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colonel-insomniac · 3 years

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Symphony

Hey geeks, this is my first time writing for miraculous ladybug, but i think this is a good debut piece. This was written to the song “I Hear a Symphony” by Cody Fry, so do with that what you will. Anyways, this is dedicated to @pawsomelybuggy. Onwards friends.

TW: CHARACTER ILLNESS AND TERMINAL ILLNESS

“I used to hear a simple song…”

Sure, Luka was considered a “villain,” but he felt it was a classic “right reason executed in the wrong way” sort of thing. He wasn’t a villain because he wanted the Earth to shatter and crumble. And if people knew how guilty he genuinely felt when he stole the snake miraculous behind Ladybug’s back, their opinion on him might change.

He shoved his hands in his pocket, head downcast as the grey sky above released its crystal drops. Luka scoffs, because why should the universe even be surprised at this point? He would assume that the universe was detached from all the second chancing he’s done as Viperion. He hates the black suit he’s currently wearing, and the uncomfortable pointy shoes he walks the streets of Paris in. But for Adrien Agreste, he would do anything. Basically almost has done everything. Nothing’s worked.

Adrien had been sick for a while. At first, no one was sure what was wrong, not even Adrien, who brushed it off as a cold. But things progressively got worse, to the point where he was consistently fatigued and weak. He became a shell of what was the model of good health, frail and bony. It all came to a head when he was at the Couffaine residence, practicing in Kitty Section, when tiny red spots covered his skin, bruises littering the spaces in between. No one should be able to bruise that much unless something severe was going on. Everyone had thought maybe Mr. Agreste had overstepped a boundary and gotten physical in some fit of rage, so no one was prepared for the verdict they got.

“Leukemia.” The doctor said. Instantly, Luka felt as though the air was knocked out of him, and would have fallen to his knees if it weren’t for Marinette and Alya standing on either side of him.

He had both wanted to see Adrien, and desperately wanted to turn around and run, jump in the Seine, hide in his room. Something so that he wouldn’t have to face the fact that Adrien had this terrible sickness. Luka had resurfaced to hear the grim news—Adrien hadn’t been diagnosed in time to stop it. The doctor’s said the most they could do would be to make what time he had left comfortable.

Then came the one time Gabriel Agreste has probably ever been kind to his child. He immediately abandoned his work to come to the hospital, his face still stone cold and blank as he threatened the hospital if they didn’t at least try to help Adrien.

He thinks back to when Adrien started losing his hair. He had been so upset that he wouldn’t let anyone in the room, had his bodyguard see to it that that stayed true. Luka still doesn’t understand how he’d managed to get in that day, but he remembers walking in quietly, seeing the side of Adrien’s head, his hair nearly gone. A look of desperation was etched on his face, with a mixture of hopelessness as he stared out the window.

“That was until you came along…”

He’d been mad at first, and Luka had felt guilty about disrespecting Adrien’s wishes. But he knew, more than anything, that being alone was worse than disobeying what the boy wanted. Luka had given him his first beanie that day, the first of many to come. He’d also given Adrien a rose, white with a black ribbon.

Long after the rose had wilted and been thrown out, Adrien had kept the black ribbon, and had it tied to his wrist like a bracelet. The gesture had made Luka’s heart skip a beat, and so he kept bringing Adrien roses, if only to bring a smile to the boy’s face.

Through this, no one had seen Chat Noir, which on a whole was not an issue, Hawkmoth hadn’t really created any new akumas. Mostly, they had seen the return of Mr. Pigeon, who was an easy person to best, someone Ladybug could defeat on her own. Chat had attempted to show up the first couple times, but upon seeing his pale tone and unatural sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, Ladybug had promptly told him to go home and rest. He’d had to be pushed off the scene, but after the third or fourth time, had stopped showing up. Ladybug had voiced her concern to Alya as the author of the Ladyblog, but no one had seen any trace of the cat themed superhero.

“Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you…”

Luka numbly walked on, not paying attention to his surroundings. There was no point, in all honesty, not when he knew where he was heading. It played out this way dozens of times now, so he figures he can afford to be absorbed by his thoughts, at least until he reaches… he shakily inhales, unable to admit even to himself where he was headed. The rain fell faster, the universe seemingly weeping with him, mourning the loss of a soul that definitely did not deserve their allotted fate.

Luka was barely able to bite back sobs, his brisk pace halting to a complete stop as he hugged his sides. The world felt permanently grey, endless and hopeless.

Those last days with Adrien the first time were the worst. They were cast in a golden glow, the spark that had always lived in Adrien’s eyes had dimmed. He seemed tired, but scared. Luka stayed by him practically 24/7, the boy leaning into the warmth that Luka’s body provided. “I’m scared.” He whispered, and Luka bit his lip hard enough to bleed. What were you supposed to say to someone who’s dying? “It’ll all be okay, except that it won’t because you won’t be here?” Absolutely not, instead he opted for “I’m scared too.” Days later, and Adrien would succumb to the cancer, leaving Luka in what felt like a vacuum devoid of all happiness.

Much to Luka’s torment, the boy had passed while Luka was asleep, and assumingly was asleep as well. At least, that’s what Luka had convinced himself so he could find some sort of peace. He had woken up to a voice, pleading for Adrien to not be gone, but when he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anyone. He’d soon find out that Adrien was Chat Noir, and it was Plagg who had been begging for Adrien.

“With simple songs, I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore…”

Plagg had loved the boy dearly, it was evident in the way he didn’t want to part with the boy, and would have rather been buried with Adrien over getting a new holder, Luka, having been Viperion previously, knew exactly what Plagg was, and scooped him in his hands, gingerly slipping Adrien’s ring off as nurses rushed in to try and resuscitate Adrien. Soon, Luka found his way to the roof, and sat dangling his legs off the roof, silently crying and sharing the pain with possibly the only other being to understand what fully loving Adrien felt like.

That’s where he first had gotten the idea to go rogue and steal Sass to save Adrien. Plagg was quick to discourage the idea, but his hesitance was enough to push Luka in the opposite direction. Getting Sass was easier than he thought it’d be, and that was when he rewound time for the first time. He was back to holding Adrien, and quickly rewound again, to get to a couple days before. This is where he’d start again.

For the first hundred times, he quickly realized he was dancing on a thin line of morality. Attended Adrien’s funeral about a hundred times. Rewound time dozens more. Nothing changed besides Ladybug realizing the missing miraculous and declaring Viperion an enemy. People grew to hate him time and time again, and not once had he bothered to try and clear his name, he just took it. Over and over again, publicly fighting Ladybug at one point and barely hanging onto his sanity through the fight.

“You are my beautiful, by far, our flaws are who we really are…”

And now he walks again, failed again, Plagg and Sass peeking out of his breast pocket with sad eyes. By this time, he’d told Adrien several times that he was in love with him, kissed his cheek dozens of times, and just held the boy to comfort him many more times. Nothing ever changed and Luka was getting to a point in his frustration where he wanted to throw something, and being a generally mellow person, that was saying something.

