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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years

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Can You Get Enough Of Me? - Michael Myers x Reader

"It's a nice day today, huh?" Y/N smiled up at the sky as she went back and forth in the swing. "Will you push me, Mickey?" "Sure." he shrugged as he got off his own swing and went behind her, pushing her the best he could. "Look, Mickey, I'm flying! Whooooo!" the little girl giggled without a care in the world, as Michael watched her long, beautiful hair going everywhere. "Okay, okay, I wanna swing too!" but before the girl could take her time and stop swinging, a bunch of older boys came by and roughly grabbed the chains holding the swing, which in turn, made the girl fall off and get hurt. "Y/N!" Michael gasped as he ran to her side, helping her up, and seeing the blood seeping from one of her legs and arm. "Aww, Myers's got a giiirlfriend! Look at them, gonna fuck? Girl, don'tcha know, Myers's a faggot?" the gang hollered maliciously, and Y/N could only frown, despite the tears of pain from her injuries, and clinging on Michael for support, she got up and yelled at the boys. "Leave Michael alone, jerks! You're rude!" but instead of trying to fight them off, or go in a brawl, she grabbed her friend's arm and dragged him away from there, knowing that if he were to get in trouble again, he'd get some bad detention, and that's the last thing she'd want. Besides...Two kids couldn't possibly fight those guys. "Why didn't you let me fight them?! I could've taken them on!" the blond boy glared at his friend, who only rolled her eyes and sighed at his childishness. "No, you couldn't. Besides, if the teachers find out you got in trouble again, who knows what will happen? Come on, let's go to the fountain, I have to wipe off the blood." Y/N muttered, going on ahead to sit on the rocks by the fountain and took out her handkerchief from her little bag, dipping it in the water and carefully wiping away the red liquid streaming down her limbs, hissing from the pain here and there, but otherwise, staying completely silent. "I'm sorry..." the girl suddenly heard the blond boy mutter, barely audible. "Huh? What do you have to be sorry about, Mickey?" as her eyes widened from the shock, she leaned forward, raising his chin up with her finger. "...I couldn't protect you. I suck. I'm as bad as that fuckass says I am..." he sighed, gently pulling away her hand and looking away from her. "Look at what they did to you. Could've been much worse. And yet, you stood up for me, while I did nothing. I'm a horrible friend." his voice was pitiful, and it was obvious he hated his lack of strength. "First of all, you aren't just my friend. You're my BEST friend. Okay? And nothing in this world will change that. Got it? Okay. Second of all, we're still little and weak. That's how kids are. Trying to fight those guys is like trying to fight the forces of nature...You...You can't fight a hurricane, you know? And...Violence isn't the answer. I mean...Look at our parents. There's nothing good coming out of that...But someday! Someday we'll get older and stronger, and nobody will bully us anymore! It just...It takes a while...I guess." she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, trying to comfort him. "That's shit! They'll see, they'll ALL pay for it! Nobody will dare be fuckers with us anymore! And when I grow up, I will make sure everyone is nice to you." he was so revolted, but his anger gradually dissipated as he felt her warmth. "Please don't speak like that. Calm down, Mickey. Things are okay now. At least we have each other, and we will always have each other, don't forget that, okay?" she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a while, only to hear an aggressive male voice booming through the park which made the girl yelp and tremble in fear. "GET AWAY FROM THAT FREAK, Y/N! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!" her father yelled at her and she could only whimper silently, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. "B-But daddy, Michael is not bad...! H-He tried to protect me from those mean boys from the playground!" she spoke meekly, slowly walking in front of her father, her head hung in fear, only for the man to burry his hand in

her hair, pulling on it roughly, making the girl yelp in pain. "Don't talk back to me, you stupid little bitch! You have no right to go against what I say while you're under MY roof, got it? Home, now." Michael couldn't even retaliate in any way, knowing that if he were to cause trouble for her, she would get in even more trouble, and that's the last thing he'd want...But why did it have to be her...?

He can take it, alright...But her...That's just not acceptable. She is small, and weak, and frail, and innocent...And there is nobody who can protect her.

Nobody but him...

