#and I’ve seen my students copying the way I draw eyes and mouths these days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizbotw · 3 years

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it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

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cheri-cheri · 3 years

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[L&N] Jesse’s Main Storyline - Reunion

🍒 Warning: Contains detailed spoilers from Chapter 8 of the main storyline of Light and Night 🍒

Previous section: here

He’s Jesse? But the youth who was with me that day-

Staring blankly at the clean and clear face, my heart thumps heavily. That’s right. Those eyes are stubborn and bright.

Jesse: There’s something unique about MC’s designs. She likes drawing four-sided stars. You could compare it with her earlier drafts. It’d be clear at a glance who copied whom.

But this is a little secret between me and my grandmother. No one else would-

I’m in a daze. I’m basically a dummy.

One other person knows about it. Someone who was almost forgotten with time.

I stare at him in disbelief, and have the illusion that this is a game of hide-and-seek which has been going on for seven years.

This instance is akin to a movie scene. The years accelerate in reverse, each frame filled with memories engraved on my heart.

Him at 13 years old: What kind of adults do you think we’d become next time? I really want to travel to the future and have a look.

Him at 11 years old: Since you gave me Chinese tuition, I’ll reluctantly go to the same junior high school as you and teach you math.

Him at 8 years old: Next time, I’m going to be an outstanding person. Outstanding people will have lots of money, and I can afford to buy everything you want to eat!

MC at 7 years old: Hey, why are you squatting on the floor with mud on your face?

Him at 5 years old: [crying] T-they threw mud at me. They said I’m a fatty, and that fatties are most useless...

MC at 7 years old: Don’t be afraid! I’ll wipe it off for you. Next time, just follow me. I’ll protect you! Don’t cry. Real men don’t cry.

Him at 5 years old: Sob sob sob... okay...

MC at 7 years old: What’s your name?

Him at 5 years old: My name is Xia Ming Xing. Xia for 夏天 (“xiao tian” - summer), Ming for 一鸣惊人 (“yi ming jing ren” - amazing the world), and Xing for 星星 (“xing xing” - star)-

MC at 7 years old: What a difficult name. Can I just call you Xing Xing?

Him at 5 years old: That sounds like the relative of monkeys.

[Note] In Chinese, 猩猩 (“xing xing”) is “gorilla”

MC at 7 years old: How about Ming Ming?

Him at 5 years old: The uncle next door is called Ming Ming.

MC at 7 years old: Hm, I’ll call you “Dumpling” then. You look like a dumpling.

Him at 5 years old: Sure, dumplings are so delicious.

MC at 7 years old: Let’s make a pinky promise to always be friends.

Time moves in reverse, and once again returns to the present. I feel as though a gust of wind that was stalled in the past is now coursing between us, blowing away the many years apart.

MC: Dump-

I smile, unable to help myself as I call his name. The moment I say one syllable, he clasps a hand over my mouth.

The composed youth from earlier is now flushed, giving me a pitiful look.

At this moment, Wu You’s face is ghastly pale.

MC: I’m uninterested and have no time to play such games with you. This is a competition, and it has its rules. I can afford to lose and can afford to win. I accept a just contest, but I reject dishonest tricks. There are many more designers, including your sister, who are striving to make even better products. That’s the meaning of designing. I’ve already explained what I had to. I trust that everyone can make their own judgements.

Grabbing Dumpling’s hand, I turn around to leave. Now, there’s something even more important waiting for me.

Feeling the warmth in his palm, the youth’s expression turns from astounded to beaming with happiness.

Jesse: Let’s go.

Pulling him to a place where we won’t be disturbed, I suddenly feel a little speechless.

What should I say? Exchange conventional greetings? Would that be too formal?

But we haven’t seen each other in so many years. It might be awkward to talk about other things.

He seems to realise this as well. He looks at me, dumbfounded and at a loss for what to do.

MC: Erm, Xia Ming Xing, it’s been a long time.

Jesse is taken aback for a moment. Then, he bursts out laughing.

Jesse: Who are you? Why are you calling me by my full name? Give that fierce girl back to me!

He reaches out to pinch my cheeks, his appearance as playful as back then.

MC: Stinky Dumpling. You’re the one who’s fierce. I haven’t asked why-

Before I can finish speaking, I’m pulled into a hug. It’s cosy and tastes of sunlight. The second half of my question melts into his arms.

Jesse: Did you know that it’s been a very, very long time since I heard the name “Dumpling”...

He tightens his grip, burying his head in the crook of my neck.

MC: Dumpling...

Jesse: Mm.

MC: Dumpling Dumpling Dumpling!

Jesse: I’m here.

Jesse: Did she bully you earlier? It’s my fault for arriving too late. She made things difficult for you for such a long time.

His voice brings with it a nasally tone. It’s gentle, like a cup of hot milk gradually flowing into my heart.

MC: Why are you only asking me about that?

Jesse: What else should I ask about? What’s more important than you getting bullied?

MC: I’m fine, thank you.

Unexpectedly, he’s given a fright and blinks incessantly.

Jesse: MC, have you gone silly? You actually thanked me?

MC: ?

Jesse: Aren’t you going to throw me a left hook, then ask where the hell I’ve been these years-

I place my hands on my hips, pretending to be angry.

MC: Why would I ask where the hell you’ve been? Didn’t we know each other just two days ago?

Jesse: What do you mean “two days ago”?! We’ve known each other for 15 years and 9 months!

MC: But why do I recall how a certain person refused to talk to me unless he wore a strawberry headgear?

Jesse: I... I was afraid you’d ignore me once you recognised me. I wanted to meet you again in a more formal setting.

MC: In that case, why did you rush into the room furiously?

Jesse: They were bullying you right under my nose. How could I hold myself back!

Jesse: Don’t be angry, okay?

He shifts closer to me. No matter where my eyes look, he meets them immediately.

Faced with such a pair of pure eyes, my temper dissipates. It’s as though everything in the past has been written off in them.

MC: Shouldn’t you give me an apology before I forgive you?

Jesse: Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry-

He continues on and on, as though he'd continue saying this till the sky turns dark if I don’t get him to stop.

MC: That’s enough, I forgive you.

And with that, a bear hug lunges at me.

I’ve genuinely forgotten if his hugs were this warm during childhood.

Now, these pair of arms are filled with a comforting ease.

There are so many things I want to ask him. I want to ask if he’s been living well, and why he didn't give me a single call.

More than that, I want to ask why he left without saying goodbye.

But when I open my mouth, I swallow the words back down.

He mentioned that he couldn’t see me due to certain reasons. In that case, I’ll ask next time. Anyway, we’ve already reunited, and there’s still a very long time ahead.

MC: All right all right, you can let go now.

Jesse: Hang on. We haven’t seen each other for 7 years. Shouldn’t we make up for what was lost? One hug per year will do. That means seven, each lasting 5 seconds. In total, 35 seconds!

He actually calculated it seriously.

??: Cough.

I hear a cough from behind me, and feel Xia Ming Xing’s body stiffen. He lets go of me reluctantly.

MC: Jiang Lai?

Jiang Lai looks at me awkwardly, then drags Gao Cheng from his hiding place behind her back.

Gao Cheng: We didn’t want to disturb you two.

Jiang Lai: We just wanted to tell you that the producer decided to use your designs.

MC: Really? That’s great!

Jiang Lai’s a tsundere so MC has to take the initiative to ask the three of them to form a team

Jiang Lai and Gao Cheng leave

Jesse: They’ve already left, so why are you still looking? The person you should be looking at is here.

Jesse: Can I send you home? Just like in junior high.

MC: I was clearly the one who brought you home, okay? I sent you safely into your mom’s hands. Little Brat.

Out of habit, I reach out to tousle his hair, but realise I can only reach it by standing on tiptoes since he has grown much taller.

Jesse: Don’t call me Little Brat!

MC: Well, I’m two years older than you.

Jesse: But I’m already taller than you!

The youth lowers his eyes to look at me, his smile dazzling.

Jesse: Let’s go home~

MC: Let me test you. Which bus did we use to take? I moved houses due to work, but I still take the same bus.

Jesse: 102.

MC: How are you still able to remember?

Jesse: Of course I remember everything. I remember things related to you even better than yourself. The bus is here, the bus is here!

He places a hand on my back and we hurry onto the bus.

Although it’s a weekend, the bus is filled with students in uniform. We have no choice but to grip the handles while standing.

Jesse: Do you think they’re attending make-up classes? Isn’t today a Sunday?

MC: Many students have classes over the weekends these days. It’s unlike our time, where we had two days to rest.

Jesse: Wow, that’s great. Sigh. If only we were born a few years later.

MC: Let me off! Why didn’t I know that you were so enthusiastic about learning in the past?

Jesse: I’m enthusiastic about learning now. Is that wrong?

Jesse: Hey, look at that pair-

He points to the last row of the bus. A boy and girl are sitting next to each other, one earpiece in each ear. They aren’t interacting at all, and are staring out of the windows.

The boy would occasionally turn his head and glance at the girl, but will avert his gaze before the girl realises.

Jesse: Don’t they resemble us from back then?

MC: In what way? We were so boisterous.

Jesse: Correction. You hit me one-sidedly.

I shoot him a glare.

Jesse: But they’re still far from us. He wasn’t as handsome as I was back then.

MC: ...

Jesse: Look at them. One hand holding their school bag, the other placed on the seat. At a glance, it’s clear that they want to hold hands but don’t dare to.

MC: They look like junior high students. Where’s your mind wandering off to?

Jesse: These eyes of mine have seen through too many things. Sigh, what dummies! Just shift over slowly and grab it.

MC: You sound as if you’d actually do it.

Jesse: Of course I would. It’s just that I didn’t dare. Otherwise, I’d have-

MC: You’d have what?

He glances at me, then shakes his head, lips tightly sealed.

MC: Boasting again.

The bus suddenly jolts. The boy’s phone tumbles onto the ground, rolling in front of us. Xia Ming Xing picks it up and returns it to them.

Glancing at the tune that’s currently being played, I realise that it’s the male singer I liked most back then.

MC: How nostalgic. I was the same back then, only daring to listen to music on the MP3 after school.

Jesse: I was different. I listened to it in broad daylight in the classroom.

MC: Which is why The Exterminator confiscated it five times.

Jesse: But afterwards, I exchanged it with five exam scripts with full marks.

MC: Show off. Back then, I thought about how the days passed by so slowly. I wondered when I could grow up, because I’d finally be able to do the things I wanted to. I didn’t expect for time to speed by. After becoming an adult, each day passes by so quickly, and I don’t even have time to listen to music. In the blink of an eye, the people around me changed.

Jesse: But some things didn’t change, did they? We became the type of adults we are based on what remained.

MC: What remained for you then?

He no longer speaks, looking at me quietly with a silly smile.

MC: I realised that the frequency of your silly smiles are a little high.

Jesse: I’m looking at what remained for me. If we had gone to the same senior high school, what kind of people would we have become?

MC: You probably wouldn’t have gotten slimmer. After all, you came over to my house every day to freeload on meals.

Jesse: Do you think I can’t tell that you’re being sarcastic?

MC: Hahahaha-

How would we have turned out? I have no idea either.

When I travelled across the ocean after my grandmother’s death in my sophomore year, we would have parted anyway.

MC: Fortunately, we’ve met again now.

An earbud is suddenly stuffed into my ear. An acoustic guitar prelude instantly pulls me back to those youthful years.

I originally thought that I had forgotten the lyrics since a long time ago. But I can still hum “small yellow flower” and “playing on a swing”.

It turns out that the things we thought were forgotten are engraved in our minds, waiting to be awakened.

MC: There’s a similar MP3 in my house, but it’s broken and I need to get it fixed by a servicing shop. Oh yes, why are you listening to this song? Weren’t you distasteful of it in the past?

Jesse: It isn’t bad after listening to it again and again, although it’s still a little lacking as compared to me. In the past, you used to say that I was the God of Singing in your eyes.

MC: Hahahahaha, fine fine, God of Singing. I didn’t expect you to really enter this industry and become a musical actor. It’s miraculous.

Jesse: Miraculous?

MC: When we were younger, there was an essay where we had to write about what we wanted to be when we grew up. You wrote about being a singer who sang for the entire world. Afterwards, your mom saw it and forced you to erase it all off, changing it to a scientist.

Hearing me talk about his embarrassing past, he scratches the back of his head abashedly.

MC: Being able to make your dream come true, especially if it’s a dream which isn’t understood or affirmed, is truly incredible.

Jesse: That’s because I have a secret strength supporting me.

Hearing the music, I suddenly think of the outfit I had designed for him. Perhaps I could add a few more elements related to youth.

Taking out my notebook from my bag quickly, my head suddenly feels dizzy, and my nose bumps against his shoulder.

MC: That hurts!

Jesse: [sighs] ...

He turns his body in resignation, bending his back.

Jesse: Draw while leaning on my back, Miss.

MC: Mm!

The sky gets dark very early in autumn. The evening breeze raises a hue from afar, and leaves rustle from the trees.

The hubbub of voices on the bus and affectionate teasing seem to have been dispersed by the breeze, leaving without a trace. What’s left are the both of us walking home in silence from the bus-stop.

Moonlight leaks from the trees along the roadside, outlining the side of Xia Ming Xing’s face. It’s no longer roundish, and has become a little foreign.

MC: Dumpling, why did you suddenly move away back then?

I have no idea why I suddenly asked this. There was simply a strange feeling that he’d disappear again if I didn’t ask about it.

A twinge of guilt flashes past Xia Ming Xing’s face.

Jesse: Do you still remember the call I gave you on the day I left?

MC: Call? What call?

Jesse: You don’t remember? You picked it up, but hung up after I said a few words.

MC: ...when did I hang up?

Why do I have no impression of this at all?!

MC: What’s going on?

Jesse: Back then, my family was moving. I managed to fight for one week with my parents, wanting to stay behind to finish the competition with you. I didn’t have the guts to tell you because I was afraid you’d be upset if you knew. Afterwards, I summoned my courage and gave you a call. But you weren’t willing to listen to me.

MC: That never happened. Why didn’t I know about this at all...

Jesse: So you never hung up?

He grabs my shoulders, his fingers cold as ice. I can almost feel his body trembling.

Jesse: It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear from me?!

He asks once more, his tone seeking confirmation.

For a period of time after he left, I refused to hear the name which was equivalent to “betrayal” in my heart. But no one knew that I was secretly looking forward to him returning one day.

At the very least, it could prove that I wasn’t the party who was abandoned.

But why was this the answer? A mistake? A perhaps irretrievable mistake from such a long time in the past?

With this thought, my chest feels suffocated.

MC: So that’s why you didn’t look for me in all these years?

The youth remains silent, orange strands of hair blowing up with the wind.

Jesse: I had my reasons for not contacting you. It had nothing to do with the call. I... just wasn't brave enough.

I suddenly have no idea how to respond to his calm gaze, and I also understand that neither of us were at fault for the parting back then.

MC: Xia Ming Xing.

Jesse: Hm?

MC: Were you the one who put the MP3 into the tin?

Jesse: Mm.

MC: So you put the card in there too.

Jesse: Mm. But I didn’t participate in the competition with you, and couldn’t stay by your side. I don’t seem to have kept any promises.

I shake my head forcefully, eyes already damp.

Jesse: But now, I won’t shirk from it. As long as it’s something I promise you, I’ll definitely do it.

He takes a step towards me. The years have caused the once delicate youth to change entirely, turning into the man in front of me, whose eyes are especially resolute. With such a gaze, I’ll always choose to believe him, no matter what.

After sending me home, he stands in the corridor as he watches me enter, just like in the past.

Five minutes later, a rustling sound comes at the window.

Jesse: MC, open the window!

Opening the window in confusion, the image before me almost causes tears to leave my eyes.

Pink confetti flutters and blooms in the city sky, dancing gently in the clear summer night, akin to that snow which had yet to appear many years ago.

Amidst the pink coloured snow, the youth reveals a bright and hearty smile as he waves at me.

Jesse: You asked if I regretted it. The answer is - I regret it. I regret it very much, and at every single moment. Summer is already over, but why do I feel as though this summer has just begun?

Jesse: Next week, come and watch my performance. This time, it’d be my turn to wait for you.

MC: Mm, I’ll definitely be there!

Only after the snowflakes finish their descent does Xia Ming Xing reluctantly walk home. If he was slightly braver and slightly stronger back then, would the ending to their story be different?

He doesn’t know. It seems that particular rainy day is still before his eyes. It’s late at night, and a figure flashes past at the end of the dim alley.

Jesse: Who’s there!

The surroundings are completely silent. Xia Ming Xing turns his head and looks at the girl’s illuminated window, then quickly chases after that figure.

A crow flaps its wings and flies past at a low altitude. The moss-covered corner is encased by deathly pale moonlight. Xia Ming Xing stops in his footsteps, black blood soaking his shoes.

However, he doesn’t pay any mind to it. His gaze is locked tightly on that figure whose knees are on the ground, bowing devoutly towards the moon.

Jesse: Who are you?

That person turns around slowly. It’s a girl around ten years of age, and she’s small and petite.

Black hair covers her cheeks. She lifts the white candle in her hand, stuffing it into her mouth and chewing on it. The two golden bracelets on her wrist jingle.

Jesse: Her soul has been taken-

The moonlight grows increasingly bright. An indiscernible black spot suddenly appears on the girl’s chest, and the stench of something burning begins to fill the air.

Seeing that the girl is about to bite the tip of her tongue off, a rope flies from his hand, binding and tying the girl up.

The white candle falls to the ground. Xia Ming Xing lifts up two fingers, twisting a charm towards the girl. With a tearing sound, the charm turns into ashes in the air.

Three days later, it’s the day of the final competition of “Upper Hand”

MC is caught in a traffic jam along the way and decides to alight from the taxi halfway through

Sadly, she arrives just as the curtain falls

I hesitate, not knowing if I should approach him.

However, Xiao Ming Xing is already walking towards me. He has changed out of his performance outfit, and is wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, looking clean and fresh.

Jesse: How was it? I didn’t embarrass you, did I?

I don’t really have the guts to look at him.

MC: I’ll tell you something, but don’t get mad.

Jesse: Every time you said that in the past, nothing good happened.

MC: Really?

Jesse: The first time you said it, you broke my game console.

MC: ...

Jesse: The second time you said it, you cooked me expired cup noodles for supper.

MC: ...

Jesse: The third time-

MC: Enough!

Why do I have such a black record!

Jesse: Go on, I’ve mentally prepared myself.

MC: Actually, I only heard the last five seconds of that song.

Jesse: ...

I can clearly sense that he’s akin to a deflated balloon. His eyebrows, which were arched earlier, droop downwards.

MC: Sorry. I’ll treat you to orange soda and vanilla ice-cream until you’re stuffed, okay!

I lift my hand up, gesturing a vow. Pulling a long face earlier, Xia Ming Xing suddenly bursts into laughter.

Jesse: MC, why can’t I get angry with you?

MC: You’ve forgiven me?

Jesse: I didn’t say that.

MC: But you just said that you can’t get angry with me.

Jesse: If you want me to forgive you, sing a song with me!

MC: ...what?

Before I can react, he grabs my hand and rushes towards the stage.

The youth has a smile which says that he has gotten his way. It’s as if this moment is something he’s been plotting for a very long time.

The moment we step onto the stage, a familiar melody sounds. In an instant, I feel as though I’ve travelled to a lifetime ago.

Jesse: Still remember this song? We named it together - “Portrait of Youth”.

How could I not remember? This was the song we wrote together for the competition back then.

It’s the song that we wanted to clinch the championship with.

It was a song we didn’t get to sing in the end.

In an empty basement, we’d hold our cola cans like microphones, practising till late at night.

We had immaturely mimicked the lyrics we didn’t understand at that age. But many years later, I realise that each line has turned into our story.

It’s as though something in the depths of my body is being awakened. It’s the fervour and anticipation that a youth has for the future, throbbing and pure.

My eyes can’t help but feel warm, and I find myself singing along with him involuntarily.

Portrait of Youth (audio here)

That vanilla ice-cream

Melted in our rainy season

That old piano

“Ding dong ding dong” - is the tapping of the hour hand

Back then, I always loved to tease you

But didn’t allow anyone else to make you cry

You always said that I was a koi

But I was always asking you for tuition before exams

Dragonflies fly past our heads

Our inseparable shadows when we were young walk slowly in our memories

On the bicycle, I’m the only one with sweat like rain

I’m the only one left on the bicycle dripping with sweat

You were long gone from behind me

If the storm didn't block our vision that day

If I knew how to say goodbye that day

The flower petals in the diary

The unwashed roll of film from the camera

They wouldn’t be lonely longings

If the string of the kite didn’t break that day

If I could have been slightly braver that day

The empty pages in the diary

Wouldn’t have been filled with moss

The seven years in which we wandered off can’t be lost.

The lights gather in his eyes, and I'm reflected in them. It has been the case since many years ago.

All the stories seem to have ended with summer, but they begin with summer as well.

Fortunately, summer will always arrive. This unfinished story shall begin on this summer day.

#light and night #and that wraps up Jesse's main storyline~

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shiteatinggrin · 4 years

Text

Hi, so this is my contribution to my first jilytober, I wrote some canon fic, it is kinda sad so I guess you could call this angst? I don’t know, I’m not that good at categorizing fic. Anyways, here is a love letter to James Potter from Lily Evans because he just died under her eyes. Wrote this fast, so I can’t vouch for the quality of this. This is almost 3k of Lily being a sap, so enjoy! Find it here on Ao3.

Bastard with a shit eating grin

Do you remember our first kiss? I can still feel the cold air of winter seeping through the walls of Greenhouse Number Three and you and I laughing together. It was not an unusual thing anymore, but some people could have been surprised, because we had had some big feuds over the years, the Dormitories Dashing and Destroying Disagreement, the Inflating Inner Ear Incident, the Flying Fiona Fight and the Severus Snape Saga consisting of the big highlights. However frustrating it was, we always had fun together, didn’t we?

Now we were falling in love dutifully without realising we had always been meant for each other in some way. I was all colors: glorious red hair, pink cheeks, pale green eyes and horrendously yellow socks. You were all teeth: shining smiles, arrogant smirking, belly-laughing in a silent room or grinding them in concentration for the task you were committing to (hyper-focusing on) at the moment.

‘Oi, Evans, can I copy your homework?’ You would say that practically every day.

‘How about a please, Potter? Might do you some good.’ You watched me smear some soil on my neck when I scratched it and said nothing. I discovered it in Transfiguration two hours later. Crazy how we can only remember the smallest details years later and the big things just go right over our heads. I could only ever remember the small details with you, because whatever we said to each other was never important, only the talking to you part was.

‘Oh Lily, dearest flower to my heart that I worship beyond any rainbow, might I please please please see your diligently done homework so that I can rewrite it because, being the idiot that I am, I was off gallivanting with Sirius yesterday instead of being a good student.’ You added pouts and made doe eyes for good measure as if I wouldn’t already have grabbed the moon from the sky’s grubby hands every night if you had asked it.

I would stifle a smile and put some piece of parchment in your extended hand without even looking, sometimes it was the homework if I was feeling generous, if I were more in a creative mood I might give you a stupid doodle or some kind of letter that would say something like: ‘Dear Prongs, you are an asshat. Looking forward to our rounds tonight so I can kick your ass in Gobstones. Now listen to Sprout, will you? Lily’ with a stupid heart over the i that basically meant PS: I love you. Finally, I’d say something like:

‘I would have laughed, but your head might inflate so much you’d have neck pain for a week.’

You let yourself smile then and continued to jest me, hoping to wrench a smile out of the beast (you always did it literally two minutes later, it is funny how easy it is to win when you give yourself such small tasks).

But that day, amazingly, we broke out of our routine.

At night we would always hang out together in the common room with our friends and slowly the people would fizzle out, having gone up to their dormitories and I would stay on the couch with the urge to kiss you with some dumb excuse not to leave on the tip of my tongue. I painted my nails or read some book or talked to you extensively about something I’d learned recently and you would listen with concentrated eyes and a much too easy smile.

Then you would start talking and when you started some story it would never finish, even now you can’t even recall something as simple as Harry’s first smile without going on for five full minutes without stopping. In these nights I would try to look like I wasn’t paying too much attention to you, like I was detached from everything pertaining to your person, but being young and in love doesn’t exactly give you the best skills in subtlety and so you would ask me if I was paying attention and I would blush and you would make some quip about redheads and their skins and everything would go back to normal.

And out of the blue, when I was talking about getting some sugar quills next time we were in Hogsmeade and how difficult the Ancient Runes paper was, you kissed me. Your hands flew to my hair and mine to cup your face and you pressed your body hard against mine. I’d never seen you so hungry for anything before, it seemed like you had been starving for a thousand years before our lips found each other. I had kissed three boys before you, and none of them could compare to the feeling of ecstasy of your mouth against mine. No one will ever compare to James Potter, right? That’s what you used to say in fourth year when you made a particular lucky goal in Quidditch or when you caught the Snitch in mid-air even though you were a Chaser and we were in Potions classf. Is it weird that I miss that?

I don’t think there ever was a time when I didn’t love you, all electric hair and much too quick brain and hundred stupid nicknames that didn’t mean anything unless you explained them in excruciating detail and you would smile too much and talk too loud and walk too fast and I wouldn’t feel so out of place with you because I did the exact same things. Petunia was always prim and proper and I always tried to be like her and please everyone but you taught me how to be myself and how to blossom into my personality without even knowing it. With you I’ve never been too much, I was always just enough.

Everything always came so easy to you, and I’ve always hated you for it. Now I think that I can’t appreciate enough how you could always share that with everyone around you, that incredible luck that could get you out of the worst of predicaments. I guess it all caught up to us today, but I don’t mind now. I’ll love you forever, come what may.

My heart is full of wanted posters of you: dead or alive.

I can’t remember the first time I’ve really noticed you, because you were always in the periphery, doing stupid things and getting in trouble and beaming for no reason at all and the memory of your presence was impossible to shake, but I still remember the first time we really became friends. We were fifteen by the lake and my best friend betrayed me under the glistening sun, the following day I had the worst grade in Transfiguration I’d ever gotten. You found me crying by a window on the fifth floor and apologized a hundred times (which I couldn’t have cared less at the moment), but you still went and talked to McGonagall and she agreed to let me retake the test in the afternoon and offered me a biscuit.

In seventh year, a girl told me that she was so jealous of the fact that I was the only one that could make James Potter change and mature. As if your life revolved around me. I thought of your sick father and the fact that Sirius had appeared on your front door one day and never left your house and with a twinge in my heart thought of the war coming and I couldn’t believe my ears. With all this going on, and she still thought you’d only change for a girl?

I’m not proud of this, but I might have shouted at her and maybe, perhaps I was the one that sent a silencing charm her way, but who could really tell? Not her, because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

I wonder if I ever told you that. Probably, because you know everything interesting there is to know about me. You even know the most boring facts about me, because they amuse you just the same. You know I like peonies the best in spite of my name and that my first kiss was with Snape when I was eight, you know that I wiped my mouth right after and didn’t know yet what love was. You know that my favourite band is Hate Potion and that my guilty pleasure is Celestina Warbeck. You know that I wanted to name our son Harry because of a muggle TV show I used to watch with Petunia when I was seven on Saturday mornings and that when I fight my favorite charm is Expelliarmus. You were at my side when I killed my first (and last) Death Eater and that I cried for a week afterward. You comforted me for five hours when Marlene and her entire family were massacred in their own home, the same one where I had spent a good chunk of my summers to avoid Petunia. You know that I only ever paint my toenails blue and that my favorite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip. You know all about my relationship with my sister and how she used to be my best friend and that we used to dance in bathing suits around the sprinkler and fake being witches to make potions out of mud and flowers and how she never forgave when this dream became true for me but not for her. You know all about my failed relationships, with Tuney, Sev and my ex-boyfriend who left me because he didn’t want to be associated with a muggleborn. You know I’m absolute shite at drawing and that I can’t dance to save my life and you laugh at me when I’m drunk and try to follow Peter’s choreography to some dumb song I don’t know. Last year, you helped paint flowers all over my bookcase because I wanted it to be unique and just mine.

When Harry was born, you refused to sleep for two days because he was so cute when he slept against your chest, but you finally fell asleep while cutting onions for dinner and I had to intervene.

One of my favourite things about you is that I have never seen anyone so full of life. You smile like nothing has ever gone wrong in your entire life and you are more loyal than any Hufflepuff I’ve ever seen, you would die for any of us in a heartbeat and we would do the same for you anytime. My love for you is so big I wonder how it even fits in our little house in Godric’s Hollow. You painted our walls burnt orange because you said it reminded you of my hair and I wonder if it is weird to fall in love with you even more over some colour choices. You complete me because as much as you are a complete idiot, you still recommend the best books and are smart enough to plan the best pranks, but too smug to make anyone else take the blame. You had always been my favourite person in the whole universe until Harry arrived, but he is so much like you that it is like meeting you at a much earlier age. He has the same laugh as you, you know?

I cannot believe how brave you are, because traditional courage requires you to go into battle and protect everyone you love like a lioness does her cubs, but you have found the energy to keep going even trapped in this house with an infant without being able to help your friends outside. You go everyday against your most basic instincts and you manage to have so much fun with us, but I see the tired bags under your eyes and the fact that you lose your train of thoughts sometimes and I know that you’re thinking about the war and the security of the boys, I know they are your family and it would kill you if one of them ever fell into battle, yet you never complain, yet you never lose hope. I love you so much my feeble heart can’t contain it all. My love for you is as inevitable as the blue of the sky, as the oxygen in our lungs, as the passage of time, I love you so much that when I see you it is like coming home, your wild hair and round glasses and mischievous eyes and soft voice and much too long limbs and wide chest and calloused hands and smile like an answer to all my problems.

No one has ever made me feel as secure as you and now I know I have to be strong for you, because you are the one that’s fallen, like a marionnette whose strings were cut. The coffee stain on the right arm of your shirt is the last thing I will see of you, or maybe it is a bit of your wild inky hair. I will never be able to look at the night sky the same.

I can hear him in the stairs, and all I can think about is you and Harry this morning, my two favourite people in the world, sat on the carpet and puffs of colour coming out of your wand, your laugh coming out of his mouth, one single tooth poking out, little chubby legs shaking from laughter, the wand you stupidly left on the carpet (the wand you didn’t care wasn’t in your hands because you didn’t care if you died, you just wanted us to live). Your last gift to me was the most precious of all: you gave me the time to say goodbye to Harry.

‘Mama loves you. Dada loves you, Harry.’ That is the only thing I find to say, because it is true and my heart is breaking, I can hear it thundering, collapsing like a dying star, you are dead, I will die, Harry has to live. I cannot withstand the thought.

I have never loved anyone better than the two of you. Apparently I never will, but at least I have known real love, the one that comes from daily life, that never dies because it is kept alive by stupid little things that make us who we are. Crazy how we only remember the little things and the big ones just go right over our heads.

I will remember the smallest things about you, like the little scar in your left eyebrow, the weird placement of your thumb on your wand, the feel of your skin against mine and the way it tanned in the summer while mine just became redder and redder, the sound of your laugh when Sirius said something funny and the way you always pushed your glasses up your nose with your middle finger, the way you sit in any chair like it’s a throne, the way you answered questions in class without raising your hand, the way you held a book open when you were reading it, your last day where you wanted to make pasta and I wanted steak, the way you would mess with your hair not because you thought it would make you look like you just stepped off your broom, but because you were nervous or restless. On your good days it would stand flatter on your head and I had to pass my hand through it because otherwise it just didn’t feel like you. You laughed too much when Sirius decided to read Crime and Punishment to Harry as a bedtime story and your son wouldn’t go to sleep. You would tell him stories of your childhood disguised as muggle magical adventures and I became a knight, Sirius a prince and Snape a dragon. You would call my cat Fiona the ginger cat, as if Fiona wasn’t enough and she needed an extra title. I guess she was royalty after all. You always tried to make me believe that she loved you more than me, even though I’d had her since I was eleven and you once made her fly across the common room just to annoy me.

Do you remember this morning? The last time you ever kissed me? You made me eggs and tea for breakfast and sang some Beatle song for me in the most off-key voice. You stole the bacon from my plate, laughing from across the dinner table. I was so happy because you were in a good mood today, you didn’t seem to feel so trapped and it was Halloween and you were trying to convince me to dress Harry up as a muggle magician, which I thought was the worst joke you’d ever made. You kissed me on the mouth and we settled on a pumpkin costume. Your lips tasted of stolen bacon and orange juice (you’ve never been much of a morning tea person).

I have never loved anyone better, and apparently I never will.

The house is so silent now that you are gone. All I can hear are my own ragged breaths. Harry seems to think this is some kind of game. He is all that we have left now. All that will ever be left of us. To love is to create, right? We have created the most beautiful person in the world, it should be the only thing that counts.

I love you. I could try to make this poetic, the love thing, but I think the most poetic way it can be is on its own. I don’t know any words more powerful than I love you. I love you and you are dead. I love you and I will die soon. I love our son and he will live. Life is as simple as that. I love you and soon we’ll be together again. Miss you already.

#jilytober 2020 #lily evans #james potter #jily fic #canon ending #sad #evey writes #james x lily fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hp #jily

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sittinginacornerihaunted · 4 years

Text

august

masterlist

content warnings: some cursing? mentions of alcohol and drinking

word count: 5,189

Chapter 1

I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try.

He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. And I know that’s a cliche statement, but in this case, it was one hundred percent true. He walked past me with a gait that both intimidated and intrigued me. He walked as though he knew he would never falter, never trip, and never fall. He had a jawline that looked as if it were chiseled by Zeus himself. His curly brown hair fell right above his eyes, not completely masking his bold eyebrows. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes. The more I looked at them, the more I got lost. They were a deep hazel, with specks of green and gold, that could surely be seen from space. His hands were encapsulating, as if they had a magnetic force emitting from them, pulling me towards him. The way he briefly touched his beautiful lips with the tips of his fingertips did something to me I couldn’t explain.

I realized I was staring and quickly tried to pull my attention back to the book I was reading, but I continued to glance up at him. He walked by me, close enough that I could feel the slight breeze he caused to blow past me. It vaguely smelled like cedar, cotton, and- was that vanilla? I looked at him briefly before he walked completely out of my eyesight and let myself dream for a second. Who was that? And why have I never seen him before? Okay sure, campus is about 40,000 people large, but still. He was in my vicinity now, so surely he had a class around here.

Okay, that was enough daydreaming. I tried to inhale his scent once more before checking the time. My watch said 12:36 pm which meant that my next class was in twenty-four minutes. I spread myself out on the ground by the tree I was at and continued to read. Today was the first day of my Criminology class, so I wasn’t too nervous about getting any studying in beforehand. Plus, the class was huge, so I didn’t need to worry about getting called on to answer a question if I didn’t want to. I checked my phone before getting up and making my way to class. It was a beautiful day out, as if that boy- excuse me, man, I saw earlier created the perfect environment for him to walk in. The sun was shining but there were just enough clouds speckling the deep blue sky. The trees were a vibrant green, going perfectly with the freshly cut grass. It felt impossibly perfect, considering it was the middle of August. Shouldn’t it be excruciatingly hot? But no, the breeze felt perfect on my warm skin and didn’t cause a chill as I picked up the pace into the Behavioral Sciences Building.

As I walked through the glass door, I felt the chill of the AC hit me as soon as my foot graced the tile floor. It immediately sent a shiver down my spine, similar to the one I felt earlier when that immortal in human form glided past me. I felt myself lose focus and completely miss the elevator I planned on using. I shook it off and pretended like walking to the stairs was what I had intended all along. I opened the door to the corridor and began ascending the stairs that seemed to never end. I checked my watch one more time, to assure that I was still on time, and I was actually ahead of my own extremely strict schedule. As I reached the floor I needed, I took out my phone to scroll mindlessly while I waited for my professor. Of course, I was here before anyone else. My mom always told me “on time is late and early is on time,” so I always made sure to be early by her standards: at least fifteen minutes before any event was supposed to start. But not for parties. I promise I’m not that much of a nerd. Maybe.

