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hazellvesque · 5 years

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Some Kind of Miracle - Chapter 8

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Rating: G

Pairing: Adrien/Marinette

Summary: If Marinette had her way, she would have had nothing to do with Alya’s latest celebrity crush. So how did she get roped into stalking him around Los Angeles? When fashion icon Adrien Agreste quite literally crashes into Marinette’s life, they have no choice but to put up with one another or risk ruining both of their potential careers forever.

An AU based on the iconic Disney Channel Original Movie, Starstruck.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 8 - Soul

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The remainder of Marinette’s evening passed in a swift, dreamlike blur.

After leaving Adrien - and making a pit stop to the nearest restroom to wash the ink from her hands, though not before making sure to try to commit his phone number to memory - she found her way back to Alya’s side in record time.

It took every ounce of her self-control to stop from fidgeting, lest she draw attention to her flushed face or the faint black smear she couldn’t quite seem to wash away.

Alya, being none-the-wiser, completely believed Marinette’s “oh silly me, I must have gotten lost” excuse and suspected nothing, to Marinette’s relief. The last thing she needed was Alya finding out about where she’d gone and who she was with.

It all felt a bit exhilarating - to be sneaking off and keeping secrets. It was so unlike Marinette to even think about behaving in this way; she and Alya didn’t keep secrets from each other, especially not something that the other would be so incredibly happy to know about.

Yet, the thought of having an entire side story of her life happening without anyone knowing excited her in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

The entire taxi ride back to the hotel was spent fidgeting anxiously in the backseat while Alya chatted up a storm with the driver. Pure adrenaline still coursed through Marinette’s entire body enough to make her fumble while opening the hotel room door, having to make multiple attempts with the key card before finally unlocking it.

Mme. Césaire glanced up from her newspaper, lowering her reading glasses and smiling widely. A small part of Marinette wondered if the woman even understood the articles she was reading. Perhaps she was just skimming the advertisements in an attempt to keep herself busy. Whether she’d admit it or not, she had the same concerns any rational parent would have while sending her teenage daughter off to explore an unfamiliar city. “How was the mall?” she asked, playing a little too casual.

“Expensive,” Alya dramatically flopped down into the large sofa in the middle of the room. Marinette followed suit, though she was itching to get back into the bedroom and at the very least write down the digits that were already fading from her mind and hide them in a safe place.

Mme. Césaire hummed low under her breath. “I suppose we should have expected that. You still had fun though, right?”

As Alya and her mom chatted, Marinette’s food bounced impatiently. She cursed herself for being so fidgety - it wasn’t that big of a deal. At least that’s what she tried to convince herself of. Still, nervous energy coursed through her at the mere thought of being found out.

Paranoia was all it was, really. There was no way she’d get figured out. It wasn’t like he was going to blow her cover. He couldn’t even call her first - her cellphone was useless for making calls due to the lack of service, and she hadn’t given him the hotel room’s number.

Of course, he could still call if he wanted to. He knew where she was staying since he’d dropped her off that night, plus he had a direct line to her through Mme. Césaire’s hiring.

But no. He wouldn’t do that. He wanted this to stay a secret just as much as Marinette did.

At least, that’s what Marinette told herself to calm down.

In retrospect, his decision to put the situation in her control had been smart. He had no way of knowing if his outgoing call might reach the wrong person, but Marinette already knew that his phone was always silenced, and her unknown number could easily be excused as a spam call and brushed off to anyone who would question him.

He’d probably been sneaking around and keeping secrets for years. Marinette didn’t blame him - it was the only way he could have the tiniest bit of privacy.

Still, the sinking feeling that this would all eventually blow up in her face wouldn’t quite escape from the back of her mind.

Alya finding out would probably be the worst. Sure, her parents would be ashamed of her sneaking off with a strange boy and disregarding their rules about safety, and she’d probably get grounded for weeks; but if Alya knew that her closest friend and confidant was keeping possibly the most major, exciting secret in the world from her? She’d be crushed, for sure.

Was destroying that trust really worth it? Marinette supposed that one way or another, she would have to tell Alya the truth. How she could do that, exactly, without hurting anyone’s feelings, would be a bridge she’d cross another day.

“What about you Marinette?”

“Huh?” Marinette jerked back to reality, nearly choking on air as she tried to speak.

Mme. Césaire’s eyes narrowed in concern, but Marinette played it off with a smile she hoped wasn’t too fake-looking.

“Did you have fun today?” she continued.

“Oh, uh, I’m fine. It was fine. I mean fun, I had fun!”

Alya buried her head further into the couch pillows, getting cozier each moment. If Marinette was lucky, Alya would fall asleep for a nap and leave her to her own devices for a bit.

“The rich people here are like a whole different brand of fancy,” Alya mumbled, her voice muffled. “At least they dress nice. You should have taken some pictures or something.”

For her sketchbook. Right. One of the main reasons she’d come all this way. One of the things that had sparked this insane situation she’d found herself in. How could she possibly forget?

(She had a pretty significant distraction. That’s probably how.)

“It’s all pretty fresh in my mind,” Marinette said. “I’ll be able to remember enough to get some ideas. I should probably jot some ideas down before I forget.”

As good of an excuse as it was, it hadn’t been necessary. Alya’s breathing was already slowing as she drifted off, her glasses pressing awkwardly into the side of her face as she sank further into the plush cushions.

Mme. Césaire tutted and pushed her own glasses further up the bridge of her nose, turning her attention back to the newspaper. “You girls can relax,” she assured Marinette, “I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”

“Merci,” Marinette nodded as she left the living area, careful to close the bedroom door quietly behind her.