----

"Michael, Michael, are we going trick or treating today?" Y/N asked, skipping around him in her cutesy witch costume, while he was a boring clown. "I guess." he shrugged, pulling down his clown mask. "Come on, it's Halloween, Mickey! You love Halloween! It's your favourite holiday! And we get free candy! It's gonna be fuuun~!" she bumped him with her body, making him stumble a bit, before looking at her and groaning. "Fine, fine, we're going. I just have to tell my mum." he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to his house, but on the way, she stopped him. "Hey, how about we trick or treat all the houses on the way to yours? I mean, there's nothing bad in that, right? We're just going home! It's not even considered a detour!" Y/N grinned widely, her beautiful eyes sparkling with excitement. "...Okay, let's do that." as he said that, Michael took out his candy bag from his schoolbag and taking her hand, they went to all house from both sides of the street. "Trick or Treat!" they both exclaimed as the first grandma opened the door with a loving look on her face. "Ahh, my, my, how cute you two are! And what do we have here...A very adorable, magical witch! And...A funny clown! How lovely!" the woman clapped her hands together to her chest, admiring the two kids. "Ma'am, he's not just a clown, he is my jester! Isn't he so cute?" she threw her arms around his neck, slamming his face to hers as she grinned even wider, making the woman laugh at them. "Yees, yes, I understand! Here, darlings, you're so adorable, take all of these. Hope to see you two, cuties, next year as well! Have fun!" the grandma patted both their heads before going back to her home. "Wiiicked! Look how much candy we've got! My fave holiday is Christmas, but honestly, Halloween is a very close runner up! Our teeth will literally rot after this!" the girl giggled as she inspected each variety of candy in her bag, "I love it 'cause I can spare people." Michael shrugged simply, but he also munched on some candy corn. "Would you scare me, Mickey?" Y/N turned her face to his, her eyes widening with a glimmering, innocent curiosity. "...No. I wouldn't. But you're the only one, okay?! Everyone else, I'd scare!" he tried to sound scary and dangerous, but it only made the little girl giggle and kiss his cheek. "You're my hero! My handsome knight in shining armour, Mickey! Thank you for protecting me. You're the best." help his soul, he wasn't used to people saying good things about him... "...But I'm ugly...That's why I wear a mask so often..." he muttered, looking down at the ground. "No! That's so not true! You're very pretty, okay? I love your face! And you have the most gorgeous eyes in the world! And...And...And your hair is so lovely, I'm jealous! Please don't say bad things about yourself, Mickey, it makes me very upset." she pouted, hugging him tightly, and it was pretty clear neither of them wanted to let go. "You won't leave me, would you, Y/N?" Michael's low voice came out barely above a whisper, but it was the only time he ever allowed himself to show any kind of weakness or vulnerability. "Never. Some day, we will be together forever, okay?" she ruffled his hair playfully, which made his face flush softly. "Hey, actually...Here you go. This is yours now. This way, if you're ever lonely, you'll remember I'm always thinking of you, okay?" Y/N grinned sweetly at him as she took off her flower-charmed necklace and put in on him, hiding it under his costume, so nobody else could see it. "Mum gave this to me on my birthday, before she died. It means the world for me, and so do you. So...Don't forget that, okay? I hope you'd smile more, you have a very pretty smile." as she said that, she squished his chipmunk cheeks.

The boy said nothing - What was he supposed to do, anyway? He was overwhelmed entirely by the only person who makes him feel...Good? But he had to go home, and he already knew that home was hell, and by the time he went there, he knew he wouldn't actually be going trick or treating, as promised...And he'd have to let Y/N down again.

Stupid family.

With a very disappointed voice, he went outside of the house and told the girl that he can't go trick or treating with her, but instead of yelling or disappointment, she just smiled and hugged him.

"It's alright! There's always next year! And besides, we already kinda went trick or treating, right? Sweet dreams, Mickey! Take care!" she waved at him cheerfully and skipped back home.

But little did she know that would be the last Halloween they'd spend together, for that night, a massacre happened at his home, and deep down, Y/N knew.

She just...Knew.

It was Michael who created that blood bath. He couldn't take all that abuse anymore, and Y/N understood that well enough...And she hated herself for thinking this, but she knew she was selfish...

If Michael didn't kill his family, they'd still have been able to hang out daily, and laugh together, lick each other's wounds, and go trick or treating on Halloween...

But she had to be happy with visiting him at Smith's Grove institute weekly with his mum, and they'd chat, and talk, and try to get him out of the shell that he hid himself into...