Anyways, I took a seat in the third row, close enough that I could see the front without straining my eyes, but not so close that I would be able to eyefuck my professor throughout the lecture. Not that I would. But I’ve seen some try. I don’t understand why people have a professor kink, but to each their own I guess. I stuck my nose into my twitter feed and waited for time to pass. About thirty seconds later, I heard the door open. I expected to see another student, but instead I saw the God that had graced my presence earlier. I tried to stop my jaw from flying open, but I failed miserably. Trying to play it cool, I tucked my hair behind my ear and started to organize my things for class. I looked up at him, seeing that he was already, was he? Staring at me? But I managed a meek smile and basically whispered the word “Hi.” His mouth moved and he spoke the word “Hello” before taking a seat at the front of the class. This kid was the professor? What was I supposed to do? Not stare at him the whole class? I just decided to keep my head down and try to focus solely on moving around my things, whether purposeful or not.

About fifteen minutes passed and as more students strolled into the lecture hall, the man I am definitely not staring at, began to write his name on the large whiteboard at the front of the class. “Dr. Reid.” Hmm. Sounds pretty formal. I instantly began to wonder if he was going to be a hardass and to dread the drudgery that I may encounter throughout this semester. I was taking six classes with a course load that could make a grown man cry. Or in my case, a 19-year-old girl. I do my best to pay attention throughout the lecture, rather than staring at the beautiful man in front of me. The class’s material genuinely interested me, but I couldn’t get over the fact that this man, who I thought was a (gorgeous) student, was my professor. He looked too young to be a professor. Far too young to be a Doctor. How quickly was he able to get his degree? Or maybe I’m just terrible at guessing ages, which I usually am.

Before I got too lost in thought, I heard a firm voice come from the top of the room. “Hello everyone. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I will be your Criminology professor this semester. You can call me Spencer, Professor Reid, or Dr. Reid, I really don’t mind. Before we get started today, I want to tell you all a little bit about me.” He clears his throat and leans back on his desk, laid in perfectly in the center of the room, and I see his dress pants crease slightly. I shake myself in desperate need to pay attention to the words he was saying, rather than his legs, which I could only assume were as perfect as the rest of him. I tried not to aim my gaze around his waist but it seemed to land there all on its own.

“I have a full-time position at the FBI with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They allow me time off on Mondays and Wednesdays to teach, which is how I’m here today” He chuckles lightly. “We work on serial cases and the occasional kidnapping case across the country. We use our knowledge of human behavior to analyze the serial killers we chase down. It helps us understand why they do what they do and what their next move might be. I’ve always found human behavior extremely interesting, which is what brought you all here today I hope.”

He walks around his desk and gathers a large stack of papers in his hands. Oh god, those hands. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins were so prominent, it should be illegal to have hands that attractive. I, once again, caught myself before he made his way down the middle of the row of seats, handing a small section of the papers to the student sitting at the end of each row. He made his way to the third row and handed me a portion of the papers. I took the stack from his hands and briefly looked up and found him looking right into my eyes. My breath hitched as I tried to focus myself and not fumble the papers everywhere. I collected myself and took a syllabus for myself and passed them down my row. Soon enough, I found myself looking back at him as he handed the rest of the syllabi out, hopefully not drawing attention to myself. He walked back down the steps and placed himself at the front of the lecture hall. “I understand that the majority of you will find it strange that I am handing out physical copies of the syllabus, but I have always preferred hard copies to digital ones, and I believe that should apply to students as well. In fact, direct mail requires twenty-one percent less cognitive effort to process than digital media, suggesting that it is both easier to understand and more memorable. Post-exposure memory tests validated what a cognitive load test revealed about direct mail’s memory encoding capabilities. When asked to cite the brand of an advertisement they had just seen, recall was seventy percent higher among participants who were exposed to a direct mail piece than a digital ad. Long story short, handwrite your notes.” A small wave of laughter settled over the class. I found myself smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, staring at Dr. Spencer Reid. How am I supposed to focus when he looks like that? I guess I’ll have to figure it out.

The rest of the class went smoothly. The handsome professor went over the syllabus and his expectations for us in his class. The clock struck 2 pm and I found myself writing down the reading assigned for tonight. Reading? Who assigns reading on the first day of classes? No matter, I read the beginning of our textbook ahead of time, so I didn’t find myself too worried. I stuffed my papers and my journal into my bookbag and tried not to stumble as I gathered my things to walk out of class. I walked past the man I had been trying, and failing, not to stare at for the entirety of the class period. I smiled a small smile and softly said “Thank you” as I walked out the door. He smiled back and waved softly as I melted into the hallway.

I had three classes on Mondays and I always tried to end my day as early as possible, so I walked back to my on-campus apartment; Criminology was my last class of the day. Yes, I start my day earlier than 8 am and I can probably be classified as certifiably insane. At least, according to my roommate’s standards. As I entered the cramped apartment, I found my roommate, Amber, asleep on the couch, a tv show playing softly on her laptop. I laughed at the sight of her, limbs everywhere and mouth agape, wondering how she could sleep like that in the middle of the day. It didn’t matter, she knew what worked best for her. She was one of the most accomplished people in our class. She majored in Political Science and International Studies and she seemed to ace every class with ease. I was in awe of her in that regard, as well as her ability to nap at any time and anywhere. We met each other last year in our Freshman Honors lecture and we had been attached at the hip ever since. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as close and safe with a person as I did Amber. I trusted her with all of my secrets and she trusted me with hers. I was extremely grateful to have her in my life.

Scoffing at Amber, I made my way to my bedroom and sat my stuff down in the corner of the room. I jumped onto my bed and began to scroll mindlessly on my phone. About fifteen minutes passed before Amber barged into my room. “Amber!” I jumped, embarrassingly startled by her entrance, “Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” she started, “but now I’m not. Funny how sleeping works like that.” I roll my eyes at her. “Anyways,” she continues, “I heard there was gonna be a big party tonight in honor of the first week of classes and I was thinking we would go!” She bounces on the balls of her feet, smiling innocently at me.

“Amber, you know I don’t really party” I say.

“I knowwwww but… I thought I could drag you out tonight?” She clasps her hands dramatically. “Please? I just want to have some fun with you before we’re both consumed by homework. Please? I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She smiles her stupid smile again.

“Okay fine, I give in.” I say and she jumps up and down.

“Thank you Y/N!! You won’t regret this!” She says as she exits my room. I sure hope not, I think to myself as she closes the door. I go back to scrolling on my phone before setting it down to take a nap before getting ready to go out tonight. I never stay up late so I needed to prepare myself if I was going to stay out all night. I know Amber will want to get drunk and party until at least 5 am, and I wasn’t about to abandon her just to get a good night’s sleep. This could be fun, right?

---

I stare at myself in the mirror as I put on my tightest fitting dress. It was a red bodycon dress that I never felt especially confident in, but tonight I felt pretty good! I put on a pair of simple black heels to go with it. Normally I would wear something more practical, like shorts and a crop top, or something a little more moveable, but Amber insisted we go all out. “If this is the only party you’re going to this semester, you need to look your best! Why not?!” I couldn’t argue with her, she was right. I might as well look good, who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone tonight. I hadn’t had a real relationship since, well, ever. I was never one to put myself out there. I always focused on my studies and I worked part-time jobs whenever I could. Relationships and romance were never a top priority for me. Sure, it would be nice, but I could live without it. I had much more important things to tend to. Amber was helping me forget about all of those responsibilities tonight, which I admit, was a nice feeling. I sat down at my desk to finish my makeup and touch up my hair before I presented my look to Amber. I stood up, smoothed out my dress, and walked out of my bedroom, doing a dramatic twirl for her. “Ooooh, GIRL! You look hot!!!” She squealed and I smiled wide as I bounced over to her.

“So do you!! Bitch you always look good, how DARE you!” I said teasingly as I dramatically fawned over her. We grabbed our phones with our ID’s (real and fake) and some money tucked in the cases of them, not wanting to carry much else with us. I double-checked to make sure I had everything put away and everything with me that I needed. Amber stood in the doorway, checking her wrist as though she was checking the time, silently telling me to hurry up and that I was worrying over nothing. I sighed, “Okay, okay!” and ran out the door behind her. I triple-checked that we locked the door and followed Amber down the stairs of the apartment complex.

We made our way down to the lobby and out of the building’s front doors, the temperate climate and humid breeze hitting us as we walked to the edge of the street. Amber and I turned our heads to see our Uber approaching from the left and I double-checked to make sure that the car was definitely ours and that the driver inside matched the picture from the app. Amber always told me that I was too skeptical and cautious, but I don’t think that’s even possible, being a woman in the twenty-first century. An Uber driver could be a kidnapper or a serial killer, who knows! As soon as I verified the Uber’s identity, Amber climbed over to the far side of the car as I trailed behind her. I sat down on the covered seat and looked over as Amber gave the driver the location of the bar we were headed to. A feeling in my gut started to arise but I wasn’t sure what it was. Probably just nerves, I told myself as I took a few deep breaths and looked out the window. I tend to get nervous about almost any event, regardless of the severity of the situation. Amber asked the man sitting in front of us if she could play some music from her phone and he obliged. She proceeded to put on “Party in the U.S.A” by Miley Cyrus and I looked at her and grinned. This was always our going out song. We danced in the back of the car and sang obnoxiously loud in preparation for the night.

We finally arrived at the bar in which one of the biggest parties in the school was happening. Honestly, I’m more into house parties, but the only house parties here are the ones happening in frat houses and I am not down for getting drugged and harassed by rich, white, republican frat guys. We paid (and tipped) the Uber driver and made our way into the club. The line wasn’t long at all, considering most people had gotten there as early as socially acceptable to maximize their partying time. The bouncer let us through (thank GOD because I spent enough money on that fake ID) and we danced our way through the crowd and to the bar. We met up with a group of friends from our shared freshman year English 101 class and proceeded to get a round of tequila shots. One round turned into four and into ten. One could say I was officially wasted. I don’t normally party, but when I do, I party hard. Go hard or go home, right? Thanks to my not-completely-ruined inhibitions, I made my way to the bartender and asked for a large glass of water. “Party-pooper!” Amber slurred as she grabbed my shoulder for leverage.

“Hey! I just don’t wanna be super hungover tomorrow. It’s literally-” I hiccupped and giggled as I stared into Amber’s eyes, trying to gain some semblance of solidity in my footing, “It’s literally only Monday. I have three classes tomorrow and I always start my days earlier, you know this! I don’t wanna be drunk at my 8 am lecture!” I basically yelled at Amber’s face because the music and bass were so loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.

“Okay, okay!” Amber shouted back at me, “Take a seat at the bar lame-o! I am gonna dance with that cute guy over there and maybeee you and I won’t be leaving together.” She pointed to a tall, blonde-haired man who was smiling and staring at Amber. She waved a flirty hand at him and started to walk away but her hand lingered on my shoulder.

“Amber!” I grabbed her wrist before she walked away, because I was not standing up right now. “Just… Be careful, okay? Text me if you do leave with him because I do not want anything happening to you. And I expect you to update me with texts with your location when you leave and if anything else happens okay? I love you, you know that right?” My fears were sobering me up quicker than the water was.

“I know! I love you too, silly. I promise I will be careful. I’ll make sure I know he is who he says he is before we leave and I won’t let him drive, we’ll take an Uber or something, okay? I don’t even know if I will leave with him, I was just thinking about it.” She paused for a second. “Thank you for caring about me, Y/N. I really do love you.” She smiled at me and I smiled back as she walked away to go dance with the handsome stranger across the floor.

My happy feelings dwindled for a moment as I sobered up and realized I was no longer a part of any group. Mine and Amber’s friend group had dispersed across the bar and the dancefloor, all trying to go home with someone. I would make that my mission too but frankly, I was too drunk to be completely aware of the goings on around me. I took out my phone and pulled up the Uber app, ready to go home. My plans changed when I looked around me and saw a familiar face at the very end of the bar. Dr. Reid? Why is he here? This bar is mainly occupied by college students, plus today was a huge party day, it didn’t make sense. Against my better judgement, I found myself standing up and walking towards him. I tried my hardest to walk straight and keep my eyes focused. I didn’t want to make my first real impression with him, one of me being blackout drunk. I downed the rest of my water before making my way to him. “Professor?” I questioned as he stared off into the distance.

“Oh! Hi. I’m sorry, what was your name again?” He asked nervously. Why did he seem nervous? I don’t think I ever told him my name. In fact, I barely think I even said hello.

“Oh, it’s Y/N.” I smiled at him. Normally, I would extend a hand to greet someone of authority, like him, but my hands were clammy and probably dirty from being in a bar like this. I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird. He looked down, expecting me to extend a hand as well, I assume. He looks back up and meets my eyes.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He says.

“You too.” I say and smile. We’re both quiet for a moment and I look around, trying to think of something to say. I’m so awkward. I take a deep breath, in hopes that it would spur a thought or initiate something to come out of my mouth, but it doesn’t.

“You look very nice.” He says and I come short of shaking my head in surprise.

“Thank you! My friend insisted we dress up tonight.” I laugh softly and smooth my dress down with my hands. Should I compliment him too? Would that be weird? “Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” I continue, “why are you out at a student bar tonight? I assume you knew about the party happening?” I don’t know where the confidence came from for me to ask him a question, but I was curious nonetheless.

“Um,” He chuckles and looks at the ground for a moment. “My friend and I were out with our coworkers and he insisted on coming here afterwards. I mentioned the parties that are thrown during the first week of classes and he couldn’t resist, I guess.” He nodded his head to point me in the direction of a very handsome man, dancing with a woman who couldn’t be much older than me.

I laugh and turn back to him. “Are you not the partying type, Dr. Reid?” I don’t know where these conversational skills were coming from. I had a hard time opening up to people my own age, much less authority figures.

“Not really. I mostly teach, work, and go home, to be quite honest.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Please, sit down, you don’t have to stand. I’m sure those shoes aren’t really meant for standing.”

“Thank you.” I laugh at his comment about my shoes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say they’re the most comfortable pair I own.” I take the seat next to my professor. “And me too, for the most part. My friend kinda dragged me out here tonight.”

“And where’s your friend now?” He questions. I point to the far corner of the club, where Amber was grinding on the man she was telling me about earlier.

“She’s a little more outgoing than me.” I laugh and ask the bartender for another glass of water. I can tell he’s looking at me from the corner of my eye. Why does that make me so nervous? I instinctually start to bite the nails on my left hand. I barely noticed I had started doing that, so I didn’t expect my professor to notice it at all.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and I pull my nails away from my mouth.

“Um, I guess so? I don’t go out too often and new places and people tend to make me anxious, I guess.” I look down at the bar and the glass in my hands.

“I get that.” He says.

“Um, do you mind if I ask how old you are? I’m sorry if that’s a little bit out of nowhere, I just remember you introduced yourself as Doctor this morning in class, and I initially thought you couldn’t be much older than me.” My curiosity got the best of me, I suppose.

“Uh, I’m 28. I have three PhDs in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” He rattles the list off as if he says it every day.

“Woah, what are you, like a genius or something? How the hell did you get three PhDs before 28?” I cover my mouth almost immediately. “I’m sorry for cursing, I don’t know, is that not appropriate?” I blush and look down again.

He chuckles, “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. And I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute so, yes, I guess technically, I am a genius.” He smiles at me and- is that a smirk I see?

My jaw practically flies open. “Wow, I guess I’ll have to try extra hard in class to impress you.” I find my courage again and look into his eyes. I almost immediately get lost in the swirls of gold and green. I find myself blushing again and somehow more words leave my mouth. “Would you, um, like to go talk outside? It’s really loud in here and my throat is getting sore.” I begin to stand up after he nods. I look for Amber and as soon as I make eye contact with her across the room, I mime typing on my phone as a signal for her to text me and that I’ll text her with whatever I’m doing. What am I doing? Am I going to talk to my professor and leave? Or am I going to leave with him? No, I can’t even think about that, that’s ridiculous. Whatever, Y/N, just worry about getting outside of the bar.

I push the heavy wooden door of the club open, exiting while Dr. Reid follows. I make my way towards the edge of the building, the music muffled by the walls. I lean up against the stone wall of the building and fiddle with my phone in my hands.

“Is this weird? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt but, you’re my professor. Do you normally talk to students at bars or was this just a weird coincidence? Or is this not weird, considering we’re not too far apart in age, I guess, and I mean, we’re both adults, right? I’m sorry I’m rambling I just feel awkward I guess I’m not sure what to say, um…” I cut myself off and look away, trying to find solace in the air around me.

He laughs again. Why is his laugh so attractive? “No, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice to have a conversation every once in a while, even if it’s with a student. Even if it’s outside a college bar. I don’t find much time to talk about topics that aren’t serial killers or behavioral analysis.” I jump as he uses his hand to bring my face and my eyes back to his. What was that? “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t want you to feel nervous or like you can’t talk to me. I really do enjoy talking to students, and just other people in general. Most people don’t enjoy talking to me so it’s nice when I find someone that does.” He blushes. Wait, he blushed? Why are his cheeks turning red?

“Well, I enjoy a good conversation too. And it’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to touch me, I guess.” I pause for a second. “Why wouldn’t someone want to talk to you? You must have so much knowledge to share, being a genius and all.”

“I guess that’s why,” he begins, “people find my rambling to be annoying. I want to share the knowledge I have, but that’s not always what constitutes a good conversation in some people’s opinion.”

“Well, not in my opinion.” I say boldly. I feel sober but drunk at the same time. Sober me would definitely not be having this conversation in the first place. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel… grounded. And focused. But I feel tipsy, like this conversation is affecting me the same way as alcohol. Maybe I shouldn’t think too much about it. You’re blowing it, Y/N. Blowing what?

He smiles and looks down at the ground. I find myself reaching my arm out and placing a finger below his chin, gently nudging his head back up to look at me. He looks surprised. I quickly pull away and begin to play with my hands again. I check the time on my phone: 5 am. Has it really been four hours? It barely felt like fifteen minutes. “I should probably get going soon, I have class in, holy shit, three hours, and I would like to get at least a little sleep before then. It was really nice officially meeting you, Dr. Reid.” I begin to make my way back to the entrance of the bar to find Amber and get us both home.

“Please, call me Spencer.” He says and turns as I start walking away. I pause my movements.

“Okay. Spencer.” I smile and disappear into the bar.

#m #mari writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #august

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG183!

- I’m not sure I can manage to put it into words quite right but: sounds-wise, this episode’s domain didn’t feel mind-blowingly new, it wasn’t something that felt “Oh! I’ve never heard something like this before!”? But the echoes, grinding and scratching were timed so well, giving so much strength and gravitas to the conversations, that it perfectly scratched an itch. I could hear that there was something close to Jon and Martin, that it was big, and mostly deserted, that it stood eerily in the overall wasteland, that they were two people alone against a whole world, a whole machine with gears and a mechanism ready to crush anyone?

- I LIVE for artist!Martin giving his commentary and overall throwing shade at the Fears’ taking of artistic licence liberties:

(MAG183) MARTIN: Oh, bugger off! ARCHIVIST: Everything all right? MARTIN: Oh, no, what e–, what e–, what even is that? It, it’s like Escher ate a bad cathedral and threw up everywhere.

He had shown interest in the Stranger’s carousel upon learning that the statements had been a poem, but shots fired for that tower, uh.

- Jon and Martin were so cute starting the episode! Their quick banter was adorable!

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s a building. A tower. … In a sense. MARTIN: Oh yeah? A–and what sense might that be? ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY OMINOUS] … The Tarot sense. MARTIN: [SPLUTTERS WITH LAUGHTER] Really? ARCHIVIST: Wha–? No? Sorry, it… felt like a good line…! MARTIN: No, no, it was, I just… I dunno, I… [FOND EXHALE] You did the look, and…! It’s fine, sorry.

Martin being IN LOVE and appreciating Jon’s cuteness! The return of Jon showing that he’s an occult/horror nerd! We had seen in season 2 that he was generally very knowledgeable about anything related to the supernatural, and in season 4 that he was into Neil Lagorio’s movies, I’m happy to get another trace of it!

(MAG076) MELANIE: So I came here to dig a bit deeper. ARCHIVIST: Really? Our… our library is extensive, but it’s hardly focused on the Second World War. MELANIE: No, but the most detailed description of the crash that I could find came from the report of a man called William W. Hay. And later in life William Hay… ARCHIVIST: Became a noted occultist, whose memoirs and researches were only ever published in a heavily edited form. And we have unexpurgated copies. MELANIE: Exactly.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Statement ends. Hm. Neil Lagorio… You ever see any of his work? DAISY: No. Not really into films. ARCHIVIST: Oh, they were… Well, let’s just say that it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though; let alone original cuts. [CHUCKLE] Records indicate they [PAPER RUSTLING] ended up in… Artefact Storage. DAISY: Probably best that they stay there. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yes, of course.

But SOB x2 since:

* Tower-in-the-tarot-sense meaning ominous stuff… and change. (While Jon knew they would soon come face to face with the choice to take the route through Martin’s domain.)

* Crying over the fact that we’ve seen and learned quite a few outside-of-the-job aspects of Jon this season, comparatively to the previous ones? He’s cute! He’s making jokes! He mentioned his student days a bit in MAG165, and visiting Upton House as a kid in MAG180! And this is happening when the world has been forked over and Jon&Martin certainly won’t survive together past MAG200, which means they have at most seventeen episodes together remaining. Martin, and we alongside him, are seeing so many different, more casual aspects of Jon, and it’s at the end of things…

- I really like how information bounced around in this episode? It felt even more dynamic than usual, quickly shifting depending on some reaction, or going from an association to another:

(MAG183) MARTIN: What, what’s the deal, though? Parts of it almost look like– ARCHIVIST: The Institute. MARTIN: Yeah…! ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] It makes sense, after all it was… built on the ruins of what Robert Smirke constructed…! MARTIN: Smirke? … What, no! But, but, surely he’s– ARCHIVIST: Dead, yeah, I mean, yes. [CHUCKLING] Very much so! This place is… an homage, shall we say. A monument. To him, and those like him, who tried to… categorise the world with themselves at the centre. In so doing, constructed the architecture of its suffering…!

Ohohoh about Martin feeling like the tower looked a bit like the Institute, and Jon drawing similarities through Smirke – the Institute being built on the ruins of a Smirke building, and the current domain being dedicated to people like him. The Institute is coming closer and weighing on their minds, isn’t it? I really like that Martin immediately worried about Smirke potentially being alive-ish, since:

(MAG138) MARTIN: “The Eye has marked me for something, of this I have no doubt. My… humble hope is that it may be a swift death, an accidental effect of your own researches, which I once again implore you to abandon. It is likely too late for me, but I will not…” [PAPER RUSTLE] Uh… [INHALE] The, hum… The letter ends there. Uh… Ap–apparently Robert Smirke was found collapsed in his study that evening, dead of, uh… [FLIPPING THROUGH PAPERS] Apoplexy. Mm. I–I don’t know how the letter reached the Archives, I mean… Well, I can guess, but…

… he had read Smirke’s last words before he died. (But Martin has seen enough by now to know that there is always a risk for people to not have actually died; on that front, we’re safe, Jon confirmed! Loving Jon’s chuckle: ah yeah, no, Smirke, “very much so” dead from Jonah.)

(Also loved the “[those] who tried to categorise the world with themselves at the centre” shade: yep! That’s West-Eurocentrism and Smirke’s little gang for you!)

- About the way the world works now since the Change, I’m curious about Jon’s wording as “the architecture of [the world’s] suffering”, since it’s echoing the title of Smirke’s statement, “The Architecture of Fear”: my understanding is that right now, the world is mostly running on a loop of people’s fears => feeding and shaping the landscape => which hurts people by turning those realised fears against them => squeezing the fear out of them => feeding the landscape, etc.

What is quite curious is the status of Smirke’s taxonomy in the current world. Jon went off on a rant about how Smirke and people who attempted to classify had been wrong all along because it was meant to fail… while he himself has persistently been using the very same classifications during this very season:

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: Look, we can talk about it later, we’re– coming to a… “domain of The Buried”, and [STATIC RISES] I would really rather… […] God, I hate The Buried. [DEEP BREATHS] … End recording.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] “Knowing”, “seeing”… i–it’s not the same thing as… understanding. Every time I try to know what The Web’s plan is, if it can even be called a plan, I see… a hundred thousand events and causes and links, an impossibly intricate pattern of consequences and subtle nudges, but I–I can’t…! … I can’t hold them all in my head at the same time. There’s no way to see the “whole”, the, the point of it all. I can see all the details, but it doesn’t… provide… context or… intention. I suppose The Web doesn’t work in knowledge, not in the same way.

(MAG173) MARTIN: That’s the avatar for this place? ARCHIVIST: Callum Brodie, thirteen years old. He guides the children through their fears of The Dark.

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, all right…!

(MAG176) MARTIN: … Besides, I thought The Hunt was meant to make you go faster. ARCHIVIST: Depends on the type of pursuit. [INHALE] Besides, the chase isn’t… really the point of this particular place.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Bad therapists. Let’s just say it’s the fear of bad therapists, filtered through The Spiral. BASIRA: That’s… a lot more nuance than I’ve gotten used to since everything went wrong. ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. The Spiral is nothing if not insidious. […] You just heard what The Spiral does to people, you can’t… trust her.

“constructed the architecture of [the world’s] suffering” kind of implies that they did manage something, even if it doomed the world? Is it specifically about Jonah using the division into 14 in his incantation? We’ve seen that that one had limitations, since The Extinction also got there anyway… But at the same time, true that at this point, we would still force-apply Smirke’s labels to anything anyway.

- Loved Jon sounding awfully pedantic and (fake-)poetic at the same time:

(MAG183) MARTIN: [SIGH] Bit of a mouthful. ARCHIVIST: Would you prefer I described it as a… “cascading recursion of shifting arrogance and hubristic dead-ends”? [STATIC RISES] [THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN] [CONSTANT HIGH-PITCHED FREQUENCY] HELEN: I would. [FOOTSTEPS] [THE DOOR SHUTS] [STATIC FADES] MARTIN: [SIGH] Hello, Helen.

AND HELEN HAVING THE BEST ENTRANCES. It also cleared up something for me (unless I had already realised it and forgot about it since then): the high-pitched sound we hear when she’s around is the mark of Helen and Michael, not of the corridors – if the door is open or characters are inside of the hallways, we’ll hear some of the usual crackling static, but we heard it rise when Helen arrived and fade when the door shut behind her (and same thing with her departure, it was briefly heard when she opened the door).

- Shots fired, MARTIN PLEASE:

(MAG183) MARTIN: [SIGH] Hello, Helen. Might have guessed you’d be into weird architecture. Very much your area of expertise, no? HELEN: Hmm, depends! Would you describe “petulant poet” as your area of expertise? I am weird architecture.

And Helen went equally incisive on that one, but also UUUUUH WAS IT A SPECIFIC REFERENCE TO PETER’S COMMENT ABOUT MARTIN…

(MAG158) MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND] PETER: Martin, this is not the time for petulance; there are bigger things at stake, here.

This was the only time someone referred to Martin as (acting) petulant… I mean, Helen not missing one second of MAG158 wouldn’t be surprising (she did tell Jon at the end of MAG157 that she would be enjoying the show), but ;; Little chilling when remembering Elias-Peter-Martin in the Panopticon and Martin refusing to kill Jonah there…

- I was right to suspect that Helen might have been unable to know where Jon&Martin were over their stay at Upton House, and that she wouldn’t be pleased about it!

(MAG183) HELEN: Anyway, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you, but you both just vanished. ARCHIVIST: Aaah… Right, I see…! HELEN: I was so looking forward to catching up after that whole Basira and Daisy thing, but then, pfft! You both disappear. I’d be very keen to know how you managed that little trick. MARTIN: Why, it caught us by surprise too, I mean, we, we actually ended– ARCHIVIST: [FIRMLY] We found somewhere to rest. That’s all. MARTIN: … Oh, yeah. Ah, yes, hm. HELEN: Fine. Be like that. I can appreciate the particular pleasure of a kept secret. ARCHIVIST: I’m sure you can.

* Salesa’s zone seems to be protected as long as you don’t physically find it? I wonder how Annabelle managed to find it, still, since Jon only become aware of that blind spot when they arrived nearby; how did she become aware of it in the first place? Did it feel like a hole in the world’s web?

* Awww for Jon keeping the secret and conveying to Martin that they should keep quiet about it ;w;

* AHAHAHHAHA for Jon’s “aaah”, which was absolutely a mischievous grandpa sound. Jon ready to cause trouble, with a smug smile on his face.

- … I love how Helen could observe that the dynamic of the exchange was slipping out of her control (Jon&Martin knew something that she didn’t, didn’t feel threatened by her, and Jon was amused to keep it out of her reach) and immediately tried to go for the throat again:

(MAG183) HELEN: Anyway. Such a shame about Basira and Daisy. I was really rooting for them to make up. MARTIN: [SPLUTTERS] Since when? What happened to– I mean, how did you put it… a, “a quick shot to the back of her head, and then back in time for tea”, or whatever?

Martin: Forgive and forget? NO, RESENT AND REMEMBER AHAHAHAHAH.

Direct reference to the fact that Helen indeed ~offered her door to Basira~ to quickly get to Daisy and execute her:

(MAG177) HELEN: I can offer a shortcut. Take you right to that murder machine you call a partner. MARTIN: Basira… Jon can’t go through Helen’s doors, we, we couldn’t come with you. HELEN: Basira is a strong, independent woman. She doesn’t need you two holding her hand. Anyway, it’ll be dead quick. Two minutes, door-to-door, quick shot to the back of Daisy’s head, and we’ll be home before you know it!

Laughing that Martin added the tea mention (Martin, you single-track minded tea-aficionado), but I’m glad that he remembered it full well to throw it in her face; it wasn’t even a personal attack towards Martin, it was something Helen tried to do to Basira, I’m glad that Martin is still absolutely offended about it ;w;

- I felt like Jon and Helen had two definitions of “what we want”: Helen potentially talking about quick, short-term wants (even if they turn out to be self-destructive), while Jon was more about well-thought decisions and choices?

(MAG183) HELEN: [EXASPERATED SIGH] Oh, give over. I was obviously just prodding her, trying to make a point. She didn’t want to kill her. ARCHIVIST: What we want doesn’t matter much these days. HELEN: Oh, [RASPBERRY NOISE], nonsense. What we want is the only thing that matters these days. And Basira wanted to join Daisy. ARCHIVIST: She made her choice. HELEN: With your assistance. ARCHIVIST: It was still her choice. HELEN: [SIGH] What a waste. ARCHIVIST: No. [INHALE] It wasn’t.

There have been a lot of discussions about “choices” and “wants” throughout the series (with big moments in MAG092, MAG117 and MAG147), so it felt a bit nice that Jon seems to have reached a point where he could draw a line between both? Jon, Martin and Basira didn’t want this world, don’t want the way it operates and what it inflicts on them; it doesn’t mean they can’t weigh options and make specific decisions – Basira, to honour her promise to Daisy and kill the monster she had become; Jon, to not smite for revenge (and Martin, to face his own domain).

I LOVE HOW JON WAS FIRM ABOUT BASIRA’S CHOICE MATTERING ;w; It once again reminds me of Martin’s line to Simon: “I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.” (MAG151); the little things, the individual existences and choices, their own stories, still having value in the expanse of the universe…

- Martin! It’s a delight to see him so firm, having faith in Basira although he’s been so worried for her:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– […] … We’re not doing this. BASIRA: [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will.

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: How are you doing? About… MARTIN: Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I’m… I don’t know. I’m–I’m not sure how to feel; just… pressing on, you know? ARCHIVIST: I do. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you think she’ll be okay without us? ARCHIVIST: Oh, she’s made it this far. MARTIN: … Yeah. I just worry.

(MAG183) MARTIN: Basira is… She’s going to be okay.

And then pointing out that he was involved in the discussion too and that he wanted to know what the other two knew already and not be kept out of the loop:

(MAG183) HELEN: Oh. Is she? Do you want me to tell you what she’s been up to while you were “resting”? Where she is right now? ARCHIVIST: You don’t need to. I already know. MARTIN: I don’t. [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: She’s currently moving through, uh… “The Void.” [STATIC FADES] Hungry shadows drifting in the dark. She’s been there a long time now, struggling to find the path. MARTIN: But she will? ARCHIVIST: I think so. HELEN: Yeah, she does always seem to manage, doesn’t she? It’s impressive. Although a little bit… tempting at times.

I’m not absoooolutely sure about Basira’s status: is “the void” a space between domains, or is it a Dark domain that Basira is having trouble finding the exit of, since unlike Jon, she can’t just “know” the paths? I suspect the latter but I’m not 100% certain. If it’s indeed The Dark, that’s a close to home one for her, since she had a few brushes with it over the course of the show – the Section 31 expedition to save Callum Brodie, leading to Rayner’s death and Basira’s decision to quit the police, her research to find out more about the People’s Church of the Divine Host (as shown in season 3) and her overall worry about them, which allowed Elias to convince her that they would attempt another ritual in Ny-Ålesund, leading to her discovering what “Rayner” was and travelling there with Jon, finding Manuela and the Dark Sun mid-season 4…

;ww; for Jon having faith in Basira, too… And the fact that once again, Basira has it a bit rougher than Jon&Martin (Jon had already told Martin that it had been a difficult journey for her, before they reunited). Helen does have a point that Basira seems to manage to find her way out in general: she had successfully escaped The Unknowing on her own, she had survived The Flesh’s attack on the Institute, she had pursued Daisy in the apocalypse… Basira has already gone through Helen’s corridors (offscreen at the end of MAG143, to return to the Institute), I’m YIKES about Helen implying that it would be “tempting” to grab her. (… But at the same time, why hasn’t she done it already, if she is capable of doing it? It might be a bit more complicated than that?)

- … I love Martin, I love that he was RIGHT to point out that Helen had just waltzed in to try and steer chaos:

(MAG183) MARTIN: Look, Helen, what do you even want? Okay, you keep turning up like a bad penny and, honestly, it, it seems like it’s… it’s just to be a dick! HELEN: Gasp! I am trying to be friends, Martin. Forever is a long time. And I occasionally like to have some company that isn’t… screaming. MARTIN: … What do you even think friendship is? HELEN: I dunno, do I? The only personhood I have is from someone I ate.

It feels like Helen has REALLY tried hard to make up for the weeks(?) she couldn’t find Jon and Martin? She went extra-hard on them: first with Basira, then implying to Jon that he had manipulated her into killing Daisy, then pointing out that Basira was not safe at the moment and still at risk of falling prey to other Fears (including herself), then trying to mock Martin about his domain, trying to guilt-trip Jon for not having told him about it yet, and when she finally managed to get Martin shocked and upset… job done, byebye.

Is it that she’s trying to get Jon so riled up he ends her? “Helen” used to like Jon and to turn to him (MAG101: “Helen liked you so… there’s a lot to consider. But I will help you leave.” / MAG115: “Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.”), before she was absolutely Down With Doors And Murders (MAG146: “We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? … Don’t we, Archivist?”), is it a remnant of that? Or is it really just an attempt at confusing Jon and Martin further, feeding from them Spiral-style?

- More about Martin’s domain later, but the reveal was BRUTAL, and yet not coming out of nowhere; we knew he had one, we knew he had almost been trapped in the Lonely house in MAG170 and the question was whether or not it had been (/was still) his domain once Martin got freed from it, but there was also the question of how Martin was able to walk in the apocalypse unharmed (was it due to Jon’s proximity, Martin’s connection to The Eye as an assistant, etc.), and Basira’s own status after Daisy’s death… so, yay! Answers and clarifications, and as usual, nothing feeling like a plot-twist, just things that make sense, and that we already had most of the information about!