Silence. Solitude. A single, gracious moment to breathe and pull herself together before her fingers started to itch at the temptation to pick up the hotel room’s landline. It’d be so easy to dial those numbers that had been dancing at the back of her mind all evening.

It’d also seem just a little desperate to call so soon. Even if it were just to confirm that the number was right, or to let him know that she was very much still wanting to keep up contact with him.

God, she was acting like a child with a schoolgirl crush.

In her mind, she fought hard to convince herself that she wasn’t heading down that path.

It wasn’t very convincing at all.

Her only option now was force her runaway train of thought to head down a different path. Ignore the boy and focus on something else. Rearrange her priorities. No more lies or sneaking around or excuses for today.

Besides, with the excitement she’d had over the past 48 hours, it’d be therapeutic to get all of her jumbled thoughts out of her head.

Marinette leaned comfortably back into the pillows she’d propped up on her bed. Taking out her favorite pencils and opening her sketchbook to a fresh page, she began to draw.

The soft graphite of her pencils wore down to dull points more than a dozen times during her session. Her right wrist ached but she couldn’t seem to stop. Every time her eyes drifted to the phone, she forced herself to fill another page.

In her flurry of fashion inspiration, she’d sketched out Adrien’s likeness only once. She hadn’t even meant for it to happen.

It was a simple portrait - he sat cross-legged on the floor of a bookstore, entirely too engrossed in a trashy teen magazine, the edge of his relaxed smile just visible. The drawing took nearly a whole page, the clothing aspect almost entirely ignored in favor of Marinette’s odd inclination to sketch in the surrounding scenery of bookshelves and vaulted windows behind him.

Adrien’s sketch stayed hidden, sandwiched between half a dozen mundane pages of black and white dresses and skirts and scarves on nondescript, dull mannequins. If she pretended hard enough that it wasn’t there, it was like she hadn’t even drawn it.

After all, drawing Adrien was what had gotten her into this mess. She still couldn’t decide if she regretted it or not.

The room fell dark as the sun set out beyond the palm trees. Marinette reached out and turned on the lamp at her bedside table. The bright light illuminated the room harshly, triggering a sharp pain at the back of Marinette’s head. Another souvenir from her recklessness, the worst one by far.

The headache hadn’t quite fully subsided at any point since it first arrived, when she’d first run into Adrien. Or rather, when he ran into her. Painkillers and rest dulled it enough to be ignored, but throughout the day it persisted as a painful reminder of their clumsiness. She’d been sensitive to any bright light or loud noise for two whole days now. Her only moments of complete relief were when she was able to sleep it off.

Even when Mme. Césaire prepared one of her signature dishes that evening, Marinette excused herself from dinner early, having only barely picked over her meal. The earlier she could get to bed and stop her head from swimming the better.

Not even the sound of Alya entering the room and settling in for the night roused her. She drifted off effortlessly and slept deeply, not a single thought or dream disturbing her peaceful hours of darkness and silence.

Once again, someone just had to come along and crush Adrien’s good mood. He was lucky to avoid a lecture from Nino on the ride home, and Chloe hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, so he thought he was home free. He’d even gotten a decent night’s sleep, ecstatic to know that he’d actually gotten away with it this time.

And then he received a phone call while he was mid-cereal pour. From Nathalie. Who was asking him to come to her office immediately.

Nathalie Sancoeur sat intimidatingly straight at her desk, not caring to look up when Adrien entered her office, looking completely out of place in his pajamas among the polished, pristine furniture and the woman clad in business formal.

“You called me?” he asked, suddenly very aware of the way his own voice echoed through the large room. “It something wrong?” he lowered his volume.

“What have we talked about Adrien?”

He gulped. “Am I in trouble?”

Nathalie turned in her chair to face him, her face in its usual disapproving scowl. She didn’t have to say it - that look was enough to tell all.

“Who were you with yesterday?” she asked.

“Nino and Chloe…” he trailed off hesitantly. She was testing him. He had told her that he was leaving with them that morning, and both she and Adrien’s bodyguards were all very aware of their outing. They hadn’t even missed curfew or anything.

Nathalie’s scowl deepened as her shoulders dropped. “I suppose that other girl was digitally inserted into the photos that are making their way around the internet right now, then?”

What?

No. There was no way someone had gotten a picture. They had been so careful. Admittedly, he had let his guard down slightly, but they’d been in such a secluded spot that he hadn’t even spotted so much as a security camera nearby.

“Who is she?” Nathalie continued.

“No one,” Adrien blurted out too quickly, his voice too high. “Just a fan,” he corrected, “she just wanted an autograph, and she was so nice about it I couldn’t say no.”

“And where were your friends while this was happening? Because I have report from your bodyguards that you were out of their sights for half an hour, nowhere to be found.”

Never mind that Nathalie had secretly sent out bodyguards to watch him without his permission, that was a whole other issue he’d have to discuss with her when she wasn’t so pissed.

No doubt some vicious rumors had already started to spread, if the photo was already making its rounds online. He could imagine the headlines already. He was busted. Goodbye modeling contract, goodbye money, goodbye father’s approval.

Goodbye freedom.

Rather than dishing out Adrien’s prison sentence, Nathalie said, “Pick out something nice to wear tonight. We need to let your father see that you can socialize responsibly. I’ll call the caterer and pull something together.”

“What?” he stammered stupidly. Nathalie turned in her swivel chair to face her computer’s desktop and began typing furiously.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Nathalie was actually … covering for him?