And he wouldn't stop hiding his face behind his masks, every week, a new one, a new one, and a new one, each time, weirder and creepier and grotesque.

No matter what his mother told him, and no matter what Y/N told him...Michael didn't listen, and the more time he spent there, the less he spoke...Until he hasn't said a word to Y/N in at least two weeks. It made the poor girl tear up, fearing that he hated her, but at least he'd shake his head and clutch his shirt where the gifted necklace would be.

And she would understand.

His mother was confused, and the Dr. was confused as well, but Y/N wasn't, and she'd smile at him and wouldn't explain what happened. It was their little secret, and nobody would be able to be made aware of.

And then...After many weeks of visiting, Michael stuck again and killed a nurse, which led to his mother committing suicide, and since she had nobody to go with to visit him, the last thing she could do was send in letters weekly, hoping they will be given to him, but she had no way of knowing, since nobody wanted to tell her anything, and no reply came by.

Until she gave up writing, thinking that Michael actually hated her, and decided to go on with her life, and her father made her move away to another state to get better education.

15 years passed, and the now 27 year old Y/N was a University graduate who worked hard and was able to get her old home in Haddonfield...To think she'd finally be able to go there again, she never would have thought that.

But here she was, having found a nice, well-paying job, and she was pretty happy, albeit nostalgic, being again back...Home. By the time she returned, she had already learnt how to play the guitar too, so every Friday night, she'd sit on her porch and play a song, softly singing along, hoping not to disturb anyone.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for loving me..." she hummed, singing the song by Kiss as she looked up at the starry night with no care in the world.

It was a simple life, but it was good and peaceful - And she had quite a lot of money to do with as she pleases - What else could ask for?

"BREAKING NEWS! A psychiatric patient from Smith's Grove escaped just last night and -..." but Y/N didn't bother hearing the rest of it, because...Because... "Michael...!" she gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands from the shock, tears threatening to fall and she goes outside, looking around, left and right, down the street, hoping to see a glimpse of the blond boy she once held so dear to her heart.

And what a coincidence, tomorrow night was Halloween...Did he do it on purpose? Did he even remember the days they spent together? Or how special Halloween was for him? Did he still have that silly necklace with him? Did he ever read her letters?

So many questions that she was pretty sure she'll never get an answer to, and that thought alone killed her.

The next day, she dressed in her Kiss loose Tshirt, remembering how that was Michael's favourite band, and somewhere in her heart, she hoped to see him again, even just by a little bit. Even a glimpse at his beautiful blue eyes would be enough.

But she knew she was dreaming...

She went to work as usual, but she was so busy that she didn't realise she ended up overstaying and overworking herself until she left the place and realised it was already dark outside, and there were barely any children trick or treating - But hey, there still were a few - And Y/N couldn't help but smile and remember the cute witch and her loyal jester.

The good times...

As she hummed carefree and looked up at the starry sky, but then she heard a crack, and looking back...Nothing? Hmm...Suspicious... She continued walking, but the ominous feeling in the back of her head continued, and so, she took out her pocket mirror and noticed a man somewhere in the back, walking towards her. A colleague from work, she recognised him, yes, she remembers him. He was kicked out from the job because of his inappropriate behaviour...And him following her now truly was no good news.

Analysing the situation, she realised she was close enough to home to make a break for it, so taking a deep breath, she sprinted the hell out of there...But...things didn't go as expected.

Before she could even reach her home, for she was pushed to the ground and straddled, his hands immediately finding their way around her neck, trying to immobilise her, to stop her from struggling and let him have his way with her.

But Y/N was a fighter, and she didn't want to allow the bullying she experienced as a child to take over her adult life, but she also didn't have the body strength to go against this guy, no matter how much she tried to struggle.

However...Before she knew it, the man stopped - Almost as if he froze - And she was splattered with liquid. It was blood. The man above her was stabbed in the chest, then in the head continuously, before his body was snatched and tossed away like a ragdoll.

Great - Y/N thought - From one criminal to another, with a whimper, she tried to get up and run away, but the man was too fast for her, and he picked her up with a weird ease, getting her inside her own house and letting her fall down on her couch.