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: Martin… MARTIN: Are there people, Jon? ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: Are there people in my domain? ARCHIVIST: Not many. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you need to do your… your thing? Make a statement about whatever’s going on in there? … I could use a moment to think. ARCHIVIST: Sure thing. Yeah, I–I’ll… [INHALE] Yeah. [EXHALE] [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS]

Sobbing a bit about Martin’s priorities (“Are there people, Jon?”) and Martin asking for a quick me-time. It wasn’t ice-cold, Martin turned it into something useful for both of them (expecting that Jon would have to give his statement anyway), but aouch, he sounded absolutely shattered inside while blank on the surface…

- Yes, yes, yes, reminder that Smirke’s categorisation is arbitrary and just like the Doctor’s theory, sometimes just doesn’t work, because it’s trying to force-apply rules and a classification over something that resists it (and because the classification is not perfect from the start), but hey, that’s most theories and classifications out there anyway, so: Escher reference, the functioning of the Tower reminding me of the Great Twisting, and the reasonings sometimes reminding me of Gabriel’s work (MAG126), plus Helen popping by – it was Spiral stuff, right?

Well! I felt like it looks like Spiral, but the Doctor’s fears by themselves:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “But it is not the fall that terrifies him, not the pain of the impacts, but the fact that none of them should be there. That it doesn’t make sense, and it must make sense, there must be a system, there must be, because if there isn’t– [THE BODY LANDS WETLY] He lands with a heavy smack onto rough limestone, and lies still, his body twisted and broken. He knows it will knit itself back together, slowly, painfully, as it always has before. But the thought of starting over, of composing yet another theory, fills him with a deep dread.”

… are more something I would identify as Eye (fear of a truth) and Hunt (fear of having to return to the start, to have to elaborate a new theory from scratch, again and again, of being trapped forever)?

It was really reminiscent of Smirke thinking back over his life, his hubris and the pride of being the one who would have found the answer, to the point where he would reject reality if it didn’t match his taxonomy (refusing to, well… do what you do with a theory: change, or evolve and perfect it when its flaws are pointed out):

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I believed then, as I still believe now, that these places I saw were the Powers themselves, expressed in their truest form, far more entirely than any ‘secret book’ can claim. And if, as I came to believe, the Dread Powers were themselves places of a sort, then surely with the right space, the right architecture, they could be contained. Channelled. Harnessed. So yes. Hubris. Not simply in that, I suppose, but in believing that those I brought into my confidence shared my lofty goals. […] Would you have me separate The Corruption between insects, dirt and disease? To, to divide the fungal bloom from the maggot? No. No, I… stand by my work. And thus, we must conclude that the only explanation is a new Power, created from what was once others, yet also distinct. And if such change is possible, how then can any “true balance” be achieved through immutable, unchanging stone…?”

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “If they are feeling very confident, they may lean down and stretch a curious tongue beyond their chipped teeth and rotten gums, desperate to add another sense to their observances – more evidence to support their declaration of what the world must be. […] They must simply study and learn, if they are to escape the labyrinth. They will be the first to escape. The one who sits in the central chamber cannot remember his name. But he knows that people called him “doctor”. He made sure of that; to ignore it would have been the greatest disrespect, and he will not be disrespected. […] He knows, for a fact, that this is the central chamber because he is the one sat here. […] They’ll all remember him forever, the first to escape the Monument. His name will be hallowed with the greats: Doctor, uh… Doctor…”

Same old pride, Leitner knew that well too (MAG080: “But I think, in my heart, I dreamed of my work becoming known. That ‘The Library of Jurgen Leitner’ would stand as a symbol of courage and protection. Hubris.”) and Gerry didn’t have many nice things to say about it (MAG111: “Flamsteed, Smirke, Leitner. Idiots who destroyed themselves chasing a secret that wasn’t worth knowing.”). Loved how the statements came for Smirke’s life and was absolutely ruthless about it – but maayyybe a bit too ruthless, even? Jon didn’t express much sympathy for “fools like Smirke” either, and this is a rare case in season 5 where I find that the statement was a bit lacking in empathy for… people who were technically victims. I mean! Insufferable pedantic academics sure are a type, they’re really not having the worst life out there, but it makes me feel a bit weird, with season 5’s overall tone, that the episode had that vibe of “serves them well, they’re insufferable” about people who were technically still trapped in a domain and suffering from it?

… I still laughed a lot about the Doctor vs. Professor rivalry and how they solved their argument:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “The doctor that lies on the floor has recovered, just enough to laugh. ‘You’re still working on mineral theory? How painfully outdated.’ A flash of genuine fear crosses the face of the professor at this dismissal, before he picks up his chunk of granite, and begins to smash the doctor’s head in, yet again.” [SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PEER REVIEW]

Academia unleashed.

(- OKAY, I HAVE TO CONFESS that when the character could only remember his title as “Doctor”, with Smirke having been mentioned earlier, my mind just jumped to Doctor Fanshawe… ;; He had left a strong impression on me, okay.)

- ;w; Over the fact that Martin got his me-time and that it was enough: he was clearly tense, but he came back with direct questions and knew what he wanted cleared up…

(MAG183) MARTIN: Finished? ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: Good. … I need you to explain something to me. ARCHIVIST: All right.

- I can’t believe that Martin Global Heartthrob Blackwood made The Eye FALL FOR HIM too:

(MAG183) MARTIN: How do I have a domain? That doesn’t make any sense. ARCHIVIST: It’s like I said. [INHALE] Everything here is either watcher, or watched. MARTIN: [SIGH] Subject or object, yes, I know, we’ve been over this. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements, The Eye is… fond of you. You’re not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means…

Jane, Peter, Simon, Elias, Salesa, Annabelle, now Beholding – do you have any limit, Martin.

!! I’m excited over the fact that Martin’s entanglement with Beholding stuff was acknowledged! Comparatively, Melanie had read 2 statements (MAG086, MAG106) and Basira 1 (MAG112). Meanwhile, Martin had read 12; plus, although Tim, Melanie, Martin and Basira had taken (… or tried to take) one live statement each in MAG100, Martin had also taken 3 additional full statements:

MAG084, Adrian Weiss (Corruption) MAG088, Enrique MacMillan (Buried) MAG090, Ross Davenport (Flesh) MAG095, Luca Moretti (Slaughter) MAG098, Doctor Algernon Moss (Dark) MAG100 (live), Lynne Hammond (Desolation) MAG104 (live), Tim Stoker (Stranger) MAG108, Adonis Biros (Lonely) MAG110, Alexia Crawley (Web) MAG134, Adelard Dekker (Extinction) MAG138, Robert Smirke (Eye) MAG142 (live), Jess Tyrell (Buried, Eye) MAG144, Gary Boylan (Extinction) MAG149, Judith O’Neill (Extinction) MAG151 (live), Simon Fairchild (Vast) MAG156, Adelard Dekker (Extinction)

With Simon highlighting that Beholding had compelled him through Martin:

(MAG151) SIMON: Hm! No wonder I’m so sympathetic to The Lonely. You know: this really is a place for self-discovery, isn’t it? [CHUCKLE] “Statement ends”, I suppose! MARTIN: Uh… I’m sorry? SIMON: Oh! Nothing, just my own hubris. I should have known. When I came here, I said to myself: “Simon,” I said, “you’re going to answer this young man’s questions, but you’re not going to give The Watcher a statement. You’re better than that.” But it’s a hard one to resist, isn’t it? You get in the flow of talking about yourself, and it all just… tumbles out. MARTIN: Mm, does seem like it.

Elias might have been eyeing him as back-up Archivist, too (although since then, we’ve learned of his bet with Peter which would have already been running at the time – it might have been that Elias mostly wanted to ensure that Martin wouldn’t die during the Unknowing because he’d be needing him afterwards):

(MAG116) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] What about Martin? MARTIN: What about me? ARCHIVIST: He should stay behind. MARTIN: What?! ELIAS: Really. MARTIN: Why? ARCHIVIST: Too many people might attract attention. MARTIN: No, no, I can help, I’ve been reading the statements! ELIAS: … Quite right, er, probably best he does stay behind. BASIRA: What, so you have a backup if Jon doesn’t make it? ELIAS: I’m sure that won’t be necessary.

Martin did a lot of research, read these statements aloud, took live statements, was hinted as a potential replacement; tape recorders have spawned around him like they do with Jon, even outside of statements, and Martin had been exceptionally kind towards them on multiple occasions; there had been that little moment of Martin somehow knowing that Jon was alive back in season 3 (MAG088: “It’s the not knowing, you know? I mean, Jon’s still alive. Not sure why, but I’m sure of that. But Sasha, I…”), shortly before we had learned about Jon’s own Knowing powers developing; we don’t know why and whether that was Beholding or The Web or something else, but Martin had been able to know how to get Jon out of the Coffin in season 4:

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous. MARTIN: Sure.

… And Peter’s whole plan relied on the fact that Martin was initially touched by Beholding:

(MAG134) PETER: [BREATHES] I’m still working out some of the kinks. But I believe I have a plan. However, it requires this place, and it requires someone touched by The Beholding. Elias was, perhaps unsurprisingly, unwilling to help.

(MAG158) PETER: It’s quite simple, really…! I want to use the powers of this place to learn about The Extinction: what it’s doing, where it’s manifesting. Then we can stop it. MARTIN: And you need me for this? PETER: Correct! Without a connection to The Eye, any attempt to use it would likely end… very messily indeed! But thankfully, it just so happens that you hold such a connection. MARTIN: So that’s it… Both “lonely” and “watching”. PETER: You must admit you’re the perfect candidate. MARTIN: I suppose I am.

Beholding baby!! Now coming in an additional Lonely flavour.

- Mmmmmmmm… The way Jon put it, it seems that Beholding is consciously rewarding its servant and:

* It could be Jon trying to make sense of something else, that he doesn’t understand? Gertrude didn’t think that the Fears were able to “think” at all (MAG145: “Sometimes, I think They understand us as… little as we understand Them. We don’t think like They do.” “I’m not actually convinced they “think” at all.”); reward&affection could be primitive enough feelings for a blob of terrors to work out (Martin fed Beholding as an assistant by reading statements => Beholding grants him things in the hope of getting fed even more?), but I don’t know, I can’t help but wonder if this is just Jon humanising the Fears a bit too much? It’s curious that Beholding got “fond” of Martin precisely when Jon himself fell in love with him – could Jon’s feelings have influenced Martin’s position in the apocalypse, could Jon be having a bit more power over the landscape than he realises?

* … If Beholding is rewarding its servants, that doesn’t bode well for Elias. WELL, no, I mean: it might mean that Elias is having a Great Time as a Beholding acolyte, which means it doesn’t bode well for my desire to see Elias get absolutely wrecked and wrong about being the “king of a ruined world”. I want him to have miscalculated, damnit! x’D

- I’m having so many feelings over Martin himself being unsure of what he wants, whether it’s better to know or to remain ignorant…

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s like I said. [INHALE] Everything here is either watcher, or watched. MARTIN: [SIGH] Subject or object, yes, I know, we’ve been over this. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements, The Eye is… fond of you. You’re not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means… MARTIN: [QUIETLY] That one of them belongs to me. But that’s… Ho–how can I be a “Watcher”? I, I didn’t even know it existed! ARCHIVIST: But you’ve suspected for a while now, haven’t you? MARTIN: Maybe? But that’s not “watching”! ARCHIVIST: Do you want me to tell you about it? MARTIN: No. … Yes. N–no, no, I don’t know, I don’t know. [SIGH]

Is it a remnant of his discussions with Tim in season 3? He’s basically gone the reverse of Tim about it:

(MAG098) MARTIN: Y’know, I think he thinks that the distance keeps us safe, you know? Like, like, if he just makes sure that we’re not involved, we’re somehow fine. TIM: He’s an idiot. Look, we didn’t know what that door was, and it still trapped us. Ignorance isn’t going to save anyone. MARTIN: No, I mean, you’re right, I guess.

Martin has seen enough to know now that ignorance doesn’t protect anyone, but also that knowledge can be used as a weapon – that the horrors are just made to hurt. I feel like, in his situation, noping out of Jon’s statements was one of his only ways to assert his boundaries (which had been denied from him — and from others — for a long time)? But here, the situation is different; it’s about Martin’s own involvement, he knew the knowledge would hurt anyway… but it’s also his load to bear? To at least face what is happening, since he’s benefitting from it, since he’s been made complicit (without ever wanting to)? It still goes perfectly with the exploration of exploitative and oppressive systems: Martin, unknowingly and unwillingly inflicting hurt, still being in a better situation than others… while not being directly responsible for it, not wanting to benefit from it. It really makes me want to see Jon&Martin find a way to reverse or improve things, to get people out of the domains or giving them the keys to escape them, and I don’t know if I can even hope something about this ;; (On the Jon&Martin front, things are so good; but it still feels so unfair for… everyone else.)

- Martin having a domain and being classified as a “watcher” finally explains why he hadn’t been impacted by the apocalypse since the Change! He had been able to get out of the domains’ grasp even when he wasn’t around Jon (he had fallen behind at the end of MAG163, he wandered around in the Web’s theatre, he left Jon alone for most of the statements), and there was still the question of… how he was still surviving without eating, and at the same time wasn’t (at least as far as we knew) trapped in a domain:

(MAG161) MARTIN: [MIRTHLESS HUFF] What about food? ARCHIVIST: What about it? When’s the last time you thought to eat, o–or even felt hungry? MARTIN: [FAINT] What…? Wha… Uh… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever is sustaining us now doesn’t need us to eat. MARTIN: That… that can’t be possible– ARCHIVIST: It’s a new world, Martin, the natural laws are whatever they want them to be. And I suspect they don’t much care to keep humanity fed and watered.

I was wondering if it was Jon’s influence, or Martin being “trapped” in Jon’s domain, and Jon had also alluded to the possibility that they were themselves trapped in their quest towards the Panopticon:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “Free” doesn’t really exist in this place. MARTIN: Apart from us. ARCHIVIST: I suppose. I–in a sense, though… [CHUCKLING] how much of that is because we are trapped in our own quest to– MARTIN: Okay, let’s, let’s not dive into another… ontological debate right now, not here. ARCHIVIST: Fair enough.

And Jon had even specifically told Martin that he had a domain, shortly before Martin got almost imprisoned in the Lonely house:

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: We all have a domain here, Martin. The place that feeds us. MARTIN: Oh. [PAUSE] Where’s yours? ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLE] I mean, we’re… traveling towards it. MARTIN: Oh! Right, obviously. [CHUCKLING] Duh. Hum… What about me? ARCHIVIST: … Would you… like me to… ? MARTIN: No, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. ARCHIVIST: … Okay!

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: I, I didn’t want to… look too ha–, I–I–I promised I wouldn’t… know you, and, and with the fog in all–all the rooms, I’ll, I just, I lost y–, I… I–I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s okay. ARCHIVIST: … No, I… I tried to use the… to know where you were, but… it was… You–you were faint. It was so strange, i–it took me so long just to find you…! [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: Jon, it’s… okay. I promise it’s okay. This place tried, it really did, and honestly I… I wanted to believe it. But I didn’t. ARCHIVIST: This… “place”, i–it… [STATIC] My god…! […] I, I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew what this place was. MARTIN: It’s The Lonely, Jon. It’s me. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Not anymore. MARTIN: Hm! No. [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] No…! Not anymore.

And alright, that finally answers it: the Lonely house wasn’t his domain, wasn’t meant to be (but he was susceptible to it, got almost trapped in it as a “watched” although he eventually managed to reject and break free from it). His own domain was elsewhere, and Martin himself was amongst the “watchers” all along; Martin is living a bit like Helen in this apocalypse, having a fixed domain, but able to navigate elsewhere.

Aouch for Martin, since he had been encouraging Jon to smite domains’ rulers as soon as he discovered that Jon could do it; it was already murky territory for Jon himself (if the “avatars” and “monsters” just deserve to die, what about Jon?), it was awful with Callum (Martin himself drew the line at smiting a kid)… but now, we know it was directly including him, too, and that he had been fed through people’s pain all along. No wonder Helen had encouraged the smiting so hard, if she already knew they were kind of neighbours…

… Double-aouch for Jon, because he had offered twice the option for Martin to stay elsewhere, permanently:

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin, if you… did; i–if you wanted to forget… a–all of it, stay here and just… escape. I… I would understand. MARTIN: … N–no…! It’s comforting here, leaving all those… painful memories behind, but… It’s not a good comfort, it’s… I–it’s the kind that makes you fade, makes you… dim and… distant.

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I… It would have been nice to stay. MARTIN: [WISTFULLY] Yeah… I’d almost forgotten what it was like, you know? A bit of peace, eh! ARCHIVIST: I mean, you could have… MARTIN: No, don’t say it, Jon. You know I never would. I–I can’t just “forget” about all the people out here! Besides, I’d rather be trapped in a post-apocalyptic wasteland with you than spend one more moment in paradise with her.

And Jon probably didn’t know what Martin’s domain was exactly, back then, since we heard the knowing static kick in when he described the domain in this episode? But he probably knew, already, that Martin having a domain didn’t mean that he belonged to it as a victim, but as a ruler, and that it would hurt Martin so much. (“No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.”, indeed ;;)

- I AM HAVING SO MANY FEELINGS OVER THE DESCRIPTION OF MARTIN’S DOMAIN…

(MAG183) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely. Inhabited by a few lost souls whose fear is not of their isolation or their agonies, but that no-one… will ever know of them. That they shall suffer in silence, and be mourned by nobody. That’s why you can’t really see it. It’s why even if we do travel through it, you won’t be able to see… any of the people trapped there.

… It reminds me so much of what Martin probably experienced in his own flat, when Prentiss besieged him for two weeks and Martin was unable to contact anyone, and nobody came to check on him? Did Martin’s domain grow from his own old fears…?

It also reminds me a bit of Naomi’s brush with The Lonely:

(MAG013) NAOMI: The fog seemed to follow me as went and seemed to swirl around with a strange, deliberate motion. You’ll probably think me an idiot, but it felt almost malicious. I don’t know what it wanted, but somehow I was sure it wanted something. There was no presence to it, though, it wasn’t as though another person was there, it was… It made me feel utterly forsaken.

Overall, the description is extremely… typical from what we’ve seen of The Lonely: there was Naomi’s misadventure, Ethan disappeared and nobody even claimed his backpack (MAG048), Yetunde Uthman had “disappeared a year ago. And nobody noticed” (MAG150)…

(But from that description alone, it doesn’t sound very Beholding, despite what Jon said? I’m curious about the Eye aspect of it…)

- Can’t believe that Martin canonically turns out to be the Lonely Eyes love(hate)child, gdi. It really was a custody battle in MAG158.

- Extra-sad that Jon warned Martin that there was meaning in the fact that Martin didn’t know anything about his domain, and wouldn’t even be able to see people in there… It’s just so cruel, both for them, and for Martin, to learn that he’s been unknowingly contributing to their misery (because they fed him and he didn’t even know about them)?

Pretty sure that Martin will stay with Jon to hear that statement, at the very least ;; (Or could he ask for something more? We’ve seen Jon extracting Breekon’s statement in MAG128, I wonder if he could put something into someone’s head like Elias had done, allowing Martin to give that statement himself…)

- I’m wondering about Jon’s own domain, too, now! He said they were heading towards it, so it’s either the Panopticon, the Institute or the Archives, or a mix of those… or something close to it, on their way to it. If Martin’s domain is a mix of Lonely&Eye, is Jon’s pure Eye? A mix of the 14/15? A Web&Eye mix, given Jon’s own personal fears?

I know that Jonny (lovingly) called out the obsessive classification in this episode through Jon, who went off on a rant about the “neat little boxes”, but he’s still using the Smirke classification this season:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely.

(AND IN THIS VERY EPISODE… Jon…)

- On the one hand: feeling directly called out by Jon’s rant about how the divisions between avatars/monsters/humans/victims wasn’t and isn’t working, that reality escapes that division because it’s much more complicated than this:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: [HEATED] Avatar isn’t a thing, Martin, it’s not–! It’s just a word. A word used by… fools like Smirke to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist: Human, avatar, monster, victim. Only now, now, there’s a binary. There’s finally a clear dividing line and… [SIGH] Well. I’m sorry you’re not happy with which side you’ve ended up on.

(It felt especially relevant with Callum Brodie: could we really tell that he was an “avatar” when he was still a freshly wounded kid, even if a tormentor himself?)

On the other hand, well, that was still a useful distinction to have to identify servants, and mostly, I’m not extremely convinced by Jon arguing that there is now a Clear BinaryTM in the new world, between the “watchers” and the “watched”, since:

1°) Helen herself explained the dichotomy to Martin (MAG166: “And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid.”). Given that she mostly tries to confuse them… that’s a red flag.

2°) Despite Jon defending that binary, we’ve run into plenty of examples of things… not fitting into that new classification. He himself acknowledged that Basira’s status wasn’t established yet; we’ve seen Salesa, protected by his camera from the chaos; Jon has been unable to know about Georgie and Melanie, only hypothesising that they might in what-used-to-be-London; Martin, a watcher, could still have fallen prey to another domain… That’s already a lot of special cases around that “clear dividing line”…

3°) Somethingsomethingsomething about how it’s in Beholding’s best interest that Jon believes in a clear, unchangeable, dividing line which serves Beholding’s own interests. If things feel fixed and unchangeable, then there is no point trying to fight against it or find a loophole, right?

Given that a Watcher can get trapped in another domain… does that mean that it could be the case for Jon, too? We got a threat of it in MAG172, when Jon began to give the statement of the following act – if Martin hadn’t interrupted him, would Jon have ever been able to stop?

- Confirmation that Daisy had “trapped” Basira in her Hunt! I was suspecting it since Jon’s first wording:

(MAG164) MARTIN: Is Basira alive? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] MARTIN: Is she… in… o–one of these places? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: She’s alive. Out there, not… trapped in a–a hellscape, but… moving. [STATIC DECREASES] Hunting. She’s… she’s looking for Daisy. She’s a few steps behind.

(MAG183) MARTIN: … What about Daisy? Or Basira? ARCHIVIST: Daisy carved through the domains of others. Basira… well… In a very real way she was a sufferer in Daisy’s domain. Maybe the only one. Hunting, following, hurting. Now Daisy’s dead, she’s… free. Sort of. She’s inherited something of Daisy’s ability to move through the other domains. For now, she’ll… feed off what she sees in them. As to whether the Eye ultimately gives her a domain of her own… I don’t know yet.

* And now, Basira seems to have a peculiar status… Is it because she killed Daisy? Is it because she killed the ruler of her domain? Jon explained that a ruler’s death didn’t change much for the domain itself, but maybe it operates differently if a victim kills a ruler (… they become the new ruler?)

* Another reminder that Jon cannot see the future.

* Big Eyeball didn’t immediately give Basira a domain, but Martin got one. I see that favouritism, uh. (Joke, it does make sense given how Martin recorded a lot of statements and had worked at the Institute for years and years.)

- I love how Jon managed to explain why he hadn’t told Martin everything, and how Martin… indeed agreed that Jon had been mostly trying to respect his wishes about not knowing ;; It’s true that Martin had been adamant about not hearing much of the horror:

(MAG163) MARTIN: J–Jon, enough! Enough! [STATIC FADES] … Please don’t tell me these things. ARCHIVIST: I… I’m sorry, I– There’s just so much! There’s so much, Martin, and I know all of it, I can see all of it, and I– It’s filling me up, I need to let it out! MARTIN: I’m sorry, but tough. Okay? Tha–that’s not what I’m here for. [VOICE IN THE DISTANCE: “No… No!”] MARTIN: I can’t be that for you, I–I just can’t.

(MAG167) MARTIN: Oh! Right, obviously. [CHUCKLING] Duh. Hum… What about me? ARCHIVIST: … Would you… like me to… ? MARTIN: No, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. ARCHIVIST: … Okay!

(MAG183) MARTIN: You didn’t tell her any of that. ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think the metaphysics of her place in the fear ecosystem was something she’d be particularly interested in at that moment. MARTIN: Fair. But you seem very reluctant to tell anyone any of this stuff. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I did try, right at the start, but y–you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t push it. It’s hard, I have so much knowledge but… how do I decide what people want me to share, and what they never want to know?. MARTIN: I guess that makes sense.

But Martin seems to acknowledge that indeed, Jon had been trying his best about it…

(And now, I wonder if there is still other stuff that Jon hadn’t told Martin, in the same vein…)

- First choice for Martin:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I was going to bring it up at the crossroads. Inside. I only just realised we would be going this way. […] MARTIN: I guess that makes sense. … So what did you mean about the crossroads? When you were talking to Helen. ARCHIVIST: It’s a maze in there, something between a, a Rubik’s Cube and a Magic Eye picture. I can find us the way through easily enough but… well. For us, there are two ways out. Two paths to London. MARTIN: What are the choices? ARCHIVIST: One would be a long, winding route, we’d see a lot of horrors, but remain… personally untouched. MARTIN: And the other is my domain. ARCHIVIST: Eventually. It’s a shorter path, with faces we know along the way. Including Helen. MARTIN: I thought Helen was her domain, wi–with all the doors and that? ARCHIVIST: She is, but she has a… position within this pseudo-landscape, like any other. MARTIN: O–okay. [INHALE] So, so, I mean, I suppose we’ve got to do that one, right? ARCHIVIST: We don’t have to, w–we–we could just– MARTIN: What, what? We could, we could dodge around it? Take the path of denial? I guess, but… what is it you keep harping on about? “The journey will be the journey”? [SIGH] I mean… It’s pretty obvious that this one is my journey.

! Glad that Martin didn’t hesitate and immediately understood what it was about – that it mattered to do it that way, that Martin had to face it, that this is how this world works. No hesitation about it. He got a demonstration with Basira, but still, he was quick to accept it.

I’m expecting a few episodes before Martin’s domain, so… with the overall rhythm of the season, they might reach the Institute by MAG189? And Hill Top Road during Act III?

- Since Jon mentioned that the path Martin ended up choosing had:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: Eventually. It’s a shorter path, with faces we know along the way. Including Helen.

I wonder about those “faces we know”, since we’re running super-low on ~avatars~. Different options:

* Institute staff. Rosiiiie?

* Melanie&Georgie. A bit unlikely, given that Jon had trouble knowing what was the deal with them, I feel?

* Since Helen will be there, people who gave live statements to Jon and were trapped in his nightmare zoo. I’m mostly thinking about this one, especially since Jon’s “No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.”… (And if it’s about an internal and metaphorical journey, I feel like having to face people that Jon hurt, first unaware (he didn’t know about the nightmare zoo when he signed to become the Head Archivist), then partially unwilling but still doing it (he felt guilty about it but still hid it, still chose self-preservation instead of warning the others about it), would have its place…)

- In the same fashion, who is trapped in Martin’s domain? Unrelated people? Live statement-givers? (;; I’m thinking of Jess, who had the misfortune of being compelled by Jon and of giving a statement to Martin…)

… Given that it’s confirmed to be a “journey” for Martin too, I can’t help but squint at Jon’s wording, because. “Faces we know”. The only thing we know of Martin’s father is the fact that he looks like Martin… (MAG118: “The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do is look in a mirror~ The resemblance is quite uncanny. The face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her, feeding her, cleaning her, looking down on her with such pity–”)

- I’ll be having Annabelle’s words stuck in my head (ha) for a long time but:

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH]

… Was it a reference to Martin learning about his own domain and about how the world operates, his place in it? I think that Martin might be even more resolved to turn the world back at whatever cost, now that he knows that he is himself sustained by fear…

(LISTEN, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY HOW WEB!MARTIN CAN STILL WI–)

- !! Footage of Martin saying “I love you” for the first time ;w; I love how it was the thing he was certain about, both a slight decompressing joke and a true statement, a reminder that he has faith in Jon, that he has something to cling to?

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: If you’re sure. MARTIN: … I’m sure I love you. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I love you too. [FABRIC RUSTLES] Let’s go.

(He had mentioned that he was “in love” in MAG170, I’m happy to hear him telling Jon, too!) And the fabric RUSTLED, SO LONG AND SO HARD, AND AT LEAST TWICE!! I love how the tension from right before and after the statement had faded by the end of the episode ;w; Rollercoaster of little emotions…

MAG184’s makes me think of something Leitner had said (more lore about the Fearpocalypse?), and of Vast and Corruption… with very different vibes. If Corruption, and keeping in mind that Jon has announced that they will be encountering “faces [they] know along the way”, it cooould contain Jordan Kennedy, the exterminator from Pest Control…? Especially given that both Jon and Martin had met him (Jon took his live statement, and Martin pleaded offscreen for him to get them the jar of Prentiss’s ashes to comfort Jon).

(Yessss, I am absolutely aware of the irony of still using Smirke’s categorisation after another episode in which we were told again that it is bollocks, but if Jon himself still occasionally labels the domain as one of the 15, so can I ♥)

#long post/#tma liveblog #mag183 #tma season 5 #the magnus archives #tma spoilers/

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lvlyhao · 3 years

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「PART THREE: FAMILIARITY」

HUMANITY SERIES; Q.K

A/N: guess who forgot to update lol they’re whipped i just— also two surprise appearances hehfjfhsjh

important: i can’t think of anything??? the general warnings are in the masterlist if you wanna be sure none of them is a trigger for you!

word count: 2.8K

pairing: qian kun x reader

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

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Cussing like a sailor, you trudge towards the man, who's catching his breath by the sidewalk. His glance instantly darts to your face, about to say something. You cut him short, though, too disturbed by the fear that still clouds your every action.

“We have to leave while we can. Like right now.”

“H-how do you know I’m not infected?”, he asks, abruptly realizing something even more critical. "How do I know you are not infected?"

He backs away, then, gorgeous features closing off in hesitance. While he stares at you, you think his voice is much, much more angelic than you thought. It drips with uncertainty but is beautiful enough to make you forget how to speak for a minute.

"Uhm”, you clear your throat, now looking for your weapons. It's a good attempt at escaping his piercing eyes, but it dawns on you. He has quite literally no reasons to agree with what you were planning.

"I'm immune, actually. My DNA has some mutation that I honestly cannot explain that well. You", you pause, scanning his defensive form before going back to putting away your knives. "You are definitely clean. It's been over 15 minutes since I arrived: no walker bit you or you would have, at least, screamed. If by some chance it happened and I was not aware of it, I would have seen it in your eyes by now. It's the first part of the process", you grimace.

The guy stays silent while you speak, taking everything you say into consideration. You find it makes sense to him if his relaxed posture is anything to go by.

Finishing up with your arrows, you promptly head back to where you came from, assuming your companion is close behind.

“Wait!”, he trots, halting in front of you. “I… I don’t think I can go with you.”

You could say it's the dumbest thing you have ever heard, but your yell from earlier begs to differ.

“I can see you don't trust me, and you have no reasons to, but this is how rescue missions go. I see someone in danger, I do my best to get them away, and we go to my settlement, where we can hopefully be stronger by numbers. We can get there if we run." Your voice is borderline dull, almost like you have made that same speech 500 times in the past few days. It would have made him laugh, under different circumstances. Yet, he plainly breathes, running a grimy hand through his hair.

“It’s not that”, he peers around, lost. “I came to the pharmacy for medical supplies for one boy in my own settlement. He needs them as soon as possible, or I’m not sure I’ll be able to help him at all. Besides”, he tentatively lifts your dominant arm by the sleeve of your jacket, careful not to touch you. “We should clean that and put some bandages around it, even if I don’t have the time to stitch it up.”

You are not sure what part of his speech you should pay attention to first.

“You have a settlement?” The question bursts its way out of your mouth before you can think better, but he doesn't seem to mind. Lips curling into a proud smile, he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Yeah, I’m currently the father of 6 children from the college I used to attend”, he snorts.

“That’s amazing! I’ve been mapping this area for some weeks now, and I never found anyone”, you smile. “I’m currently the parent of”, stopping, you count the names in your not-chewed fingers. “16 children? Around that. I swear there's a new name every time we make the roll call."

Studying his kind expression, warm under the red sunlight, you feel as if you could talk to him for hours. I'd never get bored. Your situation seems small, squeezed all the way in the back of your mind. It's clearly much less important than your attractive stranger.

Gasping quietly in realization, he sobers up. He pulls you by your jacket once more, just as delicately, and keeps you close.

“Listen, I understand you have people to take care of, but you said you could get there in time if you run. My boys are not too far from here. I think it would be safer for you to come with me for now, at least wait until morning. Otherwise", he gulps, "we will both be in more danger."

You reflect his words guardedly. You are painfully aware that the clock is ticking and each second spent here makes it a bit worse. When the sun goes down is when things get seriously nasty. The night would swallow you whole before you could get to the campus, and then your eyes would be useless. You wouldn't be able to see any walkers or even traps you came across. You'd be a sitting duck.

Sighing, you know your decision has been made.

I can only hope Taeyong forgives me for this.

With a curt nod, your free hand gestures for him to lead the way. He seems awed by how fast you agreed but decides against mentioning it. Instead, he gives you a gracious smile and goes on. He stands just past the crushed glass, where you can now see a coffee-coloured messenger bag on the once-white floor. Something seems to be fidgeting inside of it, and you stiffen.

Before you can ask about it, he drops your wrist. Picking up the bag gently, he cradles it to his chest and looks at the inside softly. He coos, speaking in a language you know to be Mandarin. That’s when it pushes out—the little, furry snout of a puppy, licking his hand and whimpering.

It's like your systems just crashed.

“You have a dog in your bag?”

Laughing briefly, he turns to you again. Cosy inside of the leather is a tiny Beagle, looking at you with bright eyes. You can't help but think it's ridiculously adorable.

“Well, not at all times. I found her wandering around here, but one of her ears was bleeding and she’s limping”, his voice lowers to a whisper, watching her with concern. “One of my boys is a vet student. I thought maybe we could help her.”

Choosing not to question it, you simply nod. The bleeding ear would explain why she stayed here even with the noise. Her hearing must be quite damaged.

“And I’m assuming the medicine or whatever you needed is also in there?”

He's serious once again, reminded of the primary reason for his trip.

“Yes, I placed it in separate pockets and smaller bags. We are good to go.”

A breeze swiftly races inside the barely lit building. It’s a warning of how fast the twilight is coming, and he takes it. His quick steps sound first, light on the ground, and he checks to see if you are coming. Understanding of his rush, you jog along.

“I didn’t forget about your hand, by the way. I know a safe spot close to here where we can stop for me to treat it.”

Staring at his broad shoulders, your breathing hitches as the throbbing in your fingers come back. Treatment would be useful before you have to amputate it, but...

“Do you know how to do that? Not to doubt your capacities or anything, but I can just clean it with some water later.”

Running to come up to his side, he playfully eyes you. He is moving so naturally along the streets you imagine he must know this route well.

“I am a med student. Uh, was, I guess.”

His striking traits are highlighted by the blue hour, hues of periwinkle ghosting over his nose, forehead, cheekbones and lips. He chuckles airily, and you are conscious of how surprised you must look.

“A med student. That’s pretty helpful, huh? I’m sure you care very well for your friends."

From the corner of your eye, you see pink spread over his face. He glances up to the sky, lost in his own head.

“I try to. Our youngest has just turned 20. I can’t imagine what it must be like to go through this at that age.”

You hum.

“I know how you feel. I’m watching over an 18-year-old”, sighing, you think back to the freshman dance student at the settlement. You pray he doesn't feel your absence so strongly, familiar to his tendency to cry.

Comfort sparks in the way your companion bumps his shoulders into yours, drawing you out of foggy thoughts. When your heart suddenly tries to break free from your ribcage, you swallow dry. Could I not find a worse moment to develop a crush?

Beating yourself over your feelings, you travel silently, sometimes admiring the starry skies. It feels nice to be like this, almost… at peace. Funny how you can feel that way around someone you barely know while touring a town full of bloodthirsty beasts.

“Ah”, he breaks the silence awkwardly. “I still don’t know your name.”

You wince at that, realizing you were forgetting about it. It's like I've known him for ages.

“Sorry. I’m Y/N”, your voice is soft, rivalling the autumn winds.

“Y/N... That’s a beautiful name”, he compliments, eyes finding yours. “You can call me Kun.”