Getting lightheaded at the thought of being in that field again, he sat down, putting his head in his hands and trying to regulate his breathing. Luka glanced at his wrist, at the snake miraculous ready to pull him back again whenever he decides to. Normally, he’d rather stand and get through this feeling, but he simply just does not care anymore. If it’s going to rain on him let it rain. The only thing that matters anymore is saving Adrien. And that’s all he can think of doing anymore.

He can’t make it to the funeral, he knows that now. He might have forced himself through the torture of it several times before, but it’s worn him down. Luka looks down at the kwamis, mutters a monotonous “sorry,” and pulls the bracelet.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along…”

The feeling of light ripping through his body is impossible to get used to, but he soon opens his eyes to find himself in the middle of a hospital courtyard dappled in sunlight falling through the trees. Adrien sits beside him, had begged Luka to let him sit in the grass and not the wheelchair, so now the both sit in the grass. The blonde haired boy leans against the tree behind him, eyes closed and a peaceful smile gracing his face. It brought Luka a hollow joy to see his love smile, if only for a little.

“Luka.” Adrien cracks open an eye, a hint of a mischievous glint residing in them. He patiently waits for Luka to muster the courage to respond. When he does, Adrien swiftly pulls two blades of grass to his lips and blows, creating a piercing whistle. Luka jumps, startled, but mulls over the resonating melody that it creates in the world. Perfectly descriptive of Adrien as always, and that never ceases to baffle Luka.

Adrien laughs, the sound pulling a smile from Luka. Later, he gets scolded for giving into Adriens pleas to sit in the grass. “What harm can it do,” he snaps. “He’s dying and we all know it. Why shouldn’t he be able to enjoy what little time he has left.” That gets the nurse to stop and nod. Maybe it’s just the tears in Luka’s eyes coupled with the desperation and sorrow in his voice.

Adrien holds Luka’s hand in his after the blue haired boy convinces Adrien to eat some food. Luka has some bright green nail polish on the bed tray per request of Adrien, who had conveyed to Luka he at least wanted to be rebellious in his dying moments a couple days prior. Luka had withdrawn after, much to Adrien’s displeasure, and had then found how affected Luka was from all this. Breaking out of his trance, Luka feels the weight of Adrien’s head on his shoulder, and Luka turns to press his cheek against his head.

Luka stares at the bottle of green polish before raising his knee to put Adrien’s hand on it. “Hold still so I don’t mess up,” he warns Adrien, but has a feeling the other boy will do something to mess him up anyways.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Adrien responds, just minutes before he jerks his hand, resulting in a bright green streak across his hand.

“You took my broken melody, and now, I hear a symphony…”

Days later, and the outcome doesn’t change. Luka resets time again.

Adrien cups Luka’s cheek in his hand, his cool palm causing a stir in Luka, who subconsciously leaned into the embrace. “You look tired, dear.” Adrien mumbled. Luka squeezed his eyes tight so Adrien wouldn’t have to see him cry.

With a shaky inhale, Luka leaned down, resting his head against Adrien’s shoulder. ‘I’m so tired. Please, stay with me this time.” He pleads, knowing it’s not up to Adrien to decide.

“I promise I won’t.” Adrien whispers, wrapping his arms around Luka.

Many times later, and the doctors finally find a viable solution.

“And now, I hear a symphony.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #prompts #rena rouge #nino lahiffe #does it hurt #please #feedback #Yknow #I #lukadrien

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skvaderarts · 4 years

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AP Chapter Fifteen: Lessons

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Fifteen: Lessons

Note: Ah yes. Here I am starting work on this chapter at 7:03 am after spacing out for about eight hours. How does that even happen?! Like, how do you daydream for that long and not think about anything?! GAH! As a result of that and a looming delivery from IKEA today (I get to put together furniture, yay!) This will be a shorter chapter than the last one, but the next one will be normal 3k+ length. Thanks for your understanding and feedback, and sorry about that! Life is wild right now.

(-~-)

With every passing moment, the sun seemed to grow brighter as it's scorching rays cut a swath through the atmosphere and scorched the earth below. Heat was one of those things that was difficult to escape, even in the cooler parts of the world like where they currently were. The region was going through an unprecedented heat wave, so being indoors with air conditioning was the best way to spend your day. But the beach was a close second. Cool water lapped up against the sandy edges of the embankment, washing all manner of shells, pebbles, and seaweed up against the sandy outcropping. It was as if the sandy shores of the local beach were a filter for the water itself, pulling away any impurities and debre. In all honesty, it wasn't all that far-fetched of an idea. Nature works in mysterious ways, after all.

As the sun reached its peak in the sky above them, the children retreated to the shallows in search of entertainment and comfort, all the while being watched over by their adoptive father. Carlo was unable to swim, so he settled for dipping his toes in the water and building a simply dreadful sandcastle; one that Nero felt compelled to praise out of his obligations as a father. He knew he was trying quite hard with his little bucket and pale to make something worth wild, but he hadn't arrived at his destination quite yet. Perhaps in time the small child would hone his skills and create something that met his exacting standards, but for now, it was just a lump of dirt that wouldn't stand up straight due to the fact that Carlo didn't understand the concept of lifting the bucket straight up instead of pulling it sideways. Honestly, it was quite charming.

Nero scoffed in amusement as he watched the tiny curly haired boy struggle, making an effort not to laugh at him. He looked about two seconds from bashing the lumpy structure down with his tiny shovel. Just then, a stray wave washed in, soaking the poor boy and completely flattening the source of his frustration. He went wide eyes and pouted, clearly disproportionately disappointed. It hadn't been great, but it had been his. And now it was gone forever, along with any aspirations of becoming an architect in the future. Truly a tragedy the world would never recover from.

Clearly aware that his youngest child needed his assistance, Nero crossed the few feet that separated them and scooped up the squirming child, hauling him back towards the dryer part of the sand where he was sitting. Nero didn't mind the head that much, so he had plopped down just ten short feet away from the water's edge. It gave the children more than enough room to play, but assured his ability to gain access to them in an emergency. Once Carlo had been plopped down onto the sand gain, Nero borrowed his little bucket and demonstrated the proper sand castle making technique. After packing sand into the bucket, he turned it upside down and then lifted it up at the correct angle, making sure to do so at a speed that the young boy could comprehend.

"You have to lift it straight up like this," Nero said, sitting down on the sand and demonstrating the proper speed, angle, and hand movement required. He couldn't help but laugh to himself slightly at how small the bucket was in his hands compared to Carlo's." Here, let me see your hands.

Understanding the fact that guiding him through the process might be more efficient, Nero waited for his son's small hands to grasp the bucket before covering them with his own and guiding him through the process. Carlo giggles as the bucket lifts to reveal an intact sand mound. As far as the little boy was concerned, this was magic, plain and simple. Was Nero some sort of wizard?

Arriving right on time, V carefully made his way past the pair, stopping for a moment to take in the scene before him. He stared, and eyebrow raising as he tried to comprehend what his younger brother was doing. Nero glanced in his direction, suddenly very aware of how silly he probably looked holding Carlo's tiny arms up in the air with a bucket in his grasp as the child giggled crazily. V probably thought he'd lost his mind. But, to his surprise, V shot him a genuinely pleased half smile, closing his eyes for a moment. The young summoner nodded in approval before sparing Carlo a gentle wave. He then turned his attention back to walking steadily on the shifting sands that threatened to buckle around him.