The man saw fear in her eyes, and she was whimpering, her head hung as she tried to make herself as small as possible - As if she wasn't already so small, especially compared to him - It was pissing him off, as he remembered her jackass father abusing her. He would never hurt her! He promised her he'd always protect her, so why is she so scared of him...?!

"E-Excuse me...Uhm...Mister...A-Are you...Maybe...Uhmm...Are you Michael...?" she stuttered in such a meek voice that it grated his brain. This isn't right, Y/N was cheerful and happy. This...This wasn't right... The man got a hand underneath the neck of his blouse, only to reveal the old flower necklace from long ago. "Michael...! It really is you...Michael...I can't believe it! Oh my God...You grew up so much, this is insane!" as if a switch turned inside her, the girl jumped on her couch and threw herself on the incredibly tall man, not caring whether he liked it or not.

He was her Michael, and she missed him.

"You still don't talk, do you? Well...At least take off this mask of yours. I told you, I hate it when you hide yourself from me. I want to see your beautiful face." she chuckled, pulling Michael down with her on the couch, as he stood with his hands mid-way in the air, rather awkwardly, before finally pulling up his old mask and threading with it with his hands that were laying on his lap. "There we go, as beautiful as ever." she chuckled softly as she parted his long, dirty blond hair and letting it fall down his back, so his face could properly be seen. "Oh my God, you even have a stubble. I can't believe it. Well, we are all grown up after all, aren't we? Seems like almost yesterday when we'd go trick or treating...On this very day." she kept talking of the nostalgic things from so long ago, so much that it made Michael grunt in amusement, but his face didn't sketch any emotion. It really upset Y/N, it felt like talking to a wall. "Well, at least I'm happy that you remember me. I didn't think you did. I kinda thought you hated me too, I didn't know if you got any of my letters either. Uhm...I don't really know what to say. It's weird talking to myself like that. But I'm happy to see you again." she continued speaking before stopping altogether and fidgeting awkwardly on her spot next to him, as he didn't even move, or bother saying a single word.

They stood like that for a while, until Michael suddenly started moving, and revealed a bunch of unopened letters - All from her.

"You have all of them...!" Y/N gasped in shock, taking the letters and examining all of them one by one. "Why didn't you open them?" but instead of an answer, he shook his head. "Did you...Not have them...Until recently?" Y/N tried to guess, and the answer came in the form of a nod. "That stupid doctor! How dare he?! ...You must have felt so lonely stuck there...With your mum shooting herself, I couldn't go there anymore, so I sent you letters weekly...The doctor promised to give them to you...Urgh, what a jerk. And I thought you hated me and that's why you didn't want to reply to them...But you just got them. How annoying." Y/N groaned, realising the truth of what happened, and she let the letters fall down on the coffee table.

After some more silence between the two, Michael pointed towards her shirt, and she smiled, nodding and taking her guitar before leaning on his side. "Yeah, I know it's your favourite band. I never forgot that." she chuckled, and as she started playing the same song she knew so well - And she felt a strong arm sneaking around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. It surprised her a bit, but she felt so safe and warm in his embrace.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin' me. And I can't get enough of you, baby..." she sang in the same sweet, crystalline, soft voice that he loved so much, and missed over the many years they've been separated.

"...Can you get enough of me?"

#slasher #slasher boyfriend #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher boyfriend imagine #slasher boyfriend x reader #michael myers #michael myers imagine #michael myers x reader #halloween #halloween imagine #halloween x reader

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caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma · 3 years

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Map of the Soul Drabble #3

Drabble #3 - One Potato, Two Potato

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (platonic)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 6.5K+

Warning: Death of a family member (cancer), cursing, bad jokes/puns, funerals, family drama

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Even though the sky was clear and sunny, your body felt cold and cloudy. Warm rays of sunlight streamed through stained glass across the collection of potted plants and floral arrangements in the room, all of it surrounding the varnished black walnut casket which sat center stage at the front. After a long 7 years of fighting against an invisible enemy, your grandmother finally succumbed to cancer, taking part of your heart to the heavens with her. You gathered together with your family to say your final goodbyes, and not a soul in the funeral home could get your tears to stop falling.

“I’m worried about her,” you heard your father whisper behind you. “She hasn’t stopped crying since last night.”

“I know, honey,” your mother responded. “But you know how close they were. You can’t just expect her to be okay overnight. It will take some time for her to heal.”