Why, he would have never guessed in a million years, but she didn’t jump to punishing him right away so he wasn’t going to question her motive. She was giving him another chance. Relief flooded him.

“That is, only if you’re feeling up for a social gathering,” Nathalie drawled.

“Yes, of course,” he hesitated, “. . .thank you.”

“Just know that your father is watching your every move,” she warned. “There is only so much I can keep from him. I would be on your absolute best behavior from now on. He’s watching more closely than you may think.”

At that, Adrien held back a sardonic laugh. Gabriel had scheduled their next conference call for Friday, and it was only Monday. There was no way the man could fit anything else in his busy schedule. Unless keeping his eye on Adrien was such a high priority that he’d make an exception. Adrien didn’t doubt that, despite how preoccupied his father was, Gabriel Agreste was still keeping a vigilant watch on his every move. That, or at least he was paying someone else to do it and report back to him.

“There’s a lot at stake here, Adrien. I want to see you happy and successful. But we both know that what we want and what your father wants are two very different things.”

Not that he needed a reminder. If Gabriel Agreste knew what Adrien planned to do with the money from his new contract, he’d snatch the opportunity right from under his nose and the possibility of freedom would never see the light of day again. No way on earth Gabriel would be willing to let the revival of his fashion empire slip away so easily.

The man had spent years using Adrien to recover his reputation. Running back to Paris now would halt all of that progress in its tracks.

Besides, Adrien himself didn’t know for sure what he planned to do. He wouldn’t want to give up his job - despite his complaints, he did often enjoy the perks that came with his gigs. And he definitely didn’t want to leave Nino behind.

If he did go back to Paris, what exactly did he plan to do? Visit for a week or two? A month, a year? All he knew for sure is that he wanted a chance to see home again, to get a chance to say his proper goodbyes if he weren’t able to stay.

“Any requests for the evening?” Nathalie asked. “Food, music? Guests?”

His mind immediately jumped to the thought of Marinette. Having her company would be that much more beneficial to his mood. If only it were possible. On the contrary, inviting her along would be one the most irresponsible and idiotic ideas he’d had in a long time.

And yet his fingers still anxiously tapped at his jean pockets waiting for his phone to ring.

“Whatever the caterer wants to whip up will be fine,” Adrien attempted to push his intrusive thoughts away. “I’ll let Nino and Chloe know. They’ll be able to pull together a group of decent people, I’m sure.”

“This goes without saying, but dress nicely,” Nathalie continued. “I’ll phone the photographers and have them set up their equipment in a few hours.”

The evening was going to be a spectacle for the press more than anything else. Adrien had grown used to pretending to have fun under the watchful eye of half a dozen cameras, but asking his friends to do the same? Not only did it feel incredibly pretentious, but he was also forced to drag regular people like Nino into his ridiculousness. None of the photos of anyone else would be published - if anything, it’d be like they were hired to be background actors in the spectacle that was Adrien’s life, which was exploitative at the least and downright wrong at most.

This mess wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own, and now his friends and family would have to clean up after him. It wasn’t fair to anyone.

Though there was one small thing he could do for someone, if only so that he could feel a little better about this whole situation.

“Nathalie? That caterer you hired, she has a daughter. Could you put her on the guest list?”

Marinette awoke to the sound of Alya screaming, which did absolutely nothing to help her sensitive state. All she wanted at that very moment was to shove her head as far as possible into her pillow and sit in complete silence and darkness for the rest of the day, but evidently the universe had other plans.

At first, Alya’s shrieks could have easily been mistaken for pure terror, but upon further listening, it was clear she was giddily exclaiming whatever news had made her this ecstatic at 7am.

“Marinette, you’ll never believe it, you-” Alya burst into the room and promptly froze in her tracks, “-look like hell, what happened?”

Marinette lazily lifted her head from her pillow and looked Alya in the eye. Her mouth was dry and her eyes were likely bloodshot from her restless night. “My head hurts,” was all she could muster before lying back down and pulling the blankets over her face.

“Mom got called in for an extra event tonight,” Alya continued, noticeably deflated.

“That’s great,” Marinette tried to sound enthusiastic, hoping not to ruin Alya’s good mood.

Alya crossed the room and sat at the foot of Marinette’s bed. “And you’ll never guess where it is!”

“Where is-”

“It’s at Gabriel Agreste’s house!” Alya was practically vibrating with delight. Marinette, on the other hand, was glad she still had her blankets partially covering her face so she could muffle her violent coughs from the air she’d just choked on.

“I mean, can you believe it?” Alya continued, babbling at a million miles an hour. “Mom says she got permission to let us come along and help serve appetisers. Maybe we’ll get to look around at the house, I bet it’s huge! And there’ll probably be so many A-listers and-”

Marinette managed an odd affirmative whimper from the back of her throat.

“Do you think Adrien will be there? I mean, obviously, it’s his house, but there’s no telling whether he’ll be out somewhere else or if he’s staying home for the night. What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Marinette blurted out much too quickly, her voice cracking slightly. “Why would I know anything?”

Alya shrugged. “You’re just as clueless as me, girl. But isn’t this exciting?” She grinned super wide for extra measure.

For Marinette, it was anything but exciting. Nerve wracking and inconvenient was more like it. She pushed herself further down into her blankets, trying to exaggerate her point.

“I’m not sure, Alya, I’m really not feeling too well today.”

“Oh, come on! This is a once in a lifetime chance! You can’t leave me to do this all alone!”