You say his name out loud, testing it, and giggle. It feels nice in your lips.

---

The trip to the first hiding spot was fast, just a matter of minutes cruising under the starlight. The place is a dainty, small wooden cabin, right at the foot of the mountains that surround the city. All around you are bushes and fireflies, that blink over stray pieces of cars. How they got to here, in the forest, is a mystery to you, but then again, a lot of things do not make sense anymore. It's simpler to overlook it and get inside, plopping down on a rusty chair as Kun grabs a flashlight from a corner.

His hands work quickly, and with confidence, like medicine is in his blood. It's impressive, but, most of all, painless. His touch is even gentler than Tyong’s and feels warm against your cool skin. A tiny smile plays on your lips the entire time, watching him and the sleeping puppy discreetly.

After that, your wounded hand is snug against the white bandages and the sting lessened. You feel like you could go on for miles, but Kun only laughs and tells you to calm down. No way you two are running uphill to his house.

“Wait, you mean you guys live… up there?”, you point, and he follows your finger, contemplating the towering trees of the forest nonchalantly.

Seeing your dubious expression makes his heart crack a little. He understands how intimidating it is: the dark, unknown forest. Who could guess what lurks between the twigs, spying on the few, brave souls that dare cross their territory?

“I know hiding from zombies in the woods sounds a bit weird, but I promise it’s safe. They have a hard time traversing the trees because they’re so closely set. Also”, he studies the grass beneath his feet, feeling a mix of shame and hesitance himself. “We might have planted a few landmines around the perimeter.”

The sound you make then is something between a wheeze and a gasp.

“How did you…?”

“I preferred to not question when Yukhei showed up with them”, he breathes, sounding like a tired father. “There’s a protected path we’ll follow, though!” He makes a face at how he saved the most important detail for last. I have no idea what is wrong with me today.

But, Kun thinks, secretly relishing on the way you shine under the moon, if you’re scared, I’ll hold your hand.

---

The journey to his house is more serene than you guessed. There are no walkers you perceive. It's almost like this place is completely cut off from the world, far away from real danger. Although maybe that is just Kun's effect on you. You have not failed to notice how tranquillity seems to flow out of him in waves, wordlessly comforting your wild heart. It's nothing like you have ever felt.

I met him two hours ago.

Once again shaking off your feelings, you try to focus on the other things that surround you. The crickets, the faint crunch of the grass and fallen leaves, an owl, how smooth his skin could feel under your fingertips...

Oh my god, you cringe.

As you steady yourself against the trunk of an oak, your shoulders finally loosen. Not too far ahead, you can see something that resembles a ski cabin, surrounded by barbed wire, and with orange light pouring from the windows. The path you walk on is surrounded by sharp wooden stakes from both sides, but the place still feels homier than the campus.

You don't notice your grin until he smiles back, taking your hand in his and continuing the walk. You remain quiet until the ground changes from grass, pebbles and mud to beaten earth, and you stand right outside the fence. It's far taller than you, with the metal glittering intimidatingly. If the landmines had not made you feel safe, this definitely has.

Kun, still grasping your hand delicately, surrounds the house with an attentive look. He searches for something and stops a few meters from where you were. It’s always simple to find—the crossing point—and he spins to face you.

“If you don’t mind holding the bag, I can cross over first and then help you. Is that okay?”, he asks, looking for approval in your eyes.

Warmth takes over your heart at his caring nature, knowing he could have just gotten in and expected you to not hurt yourself.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

With no other words, you reach for the bag, and hug it against your chest, observing the sleeping dog in your arms. While you are distracted, Kun steps on the lower row of wire and carefully places his hands on the upper one, creating a space he can shimmy through.

He pays close attention to where the barbs were, but does it calmly, and gets to the other side with a small sigh. He then gestures to the bag, stepping on the wire once again, and passing it over with even more care than he had for himself.

The moment he takes the bag from you, you feel your fingers brushing. While you both pretend not to notice, the heat rushing to your cheeks speaks for itself. Neither one of you mention it.

Then, it's time for you to get in. You can admit you are a bit apprehensive. Kun’s frame is sturdier than yours, in general, and he was just fine, but the idea of sneaking through sharp thorns is not exactly exciting.

Kun seems to know what you feel, and gives you a sweet smile, hoping to calm your nerves. He places the bag on the ground gently, trying to keep the puppy asleep. The process, then, starts over.

One foot over the first wire, a hand on the upper one and the other stretched out for you to grab. The wind picks up abruptly, and you can't tell if you shiver from it or from the grip of his fingers on yours.

“No need to hurry”, Kun whispers, eyes trained on where your body is concerning the barbs. He, time or another, tells you to bend a little lower or higher, and pulls more at the cable. To your relief, though, all is well. After a minute of wiggling, you touch the other side of the fence and allow yourself to rest.

“You did good”, he praises, patting your hair kindly. You sort of feel like a kid, but maybe not in an unpleasant way.

Tardily letting the tiredness from the day catch up to you, your brain slows down, and your limbs ache. You had not noticed Kun was already up on his feet with the bag until a hand shows up before your eyes, a silent offer. You take it without a second thought, letting him pull you up.

From then on, your mind gave up on processing a lot of what you did. You were nearly sure you went up a row of stairs to a wooden deck, the floor squeaking under your boots. Your new friend still holds your hand securely, which you are thankful for when you trip on a loose board. His eyes examine you for a second, making sure you're alright before he turns to the door.

It is also made of wood but painted red and unyielding. Letting go of your fingers, he knocks 3 times, waits a couple seconds, and then 4 others. The house, so far still, erupts into hushed cheers and shouts. Kun can only shake his head, holding in a smile, and look up when the door flies open, candlelight spilling out. The slim figure that appears nearly throws himself in Kun’s arms, but freezes when he sees you and the bag.

“Y/N?!”

“Hendery?!”

“...You two know each other?”

---

final notes: don’t question the way the virus works. just don’t, ok

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

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chapter one: double deuces

chapter one of book three, of course ;)

"tell me a story (will ya, will ya) a real good story (I won't leave till ya) spill your guts old man; leave out any secrets, hiding in the... any skeletons, and all your other sins any skeletons, in the closet! any skeletons, any misfortunes any skeletons, hiding in the closet! any skeletons, any skeletons in the closet!"

“Happy birthday, my dear friend.”

Aurora had taken Sam out to that Vietnamese restaurant for lunch on her birthday. Twenty two years old and she could feel the very essence of age over her head. In New York for two years and it all felt like a blur and the clear real thing all at the same time. In a year's time, she would be on the brink of her mid twenties: it all felt so ephemeral and so quick at the same time. It felt so odd to think that not even four years ago she was still in high school and she had gone into a strange brand new place in the meantime.

Four years felt like a lifetime ago, especially since she looked on at her black hair and she swore it was growing lighter over her temples. It could have just been the reflection of the glass in the mirror for all she knew, but when she went to brush her hair, she swore there were some light tendrils near the crown. As long as it didn't turn into a striking pearly white silver color, she knew she would be fine.

Aurora raised her white china tea cup for a toast to her. The soft aroma of the green tea comforted her, and she followed suit with her own cup.

Ever since she and Emile had gotten together, and ever since she had gotten that dress for Kirk's wedding the next weekend, Aurora had been dressing up more nicely: at the moment, she had a rich deep purple velvet sweater wrapped around her body and a little red rose tucked behind her ear. Despite the bitter New York cold, she started wearing more floral print tights to go with her skirts; Sam had to take a second look at her face to make out the sight of the black eye liner about the smooth edges of her eyes.

Sam herself meanwhile found herself drawn more to black—Aurora said it was because of her hanging out with Testament the past couple of weekends as well as Joey on certain days after school.

“I think it could also be because I'm in the arts,” she told her the day before. “Marla wears a bunch of black and Belinda has been wearing a lot of it, too.”

“Hangin' around the arts and hangin' out with a bunch of heavy metal dudes,” Aurora chuckled.

The art scene seemed so far away from her given she was a student and she even began to struggle with classes in recent days. Indeed, the thought of forfeiting college itself to live down in the real bohemian side of New York City was more tempting than ever to her. But she had nestled in the Bronx, three floors over Frank and down the block from Charlie and Marla. It was either pick up and go live alone in another part of town or stay there and continue to do what felt like spinning her wheels day in, day out. Sam tried to not let her thoughts cast a shadow on her own birthday, but she couldn't help but look at her own reflection in her tea cup and frown.

“Maybe it's all the doing stuff after school that's getting to you,” Aurora told her. “We haven't really seen Marla in the past few weeks.”

“No, we haven't,” Sam confessed as she gazed out the window at the snow drifts along the sidewalk.

“Well, if it's any comfort, I've been getting antsy myself,” Aurora said. “Emile wants me to move in with him but it's gonna be hard to do it especially if it's just him who's helping me with the move.”

“And you're going from Long Island up to the Bronx, too,” Sam added, “it was bad enough for me to get my bed up the stairs in that building.”

“It was tricky for me, too,” Aurora continued. “And you and I also moved across country, too.”

“And how—from around the same area, no less. Well, San Diego is way further south in comparison to Lake Elsinore, but it's near the same range, though.”

“It's all within range of L.A., that's for sure. L.A. and Riverside.”

“Hey, if Greg, Eric, and Louie can talk nonsense while they're in the studio, we can, too,” Sam pointed.

“Makes sense—Southern California exiles, the both of us.” Aurora raised her cup again to her and they clinked them together before they took a sip in unison.

“When's your birthday, by the way?” Sam asked her as she held her cup close to her mouth. “I can't remember if you told me or not.”

“May twenty ninth.”

“Oh, I see. I kept thinking it was in October for some reason.”

Aurora chuckled at that. “Well, I haven't really made it much of a point because my parents always treated birthdays different in comparison to that of American culture. I always wanted an American style birthday party growing up in San Diego but that's probably the one thing they brought over from the Korean peninsula is the way birthdays are treated.”

“And how's that?”

“When we reach a certain age, they have different celebrations for them. Like your first birthday is 'dol' or three hundred sixty five days since you were born, and that came from the fact Korea didn't have as good of protection on their newborns as we do here: so when you made it to your first birthday, it was significant. The family says a prayer for the kid and then they eat rice, seaweed soup, and rice cakes—my mom has a photo of me from my 'dol', I'll have to show it to you if and when we go out to San Diego together. They have cake and candles just like Americans, but the cake is far different—it's a lot more savory than it is sweet. And on New Year's, they eat a soup so they can finish up the age they are for the certain year. So you're actually considerably older on the peninsula than you are here. If you're ten years old, in Korea, you're considered eleven or twelve.”

“Wow.”

“And when you reach fifteen years of age, and you're female, you're considered an adult. That said, I'm glad I'm a born American because I can't imagine coming to New York City as a fifteen year old.”

“I can,” Sam said.

“You can?”

“As a boy.” She thought about Alex right then.

“Now, boys have to wait 'til they're twenty before they're considered adults.”

“So Alex would still be considered a boy right now?” she asked her. “Being eighteen?”

“Yes!” Aurora then burst out laughing and clapped her hands at that. “Oh, god, I just pictured him in the traditional horse hair hat that boys have to wear on their twentieth birthday, and I also just pictured him picking up a giant rock and lifting it over his head, too.”

“How giant are we talking, exactly?”

“One that dwarfs his entire body.” Aurora raised an eyebrow at that.

“I dunno, Aurora,” Sam confessed with a shake of her head, “—he's pretty thin but he's also got that little bit of baby fat left on him. He looks pretty soft.”

“Bet you he's way stronger than he looks.”

“Joey is,” Sam continued as she brought her cup back up to her lips.

“Joey is!”

“Mr. Hockey Player—yeah, that boy's tougher than nails.”

“Well—we are going to be in the Bay Area next weekend,” Aurora pointed out. “A whole weekend of doing stuff while Kirk and—Rebecca, I think is his fiancée's name?—while they're getting married. We all can just hang out and be a bunch of genuine friends together for a couple of days.”

Sam squinted her eyes at that.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked her in a low voice.

“You'll see. And maybe Exodus and Death Angel will want in on the fun, too. Fun with the 'little four'.” She flashed Sam a wink as she sipped from her tea once again. Right then, the sole waitress in the restaurant showed up at their table with their bowls of pho: chicken for Sam, vegetarian for Aurora. One more toast and they both dipped into their bowls of fresh hot soup.

At least that night she was to have cupcakes courtesy of Marla, forty dollars courtesy of Belinda, and a jovial phone call from her parents that night. Nothing more, nothing less, but at the same time, she wished for more and she knew that her flight back out to California that next Friday was the start of something for her. Something big and grand, like that next weekend in the Bay Area. It would take place on a day that wasn't her birthday, but it would be something.

Since it was Wednesday, after lunch, she headed back to school for the rest of the day and then back to her place in the Bronx. She stepped in through the front door: the first thing she noticed was the vase of yellow tulips on the table. They had lasted so long, and for so long in the heart of the first winter following Cliff's passing, but she noticed the wilt as it began to settle in on the yellow petals.

She would keep them there on the table until the pure yellow color vanished and they lost their smell, much like with the black hat Cliff had given her.

Sam took her seat on the couch with her drawing pad rested upon her lap. She was an artist in New York City, and yet she lived so far from the actual art scene. The boots still on her feet and yet she had no means as to how to look for it outside of her school work. Marla and Belinda had their way, for sure, but there had to be something more. There had to be, especially since she began to put her head down and put more work into her art for her classes. The struggle still came down on her, even as she gave her fish tails more scales and her humans more of a shading around their heads. It all seemed to slip away from the in between her fingers.

Everyone seemed to be doing better: her classmates received more praise, even Belinda who, at one point, admitted that graphites were a challenge for her as well. And yet, when Sam drew a self portrait surrounded by roses and water lilies, one of the comments Miss Estes left for her on the back side of the heavy grained paper was “lots of effort.”

She was eager for the flight out to the Bay Area by the time that early Friday morning rolled around, and she and Zelda were seated next to each other. She had packed that copy of Siddhartha with her but she had no idea as to when she would get to crack it open over the weekend.

Zelda had put on a plain white T shirt and fitted black jeans, and she had combed her short bob of black hair back for the flight. Apparently all she had packed with her were white shirts and black jeans.

“Don't you wanna look nice like at Cliff's memorial?” Sam asked her with a chuckle.

“I've got some suspenders and a tie to go with them,” Zelda replied. “It's a wedding for a friend of ours, and he said that we can wear whatever we like. So I told him that I'm gonna be full punk chick there. I'm guessing you'll be the artist?”

“Of course,” Sam replied, “the full black, baby.”

Zelda raised a hand to her for a high five and the light for the seat belts flickered on right then.

“I'll tell you this, Zelda,” Sam began.

“What's that?”

She peered over her shoulder to make sure Marla and Charlie paid no attention to them, given they were right across the aisle from them. Sam then gestured for Zelda to move in closer to her: beyond her and outside the window, she noticed the first few flurries of snow against the pane. She hoped they would take off soon.

“I'm getting kind of bored of New York,” she whispered to her.

“Really?” Zelda raised her eyebrows at her.

“Yeah. It's just—falling into the whole 'same old, same old' thing. I'm an artist, I should be able to go places with it all.”

“Absolutely, absolutely.”

“And I just—” Sam shook her head. “It's a great big city but I feel like there's nothing for me there anymore. Two years there and I'm not feeling it anymore. I'm glad we're going back out to the Bay Area for just this one weekend because I feel myself slowly going insane.”

“And why are you telling me this in a whisper?” Zelda asked her in a soft voice.

“Because—I don't know how to break it to Marla yet, or Belinda for that matter. Aurora kind of knows, but not in that sense, though. I made note of it to her but she didn't really suggest anything to me.”

“You can come to Providence,” Zelda suggested, “there's tons to do in Providence. Narragansett and Natick, too.”

“I guess what I'm trying to say is I feel trapped. Two years ago, I came here to the Northeast for a change of pace and it feels like it's trapped me sideways. There's no way out unless I really genuinely leave. The downside of course is—leaving you ladies behind and leaving Anthrax behind.”

“Yeah, and—we kinda like you, Sam. I do, especially. And I know Aurora does, too. And Marla.”

“Aurora is one of my best friends. Her and Frankie. They're my best friends. I don't know how I would handle leaving them both behind for a change of pace. I feel me and Marla drifting, if I'm honest. Can't really blame her, though—school's getting hard on her.”

“Well—whatever you do, Sam,” Zelda started again, “I'll support you on it. If nothing, you'll get the full support from me.”

“Thank you, Zelda. That—that means a lot to me.” Sam showed her a friendly smile.

Zelda shrugged. “I'm from Rhode Island,” she replied. “Moreover, I'm a punk rocker from Rhode Island. We look out for each other more so than these metal boys.”

They touched down in the Bay Area at five in the morning, and right as the sun began to rise right behind them. The thick fog surrounded the airport and Sam thought about the one and only Christmas she and Cliff spent together.

“Looks like San Francisco,” she muttered. “Feels like it, too.” She closed her eyes as they rolled up to the gate. She and Zelda stepped out of the airport first and she breathed in that marine air. She swore that New York was in fact her one true home, but there was just something about California that brought her more so into that feeling. That feeling that she needed to be there. All the fleeting thoughts led up to that moment there on the sidewalk.

Cliff's remains were not very far away from there, either.

She, Zelda, Marla, Aurora, and Belinda all stood at the curb as Charlie and Emile fetched their rental cars. All those men awaited them not too far from there, and Sam was eager to see Joey again given he flew in from Syracuse. That morning in which he and Belinda woke up before her and flirted with each other went through her mind every now and again. She never realized how much she wanted him until he put his arms around her and they locked eyes with each other. She needed to at the very least see him again: he also promised her a birthday gift.

Within time, Emile showed up with the little black car for himself and Aurora, while Charlie rolled up to the curb in a short dark green van. The four remaining girls piled inside away from the damp cold; Sam wanted to refer to him and Marla in the front seat as “Mom and Dad” again but she decided not to as she shivered under her jacket.

It wasn't New York, but Sam had forgotten how cold San Francisco could feel once the winter time set in.

“Okay, so we're going to a place called Marin Heights,” Charlie told them. “I think that's where the guys—Metallica—got the loft for us.”

“I've heard of it,” said Belinda from the middle seat.

“Me, too,” Sam added from the way back; Zelda huddled next to her and shook her head about. Sam had no idea as to why she didn't bring a jacket with her given it was winter in California. But instead, she peered out the small notch of a window to the Bay itself. She remembered that Testament were to film a music video out in Alcatraz, and those cold yellow lights from the island itself pierced through the foggy darkness. She wondered if they had finally wrapped up the recording of their first album since she wasn't able to sit in with them over the past couple of weeks because of school. She also wondered if she would receive any credit on it like with Stormtroopers of Death.

Charlie wound through the city until they reached the freeway, which in turn brought them up to Marin Heights, nestled back in the hills on the north side of town: they reached a switch back on the hillside so Sam was able to see the very top of the Golden Gate Bridge as it rose through the fog. The clouds themselves split apart so as to let the first rays of sunlight through and the metal of the bridge shone that bright amber color with the sunrise.

No wonder Cliff loved it there.

She sighed through her nose and turned her attention back to the road ahead of her as it turned away into the hills. Within time, they reached the top, and a small villa of little brick two story houses nestled back in the trees. She wondered if the wedding was going to be there as Charlie pulled up to the gravel driveway and stopped before the one closest to the street.

“I think this is us,” he informed them. “Or it might just be check in, I dunno.” He climbed out and then Sam and Zelda followed suit. The latter raised her lanky arms over her head and closed her eyes. Meanwhile, the former spotted a tall lanky boy with long black hair perched on a stone post on the other side of the driveway. He faced the other way but she knew those rich jet black curls anywhere.

“Joey?” she called out.

“Hm?” Zelda asked.

“Joey's over there.”

Zelda peeked around the rear end of the van and she nodded at her.

“Yeah, he is! Go get 'em!”

Sam then ducked around the end of the van and hurried over to him.

“Joey!” she called out. “Joey!”

He turned to face her with his eyebrows raised. He had lost a little weight so his waist was rather slim like Joey's, and the black hair dye held up, but she knew those deep eyes anywhere.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted him as she skidded to a stop before him.

“Hi,” Alex replied back to her with a thoughtful look on his face. “What's happening?”

“I thought you were Joey for a second.”

“You thought I was Joey?” he laughed at that.

“You have similar hair to each other.”

“His has more of a pile, though. Like right on top of his head. That big pile of ringlets atop his head.” He gestured to the crown of his head. “Even though I'm sitting down, I think he's a little bit shorter than me, too?”

“I think so?” Sam shifted her weight right there. Stray strands of his black hair lifted off of his shoulders in the wind and he ran his hand over the back of his head. He shivered from the feeling over his skin.

“God, it's cold out here,” he muttered as he adjusted his jacket.

“Yeah, it's pretty nippy. Not New York, but it's that California cold, though.”

“You know, both my parents are from New York,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Both obscenely smart Ivy League professors. They came out here before I was born to teach over at Berkeley.”

“Is that why you had the gray streak?” she asked him.

“Nah, I have no idea where that came from.” He shifted his weight yet again on that post. He seemed uncomfortable sitting there but Sam had no idea where to go right then. Charlie's voice behind her caught her ear and she peered over her shoulder at his talking to James.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Alex told her as he shifted his weight a fourth time. “Aurora told the five of us last week that it was her assistant's birthday and she didn't know what to get you.”

“Aw, thank you—it was back on the twenty first, though.”

“Happy belated,” he corrected himself, and she swore he winked at her. Someone called his name and he looked off to the distance.

“Hang on—” he said, and he darted past her towards Charlie.

“Sam?” Zelda called out to her, and she jogged back to her. Aurora had climbed out of Emile's car right next to them and she shivered inside of her windbreaker.

“What's up?”

“Apparently the wedding is today,” Aurora announced.

“Today?” Sam was stunned.

“Yeah. Three o'clock. I guess Kirk's lady couldn't wait for it a second longer so they're doing it today.”

“So we get a full weekend of good ol' fun,” Zelda added as she clasped her hands to her upper arms.

“Exactly!”

Sam turned her attention to Alex, who was talking to Charlie about something. His black hair twirled in the cold winter winds. Even from a distance, he had such a grave expression on his face that it made Sam think he was much older than in reality.

Belinda had the right idea: he was very precocious. But now she had a little bit of insight into the boy in that he was raised by intelligent parents. It was a start with Alex and she could only wonder from that point onward.

Aurora and Emile led her, Zelda, and Belinda into the cabin behind Charlie and Alex, and once they stepped inside of the cozy foyer, Zelda was eager to turn on the heater.

“Terrible idea not to pack a coat,” she muttered as she hurried down the front foyer in search of the thermostat, “terrible idea not to pack a coat!”

Sam and Belinda meanwhile took to the narrow stairwell in front of them, and they made their way up to that second level: to the right stood a couple of rooms, while to the left was the bathroom and two more rooms. The door at the far end stood slightly ajar, such that when they reached the top, they spotted that head of black curls outside the doorway.

“Hey, Joey,” Belinda greeted him. That lopsided grin and those big brown eyes returned the favor, and Sam's heart skipped a couple of beats at the sight of him. He didn't appear to be ready for a wedding at all with his plain white shirt, extra tight blue jeans, and ragged white socks.

“There are my girls,” he said as he padded closer to them.

“Oh deary me, you're gonna be down the hall from us?” Sam teased him.

“Yup, me, Frankie, and Charlie and Marla. We're gonna be all here at the end of the hall if you need anything.”

“You know the wedding is today right?” Belinda told him.

“Oh, shit, is it really?” Joey raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, Aurora just told us,” Sam added, and her heart sank at the thought of him barely being in the know of these things. “Three o'clock. So Bel and I are gonna get settled in and get dressed.”

“Oh, damn, thank you,” he told her, and his brown eyes sparkled at the sight of her. Cold as the earth and as engulfing as venom. He doubled back to his room and Sam pushed open the door in front of her. Inside stood a small bunk bed and a heavy wooden dresser underneath the window.

“Top or bottom?” she asked Belinda.

“You're older and got way more inside, so top,” she replied as she lay her purse down on the faded blue comforter upon the bottom bed. Even though they had plenty of time before the wedding, Sam wanted to clean up, and change her clothes and look her best. She hadn't been to a wedding in what felt like forever: there was one from when she was three years old, but she had no memory of it and she had no clue as to who even got eloped then, either.

Belinda offered to curl her hair and do it up extra nice, but she promised her there was very little to actually do up given her hair sat flat on her head. If only she could make curls into a crown like with Joey, but she had what she had in the form of a red wine colored dress and a thin black sweater over the top: the dress was a bit snug around her hips but she need not obsess over something as trivial as that when she remembered what Joey wanted to give her.

She was about to head on back inside of their room when she spotted him on the other side of the hallway with the five men from Death Angel, if she recalled correctly. Once again with the quintets and she would learn all of their names in the meantime. But he had a box wrapped in old faded red wrapping paper tucked under his arm and she hoped it wasn't just a wedding gift, especially since he still hadn't gotten dressed.

He laughed at something one of them said and he turned around.

“Oh, there you are!” he called out to her, and he scurried towards her. The tape on the edges of the box and the crooked look of the paper itself told her he wrapped it in a hurry, but she didn't mind at all once she slid her fingers under the edge of the paper closest to her. Careful not to tear it, she unwrapped it and lifted the lid. Inside was a pair of black leather gloves and a red and white knit scarf, the latter of which she ran her fingers over to find it softer than anything she had felt before. It was as soft as a cat.

“It's your own pair of gloves plus a scarf,” he declared. “I just think about how cold you always get upstate.” He shrugged at that.

“I love it, Joey! It's so soft.”

“It's cashmere.”

Sam gaped at him. “Cashmere,” she echoed him.

“Yeah—it was marked down, though. But it's cashmere. I wanted to give you something nice and good and good and nice.”

She slipped the gloves on and they fit around her fingers as if they were made for her. Joey offered to put the scarf around her neck; he stood before her, a country boy in a plain white shirt before a California girl in a dark red dress, and he wrapped the scarf around her.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered to her. “Happy birthday. Double deuces as of ten days ago!”

“Thank you—” She put her arms around him and she held him close. His slender little body was as soft as that scarf, and he smelled of fresh baked bread, something she would be willing to experience as long as he didn't have a drop of alcohol on hand.

Maybe there was in fact something more to life than being in that groove all the time. Maybe she could find a way to break out of her shell, and she could owe it all to him.

And she still hadn't told her parents about him.

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nearlymanaged · 4 years

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3. Lily, Lupin, and Lilacs

Remus made his way to the sixth floor all by himself before Ancient Runes lesson. He’d spent breakfast being entertained by Peter, who had turned into a rat to freak out some first years by going for a swim in their cereal bowls. The performance was cut short though when they noticed a couple of teachers eyeing them from across the Great Hall. James leapt to his feet, grabbed Wormtail, and hurried out of there, yelling something about his ‘poorly behaved pet’.

The lesson had been going on for nearly five minutes when the classroom door flew open and a very flustered Lily Evans burst in, muttering apologies and something about having overslept and how it had never happened before. She went for the nearest seat, which happened to be right next to Remus, and pulled out her things very slowly, trying not to make any more sounds.

Professor Argyle stared at her blankly for a moment and Remus was sure Gryffindor was about to lose ten points, but instead… “Make sure you go to bed at a reasonable time tonight, Miss Evans. Mr. Lupin, could you kindly share your notes with Miss Evans…” And she proceeded to teach the class.

Remus pushed his notes closer to Lily so she could copy the five or six sentences they had been instructed to copy by professor Argyle. “Thanks,” she whispered, scribbling frantically.

About halfway through the lesson, Remus started hearing a strange muffled gurgling sound. The classroom was filled with the scratching of quills on parchment, so it took him a couple of minutes to realise that it was Lily’s stomach that was growling greedily. “Hungry?” He whispered, stifling a laugh.

“Hmpf… I can’t even concentrate on this. Is that ‘leech’ or ‘cockroach’?” She squinted at a rune in a paragraph they had been instructed to translate.

“Leech,” Remus whispered and bent over to retrieve something from his bag. “Here.” He pushed half a bar of chocolate across the desk. “Also, I have no doubt that you know this, but that should be ‘lake’, not ‘puddle’.”

Lily seemed to be taken aback briefly, but then she gave him a genuine smile and breathed ‘thanks, Remus,’ before breaking off a piece and shoving it in her mouth. They had always been friendly with each other. Incidentally, only when James wasn’t around. Or Snape, for that matter. And now that September was drawing to a close, they had started exchanging little interactions here and there more frequently. It was only natural, since some of the classes they had both picked up for their sixth year only had small handfuls of students, none of whom were James or Snape.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be late for class,” Remus whispered brightly, watching Lily eat the last crumbs of his chocolate, even licking little specks off her fingers once it was all gone.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been late. I just had so much homework yesterday and it got so late and… I need to revisit my homework planner.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long month…”

Just then, the bell rang throughout the castle, announcing the end of the lesson. Both Gryffindors started packing their things and Lily was the first to reach the door while Remus was still fiddling with the zipper of his bag.

“Well?” He heard her say and looked up to see her waiting for him in the doorway. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be late again!” And they left the classroom together to head to a double Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

* * *

Sirius was eyeing Remus, who was curled up in one of the armchairs with a thick, dusty book. Black had just made himself comfortable in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. James was servicing his broomstick in anticipation of the upcoming Quidditch season, and Peter was still working on his Potions essay (James’ freshly finished one lying in front of him). It was one of the quieter evenings, the likes of which occurred more frequently since they had started their sixth year.

It had been a whole month since the beginning of term; a whole month since Sirius was reunited with Moony. A whole month since he had been having these new, curious feelings for him. He kept telling himself that it would go away eventually, but there was a part of him that didn’t particularly care for that to happen. He had spent a whole month relentlessly staring at Moony and he could not think of anyone or anything more beautiful, and he had never thought that about anyone for a whole month straight.

He had always liked Moony’s scars; not the pain that they were born out of, of course. But he always liked the way that they looked, as if counteracting how much Remus himself hated them. Sirius remembered the first time he heard his friend call them ugly, back in their second year, and he couldn’t believe his ears. He thought they looked cool; they bore witness of Remus’ strength and resilience. But now he thought they were beautiful -- maybe he had always thought them beautiful?

Throughout the past month, Sirius had been catching himself wanting to wrap his arms around Moony at the most random moments. Or hold his hand. Or kiss him. And then he’d wonder if he would realistically ever be able to do that. He wanted it all to go away, but he also...didn’t. Deep down, more so than that, he wanted to know if there was any chance at all that Moony could like him back. So far, his inventory of clues was that Remus wasn’t girl-crazy, but that could have easily been attributed to him being a bit of a bookworm. A lot of a bookworm.

But then, there was this vague feeling, which Sirius couldn’t put into words, that him and Moony had always had a different kind of...chemistry; different from him and Prongs or him and Wormtail. If only there had been a way to explore that without putting their friendship at risk...

All of a sudden, Sirius’ whole body perked up with a brilliant idea, and before he could question its brilliance further, the words slipped out of his mouth.

“You guys know I’m bisexual, right?” Sirius’ eyes lingered on Remus for just a moment longer before he casually looked down to inspect his fingernails.

“Er...you’re what?” James looked at him puzzled, as if he’d just been woken up from a nap.

“Bisexual, Prongs,” the Black replied with an exaggerated sigh. “Means I swing both ways.”

“And...have you?” Peter asked with some kind of a mixture of awe and confusion.

“Have I what?”

“Snogged a boy?”

“Not yet.” Sirius’ gaze flickered over to Remus for a split second; the werewolf was still adamantly staring at his book but Sirius could see that his eyes were fixated on a single spot on the page.

“How do you know then?” Peter asked and James shuffled his stare from him back to Sirius.

“How do people know they’re straight before they get to snog anyone? Or how does Prongs know he wants to spend the rest of his life making sweet love to Evans without having so much as accidentally bumped elbows with her?”

It seemed to take a second for James to register the answer but then he shrugged and nodded. “Fair enough.”

“So… Has anyone in particular caught your eye?” Peter asked and Sirius restrained himself from looking at Remus.

“Nope, no one in particular.”

For a little while, no one said anything, blankly staring at one another as if confunded. Then, Peter went back to his potions essay and James resumed polishing his broom handle.

“So?” Sirius’ voice was tinged with annoyance now.

“So what?” James asked without looking up.

“You lot okay with that? Any thoughts? Feedback? Anything?”

“‘Course we are okay with it!” Peter affirmed.

“Now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense,” James mumbles casually, and Sirius was about to inquire further about that statement, but then he realised that Remus was still frozen in the same position, still pretending to read the same page.

“Moony?”

“What?” He answered rather quickly.

“Any thoughts?”

“Of course I am okay with it, Sirius,” he punctuated his irritated response by closing his book with a thud.

“Sorry we’re not more shocked, mate,” James shrugged.

* * *

James did his best to keep his focus on professor Slughorn, but his gaze would inadvertently land on the side of Lily Evans’ face time and time again during that day’s Potions lesson. And then, once in a while, he’d look over at Snape; he couldn’t help but wonder why Lily and him weren’t friends anymore. He was happy about it, no doubt; but curious nonetheless.

Even with those distractions, James had to admit that it was an interesting lesson. Slughorn was telling them about the strongest love potion in the world, Amortentia. There was a whole couldronfull of it and James was quite aware of the fact that everyone in the classroom was leaning forward ever so slightly, trying to get closer to its intoxicating scent (which, apparently, smelled of different things to every single person).

A couple of the students jumped in their seats at the sound of a loud knock on the door. Slughorn stared at it for a second and then shuffled over to open it. James looked over at Peter and both grinned when they heard the sound of Sirius’ voice.

“Sorry, sir. Professor McGonagall sent me to get Potter. It’s about Quidditch…”

“Right now? In the middle of the lesson?”

“You know how she gets just before the season starts, sir,” Sirius’ voice carried a note of very well faked innocence.

“Ah yes, I daresay, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of Minerva and the Quidditch cup…” Slughorn wheezed and then mumbled something about ‘insufferable’ and ‘fury’. “Very well then, just make sure to get today’s notes from one of your friends, James.”

James scrambled to his feet, shoved all his stuff in his bag, and rushed out of the classroom. They had done this sort of thing so many times, and had planned so many different, slight variations of it, that he wasn’t worried about getting caught at all anymore. He grinned at Sirius and both started down the corridor, to wait around the corner. If James wasn’t much mistaken, Peter was about to use one of those fake blood capsules from Muggle jokes shops that Remus had introduced them to a while ago.

Sure enough, no more than five minutes later, Peter appeared with red paint down his front. The brilliance of this particular trick was that Slughorn tried to magic Wormtail’s supposed nosebleed away, but since his nose wasn’t really bleeding, the spell didn’t do anything. Pretty quickly, Slughorn gave up and sent Peter to the hospital wing.

“Why did it smell like coffee, lilacs, and Moony in there?”

There was a second’s pause and then James turned to Peter, shock and curiosity mirrored in his face too.

“What?” Sirius lifted his hands in a brief shrug when his two friends exchanged very eloquent and very obvious looks. Then he explained rather proudly: “I’ve been able to pick up even the most subtle scents a lot more since I’ve started casually transforming into a massive black dog. Was Remus here already to get you out of Potions?”

James, and by the looks of it, Peter too, knew that the cauldron full of Amortentia was seated nearest to the door, and the only scent that Sirius could have possibly been picking up was that. And it smelled like Moony to him.

“No er…” James shook his head as if waking up from some kind of a trance. “Yeah, Merlin’s beard, that’s incredible! That you can smell things like a bloody dog now!”

“Yeah… Completely!” Peter agreed. “Incredible!”

“Come on, you must have noticed things like that too since last year?” Sirius shrugged again and his two friends exchanged looks, again. “Anywho,” he rolled his eyes, probably thinking that they were trying to mess with him. “Shall we make a quick stop at the kitchen?”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #marauders #fanfic #hogwarts

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Boys Will Be Boys (Winteriron)

A commission for @noaharhar who wanted single dads Tony and Bucky meeting and falling for each other while their wild ass kiddos wreak havoc in the background.