V's balance was unsteady at the best of times, but sand was another whole level of hazard for him. He was actually slightly anxious. While he was sure he wouldn't harm himself if he fell on such a soft surface, he would look totally helpless and clumsy, especially since the children were getting around just fine. He didn't want the other's to worry about him. He wanted Nero to spend time with his children. This was the first time he'd ever seen him have so much fun with them. He liked seeing them all together like this. Perhaps knowing that the little ones had something he never had the chance to brought him some sort of satisfaction. Despite never having one, family was something he cherished. Nero and Kyrie had given the children the chance that no one had given him, and he admired them for that.

For a moment, a part of him wondered if he would ever take on such a role.

It was very unlikely, but he would entertain the idea. Maybe it would be…

It was best not to dwell on aspirations and desires he could act upon, at least not for the moment. He would revisit this later, when he was in the proper mindset. For now, he was going to sit down and rest. Walking across that short segment of sand had been strangely tiring to him. At times, he was subtly reminded that he wasn't exactly himself yet. He had only been back about two weeks. According to Magnolia, it could be upwards of a month or two before he was back to the condition he'd been in before the Redgrave incident. The way he felt most days made him open to adding another month to that estimate. He'd always been quick to physically recover, but slow to regain his energy. Thankfully he didn't use very much of it. But being so profoundly drained for extended periods of time wasn't something he wanted to grow accustomed to. Living in a state of constant borderline exhausting was not how he planned to carry out his existence. But for now, he had no choice but to take it easy. It wasn't like he was going to go swimming after all…

No way in hell was he going in the water.

A moment later, Vergil arrived, somehow just as steady on sand as he was on every other surface. Maybe that was the product of spending so much of his time in rough terrain, or just Vergil's general level of grace and coordination. It was hard to say. But it was strange to see someone traverse such a shifty surface with little to no effort. The older devil slayer glanced in the direction of his youngest son, seemingly noting that he was attempting to demonstrate how to build a sand castle to the young boy. Vergil folded his arms loosely around his chest, giving Nero a curious but almost amused look. Nero raised an eyebrow, half expecting Vergil to say something unapologetic or disapproving. But he didn't. There wasn't a hint of irritation or disappointment in his demeanor. In a way, he almost seemed to like what Nero was doing, at least from what he could tell. He simply schoffed softly and turned towards V, tossing him his shoulder bag.

Clearly taken off guard by this due to the fact that he was in the process of sitting down, V caught it but stumbled back and flopped onto his back uselessly. He let out a discontent sigh and huffed, obviously not pleased that he was now covered in sand. He pushed the bag to the side and sat up slowly, brushing himself off. He flicked the fine sand particles out of his hair and then turned his attention to the bag, unzipping it and unpacking it. Nero and Vergil watched in silent confusion as he somehow produced a full sized beach towel and a large standing umbrella from within the confines of the bag. He stuck the shade casting device in the sand and unrolled the towel, opting to sit on it. He then produced a pillow and a book, taking the time to place it so that he could lay on it by propping his elbows up on the sand facing the water. Once in the correct position, he opened the book and presumably began reading it, only to stop a short moment later when he felt the collective eyes of everyone present on him. He shot his brother and father a baffled look, genuinely unsure of how he managed to garner their attention in the first place.

"You both look at me as though you've never seen a beach umbrella before." V said quietly. He wasn't sure what they wanted from him, but he found their confusion as confusing as they probably found whatever he'd done confusing.

Nero glanced between Vergil and V, Opening his mouth and holding out his index finger as though he was going to point and ask something, but then closing his mouth and lowering his hand at the last moment. The umbrella made perfect sense, but how he had managed to get all of that into such a snug bad sure as hell didn't. Vergil looked down for a moment and chuckled to himself under his breath, repressing the ruge to roll his eyes as he shook his head slightly. "I suppose that explains why that bag weighs more than you do wet. Am I to take it that you don't exactly enjoy the heat, then?"

The youngest of the trio of descendants snickered. What the fuck?

V nodded, waving passively." My complection and the sun have long since been bitter enemies, but the umbrella is a new addition. I discovered it while I was out with Nico yesterday." He glanced around in the general direction of the beach, obviously searching for something he didn't see." Where is everyone else? I could've sworn Dante was here just a moment ago."

To the surprise of basically everyone present, Carlo stood up and pointed towards the water where the other children were playing. Sure enough, his two older brothers were in the process of trying to drown the youngest Son of Sparda. Nero shook his head, unsure of how he felt about that, but willing to let them continue for the time being considering what Dante had recently done to him. He was still a little wet. The small child then stood up and toddled over to Vergil, tugging on the cuff of his sleeve. Only Vergil would wear what was basically a dress shirt to the beach. It was as close to "casual" as he was ever going to get. And it had to be blue. That was non negotiable.

"Grandpa! I miss you!" The little child said as he hugged his leg, jumping up and down in excitement.

Vergil could literally feel himself age about fifteen years from that statement alone. He suddenly felt the age he actually was for once and felt a profound desire to be somewhere else. This child was his grandchild, wasn't he. How in the hell had that happened?! He hesitantly patted the small child on the head, clearly uncomfortable with his entire existence in that moment. "... Yes… thank you, child."

(-~-)

As it stood, the girls had yet to return from their shopping trip. Some sort of snack vendor had passed by a short while ago, so everyone had opted to grab something. Nero had joined V under the umbrella after succeeding defeat right after that. While he didn't sunburn nearly as easily as his pale complexioned older sibling, he still didn't tan. And to top it off, Kyrie had used all of the sun screen on the children before they'd left the hotel. Staying in the shade was probably a good idea, at least for now.

"So… are we going to discuss the ulterior motive behind why you decided to buy a giant bucket and fill it with water when no one was looking, Nero? Or were you hoping to catch me unawares?" V said casually as he sipped the drink he'd acquired. Raspberry iced tea was literally never a bad choice.

Nero laughed at the statement. "Nope, were just going to throw this on Vergil when he's not looking. I'm pretty sure he's just staring off into space right now. Might be our best bet."

V shot him a slightly wide eyed look, clearly disturbed by the prospect of the plan he'd somehow been included in without his express permission. "... Has the salt water short circuited your brain, or do you just possess a death wish?" V said breathlessly in a hushed tone. He spoke as though he were trying to persuade someone to reconsider a sueside mission." He will not take that well."

The younger of the two shrugged, indifferent. " I mean, he can't kill us both, can he? He's never gonna see it coming. I'm going for it."

With that, Nero jumped up and grabbed the large bucket of water, making his way across the sand. V carefully stood up and made his way across the sand behind him, not entirely sure as to what he intended to do in this situation. To some degree, he actually wanted to help Nero with his plan. But the sensible side of his subconscious couldn't help but inform him that this was a lousy idea liable to get them both murdered in front of Nero's children. Nero noticed that he was pursuing him and stopped, waiting for him to catch up. V had practically sprinted after him, and was clearly out of breath and off balance.