“If only Seokjin would get here sooner,” your father grumbled. “He always knows how to cheer her up.”

There was truth behind your father’s grumbles. Your favorite cousin, Seokjin, never failed to bring a smile to your face with his clever quips and his never-ending assault of cheesy jokes. In the midst of your current despair, however, you doubted whether he would be able to pull you out of the pit of misery in which you were currently drowning.

You pulled yet another tissue from the box in your hands and swiped at the ceaseless drops spilling past your eyelashes. You frowned slightly at the darkened wet spots dappled across the fabric of your pink floral romper.

Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have worn mascara.

“Oh, look, honey,” your mother whispered while tapping your shoulder. “I think the Kims just arrived.”

You sniffled and wiped at your nose before turning toward the entrance, and sure enough, the entire Kim clan was filtering into the funeral home. Your aunt waved in your direction, and your mother sent back an equally enthusiastic wave in response. In mere moments, the two of them were embracing and chattering away in hushed voices about incoming relatives, friends, and the big dinner taking place after the funeral. Your father patted your shoulder, encouraging you to keep out of their gossipy affairs.

You sighed heavily and scanned the room, looking for Seokjin’s broad shoulders and tousled chestnut locks, but he was nowhere to be seen. Discouraged, you turned back to gaze at the myriad floral arrangements landscaping the front of the room. As luck would have it, everyone knew your grandmother remarkably well. Every bouquet was in a shade of pink and the delightful rosy hues transformed the dreary box into a chest containing a precious treasure. It was soothing to look upon the roses, carnations, lilies, and other flowers all lending their delicate fragrance and beauty to the somber scene before you.

A side door creaked open to reveal two funeral home workers carrying in two more large floral arrangements. One was decked out in the signature pink motif, but the other was a ghastly collection of yellow and purple blooms with a hideous printed bow and gold foil wrapping around the bottom of the pot.

“Where did that monstrosity come from?” uttered a voice from your left. “It’s an eyesore.”

You turned just in time to raise your eyebrows as a newly bleached blonde Seokjin slid into the seat next to you with a scowl on his face. His rosy button up shirt was accented with a fuchsia pocket square and tie combo, and you smiled at his strict adherence to your grandmother’s signature color. Pink just accentuated Seokjin’s personality perfectly; it was light, comforting, and full of life. The horrid yellow and purple creation invading the flower arrangements was an affront to Seokjin’s very nature, and you could tell he was not having it.

“Help me hide that hideous thing in the back,” Seokjin requested with a pat to your knee. “Before anyone sees it.”

The urgency in his voice drew a small smile on your lips and you readily followed him to the front of the room. You both made a big show of rearranging the flowers and potted plants, and through a little misdirection, you hid the sore thumb behind a mountain of pink roses and lilies. With the funeral faux pas handled, you and Seokjin meandered back to your seats and sighed with relief.

“Glad that’s done,” Seokjin smirked. “High five for teamwork!”

With his large hand lifted just above your head, you grinned and gladly granted him the high five. Seokjin’s comforting presence seemed to have cleared some of the gloomy rain clouds which refused to dissipate in the wake of your grandmother’s death. More people began filing into the funeral home and Seokjin placed his arm around you and drew you close.

“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“My heartbreak feels real,” you countered. “I was just talking to her the other day, Jinnie.”

“I know,” he pouted. “I called her a few days ago too. I was still missing a few of her recipes for the family cookbook. We’re going to have to dig through her stuff at the house to figure out the rest on our own.”

“Whatever you need, Jinnie,” you promised. “I’m just glad she was able to share some of those things with us. Don’t worry. We will find the rest. I don’t know what I would do if we could never taste those things again.”

“It’ll take some practice to get them just right,” Seokjin sighed. “But we really need to find the rest. Between you and me, I think we can handle it. Right, goguma?”

“Awwww, goguma,” you sniffled. “Grandma won’t ever be able to call me a sweet potato again.”

“I know,” Seokjin said comfortingly. “But I’m still here, and I will continue to call you goguma from now on.”

“Thank you, Jinnie,” you smiled. “Does that mean I get to call you gamja?”

“But of course,” Seokjin chuckled. “What good is a sweet potato without her savory counterpart? Together, we can find those last remaining secret recipes.”

