot he wasn't supposed to like Chase.
James was going to blame it on alcohol, try to brush it off so they never had to speak about it, till Chase, too, leaned in and gave James a slightly less frantic kiss back.
"Now, we're even," he explained.
James, never one to be outdone, in turn smirked, turning to the track captain, and leaned over, pressing his lips ever so gently against's Chase's, as he ran a thumb against his jawline.
"No," James grinned, "Now you owe me."
_____________________________________
Of course there was a fucking fight at the party. Everyone was far too inebriated to really remember how it started, or who did what, but bottom line, someone threw the first punch, then someone else threw another punch, and by the end of the night, half of the swim and track teams were in some state of bleeding or bruised, and that "playful rivalry" had now transformed into something more insidious.
_____________________________________
"We're like Romeo and Juliet," James snorted, rolling off of Chase as he slumped his head back against his own pillow. His lips almost stung, red and swollen from the pressure of Chase's kisses, "Except like, not fucking stupid."
Chase laughed lightly, that soft, gentle sound something James, now more than ever, always anticipated hearing.
"Yeah, and hopefully, not dead, either."
"Definitely," James laughed, turning to the other boy as he began to idly play with his hair, "I'd like to be alive."
"That's the goal, James." Chase smiled.
_____________________________________
James made it a point to not care about what people said about him, especially people who he didn't like. Their opinions weren't entertaining, and one of the very reasons he'd made it so far with his self esteem intact, being an openly gay captain of a sport's team, was that he simply did not ever let anyone's perception of him bring him down.
The exception, of course, if it came from someone he cares about.
Technically, Chase didn't say anything about him. But laughing and agreeing was basically the same thing, wasn't it?
"Meander's such a boring stiff," they jeered, loud enough for James to overhear, "He's probably a fucking glorified Fleshlight in bed."
"Yeah, if you can even fuck him with that giant stick in his ass."
James was boring. He wasn't funny or interesting, like Norm, or smart and quirky, like Oliver, or friendly and fun like Connor, or easygoing and laid back like Talon. James was a buzz kill. James was neutral and boring. No one really hated or disliked him, but there was nothing about James that really stood out from his friends. He was good at organizing and sometimes took things to seriously. He was uptight. But he wasn't fun, and, now more than even, he wasn't even particularly lovable.
He didn't meet Chase at their normal spot. Why would he want to? It made it obvious, now more than ever, that he was just a warm hole from Chase. Someone to make out with when they were bored, but no one that Chase could ever really like. Not really.
It was times like these that James was glad his parents worked so much. There was no need to pretend to be happy, or to pretend to be okay. He simply threw his backpack down on the floor, and flopped onto his bed.
He decided it was a good thing there was no practice that day, because he'd just sleep it off till morning. Except, his plans were dashed as soon as the doorbell rang.
James halfheartedly padded downstairs, before he opened the door to the back porch. He didn't need to check beforehand; he knew who it was.
"Hey, you weren't at our spot after school?"
James leaned against the door frame, a lump in his throat as he forced his expression neutral. It was easy to do that, when you weren't very interesting, anyway.
"Yeah, I was tired so i came home."
"Oh," Chase stared at the porch for awhile before he looked up at James, "Look, I'm sorry about-"
"Who cares?" James shrugged, forcing down the anger in his chest. He wanted to yell at Chase. There were so many things he wanted to ask. Do you even like me? Do you care about me at all? Why would you just laugh with them? Instead, he resorted to tactics every wounded, hurt animal fell back to when they were in pain; to lash out at the one who hurt you.
"I don't know why you're being so clingy," James replied, dryly, "We're not really dating. I mean it's fun to fuck around and stuff but this isn't really ever going to be a thing, you know? That's all it ever was."
He knew this hurt Chase. He already could tell, by the expression on his face, that he had chosen the right combination of words to really, really wound Chase. He wanted to stop, he really did; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt the boy who he cared for so much, but James was angry, and he was upset. It just came bubbling out.
"James, I..." Chase trailed off, before his expression turned stony, "Okay. Fine. If that's how you feel, I'll leave you alone then..."