"W-what are you hoping to achieve by doing this?" He asked, taking a few deep breaths as he attempted to steady himself.

Nero stuck the other end of the huge bucket out to him as if offering it to him. "Nothing, V. I'm just fucking with him. Live a little. Or can you not lift the bucket? Because-"

V held his hand up, shushing him. He then gave him an unreadable look before closing his eyes and sighing. A wicked smirk passed across his face as he shook his head and opened his eyes slowly, grasping the other end of the handle. Yes. They were absolutely going to die here. But at least it would be for something stupid. He'd always figured that would be how he went. Pointlessly as a direct result of his own stupidity and hubris.

The pair quietly and slowly closed the distance between themselves and Vergil. He was sitting no further than five feet from the shoreline, seemingly daydreaming or dozing off. It was honestly hard to tell. He'd been like that for a while, more than likely thinking about something originally, but now content to allow his mind to wander. It seemed like he was actually trying to relax for once. It was strange to see Vergil so quiet and at ease.

And then they tipped the bucket and a wall of cold salt water slammed into the back of him.

Practically Instantaneously, the entire atmosphere around him became electrified as he went from a sitting to standing position to fast for their eyes to detect. He faced them, radiating what could only be described as the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. V visibly paled and a look of immediate regret passed across Nero's face as they faced down their father. He was really starting to wish he'd taken V's advice and sat his ass down on the beach towel under the umbrella where he was safe. Now his children were going to have to watch him get mamed and possibly murdered. Again.

In an action that only intensified the nauseous feeling in the pit of V's stomach, Vergil actually laughed. V had no idea that his father was capable of even doing that, and the fact that he honestly couldn't tell if he found what they'd done funny or if he was planning to break every bone in his body made every millisecond physically painful. Vergil reached out and rested a hand on each of their shoulders, still laughing while facing down at the ground. It was at this point that the two of them shared a tentative glance at one another, considering the option of sharing their final goodbyes. Yea. Vergil was one hundred percent about to disembowel them.

Before either of them could blink, Nero went flying back across the sand, smacking his head against the umbrella stand about fifteen feet away. He considered getting up, but decided that laying there and playing dead might actually be a good idea for once. After all, the last time Vergil had thrown him across a room, he'd sat up only to find himself short an arm. Yes, his head did feel like a raging hornet's nest and his back felt like he'd just been waxed with sandpaper, but he still had all of his limbs. That was an improvement.

V watched the scene unfold, trying to regester how Vergil had done that with one hand and silently hoping that he didn't decide to repeat it on him. He was a lot less… resistant to damage than Nero was. He could practically feel his shoulder dislocating just thinking about it. For a brief moment, he and Vergil shared eye contact and Vergil gave him an almost sarcastically reassuring pat on his shoulder, squeezing slightly but not in any way that he found harmful. The oldest Son of Sparda then turned his attention in the opposite direction as if something had caught his eye before nonchalantly shoving V in the direction of the water. He lurched to the side and violently spiraled towards the shoreline, yelping in a combination of terror and surprise as he slammed face first into the water with an impact velocity that would have made a speedboat green with envy and a car accident seem mild. All the air left his lungs as he sank beneath the waves about ten feet off shore, having been launched a good fifteen feet effortlessly. Vergil then smirked in satisfaction as he walked in the direction of his perplexed twin. It seemed that the others had just returned. After taking a few steps in their direction, he stopped. A thought had just occurred to him in that moment.

Why hadn't V gotten up yet?

…

… Oh no.

(-~-)

And it didn't end up shorter after all! Funny how that works sometimes! I fell asleep, woke up, and got this taken care of. Kinda happy with myself right now. Can't wait to see you next Wednesday for chapter sixteen. Looks like Nero is in for quite the surprise. Also, your comments cracked me up and made my whole day. Let's just hope Vergil doesn't come to regret what he just did. They should have seen that coming though. Don't poke a sleeping tiger lol! Also my dumb ass has been using HTML instead rich text on A03 this whole fucking time! Guess I know why italics and bold hasn't been working well now! FFS!

#Apocrypha #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Nero #V #Vitale #Carlo #Dante #Vergil #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Devil May Cry #Post DMC5 #Post DMCV #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Post Devil May Cry V #A03 #fanfiction

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connywrites · 5 years

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of flesh and blood 33

start - part [32]

“Hey, Connor,” Gavin greeted, prompting the android to stop in place, turning his head before he shifted the rest of his body to face Gavin’s direction in the motion of walking past him.

“Hello, detective Reed,” RK800 responded, a slight puzzled expression crossing his facial features with the usual inquisitive swivel of his eyebrows.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Gavin stood still in place, despite the restlessness crawling beneath his skin. Part of him felt frustrated with the idea of who he used to be, even if that person existed only weeks ago – the worst piece about the ultimately short time spent under RK900’s discipline was the fact that a majority of what it was trying to do worked so effectively, even Gavin didn’t always catch it – understanding now that it ultimately was reckless and unnecessary for him to have acted the way he had before the fact, always expecting the world to fall into his lap by his demand simply because he commanded it to be so. Nines was an ‘experimental’ android; not a prototype but something beyond it, a mimicry machine designed to adapt and integrate in a less personal, yet much more direct manner than the RK800s he had come across, with their generally stoic-but-polite demeanor – at least, if you were on their side. Another reason he’d shot androids from a safe distance was the fact that after he’d seen what they were capable of, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to get his limbs shredded by a metal computer that decided he was a threat. The acknowledgement that he was the threat in the first place only surfaced recently, whirring in his mind and thus leading up to the situation he’d put himself into now.

RK900 was built to reflect him from the start, but he was too distracted and negligent to see it. Too busy treating a sentient machine as if it were an object and reacting with surprise when it started fighting back and demanding some sort of – as his new colleague had said, ‘respect’, or at least some over-the-top version of it – he continued to feel closed in from his vivid memories of its actions. Every bunching of its eyebrows and shift of its pupils, each motion in its wrist when it lifted or placed his drinks, held him down or flicked the belt across his flesh, and the way it learned to deflect his aggression with a version of its own. The snide remarks, the insults, the ugly glares. The heavy, lengthy strides in its step when it crossed the room with its eyes stalking down his own. When his anger had somehow resonated within it until he was on the ground, beaten and bloody. Reminders of his own sadistic behaviors in the past followed him left and right, alongside the RK900 that still hid in the shadows as a phantom of his own paranoia, always watching with judgement while whispering sweet nothings in one ear and vicious demands in the other.

Gavin was well aware Connor was not RK900, and despite their similar external appearance and parallel internal algorithms, they were, ultimately, quite different. Unfortunately, Gavin didn’t know Connor well; he’d simply apologized because Nines asked him to. This time, he wanted to do it himself, for himself, and not because an android had beaten him into submission over the fact.

“I, uh,” he stammered, pausing in place while he considered the question.

“Yeah. Actually,” he began, and Connor looked a bit surprised, unable to imagine anything he could help the detective with at any point in time, let alone right then.