“Typical Grandma,” you mused. “Never wanting to give away the best recipes. Not even the secret things she would do aside from the written recipe!”

“I know,” Seokjin huffed. “Remember what she would tell us instead?”

Seokjin rearranged his face to take on the look of an old lady with a smirk.

“And that’s all,” Seokjin creaked out in a faux granny voice. “Unless you want to get a little fancy.”

“And of course, she always got fancy,” you seethed. “Sneaky old lady.”

“The sneakiest,” Seokjin agreed. “I guess I have to take over that position now.”

“I’ll fight you for it,” you challenged with a smile and you both put up your dukes.

Your quiet giggles were interrupted by a grim faced man in a gray suit tapping the podium microphone. A cacophony of feedback and groans from the guests erupted across the room, culminating in a clearing of the throat and a somber “Pardon me.”

“Pardon me,” the somber man repeated. “Will everyone please take their seats? We will begin the service in a few minutes.”

Everyone crowded into the long pews, and soon, only standing room was available. The beloved matriarch of your family certainly touched an abundance of lives in her time on Earth, and that sentiment carried you forth as the service began. Family members and friends took turns reading words of comfort and praise, and you and Seokjin even contributed a reading of your grandmother’s favorite poem. When all was said and done, the service continued on to the cemetery where your grandmother was finally laid to rest beside your already departed grandfather.

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“Kim Seokjin, I’m warning you!” you growled. “If you fuck up my hair, I will literally murder you.”

Seokjin’s barely contained guffaws spilled out as squeaks and squawks as he continued to apply pink dye to the bleached sections of your hair before folding them up with foil.

“Relax,” Seokjin chuckled as he continued working. “This isn’t my first time doing someone’s hair. You’re in good hands.”

You grumbled slightly as Seokjin continued to foil wrap more blonde sections of hair around your face, but you relaxed when you realized how focused Seokjin was. After questioning his new blonde look, he explained his clever scheme to pay tribute to your grandmother by dying his treasured brown tresses to a brilliant pink color. After expressing your desire to do the same, you were now sitting in her bathroom with foil sheets, bowls of bleach and dye on the counter and one of your grandmother’s favorite dressing gowns covering your clothes.

“That should do it,” Seokjin announced as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Now, we just wait for the dye to set.”

“How many foils did you use?” you questioned while lifting a few covered sections. “I look like an aluminum pinecone over here.”

“Not that many,” he admitted while adjusting the plastic shower cap on his head. “I think I bleached about 13 different sections. Maybe a bit more? You should’ve just done your whole head like me.”

“I don’t want to be twinsies, Seokjinnie,” you replied. “I just want a little pop of pink.”

“Hey,” Seokjin smirked. “What do you call a country with only pink cars?”

You perked up and grinned at your smug cousin, noting that he was desperately trying to hold the punchline in.

“What,” you relented.

“A Pink Car-nation!” Seokjin sputtered.

You both gave in to the absurdity of the cheesy joke and you wandered into your grandmother’s room to sit on her small pink loveseat.

“I always loved this little nook in her room,” you sighed wistfully. “Remember when we’d watch cooking shows with her in here?”

“Yup, every Thursday night,” Seokjin beamed. “I purposely avoided school activities that met on Thursdays so that I never missed an evening with her.”

“She loved those shows,” you reminisced. “Remember when we found all those old Iron Chef episodes on YouTube? She loved it!”

“Not as much as she loved watching Iron Chef America,” Seokjin reminded you. “She had a crush on both Alton Brown and the Chairman.”

“No way,” you argued. “She wanted Morimoto and Michael Symon! She always loved their dishes the best.”

“I think we can agree that she just loved food,” Seokjin chuckled. “The woman had a passion for feeding us delicious things.”

You both sighed and nodded your head, your thoughts replaying touching memories of your grandmother in an attempt to summon her spirit into the room.

“What are we gonna do without her, gamja?” you sniffled. “Things are never going to be the same around here.”

“I don’t know,” Jin huffed. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, goguma.”

A gentle knock pulled you both out of your reverie and your aunt appeared at the doorway with a pink plastic tote in her hands. Her eyebrows rose comically when she peeped the hair accessories you were both rocking, but she shook her head and decided that silence was best in this situation.