This shit is adorable. It’s just fucking adorable. Enjoy.

THERE’S MORE WINTERIRON ON MY MASTERLIST

**************

“Mr. Stark, this is Stanley Leiber, I am the guidance counselor here at your son Peter's school. This is the third time this month he’s been brought to my office for fighting, and at this point I like to get the parents involved.“

“Shit shit shit shit shit.” Tony bounded up the stairs to the elementary school, cursing the steps and the time and the fact that he was so so late to this not quite mandatory but definitely encouraged meeting with Peter's guidance counselor.

Three times this month Peter had been caught fighting with that Keener kid and Tony was about at his wits end. Peter was a good kid, a smart kid, what the hell was he doing fighting with some snot nosed kid from the other class? Tony had stopped an important project for this meeting, had raced out of work and couldn’t catch a damn cab because of the rain and now he was soaking wet, very late, and just about ready to shout at Peter for causing all this trouble.

And it was definitely Peter causing the trouble. He might have his Mama’s soft eyes and sweet laugh, but the outright devilish antics the eight year old got up to was just a shadow of the nonsense Tony had gotten into at that age.

Tony would bet good money the fight was Peter's fault, not cos Peter was a bully but cos he had yet to learn to just walk away. His go to phrase courtesy of Uncle Rhodey was “Square up, Punk!” and Tony never knew whether to laugh or start praying every time Peter screeched the words like a war cry.

“Please God tell me he didn’t scream square up in class.” Tony yanked open the school door and jogged towards the guidance counselors office. “Please please tell me he didn’t scream it at a teacher—“

“Oh, Mr. Stark.” Mr. Leiber was at least twenty years past ancient, his eyes magnified behind a huge pair of glasses, his hair a shocking shade of steel grey. “How kind of you to join us.”

“Sorry I’m late.” Tony combed his fingers through his hair and shook loose the last of the rain. “No cabs this time of day, specially not in this weather.”

Peter was sat on the small couch along the back wall, his little mouth twisted in an apologetic grimace when he saw Tony shiver. “Hey—hey dad.” He offered quietly. “You okay?”

“If I was witchy and from the West, I’d be melting.” Tony informed him, and Peter scrunched his nose in a smile because his dad couldn’t be all that angry if he was making Wizard of Oz references. “But I’m fine. You okay?”

“I dunno.” Peter sniffed out loud and Tony caught just the hint of blood at the boys nose. “Don’t think I won this one.”

“You shouldn’t be fighting at all.” Tony said sternly and Peter looked away with a pout, bottom lip sticking out. “Don’t try that look at me, I invented that look. You’re gonna tell me exactly what happened and then Mr Leiber and I are going to figure out a suitable discipline.”

“Actually Mr Stark.” Mr. Leiber spoke up again. “As soon as Mr. Barnes and Harley arrive, I wanted to speak to you both about —“

A commotion in the hall interrupted the conversation and three pairs of wide eyes turned toward the door as the commotion grew into a ruckus and then into a noise bordering chaos and then the door knocked open and just about the biggest guy Tony had ever seen stalked through, followed by a very reluctant, very sullen, eight year old in a leather cut off vest.

“Your nemesis wears leather vests?” Tony probably shouldn’t have laughed quite so loud but there wasn’t anything quite as funny as pint sized punks and the other child was most definitely a pint sized punks.

“To be fair, it was a pretty fuckin’ expensive leather jacket before Harley got a little stupid and took a knife to it.” The other man drawled and Tony blinked a few times when he was suddenly face to face with light blue eyes and long dark hair, a whole lotta muscles crammed into a very tight t shirt, the entire package framed in leather.

Ho-ho-holy shit.

“M’real sorry bout the kid.” Tall, dark and seriously, holy shit jerked a thumb towards Harley. “He’s good most days but all of us need’ta get rowdy every once in a while, right? Boys will be boys.”

“Um.” Tony blinked again because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” A smile that had no business being that gorgeous or that flirty crossed the other parents face. “You must be Pete’s dad. I’m Bucky Barnes, it’s real nice’ta meet—“

“His names Peter, not Pete.” Harley scowled and folded his arms and Peter copied the gesture immediately, glaring just as hard as he could from under his brows. “Peter Prickly Stark!”

“My middle name ain’t prickly!” Peter shouted and Harley shouted right back, “Well it sure ain’t pretty cos you too ugly for that!”

“Least I got a real name and didn’t get named after a dumb motorcycle!” Peter cried and Harley howled, “A motorcycle could kick your prickly ass any day of the week!”

“Harley!” Bucky snapped and Tony admonished, “Pete!” And at the same time both Dads— “Apologize! Now!”

Instead of apologizing, Peter leaned over and thumbed his nose at Harley, a trick Tony knew Auntie Peggy had taught him and my god would that be the last time that woman got to babysit Peter without a chaperone.

Harley scoffed, pulled his face down into a grimace and stuck his tongue out, then whirled around and pointed his butt in Peter's direction and—

“Oh I think the hell not!” Bucky reached out and yanked Harley right off his feet, holding the kid off the ground and planting him firmly in a chair on the other side of the room. “You are definitely not doing a Rippin’ Rocket in the guidance counselors office.”

“Thank God.” Mr Leiber muttered but Peter gasped, “He was gonna rip a rocket at me? I’m gonna pummel you good, Harley Keener!“

“Nope.” Tony snagged Peter's belt as he rushed past. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to know what a Rippin’ Rocket is, but you are not going to hit Harley for it. Sit down.”

“A Rippin’ Rocket is when you—“ Harley started to pipe up but Bucky clapped a hand over the kids mouth and grimaced.“Uh, my buddy Sam teaches Harley some really awful tricks. Let’s just move on.”

“Moving on.” Tony tried and failed to hide a smile at Bucky's obvious embarrassment. “Mr. Leiber? You were saying?”

“Right.” Mr Leiber adjusted his frankly enormous glasses and cleared his throat. “Now both your boys are brilliant students, doing math and reading well above their grade level, showing a particular affinity for science even at this age. Their grades are not the issue here. The issue is that they cannot seem to be within a few feet of each other without starting an argument.”

“What was the argument about today?” Bucky wanted to know and Mr Leiber checked his notes and clarified, “According to Peter, Harley took his action figure and ruined it by drawing on him in permanent ink.”

“And according to Harley?” Tony prompted. “Let’s hear both sides of the story.”

“According to Harley, he took Peter's Barbie and helped it ‘grow a pair’.”

“Oh my god.” Bucky dragged his hand down his face and groaned. “Harley, are you kiddin’ me with that shit?”

“Well Peter broke the rules first by having a toy in class!” Harley insisted. “I was helping the teacher by takin’ it! They should be thanking me!”

“It’s not a toy, it’s Captain America!” Peter retorted. “He defends the constitution, you communist! He’s the entire reason the Nazi’s didn’t take over the world! Show some respect!”

“That’s—“ Tony shook his head. “Nope. There are so many things wrong with what you just said, but we aren’t going to get into it here. Mr Leiber, please continue.”

“This is a bit of an unorthodox solution to this problem.” The counselor admitted, folding his hands on his desk and peering at them over the thick frames. “But since the problems seem to just be rivalry and not anything more serious, the principal and I have decided to encourage the boys to spend time together outside of school. Perhaps becoming friends outside of where they compete will also settle things in the classroom.”

“Outside of school.” Bucky repeated blankly. “What, you want th’boys to have play dates?”

“I wouldn’t call it a play date.” Me. Leiber said immediately. “More of a structured introductory period that would facilitate—“ he sighed. “Alright. Yes. A play date.”

“A play date.” Tony sent Peter a look, noted the eight year olds positively scandalized expression and nodded. “That sounds fair. So long as it can be on the weekends, I work late most nights.”

“Dad!” Peter wailed. “No! I don’t want to play with him! I’d rather eat dirt!”

“Play date it is.” Bucky agreed and when Harley opened his mouth to unleash a most certainly scathing retort, the big brunette cleared his throat pointedly, and the boy shut up. “You boys learn to get along instead of fightin’ like babies and we wouldn’t hafta do this.”

“But POP—!”

“Get up and get out.” Bucky jerked his thumb towards the door and Harley scowled terribly at Peter before stomping away. “Mr Leiber, m’real sorry bout this. Hopefully me and Mr Stark can get this settled so our boys quit drivin’ you crazy.”

“Please accept my apologies too.” Tony shook the counselors hand. “I promise this will be the last time Peter fights in school, isn’t that right Peter?”

Peter muttered something about leather vests and punks and Bucky snorted a laugh at him. “Easy does it, Tiger. More ways to end a fight than with your fists and we’ll figure it out. Harley, step to it. Double time, kiddo. I’ve still got work to do tonight and you’re holdin’ everything up.”

“Yes, Pop.” Harley sulked and darted out the door just a head of Peter. “Ha! Beat you, Stark! Too slow!”

“Damn you, Keener!” Peter shook his fist dramatically and took off down the hall after Harley, leaving the two dads trailing along behind.

“We should probably go separate them.” Tony was trying his hardest not to side eye Bucky as they walked, but he was honestly gob smacked that the little terror Harley had such a smoking hot dad. It had been a long time since Tony had been on a date, longer still since he’d been on a date with a guy but his type certainly hadn’t changed and Bucky Barnes checked about every box on Tony’s list.

Tall, gorgeous, and worked with his hands judging by the callous on Bucky’s palm. Tony would guess construction based on the size of his shoulders alone, maybe even a mechanic since there was a streak of grease on a thick forearm and the unmistakable imprint of a wrench worn into the back pocket of washed out jeans.

Tony might wear a shirt and tie to work every day but he still preferred the look of t shirts, messy hair and work pants and Bucky Barnes was killing it.

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like you wanna take a bite, or are we gonna make a plan for our boys to get along?” Bucky asked then, and Tony jerked back to the moment, face flaming.

“Ain’t no thang, sugar.” Bucky winked and somehow that made everything even worse. “Just thought you white collar types were supposed to be more subtle about that sort of thing. I’m s’psed to be the one with my mouth open and eyes all bugged out when someone as gorgeous as you walks by.”

“I--I--” Tony looked down at himself then back up at Bucky. “I feel like that was a compliment, so I’m going to say thank you?”

“Definitely a compliment, so you’re welcome.” Bucky shoved open the school door and motioned for Tony to go ahead. “So the weekend huh? Work somethin’ out for Saturday?”

“That’s about the only day I can spare.” Tony watched curiously as the big brunette patted through his pockets and withdrew a cigarette. “You smoke?”

“Only when I’m nervous.” Bucky lit up and took a slow drag. “You don’t approve.”

“Don’t smoke around my kid.” Tony hated that he came across snobby and irritable, so he added belated, “...Please.”

“Don’t smoke around my own, don’t see why I’d smoke around yours.” Bucky returned mildly. “Dunno if Harley even knows I smoke. Like I said, I only do it when I’m nervous.”

It was on the tip of Tony’s tongue to make a snarky comment about his apparent good looks making Bucky nervous, but it had been so long since he tried flirting, he probably couldn’t do it anymore, and it probably wasn’t great to try out his rusty skills on the dad of Peter’s nemesis.

So instead he cleared his throat and asked, “Well, why are you nervous?”

“Harley’s a good kid.” Bucky grunted, keeping a close eye on where the boys were chasing each other around the playground. “Makes me nervous when he acts out like this. Dunno why he’s turning out like me since I wasn’t around most of his life--” Tony raised a questioning eyebrow and Bucky clarified, “She was a Friday night and a fifth of whiskey. Nine months later I started sending checks across the state line where she lived and that’s about as Dad as I got. Don’t see how my kid turned out a mini-me when I wasn’t around to be a bad influence.”

“But you have Harley now?”

“Showed up beginning of the summer.” Bucky took another deep drag and blew the cloud of smoke into the evening air. “She put him on a bus with a one way ticket so I just kept him. He’s definitely mine, took to grease and fixin’ bikes like he was born to it but it’s been a rough few months, you know?”

“I’d say being a single parent gets easier, but it really doesn’t.” Tony flinched when Peter scrambled to the to of the monkey bars and ran across them to get away from Harley. “Me and Peter have been alone since day one and obviously, we’re still struggling.”

“Friday night and a fifth of whiskey?” Bucky wanted to know and Tony corrected, “College sweetheart and a too difficult labor and delivery. Just me and Pete now.”

“M’real sorry about that.” Bucky’s pale eyes cut to Tony’s and flickered with concern. “Real sorry.”

“And I’m real sorry about over sharing while my kid currently has your kid in a headlock.” Tony said over his shoulder as he ran towards the boys. “Peter Benjamin Stark don’t you dare--!”

Bucky put out his cigarette and jogged after Tony, letting his gaze linger over the cut of the smaller brunette's trousers. He’d only been half teasing when he called Tony out on staring-- Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off the guy if his life depended on it.

Office workers usually didn’t do it for him, but it would be a cold day in hell when big brown eyes and a butt like that didn’t do things for Bucky “Bronco” Barnes, so when Harley screeched in rage at being separated from the object of his wrath, Bucky let himself smile a little bit.

His kid was a punk, but at least now he had a reason to see Tony a few more times.

“Let’s get on home before you get your ass beat, Harley.” Bucky hooked an arm around Harley’s neck and smiled a little more when Harley quit his screeching and just burrowed into his side. He was a fuckin’ punk, but still only eight years old and needed to know his dad was there.

“Got ya, bud.” Bucky said quietly, and then tossed his phone towards Tony and added, “Put your number in there for me. I’ll call ya Friday night and we can work out what to do for the first play date.”

“DON’T CALL IT THAT!” Harley cried and Peter complained, “Dad! We aren’t babies! Stop calling it that!”

“Oh look at that, we found the first thing they don’t fight about.” Tony laughed out loud and Bucky felt that noise clear to his soul. Whoa. “Whether or not to call a play date a play date.”

“Call it something else.” Peter scowled up at his dad as they started towards the parking lot. “Mandatory fun activities. Call it funtivities. Even that is better than a play date.”

The moment they were out of ear shot, Harley whirled around and aimed a sharp kick at Bucky’s shin. “You like him! I saw you makin’ eyes! You can’t love Peter Prickly’s dad! I won’t be his brother! I refuse!”

“First of all, ow.” Bucky tried for a scowl so his dismay at being caught staring by a damn kid. “Second of all, who says makin’ eyes? Does Sam say that? You’re not allowed to talk to him anymore.”

“You didn’t say you didn’t like him!” Harley insisted. “You can’t love him, Pop! I’ll run away! I’ll run away if I gotta share a bedroom with--ooph!”

He acked in shock when Bucky just picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. “Pop! Let me down! Let me down and I’ll kick your ass! I swear--”

“Yeah, alright Junior.” Bucky clamped his arm down over Harley’s flailing legs and tried to ignore the flutter of… of something in his heart when he flipped open his phone and saw Tony’s name and number there on the contact screen. “Whatever you say.”

*****************

A park close to midway between their respective houses was deemed an appropriately neutral meeting place for their first official play date, and when Tony and Peter pulled up in their car, Bucky was glad Harley was already off climbing the wrong way up a slide.

He would have for sure gotten a kick to the shins if Harley saw the way his grin stretched to fuckin’ goofy when he saw Tony.

Bucky hadn’t had a real date-- nope, Bucky hadn’t even been laid for months since before Harley had shown up at his place in May. He was going on a years worth of a dry spell these days and for the most part he could ignore it since he was busy learning how to be a Dad, but when Tony looked up with a wave and a smile, Bucky suddenly felt the dry spell like a punch to the gut.

Holy crap he was hot.

“Hey Bucky.” Tony’s smile got a little bigger as they approached, and Bucky loved that. “Good to see you. Pete, where are your manners?”

“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” Peter said quickly, and then just as quickly, “Can I go now?”

“Remember, the point of this is to learn to be friends!” Tony called as Peter bolted for the playground. “Be good! For the love of God, be good!”

“Heya Tony.” Bucky kept his tone casual, but he would have given anything for a cigarette right then. Kids were on a play date and he was over here jonesing for a smoke just so he wouldn't be nervous when the prettiest guy he’d ever seen in his life was looking up at him with fuckin’ Bambi eyes. “How’s it goin’ today?”

“I was up till about three am working on the patent paperwork for Hammer Tech.” Tony said absentmindedly, watching the boys carefully to see if anyone escalated a so far friendly game of tag. “And Peter doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘sleep in’ so I’m running on two and a half hours of shut eye, which means I’m doing that thing I do where I over share and talk too much cos I’m super tired.”

Tony laughed a little and ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. Let me start over and be normal this time. Today is going just fine. How’s your day?”

“Woke up to find Harley building a ramp in the living room and getting ready to ride his board down the stairs.” Bucky stated, and Tony’s eyes widened in alarm. “But we didn’t end up at the emergency room for anything broken, so no harm no foul. Just another normal day for us.”

“I think your normal day is quite a bit more exciting than our normal.” Tony decided and Bucky countered, “S’nothing wrong with a little bit of excitement, Tony. Gotta relax and have fun at some point, right? Specially if you’re up all night writing patents for Hammer Tech.”

“I feel like there’s better ways to relax than waking up to a child trying to launch himself into the stratosphere via a taped together ramp.” Tony said dryly. “Don’t you?”

“I can think of about a hundred other ways to relax, startin’ with a cold beer and endin’ with your pants on the floor.” Bucky put his fingers to his mouth and whistled when Harley picked up a rock. “Harley PunkAss Keener Barnes you put that shit down NOW!”

“Uh, yeah, Pop!” Harley called back, letting the rock slip through his fingers casually. “I was just lookin’ at it! S’just a real pretty rock.”

“Look with your eyes not with your hands! And not with a fuckin’ evil smirk on your face either!” Bucky hollered and up on the slide, Peter cackled with laughter. “Anyway, Tony. M’just saying instead of staying up late working, at some point you should be stayin’ up late--”

“--drinking beer and taking my pants off?” Tony finished and Bucky rotated to look at him with very wide eyes. “Do you always say things like that to other parents, or am I an exception?”

“I uh--” if possible, Bucky’s eyes went even wider. “I didn’t mean t’say that to you, Tony, just sorta slipped out. Sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it. They don’t call me Bronco cos I’m subtle, y’know? Was just bein’ a fool, don’t think too far into it.”

“Not subtle, huh?” Tony raised both eyebrows and tried not to laugh at Bucky’s visible embarrassment. “So why do they call you Bronco, then?”

“Cos I’ll give you the ride’a--” Bucky's started to answer, then stopped and shook his head. “Nope. Never mind. How bout we change the subject so I stop soundin’ like I’m gonna proposition you, or like I make a habit of hittin’ on single Dads. So um, you work in patents?”

Thoroughly charmed by Bucky’s inadvertent proposition/flirting and the way the gorgeous brunette was completely embarrassed by it, Tony gave the whole flirting thing another try and replied, “Been a long time since I’ve been propositioned, could be fun. But um--”

He rushed on when Bucky’s eyes lit in wicked anticipation. “--I actually work in the R & D lab in Hammer Tech. I’m still not sure how I ended up behind a desk and writing contracts, but it’s a job, right?”

“Right.” It didn’t seem right that a little bit of flirting could leave Bucky reeling like this, but he just hadn’t been prepared for the way Tony’s lashes had fluttered for a second, or how he’d bitten at his bottom lip right after as if he couldn’t believe what he’d said.

The fuckin’ cutest. Fuckin’ slay me.

“Right.” Bucky said again when Tony kept waiting for the rest of his sentence. “R &D though-- that’s a lot fancier mechanics than what I do in my garage. You like to build stuff?”

“I like to invent.” Tony corrected. “I have a few patents under my name but for the most part I’m a tinkerer and-- Jesus Christ-- PETER BENJAMIN! WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

��....crying havoc?” Peter held up two handfuls of wood chips from the playground cover. “...you know. Letting loose the dogs of war?”

“Do not use William Shakespeare to justify throwing wood chips at Harley!”

“Besides, it’s ‘let slip the dogs of war’, kiddo!” Bucky corrected and when Tony sent him an impressed look, he finished, “Act 3, Scene 1, line 273 of Julius Caesar. My buddy Stevie played Mark Antony in three high school plays and another four in college. I helped him run lines so much m’pretty sure I’ve got the damn thing memorized.”

“I was always more of a Hamlet fan.” Tony’s nose scrunched as he smiled. “So you’re a mechanic who has memorized Shakespeare and has a kid named Harley. Tell me, is he really named after the bike?”

“His Ma named him.” Bucky scoffed. “Think she was goin’ for a theme. Called me Bronco so she named the kid Harley. Her last name is Keener, but I like him having mine too.”

“So PunkAss is….”

“An affectionate nickname!” Bucky laughed out loud at Tony’s expression. “M’not awesome at the dad thing yet, but I’m getting there! One day punk ass will turn into Honey Bunches or something, I promise!”

“Yeah, alright.” Tony grinned and when Bucky grinned right back, his breath caught on an unexpected hitch. Keep it together, Tony. “The kids are being suspiciously quiet. Let’s walk and talk.”

“Yeah, they’d probably riot if they saw us over here turning their play date into a real date.” Bucky agreed casually. “Walk and talk it is.”

The two dads ambled along the pavement that circled the playground, keeping a close eye on their respective children as they went. Tony didn’t say anything about how Bucky had so easily called this a real date-- it definitely wasn’t a date, but Tony didn’t want to be the one to say it-- and eventually the conversation came back around to every day things.

Tony confessed how he only got into R & D because he wanted to create things that helped change the world and Hammer Tech was the only name in the game back then. Bucky told Tony about the Mustang he was rebuilding as a father-son project with Harley and how the poor car was going to be subjected to a truly shocking color of green because he’d promised Harley he could pick the paint.

Tony talked about how he’d moved Peter from the school closer to home last year because he felt like Peter was disappearing in a mass of students. “He corrected his teacher over a science project.” Tony said proudly. “Seven years old and corrected what the teacher said. He got in trouble for talking back, I moved him to this school and he’s been having the time of his life.”

“Harley lectured me on better ways to clean up oil spills.” Bucky complained. “He mouthed off so I told him to get out to the garage and clean up a spill from the floor. It’s not hard work but it sure takes a while, gives him time to think about what he did. Kid comes in and starts watching a cartoon, informs me that cat litter soaks up oil in about twenty minutes and to call him when it was ready to sweep. Asked him how he knew? He rolled his eyes and said chemistry like I was a damn moron for not knowing it already.”

“Smart kids are the bane of my existence.” Tony decided and Bucky agreed with a resounding, “He definitely didn’t get that shit from me.”

The boys moved on to the obstacle course down the hill from the slides, and Bucky and Tony followed at a slower pace, lost in their own conversation, and like it tended to do when two people were doing a terrible job of pretending they weren’t attracted to each other-- the conversation turned towards relationships.

“So if you were up all night writing patents, Friday nights must not be date nights, huh?” Bucky asked casually and Tony shrugged, “Haven’t had a date in so long, I wouldn’t even know what to do on one. Do people still go to movies?”

Bucky grinned, more pleased than he should be to know Tony wasn’t seeing anyone, and Tony wanted to know, “What about you? You the sort of mechanic to give out discounts for phone numbers?”

“Are you askin’ me if I flirt with customers tryin’ to get laid?” Bucky gasped in faux horror and when Tony spread his hands in a you tell me gesture, Bucky rolled his eyes, “I’m a real mechanic, Tony. Not one outta a porn flick. Nobody does that in real life.”

“So I should probably report my mechanic?” Tony said devilishly and Bucky laughed out loud at him. “So listen, I’ve gotta ask about the Bronco thing.”

Tony paused on the low bridge running over the park pond and Bucky stopped next to him, leaning against the rail and brushing leaves down into the water. “Is it a sports name left over from college? Are you in a motorcycle gang? Are you secretly a cowboy?” And then with a all too casual air, “Left over from your first relationship? Doesn’t sound like a name a girl would saddle you with but I could be wrong.”

“What makes you think it was a girl in the saddle?” Bucky's fingers twitched towards his pack of cigarettes but fell away at the last second. “For that matter, what makes you think there was a saddle involved. What’r’ya tryin’ to say about me, Tony?”

“Name like Bronco, there’s gotta be a saddle.” Tony said confidently-- or at least faux confidently. He’d gotten good at pretending to be confident after Pete’s Ma had passed, but these days his acting was a little shaky, so Tony could only hope it came out teasing and not awkward. “A saddle or at least stirrups.”

“At least stirrups.” Bucky mocked good naturedly. “Sounds t’me like you’re lookin’ for a ride, Tony. S’that what’s goin’ on?”

Tony’s mouth fell right open, his cheeks burning scarlet and Bucky held up both hands peacefully. “Yeah alright, alright, you wanna know the Bronco story? Back in high school I had the well earned reputation of--”

He stopped to watch Harley run full speed across a balance beam and then face plant on the other side. Peter shouted something in alarm and slid off another obstacle to run over and check on the boy.

“Oh hey do you see that?” Tony lit up into a proud smile. “Peter is checking on Harley! Not pushing his face in the dirt or stealing his shoes--”

“--Harley isn’t fakin’ till Pete gets close enough to chuck rocks at or trip.” Bucky finished. “I think our play date just took it’s first step in a good sorta direction.”

“Miracles do happen.” Tony waved when Peter looked up to check in with him. “Good job bud! Is Harley okay?”

“He’s just uglier!” Peter called back and then screamed when Harley launched himself right onto Peter and started wrestling him.

“And back to the norm.” Bucky grimaced. “Small steps count as good steps right? For like eight seconds there, they were being nice to each other.”

“They were nice to each while they were both screaming at us to not call this a play date.” Tony added. “That’s like, two small steps.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Bucky gave in to the need for a cigarette, turning his back on the boys and taking a few steps away from Tony to light up. “Sorry about this.”

“You said you only smoke when you’re nervous.” Tony had the grace to not look irritated or anything and Bucky appreciated it. “What are you nervous about? The boys have been playing for an entire hour and no one is dead, dying or bleeding, and more importantly, nothing has been blown up or set on fire. The playground is intact, the obstacle course is actually being used for it’s intended purpose and--”

“You tellin’ me you don’t feel it?” Bucky interrupted and Tony’s mouth clicked shut. “Shit, Tony. I saw you last night and about died. Couldn’t figure out why Harley never told me Peter’s Dad was a goddamn super model. Then you stood there and looked at me with those bedroom eyes like you were darin’ me to do something about it was we walked outside. You don’t feel that b’tween us? Don’t know why I’m nervous?”

“Well, I mean--” good god had it always been this hot? Tony was suddenly sweating. “Bucky, I um--”

“I’m screwin’ this up.” Bucky cleared his throat and held up a hand apologetically. “Forget it. Forget I said anything. Been a long time since I’ve been even close to interested in anyone and I’m reading signs wrong, we were flirtin’ and I read too much into it--”

“No!” Tony blurted and Bucky stopped, eyebrows raised. “No, you aren’t reading signs wrong. I mean, I feel it too. You’re gorgeous and I think I’m a little tongue tied but I mean, isn’t it sort of weird that we’re hanging out cos our kids are enemies and all I can think about is kissing you?”

“It’d only be weird if I wasn’t thinkin’ the same thing.” Bucky said stubbornly and about melted through the ground when Tony flushed in surprise and tried to hide a mega watt smile behind his hand. “What say we make this a real date? Pack up the kids, get some dinner, you guys come over and watch a movie. I don't really do babysitters other than Sam and he’d kill me for ruining his Saturday plans on short notice. Kids can bunk up in Harley’s room and you and I--”

Tony’s eyes flew open wide and Bucky sent him a crooked grin, “Can sit out on the couch and finish a six pack while we figure out if our boys will kill us for kissing or not.”

“They’d kill us.” Tony confirmed. “Without a doubt.”

“Definitely.” Bucky agreed. “...but we should try it anyway?”

Tony took a deep breath and thought about all the dates he’d turned down in the past eight years, all the phone numbers he’d tossed in the trash and the nights where he’d put Pete to bed and sat up alone on the couch, falling asleep to infomercials.

A date sounded fun. A date where he didn’t have to worry about his kid sounded even better and a date that would maybe end with falling asleep next to Bucky….

“If I kiss you and you taste like cigarettes we’re gonna have a problem.” he finally said, not bothering to hide his grin when Bucky put out the cigarette in an instant and tossed it in a nearby bin. “Also we eat pineapple on our pizza.”

“The date is fuckin’ cancelled.” Bucky said promptly and Tony burst out laughing. “Aw hell, guess it’s back on, cos you got about the cutest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

“Keep talkin’ like that, and you might end up kissed sooner rather than later.” Tony hadn’t quite meant to say all that, but the way Bucky’s smile turned towards wicked made his heart beat faster all the same. “Should we let the boys play a while longer?”

“They can spend all day together so long as you’re gonna keep walkin’ with me.” Bucky inclined his head towards the trail and reached out his hand. “You comin’, Tony?”

Tony hesitated only a second before taking Bucky’s hand and letting the mechanic pull him down the path. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Unbeknownst to the pair, Peter and Harley had ducked behind one of the climbing boulders and were watching the entire interaction with wide eyes and general expressions of disgust.

“Oh my god.” Harley whispered. “Your dad is so gross! Why is he holding my Pop’s hand?”

“Your Dad’s the gross one.” Peter retorted. “You see him lookin’ at my Dad? I’ve only seen people look like that in those dumb girlie movies.”

“If they’re in love, I’m going to throw up.” Harley decided and Peter chimed in, “I’m going to throw up bigger.”

“We can’t let them kiss.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Cry havoc?”

“Definitely cry havoc.”

“Dogs of war?” Harley held up his pinky and Peter hooked his through with a confident, “Dogs of war!”

“Okay but just in case we end up brothers, I get the top bunk.” Harley announced. “I’m older than you. Top bunk rules.”

“No way!” Peter jumped to his feet and waved his hands. “I GET THE TOP BUNK!”

“NO YOU DON’T!”

Just that quickly, whatever momentary truce the boys had struck dissolved into shouts and screams and a rather intense game of chase that culminated on top of the teeter totter with both boys brandishing sticks and laying claim to the top bunk.

“What the hell just happened?” Bucky ran his thumb in slow circles on the top of Tony’s hand, completely enjoying the way Tony was smiling and trying not to look quite so affected. “Why are they yelling about a top--?”

“TH’HELL I WILL CALL YOU BIG BROTHER! YOU’RE TOO STINKY! I’LL CALL YOU A BIG FART IS WHAT I’LL DO!”

“I think the boys are about a thousand pages ahead of us with this thing.” Tony guessed. “But I suppose it’s another step towards them getting along if the thought of being brothers doesn’t end in bloodshed and mutiny?”

A high pitched scream, followed by a litany of panicked “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s not that bad! It’s just a little bit of blood, it’s fine! You’re fine! No reason to tell our Dad’s!”

“For fucks sake.” Bucky rolled his eyes and dropped a quick kiss on Tony’s knuckles. “Don't go anywhere. M’gonna go see which punk impaled the other punk.”

“Boys will be boys.” Tony knew he was fucking blushing over the kiss on his knuckles but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Hurry back so we can keep walking?”

Bucky turned around to send Tony a wink. “Oh sure thing, sweet thing.”

************

Pizza and movie night was easier to pull off than either Bucky or Tony had expected. Both boys were exhausted from a long day in the sunshine and after eating most of a pizza to themselves and screaming with laughing through something animated and superhero themed, Harley was the first to pass out with a bowl of ice cream still in his hands, Peter right behind him, falling asleep in his soda.

“Here we go, punk.” Bucky scooped up Harley in both arms and carried him to the bedroom, tucking him into the bottom bunk. “You can put Pete on top, Tony.”

“I’d be too worried he’d fall off.” Tony admitted and Bucky nodded with a quiet, “Same reason I make Harley sleep on the bottom. There’s a trundle under here, let me get it pulled out.”

Peter was sleep heavy in Tony’s arms, far too big to be draped over Tony’s shoulder like this, his feet down by Tony’s knees because he’d had a growth spurt this summer and shot up like a weed, but Tony still held him tight until Bucky got the trundle bed ready and motioned to take him.

“Oof, big kid.” Bucky lay Pete out gently and tucked a blanket over him. “Bigger than Harley, that’s for sure. Kid’s got a damn Napoleon complex. I keep tellin’ him he’ll grow into it, he’s my boy he won’t end up short.”

Bucky glanced up apologetically. “Not that uh, there’s anything wrong with being short.”

“I’m perfectly average sized.” Tony said dryly and bent to kiss Peter’s forehead before backing out of the room. “But thanks for that.”

“Don’t be sore.” Bucky reached for Tony’s hand as they made their way back to the living room. “You come in a real cute package, Tony. Real cute size. I’m a fan.”

Tony was glad for the dark to cover what was no doubt a spectacular blush, and let Bucky pull him back down onto the couch.

“How about we watch something non animated and non super hero themed.” Bucky grabbed the remote to flip through the movies, and settled his arm over Tony’s shoulder, coaxing the smaller brunette closer to his side. “Any recommendations?”

“Um--” Tony’s brain entirely short circuited when his hand landed on Bucky’s stomach and he could feel the solid line of muscle beneath the shirt. “I um--you-- movies--”

Bucky chuckled and slouched down further into the cushions, stretching out until Tony was almost laid out against him. “You like that, sugar?”

“...my mind isn’t online right now.” Tony finally said and Bucky laughed again. “Give me a few minutes.”

“I know the feeling.” Bucky drew distracting circles on Tony’s side with his fingers, rucking up the thin tshirt and making Tony shiver when rough callouses met smooth skin. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Tony. Wish our kid’s would’ve fought sooner so you and I could’ve done this months ago.”

“Mmmm.” Tony snuggled in closer and let himself drift over the steady heartbeat and warmth of Bucky’s arms. “I agree.”

They sat in companionable silence for most of an hour, not paying a whit of attention to the movie playing in the background, more content to just lie together and enjoy being close with someone and then--

“Shhh!”

“You shhh! They can hear you!”

Tony’s eyes widened and Bucky sighed under his breath, but put his fingers to his lips so Tony wouldn’t say anything.

“Oh my god gross, are they doing it on the couch?”

“Nah, it isn’t moving, I’m pretty sure the couch should be moving.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know how to do it.”

“No, but I know it’s gotta be gross. Kissin’ and all that. Gross.”

“Is this what my Dad means when he says boys will be boys? Cos I’m never gonna snuggle up weird with anybody.”

“You gotta. You gotta fall in love and get married sometime. Boys will be boys. That’s what it means.”

Tony’s shoulders were shaking with laughter by now and Bucky was biting into his palm so he wouldn’t crack up and ruin the boys’ conversation.

“It so does NOT mean I gotta get married. Boys will be boys means like... it means like shenanigans! Shenanigans! Not marriage! I’m never gettin’ married!”

“Only cos no one will want you, cos you’re ugly.”

“YOU’RE UGLY!”

Shouts erupted from behind the bedroom door, followed by a crash and a screech and then the ever constant, “No no no! It’s not bad! You’re fine! Now we’ll have matching scars! It’s fine! We’ll be like best friends with scars!”

“Oh my god, I should go check on them.” Tony sighed and peeled himself away from Bucky’s chest. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Bucky winked and Tony took a chance, took a risk, and bent down to drop a light kiss on Bucky’s lips. “Oh no no no sweet thing, come back and do that better.”

Bucky hooked his fingers into Tony’s hair and brought him back down for a much better kiss, not letting up until Tony was clutching at the couch for balance and the entire thing slid back a few inches.

“OH MY GOD THE COUCH JUST MOVED! I HEARD IT!”

“GROSS! OH MY GOD GROSS!”

“You know what, the boys are obviously fine.” Tony dropped back onto the cushion and scooted in for another kiss. “Let’s do this some more.”

“OH MY GOD I CAN SEE THEM KISSING!”