“Well, I don’t need you to do anything, but…I do.” Standing awkwardly in the hallway wasn’t exactly his ideal place for confessions, but he wasn’t sure when or where he’d get the chance otherwise.

“I don’t think I understand,” Connor responded, and Gavin shook his head, unable to help a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he’d almost forgotten how naive this android was, especially in comparison to RK900.

“Haven’t got that far yet,” he pressed, trying to configure a way to put words together so they would make sense to both of them. He sighed, and Connor remained as still as ever, patiently listening.

“I just wanted to see…” Giving into the urge to fold his arms, he paused, forcing the reluctant part of his mind to spit out the sentiment.

“How you were doing.” Once Connor acknowledged that the phrase was easily recognized within his database, figuring out the emotions behind it and putting them together into a logical response was a more difficult process. He cast Gavin a sympathetic stare once he’d understood what he was getting at.

“Oh.“ They hesitantly stared at each other as a few seconds ticked by.

“Well enough, I suppose,” he responded halfheartedly, glancing to the side with a barely-noticeable shrug of mechanical shoulders.

“I mean…you can tell me the truth,” Gavin offered, although with the awareness that a sudden expectancy of honesty from someone like him wasn’t exactly a notion that would seem sincere.

“Is this…about…” Connor’s voice was stiff as he attempted to bury his internal poignance of the situation; from the RK900’s personal damage to Gavin, to Hank’s now rapidly-declining health and his own difficulty trying to convince his superiors he wanted to stay alive when he was the one set up to take care of the rest, as it were. His own deviancy had become apparent to those close to him, but trying to join Jericho now would put him in even more danger, and the heartbreak clutching his chest made it impossible to even consider the idea of leaving Hank’s side. At work, there was no way of acting or speaking outside of his originally programmed behaviors, an intricate process he had to step in line with or he was as good as decommissioned.

“Yes,” Gavin hissed swiftly under his breath, dipping his head forward in indication that they shouldn’t be so loud over the matter, particularly in a place such as the DPD. Connor looked somewhat surprised, but mostly startled by the anxiety that Gavin could recognize by one glance alone; the way brown eyes dilated and stared into the distance, trying to digest his surroundings for what they were with the seemingly disorganized programming he had at his disposal. Wary, Connor turned his head away from Gavin’s direction as the man shifted his weight and lowered his hands to his sides as he made his best attempt at presenting politely despite the glower threatening to tear him down from the visage alone.

Remaining stiff, Connor stared at Gavin with the typical vacant gaze that he personally hated – but this time he dug deeper into the visual connection, pondering just what it meant for an android to replicate human behavior down to eye contact and the intricate movements of speech, even only for show. Over time, Connor had responded differently to the verbal and physical behavior of humanity around ‘it’self, leaving Gavin always wondering if he would stick around, what he might do next, how long the deviant-hunting-deviant might get away with his own antics for the pure sake of Cyberlife dismissing his existence entirely – for better or worse.

“I don’t think I can do anything to help you,” Connor offered with a burst of uncertainty beneath his breath, which Gavin quickly waved off with a nonchalant sway of his hand. It was effective nonetheless, Connor admired, realizing no one had interrupted them despite the strange subject matter of their discussion.

“No, it’s not…” Biting his tongue, Gavin remembered not to talk in such a way that might deter the android he was trying to initiate with.

“Look,” he insisted, catching the RK800’s brunette replicate eyes with his own and holding the android’s attention long enough to listen. The way RK800 responded so specifically, similar to how RK900 had in its early days – replicating human behavior with their own touch of personalized, polite and prim demeanor while they’d watch courteously, hands folded across their front or behind their back – an idea that always left his head spinning while he struggled to understand the exact differences between the recent RK models. At times like this, it was difficult not to pinpoint every similarity of their facial structures down to the same freckle. Textures, he thought to himself, like in video games. They just slapped the same thing onto a different doll.

Anderson had spent much more time with Connor than he personally had with Nines, and the difference was more apparent by the day, yet mostly within his head when his mind blanked at the idea of sentience within a computation device, an event that continued to baffle him with more cognizance than he was generally willing to offer. In his short time with the RK900, he’d learned little in favor of what the robot had discovered from himself, despite the android’s incessant need to monologue and monitor his behavior until he fell asleep, as it sometimes seemed.

“I just… I know a few words won’t make up for it. I already, er, sorta apologized, but…it didn’t mean anything,” he said with a small huff of acknowledgement, frustrated at himself for getting stuck in these sorts of situations and taking a few seconds to think of what to say lest he shove his foot in his mouth. Connor watched him, expression seeming to soften with patience as he digested the sincerity in Gavin’s voice. Waiting his turn, he dipped his chin politely to show that he was listening without verbal response; unfortunately it left Gavin all the more uncomfortable being put beneath the metaphorical spotlight.

“There’s no way I can take back what I did. I know that.” Uttering such words was ultimately some sort of painful, but it was the strange guilt stirring within him that continued driving him forth. Connor stared attentively, digesting his words for what they were as well as he could.

“Sorry for trying to take you down. I thought you were getting in the way of my success, but…after what I went through, I can tell you’re really just here to help. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you. You’re Anderson’s partner, anyways. I didn’t have much to do with it.” This time, Connor’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, showing he didn’t expect more than another sorry, let alone an explanation, alongside the fact Gavin realized what he’d done wrong and admitted so out loud. Perhaps he really has changed.

“I appreciate that,” Connor offered in response, but his puzzled expression showed he was still a bit perplexed.

“And the insults, and the threats,” Gavin continued in a quieter voice, feeling the blush creep across his cheeks from the embarrassment of confessing his own faults. Taking the blame for something that he’d directly caused wasn’t something he was practiced at, and Connor could tell, leading him to eventually accept the apology for the entirety of what it was once he could tell it was sincere.

“Thank you,” Connor responded with a halfhearted smile.

“It doesn’t matter now, and I understand why you had acted the way that you did.” It was Gavin’s turn to look confused, dimming his gaze with narrowed eyes and a tilt of his head, silently prompting Connor to elaborate.

“Androids are a threat to humanity and their civilization. That’s why I exist, after all. As to why I’m still here…” his opticals grew distant as he shrugged lightly, and a pang of something rang in Gavin’s chest that he did his best to ignore. As time went on and his interactions with other people expanded, he’d started to see why Nines shoved down every affrontive emotion it had come across, as he did exactly the same thing; and he was the one it learned from, after all.

“Right,” Gavin rang with acknowledgement, side-eyeing the android as he nodded once.

“So what’s the verdict? They gonna toss you in the scrap bin?” Connor acknowledged his callous phrasing, as it always was with Gavin, before offering one of his single-sided smirks. The subject was difficult, but he wasn’t sure exactly how much sympathy was offered over the matter, whether they made amends or not.