Sure, once in a lifetime for Alya, but it would be the second time in as many days that Marinette had been inside the Agreste manor. That prospect wasn’t quite as exciting. For all she knew, she might get shoved into a closet again.

“You won’t be alone,” Marinette offered. “Your mom will be there. Besides, it’s a job. You’re not going there to party with all the models and designers.”

Alya frowned playfully. “You’re no fun. I guess if I meet Adrien I’ll have to just tell you later how beautiful he is in person. . .”

Just then, a startling image of his shining green eyes and gentle smile flashed in Marinette’s mind. There was no denying that even the most professional photography did no justice to how warm, welcoming, and downright charming he was in real life.

But this was no time to be thinking about that.

“I’m sorry I’ll have to miss it,” Marinette tried her utter best to sound disappointed. “Maybe you can manage to take a selfie with him. Post it on your blog.”

Marinette’s snark flew over Alya’s head; she was far too busy utterly losing her mind trying to decide what to wear.

Through the bedroom door, she could hear that Mme. Césaire was just as frantic as her daughter, if not moreso, as she rifled through her various recipe books she brought with her to prepare for this very last-minute event.

“You should go with the cupcakes again,” Marinette called out, hiding the knowing smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. “They’re a crowd favorite.”

What seemed like an eternity later, but was really only an hour or two, the two women were ready to leave and get a head start on their preparations. Alya stopped by Marinette’s bedside before they went.

“I’ll take thousands of pictures for you,” she promised. “Millions, if you want. And I’ll make sure maman leaves extra desserts aside for you. And if I meet any cute models I promise I’ll put in a good word and only show them you most flattering pictures. And-”

“Alya,” Marinette groaned, though couldn’t help but smile. “Go have fun. It’s okay, don’t worry about me.”

Alya reached over and squeezed Marinette’s hand. “You’re the best, girl.” She rose to leave, her excitement evident on her face as she practically bounced out into the hallway.

The front door closed with a resounding thud.

Marinette was alone.

As if it had a mind of its own, her hand was on the phone, dialing the numbers before she could stop and think about what she was doing.

It rang only once before a simple “Hello?” sent her heart fluttering.

She’d really need to work hard on that whole not crushing on him thing.

“Hi, Adrien,” she took a deep breath. “Uh, it’s me. Marinette.”

“I had my fingers crossed that you wouldn’t be a telemarketer trying to sell me something,” he joked. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to call. What’s kept you so busy?”

Her honest answer - lying in bed all day doing absolutely nothing - was probably the most boring thing she could possibly say.

“I’ve been working on my sketches,” she said. At least it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m sure word has gotten around town that I’m hosting a get-together tonight,” he hinted playfully. “It’s a shame you probably can’t make it.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Marinette didn’t hesitate to answer. “I can’t sneak around anymore. I’m already scared Alya is going to catch on any minute now. And we both know that would be a major mistake. Plus, I’ve already made a good excuse to her why I won’t be coming.”

He chuckled lightly, his breath making the phone’s speaker pop in a way that made him feel like he was right there next to her.

“I guess you’re right,” he said. “It might just be worth it though, her finding out - maybe once the novelty wears off, she and I can conspire to get you to actually have some fun.”

Marinette rolled over onto her back, pressing the phone closer to her ear. “She blogs about you, you know. An entire website she made herself. Full of nothing but your face.”

“That’s nothing, you should see my dad’s office. At least there are no embarrassing childhood photos out there on the internet.”

“Oh, sure, not yet,” Marinette laughed. “But once you let her in your house I’m sure they’d find their way out.”

“Like I said, it might be worth it.”

“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”

“Nope,” Adrien said matter-of-factly.

“In that case, why don’t you just tell Alya personally? It’ll probably go over better than me confessing myself.”

“As tempting as that may sound, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Did she know that, though? Hell, she barely knew him. Yet, she trusted him all the same.

Sure, his reputation needed to be protected, but Marinette was nobody. Exposing her secrets wouldn’t have as big of an impact compared to what he’d go through if the public knew any juicy details about his personal life. But he still knew, however mundane it may be, that choice to reveal her secret was hers and hers alone to make.

“She and her mom will probably be here any minute, along with the rest of the guests,” Adrien sighed. “I should probably get going.”

“Right,” Marinette tried her best not to sound dejected.

“Before I go, I do have a question for you though.”

Instantly, as if she’d just downed a cup of coffee, her entire brain perked up.

“How much longer will you be here?” Adrien asked carefully. She prayed her imagination wasn’t running wild, that she truly did hear a hint of hope in his voice. That one simple question implied a million more possibilities.

She counted down in her head. “Eleven more days,” she said after a moment, not quite believing it herself. Had it really only been three days since they arrived? And if she and Alya had already gotten into this much trouble so soon, she could only imagine what havoc they wreak with more than a week remaining in their trip.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of a tour guide, or if you want recommendations for the best beaches-”

“Or if I want to go on a surprise midnight joy ride through a stranger’s big fancy neighborhood. . .”

Adrien laughed, “Yeah, that too. You know where to reach me.”

“And you know that I could never get away with talking to you while Alya and I are staying in the same room. And this is the only working phone we have right now.”

“You don’t need cell phone service to use an app,” he offered. “You can text me on your phone using the internet. That way you won’t have to always wait to call.”

She hadn’t even considered that. Then again, Adrien probably knew lots of sneaky ways to get any tiny bit of privacy from his everyday life. It came with the territory of the career, she supposed.