"Whatever," James shrugged, "Bye."
That was the last word James said to Chase before he turned around, letting the door swing closed behind him.
_____________________________________
Of course he missed Chase. Of course he felt the pang of loneliness and worry and concern every time he got a glimpse of him at his table in the cafeteria. And of course, he missed the clandestine meetings, the frantic make outs, followed by the moments of calm, when they knew they could really be alone together. The way Chase's body just felt so natural pressed against his own. How warm and taut, yet simultaneously soft he was. But most of all, James just missed talking to him, whether it was something silly, or complaints and rants, or sometimes, even the loneliness and pain of coming out in high school. James never felt like he had to lie or pretend with Chase; it was always natural. But that was before he decided to hurt him, wasn't it?
Chase hadn't bothered calling him, but who would, after what James said? In a way, he almost vocalized what he believe Chase thought of him. But if that was true, why did he always look so down whenever James saw him?
James, too, was insanely bad at pretending to be okay. The rest of the swim team could feel it; his times were so bad, his mood, even worse. He practically wandered the hall like a ghost, following his friends around listlessly.
"James, are you okay?"
That was the sentence he heard over, and over that week. Whether it was from Norm bounding over like a puppy with his bouncing curls, or Talon and Connor stopping him, a firm but concerned hand on his shoulder, or Oliver in his cautious but considerately low key way, they all could sense something was off with James.
"Yeah, I'm just kind of stressed," James would smile with a slight shrug.
_____________________________________
James thought pranks were stupid. Even before Chase, he never really condoned pranks against the other teams. Rivalries were fun, but stuff like this always got out of hand, way too quickly. But with how much tension was between the two teams, now, more than ever, was when it was important to keep things civil.
Maybe it was James' fault for being too self absorbed in his own issues, because then he'd lead a better example. And maybe then, the JV swim team wouldn't have put laxatives in the track team's water cooler, nearly sending one of their star players to the hospital for severe dehydration. But he didn't expect the track team to retaliate, not like this. Their pranks were never too physically harmful. It was always supposed to be something they could all laugh about in the end.
Having flour thrown in your face really, really stung.
It made it all the more worse, considering all of them had just left the pool, and were in various states of wetness. It hurt even more, though, getting pinned and tied up. The track team were all generally lanky and lean, but that meant nothing, considering all of them were in pretty strong, physical peaks. And no matter how light someone might be, when multiple guys ganged up on one, there was no point.
Being the captain, James was, of course, the prime target. He winced, his vision temporarily blinding by the flour, as he heard the yelps and groans of his fellow teammates as they met their doom.
James shook his head, trying to get the remainder of the flour off his face so he could see what was in store for him. What he never expected, however, was to come face to face with the boy he'd been avoiding for so long.
"Chase, you wanna do the honors?" one of the track team members asked. Between the two of them next to James, they were holding various buckets of what seemed to be filled with paint.
Chase said nothing. James said nothing, either, merely staring at him with a determined expression. Finally, Chase shook his head.
"I think we're going too far, guys."
The two track team members shrugged, not really bothered by Chase's mature, noncommittal answer.
At least, James had the luxury to close his eyes before it happened. But it didn't stop the paint from stinging. It smelled really bad, too.
James sat there in silence, seconds feeling like eternity as his senses were overridden by the smell and ugly, wet feeling of the paint dripping down his head. Which was why it caught him utterly by surprise at the soft, gentle touch of someone wiping his eyes.
"I'm sorry James," the voice said faintly, sounding almost far away, as some of the paint had managed to drip into James' ears, "I tried to make them stop, but..."
James said nothing, wearily blinking his eyes open as Chase did his best to wipe his face clean, an expression of concern on his face.
Chase had every reason to hate James. He shouldn't be helping him, he should've thrown the paint at James. And he should hate him.
But instead, Chase was unwrapping the duct tape around James' arms, and carefully helping up to lead him to the showers which were, thankfully, not too far away.