“MY EYES! MY--”

Bucky snatched a throw pillow and winged it towards the bedroom door. It hit with a satisfying thump and a devastated, “OW!” and Bucky went right back to kissing Tony.

The boys were fine, they were fine.

It was gonna be a good night.

****************

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katherinewilliams221b · 4 years

Text

For A Greater Good 8/18

gif not mine just the text

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7]

It was a busy night; full of nightmares and scares. Flavia Hodges didn’t sleep a wink all night, and consequently, neither did Kate. Around four o’clock in the morning, she fell into the bed next to the teacher’s, only to be woken up two hours later.

Cassandra Steiner shook the young healer’s shoulder until she opened her eyes. As if a rock were strapped to her chest, Kate slowly stood up and put her palm to one eye to get the sleep away.

“Have you spent the night here?” She only answered Cassandra with a nod and looked up to see that Professor Hodges was still sleeping.

“I couldn’t leave. She had nightmares all night, screaming, keeping us all awake. She said she didn’t want to teach anymore, she was quitting, and she’d tell the headmistress today.”

Cassandra tapped her fingers on her thigh. “Anything else?”

Kate looked down, “No.” Steiner nodded before leaving her side.

She decided not to comment that she thought Flavia was trying to pronounce Karkarov’s name, keeping the information for Astrid Rhode.

“I don’t want to give her more calming draught,” Kate began as she stood up, “I’m worried that...”

When she reached Flavia’s side, she removed some silver curls from in front of her ear and came over to inspect her neck. She pressed her eyes tightly, still struggling to keep them open, and looked again.

“Miss Steiner?” She said over her shoulder. Cassandra returned to her side with an almost exasperated look.

“Now what’s going on?”

“Look at this mark. It’s a bruise, but look closer.” Kate stepped aside to make room for her, and the mediwizard ducked to her level.

“It’s like a little hole. From a puncture...” Cassandra hummed, and after checking that she had no more marks, she got up to talk to Kate.

“Well, this is the ultimate proof: it was intentional and someone tried to kill her.”

“The foam coming out of her mouth didn’t convince you?” Steiner threw a fake smile at the comment, not too pleased with the sarcasm.

“You know what? Take the rest of the day off. And tomorrow, too. Come back on Monday.”

Of all the things Kate expected for her to say, that wasn’t one of them. Steiner kept talking but only heard that she was also giving another mediwizard a day off.

“If you leave now, you’ll get to breakfast before the kids.” With that, Cassandra turned around and set about ordering some untagged bottles.

Kate stood and watched Cassandra before slowly walking to the door. With one last look and a wrinkle between her eyebrows, she left the hospital wing and, without bothering to go through the dining room, decided to go straight up to her room.

She skipped lunch, too, having slept through the afternoon; she saw no daylight that Saturday because when she woke up, storm clouds were stalking the castle, leaving everything in darkness.

The respite Cassandra gave her, apart from being confusing and somewhat suspicious, also proved to be very convenient; Kate took advantage of that afternoon to recover her strength, which was rapidly beginning to run out.

She escaped to the kitchens without being seen, read the first of the stories in Corentin’s book, put her notes in order in her notebook, and was able to enjoy an afternoon without those bulky uniform skirts, sighing with relief when she could dress up in Charlie’s T-shirt and simple jeans.

She had also taken the opportunity to visit headmistress Rhode’s office, but she had left in a hurry to her class. She said that if she wanted to talk to her, she should go the next afternoon.

When her eyes got tired of reading in the dim light of her candle, she put her cape on the desk and placed the book and notebook right on top. With a quill, she traced part of the outline of the objects on the cloth and while looking at the parchment Corentin had written; she spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining herself with a needle.

The next day, rested but not quite composed, Kate evaluated her options. She put her uniform back on, and with her new pockets sewn into her cloak, she armed herself with her notebook and book and set off on her adventure.

After breakfast, she walked through the halls, stopping to ask where the herbology class was being held, and after several confusing and contradictory directions, she left the castle.

The storm that finally decided to fall the night before had left the skies clear and cold, and Kate was grateful for the magical properties of her uniform that kept her from freezing.

She stopped short when she realised where she had ended up around the corner. The outer corridor where Corentin showed her the mark of Grindelwald. Only this time, she appeared at the other end.

With her head tilted to her right, she looked for the number 82 plaque that indicated the herbology classroom. It didn’t take long to find it, and when she arrived, she turned to look around.

There were few people outside. From where she stood she could clearly see the column with the mark, the quidditch field in the distance, and part of one of the lakes surrounding the castle.

The door was open, and she ventured inside with a determined step.

She was not sure what she expected to find. It had a blackboard that occupied an entire wall, a desk with a pile of books on it, and student desks that were facing it.

She went over to the desk and started opening drawers. A quill and several scrolls were all she found.

Then she inspected the books, the same ones Flavia had dropped that fateful day. She opened the one on top of the pile.

She could not resist raising her eyebrows at the innocent, and in her opinion, boring contents. She remembered the lessons with Professor Sprout and how they spent the days with their hands buried in pots.

“Do they learn anything from this? It doesn’t even have enough drawings,” she said under her breath and immediately chuckled as he imagined Corentin excited by some good illustrations.

She closed the book and sighed thoughtfully. There was no indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

“Let’s see,” she began moving to the board. She raised one arm and pretended to write. “I am Flavia Hodges, professor of herbology. I’m in my boring class, with no... posters or pictures, with my boring books and my bored students.”

She walked over to the desk and picked up all the books and immediately put them back down.

“Okay, you were carrying them with magic, weren’t you? So you should have been concentrated and just thinking about that.” She said to no one.

With a gesture of the wand the books raised in the air and Kate took them to the door, she went out and she continued through the corridor recreating the steps that Flavia must have done.

“There’s no one now, but at the time, I was walking among a wave of students and teachers who come from here to there.”

She looked at the column and switched the books to the side to see it better and went on her way.

“So I keep walking with my books, where am I going? To the library?”

She reached the end of the corridor and saw the stairs leading up to the castle where she and Corentin went.

“I go up those stairs and immediately collapse.” She turned to see the long road she had travelled. “And something happened between the classroom and the stairs. But what?”

She turned again, but she crashed against a firm body. Distracted, all the books fell to the floor.

“Hey! Where are you going in such a hurry?” Kent Jorgensen was standing in front of her with smiling eyes. “Were you going to return the books to Corentin?”

Kate made all the books back into an orderly pile as she thought about how to answer.

“Yes. Yes, exactly.” Jorgensen nodded.

“It’s very kind of you to help Flavia with everything that’s happening to her. Cassandra told me that you took the day off today and since I found you, perhaps you would like to join me,” he nodded towards the quidditch field.

“Today is game day, quite an experience.”

“Better not. I must take these books and... I don’t want to leave Professor Hodges alone. I know it’s my day off, but...”

“Nonsense. You deserve a break, and Cassandra can handle herself. So do these books.” He shook his wand and the mountain of copies rose in the air and made their way to the stairs; the door opened, and they disappeared inside the castle.

“Come on, you’ll have fun.” He said as he started to walk.

Kate sighed and followed in his footsteps, thinking that attending one, and only one, of the games would be enough to fulfil the promise she had made to Charlie and thus answer any questions he might have.

They walked together in silence, only accompanied by the sounds of screams and laughter that became more and more audible.

“No wonder there’s no one in the castle, everyone’s here.” Kate said as she arrived at the field.

“Oh, yes, we take it very seriously. First-year students are training now, but then the real game starts.”

A man with deep brown skin and the roundest eyes Kate’s ever seen, was in the middle of the field and when they were spotted, he raised his hand to greet them in their direction with a big smile.

Jorgensen reciprocated both the greeting and the joyous expression.

“That’s Sheyi Mawut, the coach, the best one!” He corrected, “He played for the Tchamba Charmers, do you know the team?”

“Yes, my b... yes, I’ve heard about them.” She cut the sentence before she could mention Charlie, and luckily the teacher was so engrossed in watching the man that he ignored it completely.

“Why don’t you find a seat, I’ll say hi to Sheyi.” Jorgensen said without looking at her, and started off on his way to center field.

Kate watched as the two chatted animatedly, patting each other on the back and laughing together.

While climbing the stairs she dodged several boys and girls until she finally found a free place in the last row.

It was hard to think that the calm and wise looking Professor Jorgensen would have behaved so irrationally; accusing Libor Marek of stealing his ingredients. If it was true, Kate didn’t know.

At all times, she had to be reminded that everyone, including her, played a part in the plot she was in and no one was who they said they were.

She was about to close the book after reading the last word, when she heard a voice beside her.

Taking advantage of the sun and the wait, Kate reached into her cape and pulled out the Tales of Beedle the Bard, opening it for the second story: The Fountain of Good Fortune.

“Excuse me, you’re the healer who treated Professor Hodges, right?”

Kate looked up and found a blonde girl whose face was familiar. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“My name is Vic. You asked me for help when she was poisoned...”

“Yes, it’s true. Can I help you? Are you all right?” Vic shook her hands and her head.

“It’s not that, it’s just...” She sat down next to her and kept whispering, “I thought I should tell you that Professor Hodges didn’t accidentally fall down the stairs.”

Kate slammed the book shut and leaned over. “She didn’t?”

“I didn’t see it, but my best friend told me she saw the main staircase turn into a slide and then disappear.” She paused before adding, “In other circumstances I would have thought it was silly, but...”

“I understand. Thanks for telling me.”

“I really don’t understand. Why would anyone want to hurt Hodges? The only enemies she can have are her 15 students... if you can call them enemies…”

“Only fifteen?” Kate asked in surprise.

“Yes, herbology is only taught in the first year. Then it is an elective, but generally no one is interested. Popular lessons are Dark arts; with Rhode, advanced duelling and potions.”

“Yes, I know that...”

More and more people gathered in the seats in the stands as the centre of the camp was cleared. Coach Mawut, in his black and gold robes, flew in surfing style, picking up the quaffles that had been in use.

“The game is about to begin; The Screeching Eagles vs. the White Manticores, it will be exciting! No one has a chance in winter against the Manticores. By the way, I went to return Professor Hodges’ glasses.”

“I know. I saw them, thank you.” With a smile, Kate and Vic said their goodbyes and watched her go down the stairs looking for a seat next to her friends.

At that moment, Kent Jorgensen returned to her side.

“What a character Sheyi is,” he said with a mischievous smile, “every time I try to watch them practise the reverse pass, they just happen to be over.” He shook his head, still smiling, and didn’t notice Kate slipping the book under her cloak.

In a burst of courage, she thought perhaps she could test the waters with Jorgensen.

“I have been informed that Flavia did not stumble on the stairs.”

The professor kept looking at the field. He didn’t even change his expression. Though uneasy, his mind was under control.

“Glisseo.” He simply commented, “It’s a spell to turn stairs into ramps. I was there, a small group of students were laughing, I imagine it was a joke gone wrong.”

Kate made no further comment on this and consequently, neither did he.

Sheyi Mawut stood in the centre of the field and introduced the teams, who shot out boasting of their manoeuvres in the air.

Kate calculated that the time she could stand watching a game without Charlie playing was thirty minutes. However, she had to watch the seventh graders circle in front of her for another hour and a half.

The most interesting moment occurred toward the end of the game, where the commentator announced that The White Manticore seeker had gone out in search of the snitch behind the mountains.

She smirked as she understood the all-white uniform of the Manticores and that when they rose higher than their opponents; it was difficult to keep track of them with the characteristic snowy peaks of the area in the background.

Kate sighed with relief when the phrase 250 to 210. The White Manticores win! End of the game. Echoed around.

It took a long time to descend from the stands; the crowd was walking in its own good time and as they waited, Kate took time to admire the views.

She watched from afar as the coach congratulated the champions and spoke animatedly to any student who approached.

He chatted with a boy, and immediately they both climbed on their broomsticks. Kate looked at the ground to avoid tripping as she went down and missed how the boy went upside down in the air.

Once downstairs, she said goodbye to Jorgensen, but before she could make her way back to the castle, a cry caught his attention.

The boy practicing with Mawut was writhing in pain on the floor, his broom was on the floor and Sheyi kneeled by his side.

Kate shot out in his direction and knelt down beside him.

“He fell on his arm.” Mawut’s tone was calm and comforting. Kate raised the boy’s arm, and he hissed when she gently twisted it.

“It’s just crooked. Luckily it wasn’t very high.”

“How do you know it’s not broken?” asked the boy in a shy voice.

“Because if it was, when I turned it you would have tried to break your broom over my head.” The boy giggled at the comment, and Mawut and Kate exchanged a smile.

“I’ll bandage it now, but we must go to the hospital wing and get you something for the swelling.” After some bandages appeared in the air and were tied to his arm, Kate looked at him and asked him to stand up when she noticed a purplish shadow next to his eye.

“How did this happen?” He turned his head violently and covered the side of his face.

Mawut and Kate grabbed him by the armpits to help him up.

“Micael! Come here right now!” All three looked up and the boy’s panicked face didn’t go unnoticed.

Leron Angelov dashed towards them and wrestled with Kate to get Michael out of her grasp.

“What have I told you...?” He angry-whispered. Angelov grabbed him by the ear and pulled him to himself.

“Release him right now, please.” Kate’s tone was sharp and definitive. Angelov ignored her and pushed his son to walk in front of him. Kate chased them across the lawn.

“He must go to the infirmary at once! Professor Angelov!”

Leron turned so violently that Kate’s first reflex was to squeeze her wand and aim it at him without lifting her wrist from her hip.

“You decide nothing. Mind your own business.” He marched behind his son and they grew smaller as they walked away towards the castle.

A reassuring hand rested on her shoulder and tapped several times. Mawut smiled empathetically and set about collecting the brooms that had been left behind.

After forcing herself to eat a sandwich at lunchtime, Kate tried to talk to Rhode again.

So far, everything seemed normal; the students were agitated about the exams that were just around the corner, but not about any intruder or unwelcome presence.

And the teachers... she couldn’t say anything about it. The truth was that she had had too little contact with them to draw any conclusions. She wasn’t sure that their being calm was a good sign.

“We need to talk.” Rhode announced from her chair when she saw Kate come in.

“I agree...”

“Me first, if you don’t mind.” She shifted in his seat and put her arms over the desk while Kate sat on the other side. She handed her a scroll to look at.

“This is the resignation of Flavia Hodges. She signed it a few hours ago and I’ve already stamped it.”

Kate looked at the document and then at Astrid, waiting for the next sentence.

“In view of the murder attempts she’s been suffering, I think this is the best option.”

“I think she meant to tell me it was Igor Karkarov.” She left the scroll on the table and waited for the headmistress’ reaction.

“Karkarov?” Her eyebrows immediately raised, and she interlocked her fingers in front of her.

Kate shrugged and shook her head. “I suggest increasing the security of the castle. Someone called the British Ministry for him, probably Hodges.”

“She would have warned me...” she thought for a few seconds and with a sharp inhalation continued, “Besides, that Ministry employee came before the attacks on Flavia began.”

“But what if he’s here? I mean, Karkarov arrives, someone sees him and warns the Ministry to come and get him, but he can’t find him and the man is still in the castle.”

Rhode opened one of her drawers and pulled out a blank parchment sheet.

“I’m going to write to Albus. I refuse bringing any more people from the Ministry into my school. Hodges will be transferred in a week or two, after which we’ll put guards on it if necessary.”

“I don’t think it’s right to leave Hodges alone if someone wants to kill her...”

“Until the time of her departure, she will be accompanied at all times. Now, I must wait for Dumbledore’s advice and in that time find a new herbology professor. If possible, by tomorrow.”

Kate sighed and got up from her seat. Understanding that the director could not give her any advice on how to proceed, or act on Voldemort’s alleged mole, she went to the door to let her work.

She was about to turn the knob when an idea was planted in her brain. And it took root. It would be hard to get rid of that plan.

Too irrational. Too risky.

But maybe...

Kate turned around and asked,

“Why does Flavia Hodges have her students’ textbooks?” Astrid looked at her curiously.

“All subjects have copies of the books for those students who don’t want or can’t afford them. Usually only students from wealthier families buy them.”

Kate hummed and slid back into the chair. “I need to get closer to the teachers and... you can say no, but...”

“What do you propose?”

“To be the new Herbology teacher.”

[Part 9]

A/N It just occurred to me that if you want to be tagged I can start a tag list, just say it and it’s done <3

#charlie weasley #charlie x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x mc #hphm #hphm fanfiction #durmstrang series #mc #charlie weasley fanfiction #kate williams #durmstrang #charlieweasley #for a greater good series

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rollercoasterwrite · 4 years

Text

I’m So Curious [Chapter 2]

CHAPTER 1

Prompt : Jjong is a college student with tight money, but manages to get into a prestigious uni where he becomes friends with Taemin. One day, Tae asks him to go out on a blind date with his cousin Jinki, a notable lawyer who still hesitates about dating someone. Jjong refuses, but the amount of money Tae offers is a sight he can’t ignore. Jinki adores him immediately and after several dates, Jonghyun falls in love with Jinki, but he doesn’t know how to tell Jinki about his agreement with Tae.

Pairing : Jongyu

Genre : romance, fluff, angst, smut (eventually)

Word Count : 9 400 ~

Links : AFF & AO3

Special thanks to Cheryl, my beta once again!!!

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If Jonghyun had thought he could've had a peaceful morning after having a troubled night of sleep, he realized he was gravely mistaken.

Loud knocks fell rhythmically against his dorm room's door like a hammer hitting a nail repeatedly, the sound instantly awakening his rage impulse.

He gave the door a death stare it didn't deserve before walking towards it, not even minding that he was only clad in short briefs.

"What?!" he burst out as the door swung open from his forceful pull.

The intent of his demeanour was miserably lost on the young brunette that stood before him. The latter just walked in as if he owned the place, wasting no time settling comfortably on the living room's small couch.

Jonghyun's gaze followed, watching as the other casually hooked a leg over the seat's arm before looking straight at him.

"Did you guys fuck?"

The question dropped without notice, completely throwing off the blonde's stubborn grumpiness.

"Excuse me?" he let out in a voice that crescendoed from sheer astonishment.

"Why don't you start by closing the door," the other said, unbothered. "Unless you want everyone to know your business."

Jonghyun's bewildered look moved away from the other for the length of time it took to shut and lock the door before he brought it back on him.

"What's your fucking deal?" he voiced as frustration grew back into his tone.

"Don't get mad at me," the younger one replied, scoffing. "Taemin said you went on a date with his cousin, so I wanted to be the first to get the crunchy details."

A feline smile stretched across bowed lips as surprise read boldly on the blonde's face.

"Taemin told you?" the latter asked.

"Didn't you hear my opening question?" the brunette reminded with a frown.

Jonghyun frowned back in confusion before his face slowly relaxed.

"That isn't any of your business," he said, opting for a casual tone this time.

"Well yes, it is," the other countered. "Who else are you going to share this with? It's not like you are going to tell Taemin how good or how bad sex was with his cousin."

Jonghyun gave him a stone-hard look.

"Taemin just wanted me to go on a date with the guy, don't get shit twisted."

"You mean he paid you to go on a date," the brunette corrected. "So you had to put out."

That was enough to make the blonde's blood boil hot. "Kibum," he gritted menacingly. "Get out." "Come on, Jjong," his friend maintained in a calm tone. "I'm not gonna make fun, I just want to know if you had a good time." Jonghyun knew better than to trust those words. "I'm not telling you jack shit." Kibum's face hardened. Cold eyes silently battled with fiery ones before it became clear that a strategic retreat was the best course of action. "Fine," the younger one curtly said. He got back up on his two feet and promptly walked past the other, making sure to slam the door on his way out. A loud sigh left the blonde's mouth before he rubbed some of the tension off his face. It wasn't even 9 am yet and he already felt like the day was dragging on too long. But that wasn't anything new. The only thing that could help revive his functioning corpse was a fresh brew. Not wasting another second on thoughts, he moved to the small space that acted as a kitchen and got his small coffee machine running. As the strong and comforting smell filled the air, Jonghyun closed his eyes, trying to catch a break from everything.

But that was probably the worst thing he could’ve done at that moment. The very image that had played hide and seek with his mind for the past few hours came right at him with vivid details that made his chest and core tighten. His eyes shot open before that sensation could travel any lower.

He reached for one of his cupboard’s handle with a slightly trembling hand and pulled out his favorite mug. It was a light cream-colored mug that was a bit chipped at the rim and had a stained bottom, but it was a memento of moments from the past that he didn’t see himself being able to let go of. Not yet.

He filled it to the brim with the steaming hot liquid, enjoying the stark contrast between the colors. Cream and dark brown met against the fullest of his lips, the softest of inhales giving him a first taste of his favorite remedy. His face inevitably warmed up from the waves of heat that ran out through the tight space created by his hunched stance over his cup. It was then that he sunk in, plunging mouth first into the rich and dark pool that floated before him. Taking the dive had never felt better than in that moment.

A few invigorating laps in, he turned towards his living room to look out through the window. The day was a cloudy one, prefacing possible outbursts of rain. If it were anyone else, that might’ve been a depressing sight, but to Jonghyun it was comforting. He felt his shoulders relax as his eyes stilled on the scenery.

This moment could’ve been perfect in every way, but peace seemed to always be too much to ask for in Jonghyun’s world. Another series of knocks on his door jolted him back into a tense state.

I swear to fucking God…

He had the good sense to put down his cup on the counter before marching back towards the front door to tell his friend off.

"Go away, Kibum," he yelled at the closed door.

A muffled titter reached him from the other side. "Hyung, it’s not Bummie."

At that, Jonghyun felt a stab of anxiety. "Um… I’m… I’m… naked."

"So? I’ve seen your dick before," the other said, raising his voice to be heard.

The blonde had to close his eyes and take a deep breath not to feed into his murderous urges. He knew if he kept arguing through the door, more embarrassing things would probably come out of the other’s mouth, so he had to settle on opening the door. Even if that was literally the last thing he wanted to do right now.

He had barely pulled it open when he felt himself stumble backwards from the force of another body launching forward into him. A thumping sound reverberated from their chests colliding as arms wrapped tightly around his bare torso.

"Get off of me," he ordered, voice muffled from the shock of hair that pressed against part of his face.

The grip around him just got tighter, almost cutting off his breath, and for a moment there, he wondered if this was turning into an attempt on his life. Fortunately, it didn’t get to that as the other let go and stepped back. The grin he was sporting between his full cheeks didn’t feel even slightly reassuring to the blonde.

"What are you smiling about?" the latter asked, nervous.

If it was even possible the brunette’s smile grew even wider. He looked like he was about to burst into a million particles from how frantic his energy felt.

"I knew it!" Taemin finally exploded as he threw his arms up in victory.

Jonghyun cocked a brow, confused. "You knew what?"

There was a pause as the other looked him up and down with a narrowed gaze.

"You said you were naked," Taemin reminded, frown drawing his eyebrows close.

"I lied," Jonghyun admitted.

The brunette’s mouth dropped open as the crease grew deeper between his eyes.

"Why would you do that?"

A visible contraction ran through the blonde’s jaw. "I just wanted to have a peaceful morning, but I guess that was too much to ask for."

With that, he walked back to the counter and picked up his mug, determined to at least enjoy a nice cup of coffee.

"Can you please close the door?" Jonghyun asked as he glanced at the slight opening that remained.

The younger one did just that before taking a few steps towards him.

"I didn’t mean to disturb your peace," Taemin said in a more subdued tone. "I was just really excited to share the good news. "

"And what would that be?" Jonghyun inquired, gripping his mug closer.

Taemin’s lips stretched into a smile again. " He likes you, like a lot. "

And right on cue, Jonghyun’s heart flipped.

Shit.

"Who’s he?" he feigned in a measly attempt to remain in denial.

Taemin crossed his arms, unamused. "For real, now?"

Jonghyun didn’t budge, focusing instead on getting more coffee into his system.

"You know very well who I’m talking about," Taemin stated before his eyes zeroed in on the other’s cup.

"Are you not going to offer me some coffee?" he said, lips curling into a pout.

"Are you not going to finish what you were saying?" Jonghyun echoed, baffled by the sudden change of topic.

"Oh, so you’re interested now?" the younger one fired back.

A staring contest ensued, which the blonde conveniently abandoned to grab another mug from the cupboard. He filled it with what had remained in the coffee pot and handed it to his friend who, in the meantime, had wiggled his way closer.

"Thank you, Jjongie," the latter cooed as he bounced lightly on his feet.

Jonghyun watched as he took a long first sip, taking that lull in conversation to mentally prepare for what was to come. He really wished he had had his much needed alone time to sort things out.

Feeling like his body would need assistance soon, he moved to the couch and slowly settled onto one of the soft cushions. Of course, that meant being copied two minutes later by the other one who sat right beside him. Jonghyun held in an annoyed sigh.

"So, are you ready to talk about this now?" the brunette verified as he shifted his body aslant to better look at him.

"Yeah, whatever," Jonghyun answered, shoulders inadvertently hunching over.

"What did you think of him?" Taemin immediately asked.

The blonde’s eyes flicked sideways to catch the other’s face before he reverted to the comforting sight of his filled mug. His mind felt jumbled and whenever that happened, there was a risk he’d say something he would regret. He couldn’t afford that right now. He was naked enough as it was.

"He’s… nice," he finally chose. The simplest answer was surely his best option right now.

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to suffice for his friend.

"Nice?" Taemin threw back with a cocked brow.

"Yeah," Jonghyun maintained before bringing his cup to his lips again.

"Anything else?" the younger one went on.

"Nope."

A sigh followed, but much to the blonde’s surprise, it sounded like a sigh of relief.

"I fucking knew it," his friend let out.

Jonghyun couldn’t help but look straight at him with a deep frown now creasing his forehead.

"Can you stop with that? What the hell does that even mean?" he snapped as he took in the victorious smile that graced the other’s face.

"You like him too," Taemin sing-songed like an elementary school kid.

"How did you pick that up from me saying he’s nice?"

"I know you too well, Hyung," the other stated. "If you hadn’t enjoyed his company, the first thing that would’ve come out of your mouth would’ve been something negative."

Jonghyun’s mouth dropped open before he shut it tight, his eyes then narrowing into a hateful stare.

The only effect that had was to make the brunette burst out laughing in his characteristic hiccupy laugh, almost spilling some of his coffee over in the process.

"Am I wrong?" he managed to say through his fit.

Jonghyun wished a simple yes could’ve settled the whole matter, but he also knew how bad he was at lying and how pointless it was at this point. That didn’t mean he had to outright admit though.

His stubborn silence had the other getting right back at it.

"I know you won’t just admit to it, but still, I’m happy things went well between you two," he said, voice sincere.

"Also," he added. "I’ve already made the transfer to your account," he casually informed before taking a sip.

That instantly pulled the blonde out of his muteness.

"Tae… I can’t, " he uttered, uncomfortable.

"We already discussed this…"

"Yeah, I know, but… it feels wrong."

The guilt which sprung up through his chest made his head fall forward, his gaze landing straight on his bare thighs.

"It’s really not a big deal," Taemin dismissed. "Anyway, it’s not like I’ll be paying you every time or something."

"Every time?" Jonghyun promptly reacted as he straightened up again. "What do you think this is?"

A sly smile stretched across the brunette’s lips. "Oh, I don’t know. You tell me."

Jonghyun gave him a bewildered look. "You’re not making any damn sense."

"I don’t need to, as long as I get what I mean that’s enough," the younger one indicated with a shrug.

"In any case," he continued as he put down his cup on the small coffee table before them. "Jinki said he’d be texting you later today, just so you know."

The blonde felt goosebumps prickle his skin.

"I’m sure you have nothing to do with that," he scoffed, partly to divert himself from his body’s betrayal.

The brunette chuckled. "I actually didn’t have to say much." A mischievous smile played on his lips. "One thing you have to know about Jinki is that when he wants something, he is very stubborn about getting it."

Upon hearing those words, Jonghyun’s first impulse was to scream, but he miraculously managed to keep it together despite the shiver that ran through him.

"Why does that remind me of someone?" he said as naturally as he could.

Taemin laughed. "Oh, I don’t know. "

He then pushed himself back up on his two feet. "I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your morning, Hyung. I gotta meet up with Jongin to practice."

Jonghyun frowned at him. "Again?"

"Well, yeah. We have a choreo to present in contemp’ class this Friday," he quickly defended.

Jonghyun gave him an unimpressed look before deciding that now wasn’t the time to force the issue.

"Yeah, okay, have fun."

He felt the other’s lingering gaze on him as he drank more coffee, but deliberately ignored it. A second later, he heard him mutter something under his breath, but didn’t make any move to show that he cared.

As expected, his demeanour prompted the brunette to leave his dorm without another word, but surprisingly, his door wasn’t slammed shut on his way out.

Jonghyun let out a long sigh as he looked around his living space.

All for a peaceful morning…

***

If Jonghyun had hoped that things would settle, he was once again gravely mistaken. He couldn’t even fault anyone other than himself this time. The inner turmoil he had been experiencing lately wasn’t anything less than strange.

Jonghyun wasn’t one to run after people or be particularly needy. Life had shown him that his best support system was himself and he had chosen to live his life in alignment with that lesson. The friends he had now had been made through a fortunate chain of circumstances that he was very grateful for, but in the back of his mind, he never felt like these relationships could persist over the long haul. He had always believed that he would end up going through life alone. The thought wasn’t even a dark assessment of his life; it just felt like the natural course of things.

That’s why the moment he found himself feeling something that could be categorized as neediness, he felt unsettled. Did he enjoy having company? Yes. Sometimes. Did he miss his friends when they didn’t get to hang out in a while? Yes. Sometimes. Did he ever feel like there was a void if he didn’t get to see other people? No. Not really.

So again, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he was feeling like an abandoned pup right now. It had been five days since Jinki should’ve supposedly texted him and he still hadn’t gotten any news. At first, he had chalked that up to the fact that Taemin had probably mislead him to mess with his head a bit, but by day three, he genuinely started to feel worried and insecure. What if Jinki had just been polite and hadn’t really enjoyed his company?

By now, he had probably had that thought a million times and every time, it felt like a soft stab to his chest. The day before, he had even thought of getting some information through Taemin, but at the last minute, he had buried his words down his throat, still determined on saving face. It was a good thing for his ego, but not so much for his current emotional balance. His eyes had now been glued to his phone for the last ten minutes, distracting him from the composition he had been trying to work on for the past few days. Something he cared about so much was now falling by the wayside because of irrational impulses.

The vibrant blue sky that had graced the day was now morphing into darker shades and soon enough, another day would’ve passed without him getting any kind of relief from his inexplicable predicament. He felt screwed in so many ways, apart from the way he was probably needy for. Jonghyun didn’t do emotional connection, but he did find himself in dire need of physical touch a lot of times. He wasn’t very vocal about it, but it was still very present nonetheless. Popping in some porn and jerking off to it before bed usually did the trick, but even that hadn’t been effective in the past few days.

He had jerked off, but his fuel hadn’t been some mindless porn plot. It had been something very real, but also very foreign. What was becoming clear in his mind was that if things kept up in the way they had, he’d probably have to call up Taemin again. And he certainly didn’t want to have to resort to that.

God… what is wrong with me?

He threw his phone on the empty cushion beside him before picking it right back up two seconds later.

Nothing new.

He groaned loudly at his own pathetic behaviour as his hand clenched tightly around the small device.

Damn you, Tae.

Jonghyun had been perfectly fine with the balance he had before. Was he working himself too hard? Probably. But he was staying focused and disciplined. Now those words felt like a joke to him.

His eyes shut as he took a few deep breaths to settle himself a bit. The exercise was enough to create some much needed mind space. Space that was soon filled with the only solution that could calm his nerves and turmoil.

Call him.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but after another five minutes of internal debate, he stopped fighting.

The loop of rings that reverberated against his eardrum brought his heart rate to a frighteningly high speed and for a moment there, he thought he wouldn’t make it, but the voice suddenly cutting through monopolized his focus.

"Jonghyun?"

The one in question swallowed, simultaneously realizing how dry his throat had become.

"Hello?"

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about hanging up right this instant, but something stronger than his fear prevented him from doing just that.

"Yes, it’s me."

Jonghyun heard his smile on the other end.

"Was just making sure," Jinki replied. "How are you?"

I’m just about to lose my fucking mind, but I’m good and you?

"I’m fine… I was just… doing some stuff for school," he voiced, feeling awkward.

"And you?"

"Well, first, I’m glad you’re fine," the other said. "Secondly, I could give you my ready-to-go answer or a real answer. Which one do you feel up for?"

"The real one, of course," Jonghyun immediately answered.

"Well…" A sigh followed. "I’ve been swamped with this new case and it’s really not given me any time to breathe. At first, I thought it could just be solved with an easy settlement, but now it’s just a complicated mess..." A longer sigh left him this time.

Guilt weighed on the blonde’s chest at that. He had been so wrapped up in his selfish needs that he hadn’t thought for a minute that the other might’ve had a good excuse for not calling back.

"I’m so sorry you’ve been overwhelmed by that," he offered.

"It’s fine, really," the other immediately said in return. "I’ve been through this type of madness so many times before." He then laughed.

"Still, I hope your workload will lighten up soon."

"I hope so too."

The inevitable awkward silence crept in in that moment, leaving Jonghyun in the face of his pitiful previous behavior.

"I didn’t want to bother you," he started, shameful. "I just…"

Nothing seemed justifiable enough to explain himself.

"Don’t worry about it," Jinki reassured. "I’m glad you called actually. I’ve been feeling guilty about not calling you back like I’d promised."

"But I was going to…" he immediately added. "I just wanted to have more time…"

"I get it," Jonghyun acknowledged, his shoulders relaxing from the relief of not having been forgotten.

"I’m glad you do and I’m sorry," the other said.

"Don’t worry about it,"Jonghyun reassured.

"No, but really, it’s not okay," Jinki went on. "I should’ve taken a few minutes to call you."

"What can I do to make this right again?" he then asked.

Jonghyun felt himself get warm all over. Why is he being like this?

A bunch of ideas popped up in response to his question, but ultimately, they all came down to one thing.

"I’d just like to see you, to be honest."

These words had probably not seen the light more than five times throughout his whole life, but in this moment, it felt like there was no better way to express what he wanted.

"Ah, well," a brief pause ensued, "I can definitely do something about that."

His voice felt like a soft caress against Jonghyun’s ear and he had to bite his lip to prevent any inappropriate sound from leaving him.

"Actually…" the brunette continued. "I’ve been thinking about having ice cream all day and I could definitely use a break right now."

Jonghyun frowned, not sure he was following. "You mean…"

"I mean let’s go eat some ice cream together," the older one reiterated in a cheerful tone.

"Unless, you don’t like ice cream, which would be totally fine too," he immediately added.

"No, no, I like ice cream," Jonghyun confirmed with a bit too much enthusiasm. He noticed immediately, making a mental note to himself to reel it in.

"But what happened with not stress eating?" he couldn’t help but ask, his teasing nature never too far behind.

The brunette snorted. "Pardon my language, but fuck that."

Jonghyun’s eyes widened as a familiar pang hit his stomach.

If he curses again, I’m fucked.

"Amen to that," he played along with a small laugh.

Jinki joined in before speaking again. "In what area do you live?"

"I live on campus," Jonghyun answered.

"Oh," the other exclaimed in surprise. "It’s actually not too far from where I work… maybe fifteen minutes or so," he informed.

Jonghyun found himself feeling a bit too happy about that fact and had to make another mental note to himself to calm the fuck down.

"I’ll just check real quick if there is an ice-cream parlor not far from there," Jinki indicated before falling into silence.

Jonghyun quietly waited, just now noticing the queasy feeling in his stomach that came around whenever he was nervous or uneasy.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to sit with it long.

"Okay, there is one at about a ten-minute walking distance from the campus," Jinki reprised. "Is that okay for you?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, so I’ll text you the address," the older one settled.

"Good."

"I should be there in half an hour."

"Great."

"Okay, so see you soon," Jinki concluded with a smile that didn’t fail to translate at the other end.