“I’ll do that then,” she smiled.

“Great,” Just from the sound of his voice, she could tell he was smiling too.

They both stayed on the line for a half a dozen fleeting moments, Marinette not quite sure whether or not she wanted to be the one to hang up first. And in those few moments, a thought came to her.

Really, the thought had been pressing in the back of her mind for ages, but she supposed it was a good time to set it free.

“Okay, you got to ask your question, now it’s my turn,” she told him. “And I want a real, honest answer.”

“Of course,” Adrien replied.

“You’re being so nice to me. Spending all this time talking to me when you could be busy with your friends or family or. . . anyone, really. I don’t get it. Why me?”

“I like making new friends,” Adrien said. “And you seemed like a good candidate.”

“But you barely know me.”

“I’d like to get to know you better. If that’s okay with you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears through the silence.

After another moment, he asked, “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” she forced herself to answer, forcing down the violent butterflies threatening to burst from her chest.

“Good,” Adrien answered casually, as if he hadn’t just sent her mind on a whirlwind of emotions. “In that case. . . I’ll see you soon?”

Would he though?

“Maybe,” was the most honest answer she could give, and she hoped her response came out as more playful than downright rejecting. “Have fun at your party, Adrien.”

“Goodbye, Marinette.”

Adrien hung up first, leaving the sudden silence of the empty hotel room as Marinette’s only companion.

In the end, Marinette Dupain-Cheng could honestly say she really, truly tried not to fall for Adrien Agreste. But try as she might, there was no denying that, more than anything else, she was looking forward to - maybe, possibly, hopefully - seeing him again.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrienette #ml fic #adrinette #some kind of miracle #my writing #am I reposting this because the original didn't get any attention????......maybe

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etoilesdephan · 7 years

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Duality

Read it on ao3!

Summary: It was eerie in the prison, yet somehow Dan’s smile could calm him down.

Word count: 4.4k

Trigger warnings: Imprisonment, Mental Illness, not much else to tag but I also don’t want to spoil it. Be careful reading it

A/N: Sudden inspiration struck so I had to write this. Turned out kind of halloween-y appropriate ahaha, hope you enjoy!

=====

It was as dreary indoors as he had expected it to be, and the uniform was as uncomfortable as he was told. Despite that, Phil neatly tucked the white shirt into the black trousers, smoothing out the wrinkles accordingly before he reached out for the belt, and the issued baton, carefully winding the former around his waist and attaching the latter to it. The radio was next and his fingers fumbled clumsily until he finally attached it correctly. The tie was pitch black, and around his neck it made him think of a noose more than anything else ever had.

When he looked up in the mirror, he was a perfect grayscale, his skin matching the shirt, his hair - the tie. Only his eyes still shone brightly, differently, in the midst of it all, and he stared at his reflection for a little longer until the world around the reflection had become as bleak as his own image.

“Ready?” An older prison officer with a comically bushy moustache and a bit of a beer belly turned to him when Phil emerged from the changing room.

“Yes, sir,” In a trained manner, Phil responded and his back straightened in an instant, too.

While Phil had been growing up, he had dreamed big and small, thinking he’d be a weatherman, or a writer, or even make movies for the BBC and move to Hollywood eventually. Sometimes he had dreamed about being an astronaut, but then he’d land back on Earth and want to work with animals.

He’d never thought that he would end up enrolling into a police academy only to go on to work as a prison guard. People were caged like animals for behaving against the law, some full of remorse, others - in constant glee for what had put them there. It was a dark place, full of emotions that made him jumpy on the inside still even if his face showed none of it, his expression trained to be neutral or even a little friendly, but always well guarded and hiding any vulnerabilities.

“I’ll show you around and after that you will be assigned to a post for the day. We rotate them throughout the month, but you might be stuck in one for a while.” The older officer, Officer Waletzki, as his nametag suggested, explained as the two men walked through several different locked doors, the chime of the of keys mixing in with their steps and the occasional noises made by the inmates. Phil’s arms crossed behind his back, the young officer kept nodding whenever something was explained to him; there was the hallway to sectors C, E and break room, the bathrooms were across the hall that way, the lunch canteen for the inmates was behind and the schedules for when each inmate would eat was given at the beginning of each week though it rarely changed.

“You’ll stay in Sector H-6 for now,” Finally the other man stopped and motioned Phil towards the said sector, “Remember, these are all dangerous criminals. Keep your guard up. Don’t engage unnecessarily. You are in charge and they must follow the rules.”

Though Phil nodded, once the older officer disappeared around the corner, he made a face.

===

“Are you sure, honey?” His mum placed a hand on his shoulder as Phil was filling out the paper form that he had fought the printer for almost an hour over, when the old thing kept getting paper jams.

“It’s just a temporary placement,” He looked up and regarded her with a smile, “And I’m sure it will be alright. They’re all locked away and it’s the most secure prison in the area.”

He could see the doubt in her eyes, but then again he was used to it. She had been patting him on the head and smiling when he announced that he wanted to be a policeman. She had kissed his cheeks happily, embarrassing him, when he graduated. She had been speaking words of pride when he finally received the official documents.

Her eyes always betrayed her though. The worry lurked behind them, say where did the little boy with dreams much brighter and happier go? She knew that he wanted to do good, but there was always something that seemed to hold her back from believing that this was what Phil really wanted to do.

===

“Would you look at that, they got somebody new,” Phil felt his expression flatten when he heard the words and he looked over at the prisoner who was lounging lazily on his bed, eying Phil up and down like he was a piece of meat. It sent a shiver down Phil’s back, but he just glared at the inmate and continued walking onwards, slowly.