Chase was so gentle as he turned the shower on, making sure to test the temperature before gently leading James so he was positioned under the head. He was even more gentle as he massaged the paint out of James' hair, off his face and shoulders.
"I'm so sorry James," Chase kept repeating, as if he was directly responsible for what happened, "I'm sorry they did this to you."
James said nothing the entire time. What could he say? It wasn't Chase's fault. Chase didn't owe him anything. Not a kiss, not his kindness, not anything.
"... Chase," James finally spoke up, softly, as Chase began to clean paint out of James' ears.
"Hmm?"
James softly lifted his hand, wrapping it gently around Chase's wrist. Chase was almost as wet as James was, despite being fully clothed in a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt.
"I still really like you," James replied softly, his voice trembling, despite the warmth of the water falling off his shoulders, "I never stopped."
"I know," Chase replied softly, "You were just upset with me."
"Don't forgive me that easily," James snapped with surprising indignant, "I don't... I was being childish. I shouldn't have said that."
Chase stopped, regarding James with a thoughtful expression, before a soft smile appeared on his face, "You're mad at me because I'm not mad at you?"
"N-no," James stammered, embarrassed, "I just mean... I was a dick. I don't blame you for being mad at me."
"I'm not mad because I'm a dick too," Chase laughed, "I guess we're both just a pair of dicks."
"But... I want to be your dick," James muttered lamely, to which, to his utter surprise and pleasure, Chase erupted with laughter.
James laughed sheepishly, too, the utter bizzare and corny line so ridiculous, given the situation, that the only thing he could do was laugh.
"... Chase," James said softly, turning slightly to turn off the shower head, "I don't want to hide being with you anymore."
Chase stared for a moment, eyes wide in surprise before a gentle smile found his way on his face.
"I want to be with you."
"I-I understand if you're not ready, yet," James stumbled over his words, before an uncharacteristic shyness washed over him, "But, Chase. I care about you a lot. I love you."
There was only the most subtle moment of a pause before a deep, red blush took over Chase's face.
"I-I love you too."
James leaned forward, ever so slightly, to leave a damp, gentle kiss against Chase's lips.
His expression turned to concern as he bit his lower lip, "I know swim is going to try to retalliate. And... even if I try to stop them, they won't listen. And I don't want anything bad to happen to you."
Chase smiled softly, "It's okay, James. I can handle it."
"I know you can. But if I can stop it somehow, I want to," James replied.
Chase kissed him, brushing a damp clump of hair out of his face, "I love you, James. You're the sweetest."
_____________________________________
James' heart raced as that Monday, he marched determinedly to the table where the track team ate lunch. As he made his way, a few of them stiffened up immediately as they noticed him. River, one of the more gentle members of the track team and Chase's best friend, had a nervous expression, looking from James to Chase. Both James and Chase had broke the news to their closest friends at first. Luckily, they were all more than accepting and happy for the two, deciding it may be the key to finally settling down the rival teams once and for all.
"The fuck you want, Meander?" one of the beefier Juniors snorted. James simply ignored him. As he approached Chase, who, as he instructed, was sitting on the outermost corner seat of the table, he saw the anticipation in the other boy's eyes as quickly, James leaned over, grabbed Chase's face, and gave him the biggest, most intense smooch in his life.
It was like time stopped in the cafeteria. It was utterly silent, and it was as if all eyes were on them.
"I'm dating Chase," James finally said, breathlessly, when they broke apart, "So can we all quit this stupid rivalry bullshit, because it's putting a damper on things for me and my boyfriend."
With that, James took Chase's hand, and slowly lead him across the cafeteria to the swim team table.
"Hey guys. This is my boyfriend, Chase."
James swore, that day, he didn't stop smiling as Chase's hand was firmly grasped around his.
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wishes. | jase month | aug. 27
They said that if you wished on a shooting star, it would come true.
But Chase knew it was a lie.
As he grew up, Chase would stare out of the window and looking for the nearest shooting star. Some nights, he would stare out there for hours, hoping to see any sign of falling stars but ultimately, he would fall asleep without any wishes made. Then on those occasions, he would get the chance to see a shooting star, he’d close his eyes and make a wish. He always made made the same wish, every single time.