"See you soon," Jonghyun reciprocated, a bit more subdued.

As soon as the line cut off, he flopped onto the couch, already overwhelmed by that bit of interaction.

He closed his eyes for a while, just trying to recover. After what seemed like an eternity, he reopened them and finally made a move to get ready. He didn’t have too much time, so he went straight to his room to get changed. He took off his hoodie, his cap and sweatpants and looked through his rack of clothes to pick out something more appropriate for the circumstances.

Jonghyun always chose comfort over style, but he still felt the pressure of making a good impression on the other. He knew there was no need to go all out like last time, but he could definitely put in more effort than he usually would.

As he looked through his items of clothing again and again, he couldn’t help but wish Kibum was there to help him out. Unfortunately, they still weren’t on speaking terms if the looks of hatred he had received from the other in the hallways were any indication. Jonghyun definitely had the luck of befriending the most stubborn people in the world.

After a few more minutes, he finally settled on a loose-fitting grey shirt and dark jeans that were ripped at the knees. He wasn’t sure it was the best choice, but in the end, that’s all he could agree with himself to wear. He completed the look with his black Timbs, thinking to himself that it was the perfect compromise between his worn-out Converses and his classier shoes. Lastly, he ran a hand a few times through his hair, managing to tame some unruly strands that stuck up.

He couldn’t help but linger a bit too long in front of the mirror before realizing he really had to go. He slipped his wallet into one of his back pockets and travelled back to the living room where he picked up his phone again to look at the directions. Not long after, he was out the door. The evening breeze met him a few minutes later, instantly showing him that the warmth they had experienced during the day had now completely disappeared. He had the mind to go back up to get a light jacket, but his fear of being late trumped the need for warmth.

His walk was fast-paced bordering on frantic, so what was supposed to take him ten minutes took him six, leaving him surprised when he found himself standing right in front of the parlor. He took a quick look around to see if Jinki was anywhere in sight, but he didn’t see him. Clearly, he was early, but he did hope the other would arrive soon before his nerves took over completely.

By the time the other finally appeared in his line of vision, he had had the time to envision every possible catastrophe that could occur during their time together. He wanted to be relaxed and enjoy this time, but he felt like he was off to an awful start.

"Am I late?" Jinki asked once he had reached him.

"No, no, I just arrived a little early," Jonghyun reassured before his eyes went on to feast on the sight before him.

The taller one was wearing a marine blue suit that did wonders to his silhouette and his dark bangs covered his forehead this time, giving him a softer, but equally enticing look. But that wasn’t even what had him reeling. It was the fact that the white dress shirt that peaked out underneath wasn’t buttoned all the way up.

He had to wonder if it had been that way all day.

An airy laugh pulled him out of his musings.

"It’s probably not the best outfit to wear to eat ice cream," Jinki noted as their eyes met.

Jonghyun felt his face heat up as he realized he had been caught staring.

"It-it should be fine," he stuttered as he rushed to reply.

But I won’t be, his mind threw at him immediately.

Jinki laughed softly. "I’ve probably lost a few good suits to food by now. One more won’t make a difference."

Jonghyun silently disagreed. No, no, this suit needs to stay.

"The trick is to ask for a cup, not a cone," he advised. "It’s less messy."

A slight pout graced the other’s lips, which didn’t fail to make the blonde’s heart flip.

"Cones are more fun though."

Jonghyun acknowledged that with a nod, not trusting himself to speak right this instant.

"Shall we go in?" Jinki prompted with a lopsided smile.

Jonghyun nodded again and a second later, he was following the taller one towards the entrance. As they stepped in, a small bell attached to the door tinkled above their heads, announcing their arrival to whoever owned the shop. For a few seconds, Jonghyun felt blinded by the bright neon lights, reacting to them with a frown and a wrinkling of his nose, but soon enough, the arrival of a middle-aged woman behind the counter brought his focus elsewhere. The woman greeted them with a pleasant smile and a warm welcome, which they immediately reciprocated.

As they walked over to the display cabinet, Jonghyun noticed the only two other people that were in the shop. It wasn’t hard to see that they were a couple. Their eyes were bound in a loving stare and they were holding each other’s hands, the only thing between them being a melting mountain of sundae.

Usually, he would’ve rolled his eyes at such a sight, but this time, he couldn’t. His stomach tightened and he quickly looked away. He didn’t need to look far for a distraction as his eyes fell on a dozen of colorful tubs of ice cream. Jonghyun still didn’t like that the place was so bright, but he could agree that it was probably the best way to make the products look even more appetizing. He knew that, because despite always sticking to his personal favorite, he now found himself staring at the fruit-flavored ice cream and even at the mint-chocolate chip one, which he had always clowned Taemin for loving.

"What are you getting?" Jinki softly inquired as his gaze stayed fixed on the merchandise.

"I usually always go for Rocky Road, but I’m kinda hesitating right now," Jonghyun admitted. "You?"

"I’m in the same predicament as you are. I always go for Vanilla, but damn… everything looks so good."

The blonde’s eyes tore away from the ice-cream to give the other a judging look.

"Vanilla? Really?" he expressed with barely contained disdain.

Jinki met his scowl with a confused expression on his face. "Well yeah… I like the classics."

"You can’t use that to justify eating Vanilla ice cream," the younger one threw back.

The brunette chuckled at that. "Seems like this is a pretty serious issue for you."

"I mean come on, Vanilla’s just sad," Jonghyun blurted before his mind could catch up.

"And I think Rocky Road’s pretty unsophisticated, but I’m not going to stop you from enjoying it."

The quick jab stunned the blonde momentarily, leaving his expression stuck between surprise and indignation.

A laugh left the other. "What? You can dish it, but you can’t take it?"

Jonghyun’s eyes grew even wider as a result, taken aback by the quick repartee.

So you can be cheeky, huh?

Jinki laughed again. "How about we both choose something different tonight?" he suggested as he looked once more at what was before them.

That effectively snapped the younger one out of his shock. "Mm, sounds good," he agreed.

After a few more minutes of going back and forth between choices, they finally settled and soon after, they were sitting face to face at a table in the back.

"How’s yours?" the taller one asked as he watched Jonghyun have a first taste.

"It’s pretty good actually," the latter said as he nodded at the soft green scoops in his cup.

"I like Pistachio too," Jinki acknowledged before tasting his own.

Jonghyun just stared as the brunette licked off a few layers of ice cream. The hum of pleasure that ensued almost took him out.

"Wow, that’s great," the brunette then let out, impressed. "I guess I can alternate between vanilla and raspberry now, huh?"

Jonghyun couldn’t help but laugh which effectively pulled him out of his trance. "Yeah, it’s good to live dangerously once in a while."

"I guess you’ll have to teach me."

For whatever reason, that made him shiver.

"Ah well… I’m pretty tame, actually," he indicated sheepishly.

"Is that so?" Jinki questioned, gazing straight at him.

Jonghyun wasn’t one to shy away from a look, but the power in those dark orbs was too much for him to handle.

"I think so…" he said as he looked down to his cup again.

That made the other laugh. "That doesn’t sound too convincing."

"Well…" Jonghyun pondered. "It really depends on what you consider dangerous."

His eyes flicked upwards to meet the brunette’s eyes again.

The latter smiled an amused smile. "I’m not much of a risk-taker as you might’ve gathered already, so my definition is probably broader than most people."

Jonghyun’s gaze narrowed with interest. "Even so, you must’ve done something risky once in your life."

JInki’s head lolled from side to side as he mulled over the thought. "I wouldn’t say risky. I just had a rebel phase during my teens like everyone else, but it wasn’t anything special. I just stayed out way past curfew a few times and drank my problems away a little too many times."

The blonde gave a satisfied nod. "That counts."

Jinki scrunched up his nose at that. "No need to give me participation points."

That made Jonghyun burst out laughing and he instinctively brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

"I’m not!" he refuted.

The brunette clicked his tongue before diving once again in his now melting raspberry delight. The ice cream was sliding past his cone and onto his fingers, but he didn’t seem to care.

And Jonghyun certainly didn’t mind either.

"That was pretty much how wild my teens were to be honest," he went on, more so to distract himself from the view before him. "Now that I’m in college, I really don’t have time to be messy or anything."

That made Jinki freeze, leaving his ice cream alone for a moment. "Why don’t I believe you?" he then said with a slight frown.

Jonghyun could feel his face heat up, but he tried to ignore it by going for a shrug.

"I don’t know," he just said.

The brunette squinted at him before his lips slowly stretched into a cryptic smile.

Jonghyun waited for him to voice his thought, but he didn’t, instead moving his focus back on his treat. He had to follow suit as his own ice cream was starting to puddle in its container.

It was another few minutes before Jonghyun was faced with an empty cup and Jinki chewed his way to the last bit of his cone. Not many words had been exchanged between them in the meantime, but Jonghyun couldn’t have found it in him to speak. Not when one of Jinki’s legs suddenly moved to brush against his in a manner that couldn’t be chalked up to coincidence. He had dared to glance at the taller one to get further reassurance, but his face hadn’t given anything away. The brunette had just given him one of his radiant smiles that did nothing to help.

And now that they were done eating and Jinki was wiping his fingers clean with a napkin, Jonghyun had to wonder what was going to happen next.

"I’m just going to stop by the washroom real quick, I’ll be right back," Jinki said, cutting through his musings.

Jonghyun just nodded and watched him walk away, not failing to catch how good his ass looked in his form-fitting pants. Once he disappeared, he let out a deep breath he had apparently been holding longer than necessary before he went back to reviewing his options.

He clearly didn’t want this moment to end, but he also didn’t know where they stood right now. Clearly, Jinki was sending him a message, but he wasn’t confident about his interpretation of it. The slightest touch could mean so much more to him than what it really was. If it weren’t anything serious, he would risk it, but the present circumstance just didn’t feel like any other time.

It felt different. And Jonghyun didn’t know how to handle it.

He spent the remainder of his time alone trying to figure out what he could say or what he could do, but he wasn’t able to come up with a clear plan before the other stepped out of the washroom.

His panicked state must’ve read clearly on his face, because the first thing that came out of the taller one’s mouth as he settled before him once more was, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, totally," Jonghyun lied as he tried to play it cool.

Jinki chuckled. "Good, because I’d like to bring you somewhere."

Jonghyun’s brows furrowed at that. "Somewhere?"

"Yeah," the brunette simply said, smiling. "I don’t want to tell you more, but I’d like for you to say yes."

Was Jonghyun the type to follow someone he barely knew to a location he had no information about?

"Yes," he immediately answered, his heart rate picking up simultaneously.

Apparently, he was.

It wasn’t long before they were back outside, being greeted this time by a pitch-dark sky under which the streetlamps shone with a stark brightness. Their surroundings were pretty much void of any other human life making their walk to the car a peaceful and intimate moment.

Jonghyun was mindlessly walking besides the taller one, deciding that his fate pretty much wasn’t in his hands anymore. He was deliberately taking his hands off the wheel and letting the other take full control. That was something he hadn’t done in a while and the retrieval of that carelessness definitely felt invigorating. But he was doing his best to stay calm and keep his energy under control. Otherwise, he was scared he might blow his chance.

They finally came to a halt after walking down the street for a few minutes, stopping in front of a majestic Rolls-Royce. Jonghyun’s eyes widened at its sheen and pristine look, his mind quickly kicking in to remind him of their difference in status.

His ears caught the other’s laugh, but he was still stunned.

"I made the same face when I first saw it," the brunette shared. "Only to realize with time that it wasn’t that different from any other car."

Jonghyun’s gaze shifted to him, brow cocked. "I’d be really curious to know what you have in mind when you say any other car."

Jinki laughed again. "You probably have a point here. Nonetheless, a car is a car."

Following that, he unlocked the doors and made his way to the driver’s side, leaving Jonghyun to settle into the passenger’s seat.

The blonde let himself slide slowly onto the leather seat, every creak of the material under his weight making him hypervigilant of his every movement.

The brunette’s amused smile let him know that he was probably overdoing it, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was about to fuck something up.

The soft rumble of the car’s engine calmed him a bit as the other’s hands settled on the wheel. It wasn’t long before the vehicle was hitting the road, prompting once again a warning thought in Jonghyun’s mind as to the potential danger that lay in this venture.

He quickly pushed it away and focused his gaze ahead, looking at the buildings and greenery with a blank interest. The way the surroundings were drawing themselves with each passing intersection felt familiar for the first fifteen minutes of the ride, but soon after, the scenery changed.

There were no more buildings to be seen, leaving in their stead open fields stretching on either side of the road. Jonghyun suddenly felt compelled to ask about their whereabouts, but they hadn’t exchanged a word since the beginning of the ride. Now, the silence was a third party that just couldn’t be thrown out the window.

So Jonghyun held his peace, his hands meeting for a fidgeting dance every few minutes as his sharp teeth gnawed at his bottom lip in a pulsing fashion. He didn’t mean to be nervous or suspicious, but if anything, his survival instinct still had a seat at the table.

It was another ten minutes of the same before they left the fields behind to meet with a viaduct that passed over dark depths of water. Only when they reached the end of it, where concrete met land again, did the car slow down before coming to a stop.

That did nothing to help with the blonde’s nerves, but he chose to stay faithful to silence just a bit longer. The other’s soft breathing reached his ear again as the engine fell asleep. Jonghyun dared give a look his way, immediately meeting his eyes in the process.

The brunette smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world and that was enough to make his shoulders relax a bit.

"I’m sorry if you were expecting something more glamorous," the other uttered somewhat apologetically.

Jonghyun couldn’t help but snort. "I wasn’t, but you do have some explaining to do."

Jinki laughed at that. "Of course, but let’s step out first."

He followed that up with the retrieval of his car keys and the unbuckling of his seatbelt before opening the door and sliding out of his seat. Jonghyun stayed still for a few seconds, still uneasy, before he finally pushed himself to follow him out, the sound of the car doors slamming shut following each other at a second of interval.

It wasn’t long before Jinki was before him, a coy smile now dancing on his lips.

"So, " he started, hands settling deep into his pants’ pockets. "What do you think of this place?"

Jonghyun cocked a brow, perplexed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, it’s…"

Creepy.

"It’s…" he tried again as his eyes took in the scenery once more.

"Spacious."

The brunette chuckled. "You’re nice for not saying what’s on your mind."

Jonghyun blinked at him as a sudden warmth spread across his face.

"I know it’s not quite paradise on earth, but for me, it’s… a peaceful place," Jinki shared as he moved his gaze to the river that rhythmically danced a few meters from them.

His eyes went back to him again before he added, "I just wanted to share that with you."

Jonghyun’s heart flipped inside his chest right on cue, making it possible for him not to bite his lip.

"How often do you come here?" he asked to move the conversation into more comfortable territory.

"Whenever I need to clear my mind," Jinki informed. "Which can be one or a few times per week, to be honest," he added before smiling again.

But Jonghyun could see sadness in his smile and that was enough to make his heart ache.

"How did you find this place?" he instinctively asked.

"I was trying to escape," Jinki admitted as he leaned back against the side of the car.

A deep crease grew between the blonde’s eyebrows. "Escape from what?"

A soft sigh crossed the taller one’s lips. "From my parents."

"Why? What happened?"

"It was a few years ago…" the brunette prefaced as his gaze fell towards the ground. "I went to theirs for what I thought was just a dinner, but it turned out that they had invited this girl over to introduce us…"

Jonghyun didn’t miss the clench that punctuated the other’s jaw as he fell silent. The memory was clearly painful, making him regret he had asked any further questions.

"We don’t have to talk about this, Jinki," he voiced as his eyes settled with worry on his dark expression.

The shift was instant. The other’s face relaxed and he looked back up, a hand reaching behind his neck to rub it as he smiled again, embarrassed.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all serious like that," he said.

Jonghyun’s chest tightened. He was aching to give him a hug, to bring him some peace, but he wasn’t sure he could just now.

So, he went for the next best option.

"It’s okay," he reassured as he settled right beside him against the car. He immediately became hyperaware of the closeness between them, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he managed to say as his eyes flicked up to reach the other’s.

He was answered with an intent look that menaced to make him burst into a million pieces.

"Can I be honest with you?" the taller one asked as his body shifted to look straight at him.

Jonghyun’s eyes widened as he took in the little space that was left between their faces, but despite his internal meltdown, he found himself able to nod.

"I really like you."

Jonghyun’s body faltered at that, his chest collapsing under a sharp stab that made him whimper against his will.

"Come again?" the older one teased with a cheeky smile.

A bright blush colored his cheeks, making him want to dig himself into a deep hole right that instant.

"That’s not fair," he grumbled with a small pout. "You can’t just spring stuff like that on people."

"So, you would’ve have preferred I hadn’t said anything?" Jinki said, amused.

Jonghyun retaliated with a punch to his arm, making the taller one burst into laughter.

"Yah, this isn’t funny. That should’ve hurt," he fussed, crossing his arms over his chest in protest.

"How can I not laugh when you’re acting this way?" the brunette pointed out.

"Are you making fun of me?" the blonde threw back.

"Not at all, I just think you’re cute," the other swiftly replied.

Another stab. Followed by a shiver. Jonghyun was pretty sure now that he wouldn’t survive this night.

"Yah, you’re pretty smooth for someone who hasn’t been on the dating scene," he observed, frustrated.

"If my honesty comes off that way, I’ll take that as a compliment," Jinki said with a light shrug.

"But I’m starting to get worried you don’t feel the same way, you’ve just been stalling this whole time…" he remarked with a pout of his own.

Apart from being subjected to one of the cutest sights he had ever seen in his life, Jonghyun also had to deal with his own mind and heart racing like there was no tomorrow.

"I really like you too," he said before he wouldn’t be able to anymore.

"Thank god," Jinki let out as he smiled in utter relief.

Jonghyun frowned. "Are you really surprised? Cause if there’s something I’m not good at it’s being subtle."

The brunette chuckled at that. "I mean, I had my doubts…but it’s always nice to get some type of confirmation."

"I mean it’s really not in my MO to call first," Jonghyun indicated.

That instantly piqued Jinki’s curiosity. "What’s your usual MO then?"

Jonghyun couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at that. "Well, I mean…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m usually the casual encounter type of guy."

"Aah," the other acknowledged with a small laugh before saying, "So, I’m probably going too slow for you, huh? "

The blonde’s eyes widened at that. "No, no, not at all," he uttered in panic. "Like I said, it’s not the same, I-"

A gasp left his mouth as warm hands settled on his hips and pulled him closer. His eyelashes quivered slightly as he then felt them move to the small of his back, holding him tightly in place.

By the way Jinki was looking at him, he knew he wasn’t the only one who wanted so much more right now, but he was still wary of not losing himself just yet.

"Can I kiss you?" the brunette asked against him as his lips inched closer to his, their breaths meeting first before anything else could follow.

Jonghyun was left unable to do anything else other than nod, the warmth emanating from the other’s body almost making him dizzy. Jonghyun was used to encountering hot people, but this man right here was a different kind of hot.

And he got even more confirmation of that as the taller one’s lips captured his with an urge that made his heart thump loudly inside his chest and his eyes flutter closed.

He let himself be kissed without restraint, melting under the feeling of the other’s soft lips claiming his before moaning as he felt his tongue find his with an ease that felt almost too good. The sweet tang of the ice cream flavor he got a taste of only added to his hunger. Instinctively, he brought his arms up around the taller one’s neck, pulling him a bit further down to squeeze him closer, to feel him deeper.

Catching the low groan that elicited from him, Jonghyun returned the kiss more fiercely, wanting to see how close to the edge they could push themselves. They kissed without pause until the limit drew itself at the lack of air in their lungs.

Jinki pulled back first, drawing with his retreat a whine of complaint from the blonde.

The latter quickly resolved his need for more by lolling his head a bit to kiss the brunette’s neck, relishing the shiver that accompanied his ministrations.

"Fuck, Jonghyun…" Jinki breathed against him, fingers digging into his hips again as he tried his hardest not to buck his own forward.

Jonghyun’s lips travelled up to his jaw, giving it a small poignant bite before he pulled back a bit to meet the taller one’s eyes again. The latter’s face was tense, and his eyes had that sheen of desire he was sure could be read in his own.

"Did you also bring me here to fuck, Jinki?" he dared as one of his hands slowly travelled down the other’s covered chest, relishing the softness of the material under his palm.

The brunette’s gaze narrowed just a bit more, focusing on the subtle blush that graced the younger one’s cheeks with a hunger he hadn’t felt in a really long time. If he were to only listen to his dick’s brain, he probably would fuck him right here and then.

And Jonghyun was making it incredibly hard to resist as his hand finally reached his belt and tugged on it with a provocative playfulness.

"So, am I right?"

Jinki’s eyes darted downwards, looking at how close the blonde’s small hand was to his crotch and thinking about how much he wanted it on it. Images of being brought to completion flashed in his mind and he had to bite down hard on his lip not to moan.

Out of precaution for his sanity, he grabbed the other’s hand and moved it away from him.

"Do I look like the kind of guy that would bring you to such a secluded place to fuck?"

Jonghyun shrugged. "I don’t know, you tell me," he said in a tone that had accents of challenge.

"Well, if you must know, my MO’s pretty much the opposite of yours," Jinki informed before chuckling a bit at the frown that drew itself on the smaller one’s pretty features.

"What does that mean?"

Jinki’s laughter died right that moment, unnerving Jonghyun deeply. He didn’t have much time to linger on it though as the brunette’s face came close to his again. Just when he thought he would be granted with the gift of another kiss, the other moved his head slightly, bringing his lips to his ear.

"It means that I like to wait," he whispered before pulling back again.

Jonghyun’s eyes had closed at the sound of his voice, lingering on the undertones of it for a few more seconds before he opened them again. His spine was still tingling from the shiver that had just run through it, leaving him in a heightened state of sensitivity.

He couldn’t help but want to be close to him, to feel more of him, but most of all, he didn’t want to force anything. Despite the way the other had chosen to get his point across, Jonghyun could still feel he was pretty serious about it. Jinki didn’t seem like the type of guy to play around with his words.

"Waiting it is then," Jonghyun acknowledged not without a tinge of disappointment pinching at his heart.

Jinki seemed to pick up on that, because a second later, he was laughing. "Don’t worry, I don’t mean waiting until marriage," he reassured. "I just want to get to know you better first."

Jonghyun felt his heart flutter. "Sure," he simply said as he tried to remain calm.

The brunette smiled softly. "I probably should bring you back home now," he indicated as his gaze travelled around them.

The blonde did the same, only then realizing how dark their surroundings had become.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed.

A few seconds later, they were back in the car, fastening their seatbelts, before Jinki had the engine running again.

The ride back seemed to pass by a lot quicker even though they fell into the same shared silence as before.

As they crossed into familiar territory again, Jonghyun started bracing himself for the moment when they’d have to say goodbye. His neediness for the other still felt incredibly odd, but he just couldn’t help it.

The thought of asking him to come up to his dorm crossed his mind, but when the car finally stopped in front of his building, he felt stupid for it. He could wait a little more.

"I’m really happy we got to spend the evening together, Jonghyun," Jinki said as he smiled at him once more.

"Me, too," Jonghyun echoed as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Thank you for bringing me back home."

"It’s the least I could do after bringing you out to nowhere," the other replied, laughing.

Jonghyun couldn’t help but join in. "I suppose. " He then looked down to his hands, thinking. "Since you showed me something significant for you tonight, maybe next time, I could do the same?" he proposed, a little nervous.

A slight push of the other’s hand under his chin had him looking right into his eyes again.

"I didn’t do that to put pressure on you. We can just go with the flow, really," Jinki said before bringing the same hand up to his cheek to give it a soft caress.

Jonghyun’s eyes closed again, trying to grasp every delineation of his touch. "Okay," he gently uttered under his breath.

Once he let himself meet his eyes again, he couldn’t help but want just a little more.

"Can I get a goodnight kiss?" he asked, somewhat embarrassed.

Jinki nodded before inching closer to him. Jonghyun sighed as their lips met in a soft, slow kiss, his heart rate picking up greatly from the feel of it.

It almost felt like a tragedy when the other pulled back to create a small window of space between them.

"I’ll call you soon, for real this time," Jinki promised before leaving a quick peck on his lips.

Jonghyun nodded in turn and waited for the other to settle back comfortably into his seat before finally making a move to step out.

It was only when he was up and standing on the sidewalk after watching the other drive away that he realized how much he was already addicted to this man.

And that was definitely a problem.

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

Text

So Close - S.S. XXXV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 35

Word-count: 2.9k+

A/N: so it’s a little short but we’re building to some important stuff!! hope you like it

Stiles Stilinski inherited many things from his father, one of which being his love of a good surface to map out his thoughts and clues. Stiles used the clear dry-erase board in his room; Noah used the cork board in his office at the police station. It currently sported a few pages from police reports and photos of Tracy and Lucas.

“Chimeras,” Noah said.

“Two dead chimeras,” Stiles said. “Plus eight new ones. So, ten in all.”

“I’m thinking maybe eleven,” Noah said, pinning a new photo to his current array. A photo of Donovan.

Stiles' heart rate spiked and you gripped his hand a little tighter.

“Our station tech guys confirmed something for me,” Noah went on as he turned around to face you. “They said both the holding cell lock and cameras could have malfunctioned because of something electromagnetic.” He picked up the book Malia and Kira found in Tracy’s room. “You said that, uh, that’s how these guys got into Eichen?”

“So you think that makes Donovan one of their chimeras?” you asked. You walked towards Noah and the board to take any attention off Stiles. “But no one’s seen him since that night-” You picked up his red marker that he used to cross out Tracy’s photo “-so they probably killed him just like they killed Tracy.”

Noah caught your hand before you could cross out Donovan’s photo. “We don’t cross him out until I’ve seen a body,” he said.

“Your board,” you said with a smile. You wanted to fix this but you weren’t sure how, so you settled for trying to get Stiles out of the precinct before he combusted. “Listen, we should probably get going if we’re going to make it to school before the first bell.”

“Of course,” Noah said with a smile. He turned and looked over at Stiles a few feet away; he was looking out the window, biting his nails, and with tense shoulders. “Hey, Stiles, you’re uncharacteristically quiet. What do you think about all this?”

“Well, these are all teenagers, right?” Stiles said. He turned away from the window and let go of his hands. “So shouldn’t we be trying to figure out why these teenagers? If the Dread Doctors- if they went through all that … burying them, killing them, breaking one of them out of jail … They couldn’t have been chosen at random.”

“So they had to have something in common that made them right for this experiment,” Noah said.

“Something that made them special,” Stiles said. He caught your eye and took a breath.

“Well, uh, I’ve kept you kids long enough,” Noah said. “You should get going if you’re gonna make it to school on time.”

“School,” you repeated, running a hand through your hair. “What a concept.”

The school day dragged on once you and Stiles split up to go to your classes. The most exciting part of the day was when you tried to print a paper at the library and it was out of ink, and when you looked up you saw Kira slipping out with about a million copies in her arms.

Those copies came in handy when all your friends gathered in your living room to read Valeck’s book about the Dread Doctors.

“My mom’s book club usually has more wine,” Lydia said.

“Well, they also probably didn’t read books that cause violent hallucinations,” Stiles said.

“I’m guessing that’s what the wine’s for,” you said, leaning down to pick up one of the copies.

“Maybe I should have my mother read it,” Lydia said. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages. “She might remember a girl with a tail leaping off the ceiling and attacking everyone.”

“Yeah, if it works,” Stiles said.

Lydia’s voice was much smaller when she spoke again. “It has to.”

“What do you mean, Lyd?” you asked, touching her arm lightly.

She straightened back up and spoke clearly again. “I mean I think I saw them during my surgery. And when I look at the cover of the book … it’s almost like …”

“A memory trying to surface,” Theo said.

You still didn’t like having him around but Scott was insistent you trust him, at least for now, so he was here for book club. Even if no one wanted him here.

“Isn’t that what Valeck wanted when he wrote the book?” Kira asked.

“If they did anything to me,” Lydia said. “I want to know what it is.”

Lydia stormed off, book in hand, to find a place to read while everyone else grabbed a copy off the coffee table. You touched Stiles’ lower back lightly to get his attention as he squinted at the title page and nodded at one of the nearby armchairs.

The two of you settled in, your head resting on Stiles’ upper bicep and your legs tangled up over the coffee table. Every now and then, Stiles would reach up and run a hand through your hair in an attempt to keep himself focused. Your efforts, on the other hand, weren’t so valiant and you fell asleep somewhere around chapter ten.

When you woke up again, Stiles coaxed you into helping him make coffee for everyone. You sat on the kitchen island as he worked, making each cup the way each friend preferred - it was sweet. The lack of words made things feel familiar and secret.

And Theo strolled in.

“Need any help with that?” he asked.

“No, we’re, uh- we’re all good, man,” Stiles said, nodding at him over his shoulder.

Theo nodded and reached his hand out. He said something about understanding and then patted the top of Stiles’ shoulder twice, a bit roughly, before you had the chance to intervene. “Woah, you okay, dude?” he asked when Stiles tensed and muffled a groan.

“Yeah, I just pulled a muscle,” Stiles lied easily. His heart didn’t falter for a second. “You know how it is with the back-to-school rush.”

“Right,” Theo said, drawing out the word. It was clear he didn’t believe him but he dropped it, opting to talk to you instead. He turned to you with an attempt at a friendly smile. “So what do you think of the book?”

“I think if it helps me find the people hurting my friends, then it’s worth it,” you said, sliding off the island and not breaking eye contact. “Because if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t let anyone hurt my friends.”

Theo’s smile changed in a way that unsettled you. He dropped his eyes for a second before looking back up at you with a low laugh. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m trying so hard to be one of your friends.”

“Right,” you said.

“Coffee’s up,” Stiles said, breaking through the tension. “Hey, Theo, if you wanna help, you can go get everyone.”

“Yeah, sure,” Theo said, looking over to give Stiles a smile before heading out of the kitchen.

Stiles turned to you and mouthed the words ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ and you gave him a noncommittal shrug that said you’d do better next time. He rolled his eyes and handed you a mug. “Just drink your coffee and don’t punch anyone,” he said. “Alright? Please.”

“No promises,” you hummed over the rim of your mug. You took a sip of the coffee and relaxed slightly. “Okay, let’s finish that book.”

---

School felt more like a dream the next day than anything else, especially with Stiles and Lydia going to the hospital to investigate her repressed memory. You were just going through the motions until someone rushed into your English class asking if anyone had an inhaler. The shock of it grounded you in the real world and you dug through your bag to get Scott’s old inhaler before running for it.

“Scott?” You pushed through the crowd of students that formed around the door to the biology class. “Scott!” He was leaned up against the desk and wheezing but Scott turned his head to look at you. You dropped to your knees and pressed the inhaler into his hands and up to his lips. “Scotty, you gotta breathe, okay? On three I need you to take a big breath, you understand?”

Scott nodded and you counted down. When he breathed in, you pressed down on the inhaler and hoped for the best.

“There we go,” you said gently, pushing back some of the hair on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Where did you get an inhaler?” Scott asked, deep frown lines still on his forehead. “Wait, is this ... my inhaler?”

“Someone had to keep it around when you started leaving it at home,” you said, sliding your hand up to his face while the other held onto his neck. It was an asthma attack, not the flu so you weren’t sure why you were checking for a fever but it made you feel better.

“But I haven’t had an asthma attack in like two years,” Scott said.

“Yeah, and today you did.”

“Are you two okay here?” Ms. Finch asked. You looked over at her and forced a smile, hoping that it conveyed your desire to be left alone. “Okay, the rest of you, clear out!”

Even though Scott insisted he was fine, you didn’t want to leave him alone, and when the lights went out later in the day you rushed over to find him. You found him with Theo, both of them coming out of the stairwell that led to the basement.

Scott explained how Theo came to check on him when the lights went out and they went down to the generator to investigate - the wires were ripped out by another chimera - and now they were trying to get a hold of Malia and Kira.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked when you saw Malia coming down the stairs.

“Yeah, we both are. Kira’s still at the library,” she said, nodding over at Theo and Scott. “Where’s the others?”

“Stiles and Lydia are still at the hospital trying to figure out what happened during her surgery,” you said, running your hand through your hair. You’d feel a lot better if they were with you.

“How long are they gonna be there?” Malia asked.

“They said they’re just waiting for the power to come back on,” Scott said.

“Which is why we’re heading there now,” you finished as Theo pushed open the doors to the parking lot. You mumbled a thank you and pushed ahead to the car,

Turns out that wouldn’t be the last interaction you and Theo had; Scott’s plan was for him to find your mom, Malia to find Lydia, and you and Theo to find Stiles. He ignored your protests about splitting up but Theo grabbed your arm and started pulling you towards the elevator.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, yanking your hand back to your body.

“Can’t you smell that?” Theo asked. He took a breath when you stared at him. “Chemo-signals. Stiles’ chemo-signals, specifically. He was here and he was anxious.”

“He’s always anxious,” you said quietly as Theo punched the button on the elevator. It bothered you that you hadn’t noticed it before.

You got off at the same floor that Stiles did and followed the smell of his anxiety all the way to the roof. The last time you were up here was when the alpha pack was still terrorizing your friends - you never thought you’d miss that experience. But in that instant you couldn’t miss anything, you were too overwhelmed by the sight of one of the kids in your homeroom class trying to rip off Stiles’ face.

“Josh?”

Either Theo didn’t go through the same shock that you did or he just recovered faster. He rushed forward, pulled Josh off of Stiles, and then threw him across the roof. They started fighting amidst all the sparks from the ripped up generator but you didn’t pay any attention as you rushed to check on Stiles.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” You held his face in yours but he was still staring at Theo and Josh. How many times were you going to find him delirious and covered in blood? “Stiles, can you hear me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I-” Stiles blinked over your shoulder and looked back over at you. He lifted his hand to your face for a second before pointing over your shoulder. “I think you should go help him.”

Sparks flew and you lunged over to cover Stiles. They burned your back but you’d heal. By the time it was over and you were back on your feet, Theo was holding onto Josh by the neck. He tore out his throat before you got a chance to stop him. Josh fell to the ground and choked on his blood.

“Stiles …” Theo took a step forward and you pulled Stiles behind you. Theo looked hurt by the action. “You guys can’t say anything. Please- please, don’t say anything.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked, doing your best to maintain eye contact and not look at the body of your dying classmate.

“Because I never said anything about Donovan,” Theo said.

You let go of Stiles’ hand and marched closer, wrapping your other hand around Theo’s neck and pushing him back against the generator. Another mini-explosion of sparks went off as his body collided with the fence, but your hold on his neck didn’t falter. Stiles was right behind you, ducking slightly when the sparks flew but right behind you a second later.

“What did you just say?” you asked.

Stiles called out your name and started to say something but he got cut off. He put a hand on your lower back, but he was still focused on Theo.

“I know what happened to Donovan,” Theo said. “I know everything.”

“You don’t know anything,” Stiles told him.

Theo started struggling under your hand but you gripped tighter, claws coming out to keep him in place. After a shallow laugh he looked over at Stiles. “I was there- at the library.” Stiles nodded at you and you loosened your grip ever so slightly. “Malia found the book. She was texting us to see where you guys were because she said she left the two of you at the library and she hadn’t heard from you since then. I told her I was close by. When I got there, I heard the scaffolding come down.”

Your blood ran cold. That was why she tried to call the other night. If you answered your phone, would you still be in this position now? Would Stiles?

“You saw him?” Stiles asked.

“Just the body,” Theo said. Stiles rubbed your lower back, a signal to let go, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Theo looked down at your hands for a second before continuing, “I watched you come out. I was gonna say something but then I saw the cop car.” He paused and looked down at where Stiles was holding onto you. “And then the body was gone.” Theo’s eyes drifted back to meet Stiles’. “I don’t know who took him. I only saw what you saw, and I didn’t say anything because you didn’t.”

You looked over to see what Stiles was thinking but then you heard the sirens. The very familiar sirens of cruisers that belonged to the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department.

“That’s not an ambulance, is it?” Theo asked.

Stiles shook his head and started walking away. He needed the movement to think clearly.