It wasn’t as dark as he had always thought it would be, the cell walls light and the daylight lamps actually implemented. The cells were more spacious, too, than some of those that Phil had learned about and the beds didn’t look quite as bad as they could.

The inmates, too, were quite the variety.

He noted some men older than his own father, either reading or sleeping. There were guys a little older or about Phil’s age, some really neat and others that looked like they had been dragged out from the middle of the forest and thrown behind the bars. There was a face here and there that seemed younger, too, most seeming quite restless, either exercising or pacing around the cell like a caged animal. There was even one that was furiously mumbling under his breath only to stop and stare when Phil was passing by.

It was eerie.

As he continued on, nobody really talked to him. That is, until he reached a cell set a little further than the rest, and there was something about the bars that made them look sturdier than others. Only when Phil eyed the number next to the door did he understood that he’d ventured into a higher level security, where more vicious men were locked away.

“Hello there, new face,” He was greeted with an almost awkwardly joyous greeting and he looked over to where the sound came from. There, in the corner on the floor next to the bars sat a tall man, his long legs crossed, and a book on his lap. His hair was curly, his eyes were soft brown, his face was dotted with stray freckles and his skin though pale looked like it held a warm quality about it. “I was wondering when I could get something new to read,” The inmate continued on and the awkward edge disappeared from his voice momentarily only to return more prominently when he laughed and scratched the back of his head, “As much as I love this, I think I’ll soon know how to cite the book word by word.”

Phil hadn’t even realised when he had stopped, just staring at the inmate who was offering him a smile wide enough to show dimples.

For all Phil understood, this man didn’t look like a criminal at all, there was no edge that wasn’t soft about him, and perhaps it was that what made Phil feel so much more cautious about him. This man was listed as dangerous, if the location of the cell and the number said anything, and Phil could already envision him luring people in with his looks, only to perform an atrocious crime that nobody could expect of him.

Even so, Phil allowed his eyes to wander down to look at the book in the inmate’s lap, “Library will be available on Thursday,” He announced bluntly, pulling his eyes away, his fingers tempted to grab at the baton just to remind himself of the safety, but Phil stopped himself; rule number one was to never show if you were in any way scared.

“Oh! Really? Can I get some good fantasy? Maybe science fiction? I’m so tired of these reality novels. They’re all the same,” The inmate spoke in a manner so genuine that it took Phil by surprise, only to make him tense when he realised that the inmate was pushing himself up on his feet and fully turning to face Phil, the book hugged tightly against his chest like the man was some highschooler.

“You look like you would know some good books. Please,” He saw the inmate looking down at the name tag briefly before he looked Phil straight in the eyes, “Officer Lester, bring me something interesting before I feel like banging my head against the wall over these sappy romances,” There was a light laugh that escaped the inmate’s mouth again and the sound poured into Phil’s chest warmly. He didn’t even realise that he was smiling a bit until he nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do. Nobody should be stuck with only a single, boring book choice.”

There was almost childlike excitement in the inmate’s eyes and Phil shifted, vaguely motioning with his hand that he had to go and wordlessly he began walking away. He felt a little dazed after the brief exchange, and he could feel the inmate still watching him until he was too far from the cell.

===

“There’s some sandwiches, new guy,” A tall, even taller than Phil, officer waved at the table across the break room as soon as Phil entered, “Beverly’s wife makes them for all of us once every other week, so it’s your lucky day.”

Phil regarded the other officer with a smile, watching the man bite hungrily into the sandwich before returning to his conversation with another guy.

As he was nibbling on one of his own, he looked around at the few men present; there was joyful chatter around, the most alive place in the prison so far and it was an oddity after the darkness filled morning. Of course, there was the book inmate, who had spoken to Phil like he was a person, but he didn’t dare to trust him.

“How’s it going, new guy?” The same tall man suddenly plopped in the seat next to Phil and he nearly choked on a bit of a bread. The other guy watched him with amusement as Phil coughed, clapping on Phil’s back lightly a couple of times until Phil stopped coughing. “Would be quite a lousy way to go. A job accident by choking on your own lunch,” The officer, Wakefield apparently, laughed and Phil joined in with a light laugh.

“I have a good survival track record. A whole twenty-nine years.”

Wakefield laughed even more at that, louder and more joyous than it seemed possible in a place like the prison and Phil used the moment to take another bite of his food, careful to chew through it well before he responded to anything.

“So how’s it? Any trouble with the inmates yet?” There was a stone cold quality about the other man’s eyes though his face seemed like it was nearly splitting with a wide smile.

Phil shook his head, “Just some of them running their mouths a bit, nothing out of the ordinary. Oh, and one was curious about the library day,” Phil lowered his sandwich just as Wakefield picked up his.

“Ah, I think I know who that is,” Wakefield said thoughtfully before biting into his sandwich and continuing on with his mouth full, the words unexpectedly clear and Phil could only wonder if the other man had purposely learned how to hold lengthy speeches while dining. “Howell keeps going through books like crazy. Had to bring him a whole stack during my first month here.”

Phil, never expecting to have more than just a number for the inmates, cocked his head a little, curious when Wakefield continued with his sandwich.

“What is he in for anyways? He’s up in the higher sector,” Phil continued on with his lunch, eying the other man and there was a certain tension that seemed to take over Wakefield, his face hardening instantly and the atmosphere suddenly made it really hard for Phil to chew.