“I wish that someone would like me,” Chase would say. He wished, he hoped and he prayed but as he grew up, he realized that wishing on a shooting star was stupid. He wished on a falling star, but that just made his wish seem like it was falling so far.
It wasn't that Chase lived a hard life. He lived a pretty decent one. There was a roof over his head, a family that loved him and he was healthy; that was something that he was happy about and while he loved his family, there was an unsaid sadness about him. His family loved him but that was because they were family. No one else outside of his family cared too much to get to know him.
Chase sighed as he rest his head against his hands. He watched the stars twinkled above, they gleamed and shone as bright as they could. While he saw falling stars, Chase didn't make any wishes. He decided to stop making those wishes; he had already wasted so much time making those wishes already, he should just grow up. He sighed, upset that everything was stil the same. It hadn't changed, not even after all of his wishes.
And just as he carried his silent lament, a loud thud broke his concentration. From what he heard, it sounded like something falling past the trees and into the ground.
"What the heck?" Chase exclaimed as he leaned forward on his hands, squinting as he looked around at the ground below. He searched for something that fell and he couldn't see anything. He frowned as he let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness and he finally saw what had fallen. It looked like a boy, probably about his age. Chase blinked a few times to see if it was real and after blinking a few times, the boy didn't disappear. "Oh my god," Chase whispered as he ran down.
Chase ran down as quietly as he could. The last thing he needed was to wake anyone in his house up, not after it took them so long to get to sleep. He went down to the backyard and over where the boy had fallen. Chase walked over to him cautiously and he paused. He stared at the boy who had fallen.
"... so beautiful," Chase whispered as he reached for the boy's cheek. His fingers twitched nervously as he brushed them against the fallen boy's cheeks. Chase quietly brushed his fingers against the boy's cheek and while he enjoyed the touch of the boy, he snapped himself out of it. He gently shook the boy's shoulder, gently waking him awake.
"Hey," Chase spoke, shaking the boy awake. "Please wake up, please get up," and with that, Chase shook him again. This time with more force, Chase called out to the boy again, "Hey! Wake up."
And it was the most majestic thing, watching the fallen boy wake up.
The way his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks, slowly opening to reveal such magnificient green eyes. Chase gasped quietly, admiring just how beautiful the boy was.
"Hello!" The boy said, smiling at Chase with a smile that could stop someone from breathing. The boy grinned, smiling at Chase with the biggest and brightest look of happiness in those green eyes. "My name's James. Are you Chase? I hope you're Chase!"
Chase blinked in surprise and stuttered in nervousness, "Y-yeah. I'm Chase. But why are you asking?"
James didn't answer the question. He just ran up to Chase and wrapped his arms around Chase's middle, snuggling against him with the most content of sighs coming from him. "I've been looking for you forever," he said as he nuzzled into Chase's chest.
"What do you mean?" Chase was confused, but he hadn't been hugged by someone like this before. He enjoyed the warmth that came from the other boy.
"You wished for me," James said. Suddenly a sheepish smile accompanied by the softest of blushes showed on the boy, "I ...heard your wishes a lot. I tried to get here as fast as I could, I promise! I just ...I just got lost. I'm sorry!"
"You heard my wishes?" Chase asked, stepping back from James' arms. "You heard them?"
"Every time you made a wish, it made me want to get here faster. I knew I had to meet you! I just knew it!"
"My wishes ...they were heard?"
James smiled at Chase, his eyes flickered with excitement. "Yeah, of course," he said, "My name's James and I'm here to make all your wishes come true, Chase."
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Jase Month | Aug 27
Summonings were not his thing. James was a versatile asset to the Underworld, but dealing with humans, at least, before they were dead, was not his cup of tea. That's why he had left Heaven in the first place; the job opportunities were far more limited, and it was all "make sure this person is good" and "hang out with these people". Those who chose to work in Heaven were the type to become heavily invested in people, the only equivalent with humans being those who "took their work home with them". And that just wasn't James' deal.
Till he met him.