“I suppose I’ve only been delaying the inevitable,” he said with a small sigh that followed, a behavior Gavin noted he’d never seen from the android before. Then again, he hadn’t paid much attention, not really knowing Connor too well in the first place – or whatever personality was integrated into him. Every once in a while, he still saw Nines’ face, constantly reminding himself that while Connor could be just as callous, the androids and their intentions were significantly different. A bold fear rang in the back of his mind and tugged at the memories, making him somewhat afraid the same thing might happen to RK800, before canceling out the thought with the fact it was Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s android, and while Connor would likely pick up a lot of that older man’s bitter attitude, he knew he was one of the safest, best people on the team to work with, and likely why Connor hadn’t been thrown out yet at all. The situation of RK900 already being gone, so swiftly after constantly being at his side for those couple of months still resonated in him with an unfamiliar feeling. It showed he hadn’t quite adapted to the concept yet as he’d still glanced over his shoulder, always expecting it to be hovering beside him.

“I’m still a prototype, and the new model is already here. I think if the lieutenant’s…accident, hadn’t taken place,” he continued with the typical lack of tact he always seemed to carry, “they might not have been so sympathetic. We’re starting to have politics now…if I’m lucky, maybe I won’t get thrown out after all.” The word lucky was weighted, heavy in his throat as he felt the vibration of his own speaker with the depth of the word, one of those more human inflections to his character post-deviancy.

“Huh. And here I thought he didn’t like you,” Gavin stated with his usual boldness, shifting back to one heel and digging the nails of his fingers into his palms without much thought as the tension of his old and worn fight-or-flight instincts tried to kick up. At what, he wasn’t sure, as the anxiety was a majority of what he dimmed down with the alcohol in-between taking his prescribed medications designated for him and his brain alone, a thought that still thoroughly disturbed him. The fact they seemed to actually work if he was consistent with them for a few weeks straight was predominantly haunting, but the ritual was rare. His mind wasn’t so organized, no matter how hard RK900 tried to change and repair it.

“He didn’t,” Connor responded immediately, tipping his head slightly to the side in another subtle matter that made Gavin’s fingers curl.

“Not at first, and I’m sure I’m still not his favorite person to be around, but I know there’s been worse.” Blinking, he noticed the accidental enunciation of an otherwise general phrase, averting his gaze with a meek expression while he quickly thought of what to say next to counteract the awkwardness. Gavin’s glared pointedly, and Connor felt like he should take a step back, but lifted his head to face him as he’d already learned avoidance only tended to worsen moments like this.

“…My turn to apologize, I suppose. Cyberlife limits the information they share, and as it’s usually me reporting to them, I see why the situation was challenging. I’m sorry it went on as long as it did.”

Gavin didn’t know what to do with the sympathetic statement, struck with a blank expression as his hands uncurled by his sides, tension easing. That was nice to hear. It was better than anything he’d heard from anyone, and he paused in a moment to try and appreciate the gesture, but it wasn’t such an easy pill to swallow.

“I realize the intention was that no one was to know, but I’m glad that we do. Maybe now we can do something about it.” With his head turning away, Connor less-than-subtly glanced in the direction of Fowler’s office, a directive of opinion wrapped up in a minuscule communication that he was well aware Gavin would nonetheless understand. After a moment, he moved to face him again, lifting his chin in a moment of self-recollection while he tightened the knot of his tie out of what might as well be ingrained habit.

“Thank you for communicating with me, Detective Reed. I know it isn’t your greatest asset, and I’m not exactly your best friend, either – but I appreciate not being shot on a regular basis, more than I already am on the job.” Gavin nearly looked baffled by the bold, nigh on wittiness of the phrase, and the wink flashed his way was something he’d never personally seen between either of the RK models; meaning Connor had learned it or was pre-programmed to come off as charming as much as he did inquisitive, determined, and sometimes nearly adolescent in nature. Childish. Was that part of the attraction

With the dismissal of the supposedly superior model, it was easier to see and better understand Connor’s differences down to the smaller quirks. With a pained attempt at a smile, Gavin squinted as it reoccurred to him how long he’d been on the force without his precious pistol. The memory of having it shoved into his mouth while gleaming, cold silver eyes targeted him sent an uncomfortable shudder through his body.

Connor gestured Gavin to follow him. Confused, but interested, he stepped behind him as Connor made way to the break room. Avoiding the coffee machine, the android stepped over to the water dispenser, pouring some fresh, cold filtered liquid into one of the Styrofoam cups before holding it out to Gavin, predetermining another smack to the arm as he assumed the drink would be knocked from his hold, a prediction based off the fact he’d done it before rather than the assumption he may not this time.

“I know it annoys you, but even I am designed to keep my teammate’s best interest in mind. Coffee and alcohol will dehydrate you worse, and you’re in bad shape already.”

“Thanks, doctor,” was all Gavin quietly countered with as he took the cup and gulped down the contents, surprised to find how energizing it was to hydrate with something cold and refreshing. Connor offered a more genuine smile, snagging the cup before Gavin had the chance to toss it so he could refill it and offer it back; Gavin already agreed, it was annoying, but said nothing of it.

“Whatever. At least I don’t have to deal with the new android on the team this time. You, er, seen that weasel yet? Don’t remember his name, don’t really care.” Connor acknowledged the lack of transition words in his sentences, a habit he hadn’t seen come from Gavin in long enough he had to track back on his internal calendar to recall the last incident, which appeared to be five and a half weeks ago, minus a few hours. A sense of depression weighed him down at the realization, noticeable by the slouch of his shoulders and the weary gaze in his eyes as he handed Gavin the refilled cup of water. Gavin took it, but held onto it meanwhile as he listened to Connor speak.

“Peter Maximillian Schwarz. He’s an FBI agent that’s been on the international operations since he was twenty-two, an unusual occurrence as most people have to pass through numerous study courses first, as you know,” Connor continued with a look of confusion at himself for over-explaining.

“The German police force was impressed enough by his wit they took him on as soon as he could, as he’d easily passed the college tests that most aged professors wouldn’t be able to finish. He’d be a contestant even to our chief and lieutenant, so frankly, I’m glad he’s on our team,” he elaborated, gaining a miffed, but interested quirk of Gavin’s eyebrows, cheeks puffing in thought and crinkling the lines around his nose and narrowed eyes.

“Nothing should change for you and me aside from the fact we have extra help with our most difficult investigations. On the bright side, once you and Anderson graduate, then you’ll be the next highest-up on the team,” he said with a nigh on chipper tone. With an involuntary smirk tugging at his features, Gavin quickly hid it behind his cup as he took a slower, smaller sip from it.

“What about Collins?” Connor shook his head, a subtle twitch flickering in the corners of his eyelids, that infamous blue LED rotating a few times as he relayed information about the co-worker in the usual motion of relisting the data from his archive, ensuring it was correct.

“Well,” he began, and the way he seemed to grimace was another response Gavin hadn’t seen before.

“He hasn’t been too eager to work here since he started, from what I do know. With people like you, Anderson and androids like myself and others on the team, his work has been, well…” Connor let out a gust of air he didn’t mean to retain.

“He’s going to file for early retirement, and I don’t exactly blame him.” Gavin didn’t seem shocked.