“I have to go back to my post. Lunch is starting soon. You better go back to yours soon too, new guy,” The way the other man spoke turned Phil’s blood to ice and when he tried to swallow, the bread seemed to get stuck in his throat. Wakefield left, and there was an ominous presence that made the air thick.

It killed Phil’s appetite.

===

“I could make some much needed changes to your face,” The voice was a growling one, mixing laughter and seething hatred, “Just come a little closer, you dirty piece of shit.” It was a gross sound when the man retched and spat at Phil, missing completely, but it was clearly a step out of the line.

“Get away from the door inmate, immediately,” He brought up the baton, threateningly and the inmate stepped back. Slowly, slowly, the man sat down on the bed, all whilst staring at Phil with the purest hatred Phil had ever experienced. “It will go on your inner record,” Phil added just before the man flipped him off.

Nothing that he wouldn’t expect.

“I’m hungry, when’s the lunch?” Someone called at him and he looked around until he could see the inmate.

“The usual time. You can wait.” His voice was strict but his heart was beating rapidly. He hated mistreating people, even if they were mistreating him. He’d gone into police academy to learn how to help, serve and protect people. He’d known what he signed up for when he applied for prison guard position, but it was then that he was reminded of the ugly parts of his intended job.

He had always grown up being polite, taught to be so, and now he had to forget it all.

“Officer Lester! How is your first day going?” A much more pleasant voice reached out to him when Phil passed through the passage between the two security levels. When he looked up, Howell was smiling brightly at him from the same spot he had been sitting at earlier, the book on his lap now flipped open somewhere in the middle.

“Good, thank you,” He tried to be curt, remembering Wakefield’s expression. He tried to keep walking onwards but it was difficult when curiosity was stronger than reason at times. It was so hard to believe that this man could truly do something that would make men like Wakefield so cold.

Never judge a book by its cover. He reminded himself, but his feet stopped and he turned a little to face the inmate who closed the book after placing an old folded envelope into it to mark the page.

“Today is casserole day, right?” The inmate took lead in supplying more conversation and Phil shifted his weight from one foot to the other, scratched the back of his neck and then shrugged.

“It should be. Yesterday was fish, and fish always comes before the casserole.” Howell hummed to himself merrily before stretching his arms and legs with a yawn, “I hope it’s pork, we haven’t had that for a while.”

That made Phil arch his brow and he found himself speaking before he could stop himself, “How long have you been here?”

To that, the inmate just leaned his head back against the wall, looking at some random point in the cell’s ceiling, “Three years? I lost count after day four hundred twenty-eight.” What made it so much more eerie though, was the way that it sounded like the man didn’t really care that he was in the prison. Like it was something that he had talked about so many times that the reality had lost its meaning to him and he was over trying to salvage it.

“Aren’t you in your early twenties now?” The frown had taken place on Phil’s face; he couldn’t feel sorry for the older ones that much anymore, they had had lives to live and learn, and had still ended up in the prison after all those experiences. Howell, however, looked too young to be locked away. The security level meant most likely a life imprisonment and it hurt Phil thinking that someone had thrown away all those years of wonder and exploration away so early on in their life.

“I’m almost twenty-five,” The inmate answered and plucked at the envelope that was sticking out of the book, “Mum sent a reminder just last week about it. I should have some visitors finally,” There was a pure happiness that showed in those deep brown eyes when Howell looked at Phil and for all he knew, Phil frowned even more.

“I hope it’s pork today, too,” He muttered under his breath and turned to go, but something told him that the inmate had heard him anyway, if the happy sound he made was anything to go by.

===

“Away from the door, Howell,” Phil instructed and watched as the inmate put away his book obediently and stood up against the wall, hands against it and legs at shoulder width even before he was instructed to do so.

Phil unlocked the door and the officer assigned with him from a nearby sector, Horsfall, walked in and took the inmate’s arms to cuff them around the wrists. For a moment, Phil expected the officer to also cuff the young inmate around the ankles too, but instead he grabbed him by the shoulder to lead him towards the exit.

The inmate, nearing Phil, offered him a wide, dimply smile and Phil’s lips quivered, wanting to return it but instead he locked the cell door and followed the two people through the hallway towards the canteen.

It was silent. Too silent.

As they walked through the hallway that Phil had been patrolling, all of the inmates were tucked away, sitting in their beds, watching the trio silently as they walked past the cells. Even when coming close to the rudest and loudest of them, Phil was only greeted with silence and blank stares and it made him uneasy. One glance at Howell, and he was calmed by that smile on his face and that hum in his throat that sounded awfully lot like a song Phil knew but couldn’t quite place.

“You know the drill,” Horsfall pushed Howell inside the canteen and the tall inmate tripped a little over his feet before he caught himself, and Phil could swear that there was a light blush on Howell’s cheeks when he nodded at the two officers and walked across the canteen to queue with a tray in his bound hands.

“That was strange,” Phil murmured quietly to the other officer and when given a questioning look, he elaborated, “They’re usually not this calm, the other inmates. Or is that just a thing in the mornings?”

Instead of an answer, he was regarded with a weird stare, like if what he’d said was something really bizarre. When he returned that with a question in his knit brows, the other officer excused himself and left the canteen to help with bringing in more of the inmates.

Howell was sitting at one of the empty tables alone, happily munching away what looked like a really bland casserole.