Contrary to popular belief, Heaven and Hell were not warring factions. If anything, there was a almost laughably harmonious balance they had. It wasn't uncommon for celestial beings (demigods, demons, angels; they were all one of the same, the title just varied depending on your place of occupancy) to switch up where they chose to work or reside. While there were certain personality types that faired better in certain environments or positions, Heaven and Hell were, arguably, one of the same, which made human's obsessions with it rather amusing.
Within the Underworld, there were general summonings, and then there were personal I know your true name and face summonings. The former was the most common; desperate humans hoping to make deals, bored goth kids, curious witches. James never really worked that department, because the amount of PR and tact needed to keep humans quiet and happy just seemed so much more stressful than necessary. Sometimes, he'd work the rounds around Halloween, the time where it got severely overused, but for the most part, most humans weren't knowledgeable or skilled enough to fully summon a demon.
But then, there was the unfortunate true summoning. Every demon had a specific name and a specific face once they worked in Hell; call it an ID of sorts. There is a specific name that generally, only the demon themselves should know, kind of like a pin number or bar code. A demon's worst nightmare is for a human to somehow get a hold of that name; because, if they do, the human can specifically summon them, willy nilly, whenever they please. Even worse, certain humans, should they have the means and the knowledge, could even go as far as to get said demon to do their bidding.
James was, fortunately, a rather low level, less well known demon. He hadn't worked in hell as long, and unlike Belphegor or Baphomet or Lilith or Lucifer or what have you, James never released his name to any human. He wasn't stupid enough to do that. Only demons who were so full of themselves or attention starved or, even worse, demons who fell in love with humans would do that to themselves. And James wasn't like that. Or at least, that's what he claimed. There was that moment of weakness with a very cute, desperate witch in Salem that one night, but, she perished in the witch burnings. And she had never summoned James in the short life she had. So James was safe. No one could ever really summon him, now, and he'd resign himself to a quiet life, without ever having to deal with a human.
He wished he was right.
It was subtle at first. James felt the strange tingling, the tug of being needed, when he was in the middle of sorting death arrangements. While James wasn't so much one who worked face to face with humans, he was incredibly skilled in the behind the scenes work. Incredibly organized, he was an asset to both heaven and hell, which made finding work and switching occupations incredibly easy for the demigod. But the feeling was strange, it was both unpleasant in such a subtly annoying way, like a fly buzzing right by his ear. And within a matter of seconds, his head began to throb with the most shrill metallic noise.
He was being summoned. By a human.
James had known others, or heard stories of demons getting personally summoned. It ranged from the laughable to the obnoxious to the downright frightening (being a witch's bitch till the end of their life was kind of a mix of all three). But there was nothing he could do; with his name on the line, struggle was not an option. It was night time, as most summonings occurred. It was slightly cool, but as the hellfire that erupted in the circle as James appeared made the air uncomfortably hot and warm.
James quickly glanced around, looking for the person who had called to him. Maybe it was a moment of stubborn insolence, but James didn't quite quiet the flames immediately. "Let it burn. Let them see how strong I can be," James thought to himself, bitterly.
What James didn't expect to see, however, was two bright, large eyes peering from behind a tree.
"Was it you who called me?" James asked, raising a brow as the flames slowly died down, leaving the grass burnt in a perfect summoning circle at his feet.
The boy said nothing, merely staring in awe and surprise as James' patience slowly grew thin.
"I'm going to go with yes, because you're the only one here," James regarded him more carefully before offering a very rare, tentative smile.
Maybe, if James played his cards right, he could get through the whole situation in little time, unscathed.
_____________________________________________
It was two hours.
Two hours of James waiting, trying to coax the boy out. But for two hours, all he did was whimper and continue to hide behind the tree, so overcome with fear of James that he was rendered utterly speechless. Talking to him did more harm than good; so much as looking at him in the eye made him let out a noise that sounded more pitiful than someone kicking a hundred puppies. Immortal or not, two hours was a long time, so with an exasperated sigh, James did the only thing he could do.
He began to lay down on the ground to take a nap.