“He’s still got six years before they’ll even consider him,” Gavin noted. Connor acknowledged the statement with subtle agreement by blinking in his general direction and another slight nod that wouldn’t be noticeable if he wasn’t paying attention. While 900 was subtle, he appreciated that Connor was a bit more animated in aspect of personality – predesigned or otherwise – as his previous ‘partner’ wouldn’t extend more movement than it deemed necessary, hence its consistent statue-esque, stoic gaze no matter the situation, thus resonating its characteristic soullessness. Connor was polite and interactive, and this wasn’t the first time he’d considered the differences between them, as the similarities might otherwise send his mind crumbling once more.

“Without providing too much personal information, let’s say he has negative mental health in his favor. While there is not much lenience, as times change, so do laws and regulations. Let’s hope he gets lucky.”

This was the second in one conversation time he’d heard Connor mention lucky, as if it were up to an interpretive roll of some divine dice that would make the circumstances change, even though a supercomputer would know every detail of the algorithms between law and government that he could never comprehend. Did Connor believe in fate, or was it a phrase for lack of not knowing the future, specifically?

“And if he’s not?” Connor pursed his lips into a fine line, worrying his teeth against the internal ‘skin’.

“Then he continues working as a detective until then, unless he can prove his hard work otherwise.”

Lost in a moment of thought, Gavin contemplated the rank of everyone in the DPD in a mental chart he’d memorized, half makeshift from their positions in a visual chart listed top to bottom, from Chief Fowler to officers Chen and Miller.

“Right,” Gavin responded, and while empathy resonated in his chest, he didn’t have the words to label it for what it was. Something ached, something strange, something like caring. The way he’d become closer to his coworkers, and even his new neighbors through his suffering was an odd concept in itself, and the involuntary responses throughout his mind and body weren’t generally enjoyable, let alone easy to adjust to. While he worked so hard to achieve his means, he’d forgotten that many people could do their best and more, yet still fall short – of all things, he should know. The idea of his upcoming court date floated through his mind, immediately dismissed with a sigh.

“What about you, Gavin?” There was a sense of innocence in Connor’s voice that he caught onto, as well as the use of his first name, an unusual moniker among peers in a professional setting.

“What are you going to do now?” Leering, Gavin drank down the rest of his water, catching Connor’s eye with a half-smirk as he quickly tossed the empty cup to the trash and even making it into the bin this time with enough speed to intercept any more of Connor’s courteous gestures.

“Same as always,” he said gruffly, darkened by a lack of confidence.

“Work the daily grind ‘til I go home and finish my routine for the night. Rinse, repeat.” Connor wasn’t sure what that meant, and was also unsure whether he should ask, so he didn’t.

#dbh: connor #dbh: gavin reed #I SAID I HAD CHAPTERS N BOY DO I

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thequeenofadream · 5 years

Text

Somebody that I used to know (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Summary: you used to be ben’s and ben used to be yours, but you broke up due to distance and media pressure. you both decide that beings friends is for the best, but ben barely even sees you anymore.

Words: 2,473

Notes: drinking is done (i’ve never drunk bc im not an illegal yes yes so sorry if this is not accurate i tried to do research) get rEKTT BY THE ANGST TRAIN.

A/N: i know it’s valentine’s but uh yesa.. um HAPPY VALENTINES!! <3 ps. this will probably be a three part series and if this flops u never saw me