“We need to get out of here,” Theo said, moving against your grip. You pushed him back again and he held out his hands in surrender.

“I’m not leaving Josh,” you said.

“Fine, then let’s take him,” Theo said. Stiles spun around to face him. “Someone’s stealing the bodies anyway, right? Here’s our chance to find out who.”

“Stiles, I-” you shifted uncomfortably. “He’s got a point.”

“He killed him,” Stiles said, looking between you and Josh’s body.

“In self-defense,” Theo said. He looked close to crying. But his heartbeat was steady under your hand. “He was going to kill you and he was going to kill me.”

“You didn’t even wait for me-”

“If we stay-” Theo talked over you “-We’re either going to have to tell the truth or we’re going to need a pretty convincing story. It’s your choice.” He looked down at the floor for a second. “I’m not going to ask you to lie to your dad.”

You tried to get Stiles’ attention without saying anything. It was time to come clean. He looked at you for a second but you could see he’d already made up his plan.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Stiles-”

He walked over to Josh and was already pulling him up by his jacket. It was jarring to see your boyfriend picking up the dead body of the goofy kid in the back of the class. The blood that ran down his cheeks made you feel sick.

“If you wanna leave-” Stiles was quieter when he spoke to you but he was still very clearly on edge “-I’m not gonna judge you.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Theo so that you could walk over and pick up Josh’s other side. You caught Stiles’ eye before saying, “I’m not going to leave you.” You hooked Josh’s arm around your shoulders and held him up by his waist.

Theo took hold of Josh’s other side from Stiles.

Whether you trusted him or not, you were in this together now.

Part 36

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #mccall!reader #so close #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

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jamaisvuandyou · 4 years

Text

Please Dry My Eyes: Part 1

Description: Jin, Hoseok, and Yoongi have had a running streak of bad luck, but Jin isn't sure what to make of this one: His old friend's trickery that leads to him being the new father of a little toddler, Jeon Jungkook.

Originally Posted: 05/17/2020

Angst: 2,068 words

A/N: First part! As if I didn’t have enough on my plate.

Next Part.

Jin groaned softly, then carefully rolled out of bed so that he wouldn’t wake the other two that were sleeping in his bed. It wasn’t that they enjoyed sharing a room and a bed, but it was all they could afford so they all put up with it.

He went out and looked through the mail he hadn’t had time to look through the day before, noting that the water bill was pretty high. He sighed and rubbed his face, going to make himself some coffee, only to realize that there was only enough for two cups and Yoongi would need both just to wake up enough to get to work.

He got it brewing for the younger, looking through their cupboards to see if he could at least find some tea, but it was his unlucky day. The only tea left was Hoseok’s.

He put the kettle on the stove, then went and dressed for his own day at work before shaking the men awake. “Come on, I put the kettle on and got the coffee brewing. We need to get groceries.”

“Can’t hyung, need to get new shoes. Even the duct tape is falling apart.” Hoseok yawned, and leaned against Jin. “I don’t think I can even afford the shoes. They cut my hours. Again.”

“You should start looking for another job,” Yoongi muttered, trying to hide under the covers, only for them to be ripped away by the oldest.

Hoseok drooped. “I’ve been filling out applications, but it’s like no one is hiring. I’m trying, but…”

“Hey, it’s okay. We know you are. I’ll keep an eye out for places that are hiring,” Jin told him, staving off an early morning anxiety attack and giving Yoongi a glare.

Yoongi winced. “Sorry, Hobi, I’m not awake yet.”

He just nodded, getting up with Jin. “Wait, why is the kettle on?”

“So you can have some tea before work. There’s only enough coffee for Yoongi’s wake-up call. Which is why we need to get groceries so that he won’t be a zombie tomorrow.”

“Did you get some, hyung?” Yoongi asked, looking up blearily.

“I can manage without. You only have an hour until work, get moving.” Jin got up and got his shoes on. “Hobi, make sure he gets out the door on time?”

“Yeah, good luck at work today. Hope you get the promotion.”

“Hyung, I get paid today. I can pitch in for some groceries. Here, I’ll replace it when I deposit my check.” Yoongi scrambled to get the bit of cash he had in his wallet. It wasn’t much and he looked upset at the small amount. “I thought I had more. I’ll get you some extra—”

“Don’t worry about it Yoongi. Keep the extra for your coffee. I know you need it to get through the day.”

Yoongi nodded, but still looked like he felt guilty as he left the room.

Hoseok looked up at him, opening his mouth and then closing it.

Jin put some of the money Yoongi had given him in his hand. “For your dinner. I know you’re going to be home late. I’ll look at the prices of shoes so we can work that into a budget. Take my sneakers for today. I know they’re the wrong size, but at least they won’t fall apart while you’re wearing them. Now I need to get to work. Drink your tea, take deep breaths. It’ll be okay.”

——————

He had lied.

Dear God had he lied. His day went from bad to worse until he was at the store, getting groceries with what little money he had. Aside from his severance pay, it would be his last paycheck and he had to stretch it.

“What do you mean you have a kid and you need me to take care of him?”

“I can’t right now, and his mom is dead. If you don’t take him, he’s going to his grandparents on her side and they’re drunks. Have been drunks. I have custody of him, but I already told his worker that I’m headed out of the country for a semester abroad. I can give you some money to care for him and when you need more, I’ll send it. Please, Seokjin-ah. It’s just for three months.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s almost one and a half.”

Jin was quiet for a moment, putting sneakers that were Hobi’s size into the cart. “I can’t support him. I got fired earlier today.”

“I’ll give you the money to support him. You know I have it. I’ll set up monthly installments so that you can take care of him. Wait, I thought you were up for a promotion?”

“I was. She didn’t like that I rejected her advances. I’d sue, but she convinced the CEOs that she’s a victim and there’s no evidence for either side.” He sighed. “I don’t know. You’ve seen my apartment.”

“Consider it a job, then. You’re a full-time nanny to my kid. Please, I’m begging you.”

Jin sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I need the money and because you’re right. He can’t go to his grandparents. What’s his name and when are you dropping him off?”

“I’m not dropping him off. You guys move into my place. That way you won’t get in trouble for having him in a place like your apartment. If you feel bad, you guys can pay rent. Otherwise it’s just going to stay empty while I’m gone. I’ll let you guys stay after as well since I’m lined up to get that job when I get back and I’ll need a different place anyway. Same rent. I can get it put in an official contract. I also want to make sure you’re his legal guardian in my absence. That way there isn’t any trouble if he needs to see a doctor or something.”

“Fine. Should I meet you somewhere?”

“The law firm. I’ll have my coworker draw up the contract and the legal papers to give you custody in my absence. Jin? Thanks.”

“Hey, you’re doing me a favor too, you know.”

“I do know. That apartment was going to collapse on your heads. While I’m at it, I’ll draw up a contract for payment as well.”

“Alright, I’ll be by to sign it in an hour and a half.”

“Make it three? I need to finish something else before writing it up. Thanks again, Jin. I really owe you for this. I’ll repay you. You’ll love Jungkook. You were always good with kids.”

“I only worked at that daycare for four months, so no promises on how good I’ll do with him. He might get messed up.” Jin grabbed the cheapest bag of rice he could, then a bag of beans. “I mean, it’s good that he’s not a baby, because I have no idea how to take care of one of those and he could die but—”

“Jin, you’ll be fine. You’ll probably take better care of him than I can. I mean, let’s face it, you’re the responsible one of the two of us. I won’t have much time when you get here, so you trust me to write it all up?”

“Yeah, if you email me copies, I can look through them before I get there. See you in three hours.”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh, you never did tell me his name.”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. The social worker has him until tomorrow, but I’ll update him and he’ll bring Jungkook to the house tomorrow. I’ll be gone by then, but he’ll have the documentation and everything will be finalized by then. You just need to be at the house, by noon, preferably.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Hobi doesn’t work tomorrow so we can get into the house pretty quickly. You’re sure?”

“Positive. I’m staying in a hotel tonight, I’ll give you the key when you get here. Your account still the same?”

“Yeah. You’re su—”

“I’m certain. I’m sending you some money so you can get some supplies, I have more at the house. I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Jin stared at his phone for a second, then checked his bank account. He shivered at the amount displayed as being added to his account just a minute later, and quickly looked up what toddlers couldn’t eat so he knew what to stay away from. He’d have to remember to ask about allergies. And he didn’t know how he was going to convince the other two that this was all okay. The contracts would probably help, but Yoongi was skeptical of everything and would think it was some sort of scam. Hoseok would just be confused about how he lost his job and then got a job in one day. And once he was done taking care of Jungkook, he’d have to find another job.

He put fruit in his cart for the first time in what must have been two months. He filled the cart up almost completely for the first time in five months. It couldn’t be a bad thing. It was perfect timing.

—————

“What?!” Yoongi asked, dropping his chopsticks and going for his phone after Jin had started filling him in on his day. “They fired you? How? Why?!”

Jin shook his head, nudging Yoongi’s phone out of his reach. “That’s not important. What is important is the temporary job I got.”

Yoongi blinked stupidly for a moment with his mouth hanging open. He dropped back into his chair, shaking his head. “Talk about whiplash: New job?”

“You remember my old roommate?”

Yoongi frowned, nodding. “The law-student.”

“I’m going to be taking care of his kid for the next three months while he’s on his semester abroad. Which means that I have to stay in his house because of the whole custody issue that had been going on the past couple of months, and he said that you and Hobi could live there too. Same rent as here, and we don’t have to move out when he gets back because he’s going to be getting a place near his new job when he returns. We can get out of here at no extra cost.”

Yoongi looked tempted. “What did you do for this guy? Give him a kidney? Or was it more—”

“Yoongi.”

“What’s the catch, Jin? Aside from taking care of some kid.”

“No catch. I take care of Jungkook, we stay in the house. I get paid for caring for him and money to take care of him. We drew up official contracts and lease agreements and I was appointed temporary legal guardian.” He pulled out the folder with the documents. “And yes, I did read them. He sent me digital copies and I read them before I got there.”

Yoongi seemed to ignore that last bit, the room falling quiet as he read through the housing contract, the work contract, and the documentation instating Jin as the legal guardian of Jungkook in the absence of and until the return of his father. His eyebrows kept coming closer together. “Wait, Jin, can I see what he sent you?”

Jin froze a moment before setting the email in front of Yoongi.

Yoongi’s face went slack after a few moments, eyes wide. “Jin, you better call him.”

“Why?”

“Because I think he just gave you everything he has.”

“What?”

“This says that you are the permanent legal guardian of his kid. This is basically adoption and this is signing over all of his assets to you in the case of his death. This is documentation showing how his property will be split between you and Jungkook after his death and everything is dated a week ago.” Yoongi held up one of the packets, pointing to the date. “Even by the signatures.”

Jin scrambled to call his friend, fear coursing through him. Why would he do this?

“Dude’s going to kill himself,” Yoongi said, alarmed.

The phone rang and rang.

Finally, someone answered. “Who is this?”

Jin paused. “Jin, who is this?”

“Officer Choi, can you identify who’s phone this is?”

Jin gulped down a dry heave. “He’s dead, isn’t he? Oh, God, I’m too late…”

“Sir, can you come down to the station?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in half an hour,” Jin replied quietly, then told the officer his friend’s name.

Yoongi gripped his shoulder. “I’ll drive.”

Next Part.

Masterlist.

#pleasedrymyeyes series #bts fic #bts #bts fanfic #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #min yoongi #suga #yoongi #jung hoseok #hoseok #jhope #jungkook #jeon jungkook #adoption au #parent au #baby jungkook

35 notes · View notes

love101imagines · 4 years

Text

Crush culture

(osman | imagine)

Requests: Hey!I have one request for Osman and the artistic S/O! How about Osman actually posing for the S/O? He can buy him/her some paints because someone requested a portrait but he/she is rather used to painting only landscapes so he/she tells Osman they can’t do it? When he says he/she has to he/she suggest that he has to be the model and he doesn’t want to but does it anyway for them? So this is basically an idea about Osman having to pose and the S/O falling for him

Heeyyy, you can write a picture with Osman, where he gets jealous of the reader for spending a lot of time with Sinan, so they argue and Osman finally admits that he likes the reader and it's all very cute.

Hi, about Osman, maybe the second prompt. I love read about him.

Prompt used: 2. I don’t have any money.

Tags: @girl-looking-out-window @trashofsth55 @carollllstarkk

It had all spiraled down when the two of you mixed things. For you, it had been when you were asked to do a certain portrait, and for him it was when he let you tag along with him to Sinan’s house.

He didn’t think much about it until you looked around Sinan’s living room and noticed the paintings.

“They’re so pretty. I’ve never seen a copy of anything from İbrahim Çallı in person.”

Osman expected Sinan to shrug and act uninterested. Instead, he got up from his spot on the couch and made his way to where you were standing in front of two paintings in the wall.

“You recognize the painter just by looking at it?” He asked.

You nodded absentmindedly. “I like to draw.”

And that’s how you ended up talking with Sinan for the whole afternoon as he showed you the other paintings which had belonged to his mother. He told you they belonged to their mother, so you assumed it was nice for him to talk about it with someone else. Osman thought the opposite.

As Kerem and Eda argued about something, Osman kept glancing at the two of you as you showed Sinan your notebook with your drawings. Işik noticed and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Why do you keep staring at them?” She asked him and he quickly hushed her.

“I’m not staring. We should figure out what we should do about Burcu and Kemal.” Osman replied getting up from where he was sitting taking the papers left in the floor from the lunch you had just had.

You noticed and started helping him. Once you gathered a few papers, you made your way to the kitchen to throw them on the trash while he heard your voice.

“You also have a china set?”

Osman saw Sinan following you into the kitchen with a small smile, his shoulders not as crouched as before.

“At least he seems happy.” Işik mumbled.

He hadn’t planned this. He had a plan for everything, but he had assumed that you would end up talking with Eda or end up bored and leave to your house. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of you becoming friends with anyone. He knew that you were very sociable, but he didn’t expect you to make Sinan smile.

After a while they got up ready to leave since it was getting dark outside. However, not everybody was leaving yet.

“They are drinking tea and still talking.” Işik said once she returned from the kitchen but she seemed to be saying that directly to Osman who only ate a hazelnut.

Eda chuckled grabbing her bag. “Seems like Burcu and Kemal won’t be the only couple we helped.”

“Nice work setting them up Osman.” Kerem said as he did his best not to roll his eyes.

That’s when you appeared in the room as Eda and Kerem went outside and Işik stayed close to hear in the doorway. You grabbed your bag which made Osman relax a bit.

“You want me to walk you home?” He asked you even though he already knew the answer since he always did.

This time the answer was different.

“It’s fine. You can already go, you don’t need to. I’m staying a bit here.” You spoke with a warm smile and a small blush on your cheeks which he noticed.

“Do you want them or not?” Sinan’s voice came from the kitchen which made you smile more.

“Can you believe he wants to throw into the water a perfect set of chinaware?” You said amazed going to the kitchen. Before you did, you turned to Osman. “Thanks for inviting me.”

He regretted doing that but still couldn’t be sure why. “You wouldn’t stop bothering me.” He said without looking at you as he left closing the door before Işik.

The next day, when you usually waited for Osman at the school’s gate, you were waiting for him talking to Sinan. When he showed up, you were ready for him to greet you and then walk with you to your classroom. However, he just walked past both of you to talk to his groups of nerds. You furrowed your brows but continued talking to Sinan until Işik joined the two of you and you noticed how Sinan looked at her.

“I have English now and I have to go early to ask Osman for the homework. I’ll see you later.” You said before leaving.

Işik turned to Sinan with a smile. “Osman likes (Y/N), I’m sure of it.”

The boy only raised his brows. “He didn’t even greet her when he arrived.”

“That’s because he’s jealous, don’t you get it?”

You walked into you class and went straight to your desk where Osman was counting money and you weren’t surprised.

“I finished the portrait.” You said once you sat down. You expected him to congratule you or something, but you didn’t expect him to only nod still counting.

“Here’s your share and the homework.” He said leaving it on your desk without sparing you a glance.

You were startled by his attitude and were ready to snap at him when you closed your mouth. You started copying down the answers in complete silence as Osman kept thinking about if he was jealous about you being friends with Sinan, or if he was only jealous of you being with someone else. You, on the other hand, keep thinking about how you had fucked things up the day before, when he approached you with a request.

“I have a new job for you.”

You left your bag on the floor as you sat down next to him on your Music class and stared at him with a raised brow.

“What do you need?” You asked leaning back against your chair.

He took out a piece of paper where he wrote down the paintings you had to do and read out loud as a few students sat down and took out their flutes. “A portrait for a birthday gift similar to the painting of Wanderer above the Sea of Fog.”

You gasped. “That one is beautiful. My house is full of Friedrich’s works.”

“Originals?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not, but they are from my grandpa. But sorry, I can’t do it.”

Osman almost dropped his bag before you caught it in time. “You almost dropped it on my foot idiot.” You said kicking him.

“You have to do it.”

“I can’t. I only do landscapes, portraits are different. I’ve never done one with a full body before.” You huffed.

He didn’t quit and continued. “But I need you to. Necdet is onto us and I can’t keep selling homeworks.”

You only sighed already knowing his response to your request. “You’ll have to pose then.”

“Absolutely not.”

You rolled your eyes irritated even though a smirk gave you away. “You only have to stand in front of a window for at least ten minutes while I sketch and you’ll have the painting tomorrow.”

You were sure he was going to turn you down again so you hanged your head over the back of your chair. Once class started, Osman started goofing around with one part of his flute had had separated as you twirled around yours which was completely painted in different patterns. You didn’t expect him to sigh and look over to you.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

You grinned already thinking about the drawing you would make. “It’s going to be great, I have already practiced doing cliffs with chalk and I’ll do it at night so the landscape looks better. That’s why you should let me sleep now.” You ranted after leaning your head on his shoulder.

He felt his heart speed up as you closed your eyes but he tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore it.

“And to stop you from enjoying this music?”

You bit down your lip to hold back laughter as your classmates played a song with their flutes off-key and Osman glanced at you as you dozed off on his shoulder and he held you so you wouldn’t fall.

When the bell rang, you rubbed your eyes and got out your notebook and chuckled once you noticed him standing next to you not knowing what to do.

“Stand here just like...this. A bit to the left, not yours, my left. Just like that, perfect.”

You sat down on one of the desks with your feet on a chair in front of you as you started to sketch Osman. He stood facing the window and you did your best to draw.

“Why do you sell them?” He asked out of a sudden.

You shrugged even though he couldn’t see you. “I want the money and get it on my own. That way I can buy more art supplies.”

“But you could ask your parents. It’s not like they don’t support you, you told me your grandma was a painter too and your dad paints in his free time. It basically runs in your family.”

You chuckled as you moved on to the shadows. “But I want to do it myself. If we success with this that means that I’m good and could live of this. I can’t imagine doing something else.”

You were sure he was smirking as he ate a hazelnut. “I can’t imagine it either.”

You smiled at yourself feeling weird. You had been spending so much time with Osman the last few months you couldn’t remember what you used to do at class without seating next to him. Before him, you only drew small things during class or slept so you could practice at home, but now you knew you were actually good. Thanks to him.

“Are you finished?” He asked snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, it’s done. I’ll paint it later.” You said getting off the desk where you were sitting. You handed him his jacket and loosened your tie.

“I have to go now, we’re going to talk with the others about what to do to avoid being expelled.”

“Can I come?”

You were sure he had noticed you had a crush on him now. Or at least someone had told him. That had to be the reason he hadn’t talked to you over the week. You acted indifferent and started hanging out with Işik and Sinan, the girl urging you to talk to Osman and the boy agreeing with her less enthusiastically. You tried not to think much about it and now here you were dragged into their plans in Eda’s room waiting for Burcu and Kemal to arrive at her house. You hugged yourself as you sat on a chair in front of her desk and started looking at her books to do something. You wanted to talk to Osman but did your best to ignore him, just like he had all week.

You rubbed your eyes feeling a bit intoxicated since you had downed at least two beers in the concert with Eda and yawned. Getting drunk made you dumber than usual and sleepy.

Işik spoke up. “It’s getting late, you guys. I should go home.” She said standing.

You got up and grabbed your jacket to cover yourself. You were only wearing some ripped mom jeans and a white strapless top similar to Eda’s red one. “I should too, I’m going to fall asleep in any minute.”

“Yeah, this is exciting, but you can tell us what happens tomorrow. I’m out.” Sinan said.

“I’ll take it and give it to her tomorrow.” You said as Işik handed you Burcu’s bag.

“See ya.”

“Bye.” You said rubbing your eyes.

“I’ll head out, too. See you later.” Osman said as you walked outside with Işik and Sinan. He kept talking with Kerem to see if he was going too and you checked to see if you had your keys and money.

“I’m starving. I need something to reduce the alcohol.” You said next to Işik as the four of you started walking down the street.

“You didn’t eat anything?” She asked you as you shocked your head. You shared a look with Sinan, as you had arrived at his house before going to the concert and witnessed something you wished you hadn’t.

“I had a big breakfast and forgot.” You mumbled.

“I don’t know how you are still walking. You drank more than me and are like 5’ 1” feet tall.” Sinan said as you wrapped your jacket around you.

“I’m not thinking about how angry my parents are going to be at me, I’m only thinking about eating baklava or anything.”

“How about işkembe?” Osman said to you for the first time of the week.

“That’s disgusting.” You said grimacing with disgust.

“Dude, you have the worst taste.” Sinan replied making you laugh.

“What? I’m hungry too. Let’s eat.”

“Yes, I’ll pay. My parents already gave me my allowance.” You could see Sinan smirk lightly next to Işik.

“I can’t believe you have an allowance. What are you, 5?” He said to you.

“What are you, poor?” You shot back not noticing how Osman tensed up immediately.

“I can’t eat. It’s already late. My mum will get angry.” Işik pointed out.

“I’ll walk Işik home. You two enjoy your meal.” Sinan said.

“We’ll grab some. See you.” You said and once they started going away, you turned to Osman who was already walking away. He made his way to the other side of the street but you were quick to follow him.

“Are you mad at me?” You said to him before going inside the small food establishment.

He turned around confused but you only stood there with a serious look on your face. As people gathered to enter, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a nearby alleyway to talk.

“I’m not angry.” He said leaning against the wall behind him.

You scoffed. “You’ve been ignoring me all the past week and I don’t know why.”

He didn’t look at you and you became impatient. “You know what? Let’s just go and eat. I’m tired and just want to sleep.” You said checking your pockets for your money.

“I don’t have any money.”

You didn’t think much of it and started counting how much you had. “It’s fine Osman, I’ll pay for your food.”

“I’m not talking about that.” You gave him a look saying you didn’t understand and he looked at you. “I can pay my food thanks to my work, but I don’t have a family as wealthy as yours, or Kerem’s or Işik’s.”

You stood there surprised but knew that you had to say something. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

He chuckled dryly and looked down at the floor. “You think I should have said that my dad drives people around and my mom cleans houses?”

You felt everything moving slower than usual, like it was just Osman and you in that dark alley. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of...” You started but he quickly interrupted.

“Of course, like you just didn’t joke that if you didn’t have an allowance you were poor.” He snapped and you felt like someone had thrown cold water to you.

“Osman, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” You apologized.

He sighed and looked away. You rubbed your eyes and sighed. “It’s that why you haven’t talked to me for the last week?”

You saw him scratch the back of his head while you crossed your arms. “I don’t know why you want to be friends with me.”

Your heart dropped when he said that and he just continued. “You should be friends with Sinan or Kerem. They have more money and probably more in common with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said picking at the skin between your top and your jeans.

He didn’t answer so you stepped forward to make him look at you. “Answer me, Osman. There’s nothing that makes them better than you.”

“I don’t have some fancy paintings at my house or a chandelier like Işik’s and I certainly don’t have any of Friedrich’s works.” He said sarcastically.

“I don’t care.” You said softly looking up at his piercing eyes.

You stood like that until you stepped back and looked at the ground and pursued your lips.

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re very annoying sometimes.”

You smirked. “That’s why you like me so much.”

“Actually, I do like you.”

You almost dropped the money you had between your fingers. “What?” You mumbled.

“Do you like Sinan?” He asked you as you felt your face blush, but not because of Sinan but for his recent declaration.

“Do I like Sinan?” You said raising you brows. You started giggling under his annoyed look but you just couldn’t stop.

“I’m leaving.” He said.

“No, no, please. I’m sorry.” You grabbed his arm to stop him and he looked down at you. “I don’t like Sinan. I like you.” You said unexpectedly shocking yourself.

Osman stood in front of you and you felt a rush of adrenaline go through you. You were still holding his arm and he was too close to you.

“So you like me?” He asked you.

“You said it first.” You smirked as he rolled his eyes with a small smile.

“Whatever. Let’s go to eat.” He said pulling you out of the alleyway moving his arm to hold your hand. “Hey, can I have işkembe? I’ll have it in a tray please. And a baklava too.”

And even though you felt a weird feeling in your stomach, you were sure it wasn’t that it was empty but that it was some shit they say about love and butterflies.

#love 101 #love101 #ask 101 #burcu #eda #kerem #osman #sinan #aşk 101 imagine #aşk101imagine #aşk 101 #aşk101 #ışik

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angelofthequeers · 4 years

Text

Will You Marigami Me: Marigami Week Day 2

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Day 2 of @marigami-week 2020!

Day 1 | Day 3 | AO3 link

2. First Meetings

“– Adrien’s arriving today, and since that’s going to be his seat, this is going to be my seat. Get it?”

Kagami Tsurugi’s first impression of her new class is…not great. An unpleasant blonde dressed in eyewatering yellow and white – whose pale pink lipstick is not doing wonders with her tan skin, and Kagami is willing to bet that she considers herself some kind of fashion icon – is looming over a pale girl who looks like she’s of East Asian descent just like Kagami, with her jet-black pigtails and her softer nose ridge in comparison to the blonde girl.

“Who’s Adrien?” the pigtailed girl says. The blonde bursts into shrill peals of laughter, accompanied by the pale redhead next to her.

“Can you believe she doesn’t know who Adrien is?” the blonde says. “What rock have you been living under?”

Kagami turns to look at the redheaded teacher, waiting for her to use her authority and resolve the issue, but the teacher is just sitting at her desk and regarding the confrontation with an air of detached interest. Ah. A teacher who believes that children should solve their own problems. While Kagami might ordinarily respect that, this seems to be far from the first altercation that these girls have had, so why hasn’t the teacher spoken up and resolved it?

And Kagami was so hoping to go an entire day without making an enemy. Oh well. It’s hardly the first time she’s gotten on the wrong side of someone with an inflated ego. Before she can intervene, however, she’s beaten by a dark-skinned girl with reddish-brown curls, who’s sitting alone at the front desk in the other column of seats.

“Hey, who elected you Queen of Seats?” says the brunette girl, standing up and crossing her arms. The blonde sneers at her.

“Oh, look, Sabrina! We’ve got a little do-gooder in our class this year!” the blonde says. The redhead – Sabrina – giggles. “What are you gonna do, super newbie? Shoot beams at me with your glasses?”

The brunette rolls her eyes and heads for the pigtailed girl. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Come on.”

The pigtailed girl trips on her way down to the front, spilling her box of macarons everywhere, and her face flushes as she scrambles to gather them up while the blonde and her friend Sabrina laugh loudly. The teacher finally leans forward, but before Kagami can hope that she’ll finally speak on the matter…

“Has everyone found a seat?” the teacher says once the students are all seated. Kagami blinks. A girl was blatantly bullied in front of her and she’s doing nothing? And judging by the air between the two girls, this rivalry has been going on for a while.

Wait. No. It’s not a rivalry. To call it that would imply that they’re on even footing, and the blonde most definitely has the pigtailed girl under her foot, not to mention every other classmate who just sat and watched silently. No wonder the pigtailed girl has no confidence, if this has been a long-term thing. Well, unluckily for the blonde, Kagami is not in a good mood; not after losing her chance to join the most prestigious fencing teacher in Paris due to being late for her tryout to help an old man in a hideous red Hawaiian shirt being harassed by a group of older teenage boys. And as Mr D’Argencourt had rightly said, if Kagami can’t be on time for her tryout, how can she be trusted as a reliable student?

“If your friendship with this Adrien is contingent on you sitting near him, I fail to see how it’s particularly strong,” Kagami says, slowly approaching the blonde as one would approach a venomous snake. She pauses in front of the desk and makes sure to loom over the blonde just as the blonde had done with the pigtailed girl. Unlike the pigtailed girl, the blonde merely raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Adrikins and I happen to be childhood friends, new girl number two,” she says. “And I wouldn’t advise getting on my bad side like super newbie just did.”

Kagami’s lips twitch without her permission. The blonde’s trying to come across as tough, but she’s really just reinforcing Kagami’s first impression of her: a particularly weak bully whose only power is some kind of influence that she seems to have over everyone. This action doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde.

“You dare laugh at moi?” The blonde slams her hands on the tabletop. “I am Chloé Bourgeois, daughter of the mayor of Paris and the Style Queen herself!”

Ah. There it is. Kagami had been wondering how this Chloé had so much power. Allowing herself a small smirk, Kagami draws herself up and straightens her back.

“And I am Kagami Tsurugi, only daughter of Tomoe Tsurugi and heir of the Tsurugi family,” Kagami says. “I can match you in both wealth and influence.”

Chloé snorts, while her classmates start to mutter. “Wealth, maybe. But influence? I’m Paris’ darling!”

“No,” Kagami says. “You’re no one’s darling but the mayor’s, if what I’ve seen in this room is any indication. The only reason you have influence is because of him, and if he wasn’t in power?” She shrugs. “I, on the other hand, have worked for my prestige. I’ve won fencing competitions and plan to compete in the Olympics. I’m a model student. Everything I have apart from my wealth has been earned.”

The other students’ heads swivel back and forth between Kagami and Chloé, as though watching a particularly exciting fencing match. Except in this case, Chloé’s far from the trickiest opponent that Kagami’s dealt with. In fact, judging by the interesting shade of splotchy red that her face is turning, she seems to know very well that she’s not winning this bout, even if she’s not going down without a fight. Out of the corner of her eye, Kagami notices a tan boy with golden hair and green eyes appear in the doorway, then pause and frown at the scene that’s unfolding before him.

“I will destroy you, Tsurugi,” Chloé snarls, drawing Kagami’s attention back to the petty drama before her. “I will make your school life a living hell. You think they’ll lift a finger against me? My daddy can cut their funding just like ��” She snaps her fingers, “– that. No one would dare side with some ugly Asian bitch with a super tacky haircut over me, so you may as well go and mingle with Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Kim Chiến Lê over on that side of the room.”

Kagami can’t help but laugh at the fact that Chloé thinks that she’s just made a terrifying threat. The pigtailed girl – Marinette – is watching the confrontation with wide eyes, so Kagami offers her an attempt at a small smile. From what Kagami’s seen of her, she seems to be a sweet girl, if lacking in self-confidence, but Kagami has plenty of self-confidence to offer. That is, if Marinette is willing to be her friend. Kagami’s not sure how to go about befriending someone.

“And how do you think my mother would react?” Kagami says. “She sent me to this school under the assumption that it’s the best one in Paris. If the quality started to slip, she would most definitely investigate. And while your father may be extremely influential here in Paris, I highly doubt that he could withstand an inquiry led by the national board of education. So, go and run to your daddy. Tattle on me. But I can promise you that if your inflated sense of entitlement affects my education in any way, your influence will disappear just like –” She copies Chloé’s earlier move and snaps her fingers, “– that.”

Chloé opens her mouth, closes it, then lets out a terrible little snarl and slouches back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Whatever. Like I give a damn about your empty threats. But I’m not moving, and you can’t make me!”

“Yes, I can!” Marinette stomps over to the desk and stops next to Kagami with her hands on her hips. “That’s my seat, Chloé. I ended up there in the first place because you made me, and I’m not playing musical chairs just because you want to sit with this Adrien guy, who’s probably just as stuck-up and snobbish as you!”

Chloé’s blue eyes glitter dangerously. However, Kagami’s pleased to see that this time, Marinette doesn’t back down.

“Watch how you speak to me, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé hisses. “You’re nothing but a baker’s daughter. Don’t make me put you in your place again.”

Marinette shoots a look at Kagami and straightens her spine. “Well, as Alya said, “all that’s necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing”. And as Kagami said, if your father takes it out on the school, people will have to take notice! I’m not going to sit back and let you bully me any longer! Now, move. You’re in my seat.”

Chloé makes no attempt to move, instead regarding Marinette with a curled lip. It’s at that moment that the blond boy in the doorway makes his presence known by clearing his throat and, judging by the way Chloé squeals and almost launches herself out of her seat, this must be the Adrien she’d talked about. Her shrill shriek confirms this.

“Adrikins! You’re here! Come, I saved you a seat right in front of –”

“I don’t sit with bullies.” Adrien’s shaking but holding himself tall, and Kagami’s first impression is that this is someone who’s very much unaccustomed to standing up to people. Maybe Kagami can help him as well. Helping people is what friends do, right?

“Bullies?” Chloé gives an exaggerated gasp. “Moi? Adrikins, you don’t know what –”

“I saw everything, Chloé. If you weren’t a bully, then why did you call Kagami that? Why did you just threaten Marinette?”

“And she’s wrong,” Marinette says, chancing a quick sideways peek at Kagami. “Kagami’s not ugly. She’s super pretty. It’s a bit hypocritical for someone to call her ugly when they think that shade of lipstick matches their skin tone.”

Kagami slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. She sneaks a look at Adrien to see if he’s going to disapprove of Marinette’s jab, but he thankfully seems to have tuned it out. That’s something that Marinette needed for her self-confidence, and it’s not even a particularly mean remark. And to be fair, Kagami probably wouldn’t be this close to losing control of herself and laughing if not for Marinette’s compliment. The fact that a gorgeous girl thinks she’s pretty too…

“No, Chloé, I don’t want to sit anywhere near you,” Adrien finishes. “Now, give Marinette her seat back.”

For a moment, Chloé doesn’t move. But then, with a wail, she jumps to her feet and stomps back to her usual desk, with Sabrina scurrying behind her. Marinette sinks down in her seat with a wide smile, joined by Alya a second later.

“Thank you,” Marinette says, directing her smile at Adrien. He grins and ducks his head.

“No problem. I just really hate bullies. And I never thought she was like that.” He turns to Kagami and adds, “Do you want this seat? I’m happy to sit at one of the back desks.”

Although she usually sits in the front, Kagami finds herself shaking her head. For one, she’ll be right across the aisle from a furiously scowling Chloé, which isn’t something she particularly wants to deal with all year. And for another, the dark-skinned brunet boy with the blue T-shirt who’s watching them from next to the empty seat seems like he’ll be much better company than the massive boy behind Alya, who gives off an air of very much wanting to be left alone, or the redheaded boy in the back behind the large boy, who’s doodling in a notebook. Kagami can co-exist with either of them, but Adrien seems to be a much livelier person than her, and he could potentially make great friends with this brunet boy in the front row.

“You take it,” Kagami says. Adrien’s face lighting up lets her know that this had very much been the right call, so she offers a small smile of her own in return and treks up to the large boy. “May I sit next to you?”

“Oh – uh, yeah,” the boy mumbles after a moment, so Kagami takes her seat beside him.

“Wonderful!” The teacher claps her hands like she’d done anything to help defuse the situation. “Now, for those of you who don’t know, my name is Ms Bustier…”

Kagami tunes out Ms Bustier after that, because Marinette turns to give her a radiant smile and mouth, “Thank you”. Kagami smiles back and ducks her head. Is this what it’s like to have friends? Hopefully, it’s not always this dramatic, although Kagami doesn’t think she’d mind drama if it means being Marinette’s friend.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: marigami me #marigami week 2020 #marinette dupain-cheng #kagami tsurugi #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #chloe bourgeois #origins part 1 #kagaminette #marigami #yeah kagami that's definitely not gonna turn into a crush #cat!kagami #cw racism

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