As James began to settle down, and wriggle slightly (he regretted burning all of the grass; the ground was rather hard) and close his eyes, he heard the tiniest, most barely audible voice in the world.
"W-what.... what are you doing?"
"Taking a nap," James replied nonchalantly, not bothering to turn around to face the boy. Based on the sound of grass softly crunching beneath sneakers, he had finally ventured out from behind the tree to investigate.
"You sleep?"
"I can, but I don't have to," James replied, yawning softly, "but I figured I'd kill some time since you've decided to make the back of that tree your new home."
James could practically hear the noise of indignation come out of the young boy, causing him to snort softly.
"B-but why... why don't you just leave?"
James turned around, a curious expression on his face. "Because I can't? You haven't let me."
The boy seemed shocked to be face to face with James, now, only a few feet away from the circle. Thankfully, he didn't run, but merely took a tentative step back before forcing himself to make eye contact with James.
"You can't... you can't leave unless I tell you?"
"Uh, yeah?" James stared at him once more, "Hey, kid, tell me. How did you do it? How did you summon me?"
The boy gained a visibly flustered expression as he stumbled over his words. "It was an accident... I just thought it was something else... it wasn't real... but then... I... it was in this book," he stammered again, tripping over his words.
"You found it in a book?"
"Yeah," the boy said, almost with pride, "This cool journal was at a yard sale, and I wanted to use it to write but... I found this."
He held out a worn, faded looking page, seemingly ripped out from a book. It was barely readable from James' distance, but he could very much make out his true name, as well as the steps to summoning him.
"Okay. But why did you do it?"
The boy looked shocked, almost as if he didn't expect to get quizzed on his motives. "... The book said... it said you'd grant my wish."
"Well, yeah, we do that," James shrugged, "But, kid, you know how this works, right?"
"Yes," the boy nodded, suddenly serious, "You take my soul... forever."
"Right," James nodded, "Like, anything. You can wish for anything. Hell, you can wish for multiple anythings, but bottom line, whatever we manage to agree to today, I get your soul, at the very least."
The boy nodded grimly.
"So what could a kid possibly want that much?"
The boy blushed with the most intense, rosy hue, his eyes widening slightly, before he averted his gaze.
".... Iwanttobecoolandgetaboyfriend..."
"What?" James frowned, "I can't hear you."
"... Iwantpeopletolikeme," he mumbled again.
"Okay, seriously kid," James crossed his arms, "Speak up, because I really can't hear you, like at all."
"I WANT A BOYFRIEND," the boy blurted out before, unexpectedly, he burst into tears.
"Oh god- fuck," James cursed uselessly, as the boy covered his face and his shoulders began to shake, "It's... it's okay," he replied lamely, "You don't have to cry."
"I'm soooo stupid," the boy continued to cry softly, "This is stupid. I can't believe..."
"Hey. What's your name?"
The boy looked up, tears staining his face, "What?"
"I said, what is your name?"
"C-chase," he hiccuped softly, "It's Chase."
"Okay, Chase. Do I have permission to leave the circle?"
Chase seemed to consider this question for a few moments in silence.
"I promise I won't hurt you," James held up his right hand, "and we haven't settled on anything just yet. We're just going to talk. No bullshit. Promise."
"Do you really promise?" Chase asked uncertainly
"Yeah. We're demons, not liars," James rolled his eyes.
"O-okay."
"Okay? I can come out?"
"Yeah..."
James quickly stood up, before he took a tentative step forward, as a look crossed Chase's face that ranged from surprise to fear to regretting ever letting James out of the circle.
"S-stop-"
"Chase," James sighed, "I said I wasn't going to hurt you. Calm down."
James took another step, fully out of the circle now. Stretching an arm behind his head.
"Ugh, that's much better."
Chase said nothing, but James could hear his heartbeat from where he stood.
"Chase, come here," James instructed firmly, but gently.
Chase, unbelievably, obeyed, a mistrusting look in his eyes.
And, in one swift moment, James wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders.
"You have nothing to cry about, kid. Let's see what I can do for you, okay?"
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