🎊 tagging: @obsessedwithrogertaylor @malekdarling @i-padfootblack-things

~~~~~~~~~

You were a mess; much like a painting, a thousand words hid behind your gaze. Words of anger, words of sadness, words of relief; they all raced through your mind. He was a mess; much like liquor, he’d try to numb the pain, but he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. The day had come where he couldn’t hide behind a pillar of excuses.

You and Ben had been dating for a year now and six months in, you decided to go public. There have been many downfalls and peaks within that time. Ben was always out either shooting or doing press tours; meanwhile you were almost always on the other side of the world, busy with your own tour. Whatever time you had together would be miniscule; the way time flew when you were together was almost surreal.

You met on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. You were called upon to do a cover of “Killer Queen” along with a small part in the movie; You obviously could not say refuse. You cleared your schedule for the next two weeks, right before you’d leave for tour, and packed your bags. When you got there, you were lost and late, but luckily a blonde british boy found you wandering the halls.

“Hey, are you (Y/N)?”

“Uhm, yeah.”

“Lots of people are looking for you.”

It blossomed from there, and it was what a feeling it was. You only spent two weeks in production, but you could feel the strong friendly energy radiating off of everyone, it was particularly amazing to watch Rami become Freddie Mercury. You had gotten acquainted with everyone, and even exchanged social media handles, but Ben was especially ‘friendly’. About a week before you had to leave, the blonde finally asked you on a date.

You were honestly completely oblivious to his efforts, because everything seemed to good to be true on the magical sets of Bohemian Rhapsody. You thought he was just being his kind, generous and chivalrous self, however all those intimate moments between you two did spark butterflies in your stomach. It kind of baffled you, trying to figure out what about you caught his attention. He took you out to see London, and at the end of the day he brought you to a cozy bistro where you were spent time alone. At the end of the date, he had built up enough confidence to ask you if you wanted to try and be a thing. With the adrenaline pumping in your veins, you accepted a million times over.

You spent the last week, absolutely smitten over one another and when you left you both called each other everyday. On your sixth month together, he flew all the way to one of your concerts. He surprised you after the show and you almost cried.

“I want the whole world to know you’re my whole world.”

That was when you cried. You agreed and you both went public. It had been a rough seven months, from cheating allegations to pregnancy rumours to the constant harassment from paparazzi and others. It was ripping the both of you apart, and there was so much pain because of your love. It was like being together, unravelled the both of you. The only reason you were still strong was because of him, but all the consequences had struck you down. You felt like you couldn’t be yourself without being associated to Ben, and he felt the same. You loved each other dearly, but you still wanted to have your own careers.

And this was where you stood, in Ben’s London apartment. You had a show tomorrow night, but you figured you had to talk to him.

You both at looked at each other, your faces full of sorrow and disbelief. You thought you could somehow last forever, but almost is never enough. You both knew what had to be done, you just didn’t want to imagine each other apart. You decided to speak up, sobbing softly.

“Ben, we can’t go on like this.” You held his hand lightly. You felt weak and tired, but you were holding onto whatever you had left.

“I know.” He said simply, tightening his grip on your hand. He seemed almost mad at himself.

“So that’s it?” You asked tears trailing down your cheek. You thought he would have something more to say. He took you by the waist and held you close.

“All we do is hurt each other. It’d be better for us to be friends.” He paused, running a hand through your hair.

“We just hurt each other, I knew this since before. I just didn’t want to believe it, but now I see that it’s unhealthy. I’m not worthing of saying I love you when I’m the cause of your everyday agony.” He speaks softly, his voice cracking at the end.

“You’re not the cause of my everyday agony. In fact, you’re my sunshine. ” You say quietly, hugging him as close as humanly possible.

“But you wouldn’t be in so much pain if it weren’t for me.” He replies, taking in your scent, holding onto it. He clung onto you as if you were never to see one another again. You just stayed in each other’s embrace, one last time in silence. It was a somewhat comforting silence, knowing the pain would be over, but you were going to lose who you thought was the love of your life.

After you had both said your goodbyes, you left. You agreed you would both still be friends, but it just didn’t seem right to you. Maybe, if you had both met in much more normal circumstances you would have reached the end, but that wasn’t going happen. You had to go on and put the best happy face for your concert tonight.

“(Y/N), Are you okay?” Lucy asked snapping a finger in front of you. She had gone backstage to check on you, before you went out. You had invited the cast to your concert, but you weren’t sure if Ben would even come which was understandable.

You were zoning off into the distance, unable to process anything. Ever since yesterday, everything had been a blur and you couldn’t get your mind off of him. You hadn’t been able to sleep, eat, and think straight. You missed him so much, and it was bad.

“(Y/N)?” Lucy asked once more, shaking your shoulders.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You finally said, sighing deeply. You were most definitely not, but who could tell? Ben usually did, that’s who.

“If you say so. You’re gonna kill it tonight!” She said smiling softly. She knew what happened, but you had basically told everyone to not mention it and told the media to ‘piss off’. You really needed to do well tonight. You flashed a weak smile, assuring her you were ‘pumped’. She left you to it and went back out into the crowds.

She sat down with Rami, Gwilym and Joe, who immediately started asking about you.

“Not so good.” She sighed as the rest of them sighed in unison. They had been trying to comfort you and Ben, but that was proving to be difficult as it seemed like everything reminded you both of one another.

“Where’s Ben?” Rami asked, worrying about his other friend.

“He’s probably watching a livestream of the concert. He said he was going to practice drumming, but we all know that it could be very much code for well..” Joe trailed not even daring to put them in the same sentence. Suddenly, the lights went out and the show was about to start. Gwilym quickly added “We’ll have to split up later.”

It wasn't that they wanted to meddle between your relationship. It was more like seeing their parents divorce or something. They didn't want to choose any side, and they didn't want to see either of you looking terribly miserable.

The show was typical. It wasn’t anything grand, but it wasn’t boring. Although if you looked closely, you could see hurt written across your face. You remember how you would send Ben videos of the concert and he would express how proud he was. Almost every love song you sang was inspired by him and you couldn’t avoid him while pouring out your emotions on stage. You had to physically restrain yourself not to become a sad and depressing loser who had broken up with her boyfriend. You started feeling hazy towards the end of the show, so you were pretty loose in those last moments.

“Goodnight everyone!” You chriped, faking confidence, before stepping off stage and heading to your dressing room, lying across your sofa. You had literally told everyone that you'd deal with whatever they needed later, right now you just needed to breathe.

Your closed your eyes, trying not to think of him.You blamed yourself for the downfall. Maybe if you hadn’t gone too fast, you both wouldn’t end up crashing and burning. Maybe you shouldn’t have said yes to being the girlfriend of a guy you had known for a week. You had let everything go to your head. It was all a mistake, a beautiful yet tragic mistake.

You decided that if you wanted to get over him you needed to get rid of everything that reminded you of him, but you didn’t really know how to. You weren’t ready to just throw everything away. You needed start small. You fell asleep whilst mindlessly thinking; honestly you just wanted to sleep for a thousand years.

Lucy and Rami arrived to see you passed out on the sofa. At first they were filled with absolute dread, but someone had informed them that you had just taken a nap. You weren’t sure you were taking a nap though, if it was possible you didn’t want to wake up. Rami shook you shoulder lightly, trying to wake you up and it was indeed enough to awake you.

“Hi, sorry, that really wore me out.” You said yawning as you sat up straight.

“It was a phenomenal concert afterall! I know exactly what would do you some good.” Rami said happily, desperately trying to brighten the mood.

“We should go out for drinks, maybe some dancing?” He continued, seeing your eyes somewhat light up at the idea. It was at least brighter than the darkness that had clouded your pupils since the break up.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You said nodding, feeling a genuine ping of joy. “But where are Gwil and Joe?” You asked looking around the dressing room. Lucy suddenly panicked trying to find an excuse or explanation to where they had gone.

“They had to head over to the pharmacy! Something about joe drinking a milkshake earlier.” She came up with a pretty believable excuse, enough for you to believe. You just nodded and let them take you.

The three of you wasted the night away drinking and singing karaoke; getting drunk also meant you letting loose which was just what you needed. You were actually drunk enough to mingle with other people on the dance floor.

“Hey I’m (Y/N) and-”

“(Y/N) (L/N)? Didn't you just perform a few hours ago?”

“Yeah yeah whatever, so I was thinking you looked cute and I think I look cute sooo..”

“(Y/N)!” Lucy interrupted your attempts at flirting and dragged you back to the booth the three of you had gotten. You were drunkenly protesting against this, wanting to go back, but she had a strong grip. She sat you down at booth, before she sat down, keeping you from leaving.

“Aww, party pooper.” You said teasing her.

“I don't think you should make rash decisions when you're drunk, love.” She said slightly annoyed by your complete ignorance to the situation. Hey, at least you weren't mopping about Ben. Rami came back with two drinks handing one to Lucy and sitting on the other side of the booth.

“How about me?” You whined, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Sorry,, but I think it's for the best.” Rami said taking a swig from his drink. You just grumbled in response, annoyed by his validness. He was most definitely right. The night went on with the three of you just hanging out; they shared funny stories on set and you shared funny stories on tour. You wish you could’ve stayed longer, but everyone has their responsibilities. Speaking of responsibilities, Rami looked at the time to see it was getting pretty late and they had an early day tomorrow.

“Hey (Y/N), We have an early day tomorrow so-”

“Say no more! I’ll just call a cab home.”

“Are you sure, you could go with us you know?”

“Nope, it’s totally fine, promise.” You smiled as they got up from the booth. Lucy gave you a knowing look so you just raised your hands in defense. “No rash decisions, promise.” You held out a hand and she took it, shaking on it.

“Get some rest, (Y/N).” Rami let out a chuckle, linking arms with Lucy. You nodded and watched them go off. You were left to your thoughts in a bustling and rowdy club. You thought about taking our your phone to call a taxi, but the fire coursing through your blood said otherwise. You ordered another drink or five, despite Rami’s past wishes, and sat all by yourself, wallowing in alcohol.

You liked it. You couldn’t feel anything, pain, regret, gloom, they were all gone. You had completely lost yourself, in the chaotic atmosphere. You didn’t feel guilty or sad or mad, You felt insanely confident. You decided to go back out to the dance floor and mingle.

“Hello there.” You smirked slyly.

Meanwhile, Ben was with Gwil and Joe watching action movies to get his mind off the subject of romance. Little did they know that this was yours and Ben basically watched every genre together, so it didn’t really work. He has spent the whole night watching your concert, before the two came along with ice cream.

Frankie was in his lap and he pet her gently as the movie played. He wished he was a better boyfriend; maybe he wouldn’t be guilty out of his mind. He should of visited you more often, he should’ve told you how much he loved you; but that was all in the past and he can’t do anything anymore. The mere thought of being in love with you made him feel liable for his actions.

He would always hold himself responsible for everything that came crashing down.

He looked on the brightside, you two could still be friends. Maybe without the media suffocating you both into romantic endeavors, you could spend time together openly. He kept telling himself everything was going to be better, but was it?

~~~~~~~~~

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