===

“You’re going to die,” The whisper that followed Phil through the hallway had set his heart on a race. The first time he had heard it, he had hushed the inmate. The second time he had lightly hit the baton against the bars of the cell. As the whispers continued on, he tried to put it off as a cruel joke that the inmates were trying to pull on him, to try and scare him away. Perhaps that’s why the previous guard had resigned, tired of this choir of whispers, anger and darkness seeping through every corner of the building.

Phil definitely couldn’t see himself working here for too long, and he was already wishing to hear back about his applications elsewhere. He just needed the money while he waited, but now he hoped that the wait wouldn’t be long.

He couldn’t imagine how bad it could get if after less than a day it felt too heavy already.

And he couldn’t shake the dread that was taking its residence in his joints when more and more officers left him without an answer when he actually got around to asking about Howell. Phil couldn’t understand it; either there was a huge mistake or the man was a lot more dangerous than anyone wanted to admit, but no matter how hard Phil raked his brain he couldn’t remember any big case around this strange young inmate. So he was left wondering.

“It was chicken again,” The voice was already too familiar to him, and it was openly disappointed when it spoke. As if charmed, his feet stopped and Phil looked through the bars where the inmate was lounging on the cell floor, arms behind his head as he stared at the light in the ceiling.

“Hopefully it’s pork next time,” Phil didn’t know what else to say, as he watched the tall frame so relaxed on the floor like Howell belonged there.

“Probably not, we haven’t had any for months now,” The tone was dismissive but still filled with so much disappointment that Phil felt himself move closer to the cell door, not feeling threatened at all with the inmate so leisurely on the concrete floor.

“Howell, get off the floor, you’ll get sick,” He tried to instruct sternly, but his tone came across more caring and it seemed to catch the other man’s attention.

Or so Phil thought until the inmate laughed, “Please, I’m no officer, just call me Daniel, or Dan, whichever is good for you. I know it’s a customary thing to call us ‘inmate’ or by our family name, but it’s just us here.” Dan winked at Phil and Phil found himself swallow, uncertain as to what to do or say, “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Phil shook his head, “We’re not supposed to acquaint ourselves with inmates,” He squared his shoulders, raised up his chin and pressed his lips together. Dan was just looking at him with a soft kind of amusement, but finally moved to sit up. He never stood, and instead crossed his legs in that familiar manner.

“Officer Lester, a true law enforcer. I like that,” There was a little bit of cheekiness in those words and Phil was unsure whether or not it was meant offensive.

“I guess that’s what puts us on the opposite sides of these bars,” Phil reached out, placing his hand against the cold metal and arched his brow when Dan laughed.

“That’s very true.”

He could feel the question burn in the back of his throat, the curiosity stronger than reason and Phil couldn’t explain the need to find out; he’d always scored so well in tests of mental preparedness to follow orders and to not let the emotions win over reason when faced with the most unusual situations. Yet, he wanted to know.

He needed to know.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dan seemed to be genuinely confused, the tone a clear indication that their conversation had changed completely.

“Why are you here? In the prison?” Phil could hear the heartbeat in his ears from how strong his heart was pounding against his chest, anxious. It was almost like he was breaking the most sacred rules in the universe and his heart understood faster than his brain.

He watched as Dan pushed himself up to his feet and though he knew that he had to stop him, Phil couldn’t, instead watching as Dan neared the door, neared Phil. He was so close that Phil could see his lashes in detail as they fluttered closed, then open again, and the way the skin on Dan’s lips was chapped. He was too close, because Phil could feel Dan’s breath on his face as it ghosted over him.

“Who said that it’s me who is locked away, Phil?” The voice sent a violent shiver through the entirety of Phil’s body and he stepped back, tripping over his own feet and landing on his butt painfully.

“H-how do you know my name?” Phil stammered and there was panic running through his whole body when the cell door easily opened and Dan stepped out of it, nearing Phil slowly as the young officer tried to scramble away backwards on the floor.

“Why wouldn’t I know it, Phil?” Dan was close, too close, and it felt like Phil’s heart was going to burst.

“Stay away,” Phil’s voice faltered, and he swallowed before he could find it again, louder, “Inmate step aside immediately!”

But as he tried to grab for the baton or the radio, he found himself unable to, his arms and legs as if bound to the floor and he couldn’t do anything but to trash, trying to keep Dan away as the man leaned in closer with what seemed worry on his face.

===

“Phil, can you hear me?” Dan spoke loudly, shining a light into the man’s eyes the best he could as Phil kept trashing despite the bonds around his wrists and ankles holding him down to the white bed.

“Nurse, we need Lorazepam, now!” He instructed while trying to reach out and hold the man down, and it was clear that whatever was happening was taking a toll on the body, the skin reddening around the bounds painfully and the heartbeat underneath Dan’s fingertips skyrocketing from what he could catch.

“I’m holding him, go on,” He leaned himself onto the trashing man’s body, grabbing a hold of his arm enough to allow for the anesthetic to be injected.

It didn’t take long for it to kick in and when it did, Dan fell back into the bedside chair heavily, wiping the sweat beads from his forehead as he looked over at the sleeping man.

Dan frowned, the lines on his face much deeper than his age should’ve allowed.

“You’re going to be fine,” He murmured quietly, “We’ll figure a way to give you a proper life.”

It hurt him to watch the young male when he had been brought into the hospital, hallucinations more often there than not, most causing violent reactions that had finally worn the family out and frightened them enough to seek out help.

“We’ll do our best,” Dan promised before reaching out and placing the three plush toys on the bed next to the man that Dan knew Phil lovingly liked to refer to as Waletzki, Wakefield and Horsfall.

#myfanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #phanfic au #phanfiction au #phandom #phan

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