“I figured you two would be in here,” she smiled softly. “This was always your place with her.”

“Yeah, we just feel closer to her in here,” you replied.

“What’s that, eomma?” Seokjin gestured at the tote in his mother’s hands. “More of Grandma’s stuff for the closet?”

“Actually, it was on one of the chairs in the dining room,” she explained. “We saw it when we were clearing places for dinner. There’s a note inside. It’s addressed to the two of you...from her.”

Both you and Seokjin bolted off the couch, arms ready to receive this newfound treasure. The glossy opaque exterior did nothing to offer any explanation as to the contents of the container. Noting the intimate nature of this discovery, your aunt stepped forward and gingerly placed the container on the coffee table. After giving your hand a gentle squeeze and offering a kiss to Seokjin’s cheek, she offered a small smile and left without another word.

You and Seokjin sank back into the couch cushions and stared at the pink plastic taunting you from the coffee table. After a moment, you glanced at Seokjin and realized that he was too dumbstruck to do anything.

“I’m going to open it, Jinnie,” you announced. “Is that ok?”

Seokjin could only nod with furrowed brows and his breath caught as you lifted the lid to reveal a pile of multicolored pieces of paper stacked inside topped with a folded sheet of pink lined paper. The box released the scent of coriander, bergamot, lavender, and peppercorns and your eyes watered at the nostalgic scent of your grandmother. You took the folded note into your hand and began to unfold it as Seokjin sat forward to hear you read what was inside. Tears sprang to your eyes as you quickly scanned the page and began to read.

My Dearest Gamja & Sweetest Goguma,

I know that I will not be able to help you finish the cookbook that you’ve been working so hard on, and I apologize for that. I know that whatever you two “cook up” will be amazing, with or without my help. You two will always be my favorites, but don’t ever tell anyone that, not even your parents. They’ll just be jealous, or “jelly” as you kids like to say. I know this isn’t much of a gift, but it’s my most precious possession in the world besides my family. Inside this box, you’ll find the last of my secret recipes. (Yes, the ones you’ve been bugging me about for months now. I also threw in a few extra things just for you two.) Please take this knowledge and put it to good use. Remember that whenever you get stuck in a recipe that it’s ok to improvise. Always trust your instincts and believe in your skills (because I taught you most of them), and if all else fails, just know that I will be proud of you no matter what you do. I love you both more than you will ever know. Please take care of each other and don’t forget that it’s always a good idea to get a little fancy in the kitchen.

Always your little kitchen fairy,

Grandma

P.S. Don’t you dare get rid of my aprons! I worked very hard on those. They belong in the kitchen.

You sniffled as you took in the elegant swirls of her handwriting and the esoteric scribbles in the margins. You were about to comment about one particular doodle to Seokjin, but then you looked up and noticed his reddened ears, his tear streaked cheeks, and his trembling lips.

“Oh, gamja,” you cried out. “What’s wrong?”

“I just-,” Seokjin tried to speak, but failed. “I just miss her so much, goguma. She just got us, you know? No one else really gets us. She always did, and now, she’s gone.”

His last word died on his lips and he could no longer hold back the choking sob clawing at his throat. You quickly placed the letter back on the table and threw your arms around your cousin’s quaking shoulders. The two of you held onto each other, sobbing in your shared grief and comforting each other as best you could.

“We knew this was going to happen at some point, Jinnie,” you muttered into his shoulder. “She couldn’t keep fighting forever. At least we know that she’s not in pain anymore.”

“I know,” he pouted petulantly. “Doesn’t mean I wanted her to leave us.”

“She didn’t completely leave us,” you assured him. “She left us this. Now, we can finish putting together this cookbook. It will be her family legacy.”

That thought seemed to sit well with Seokjin because he released a shaky exhale and straightened up. He leaned over to pull a few tissues out of the crocheted tissue box on the coffee table and he handed you one while he dabbed at the wetness on his flushed cheeks. After you’d both composed yourselves, you began digging through the items in the pink container.

“Oh my God!” Seokjin exclaimed while lifting several pieces of paper. “She finally gave up those last few gems that we kept asking her about.”

“You got her cookie recipe?!” you gasped. “And what about that soup she always makes when we’re sick?”

“It’s all here!” Seokjin confirmed. “The cookies, the soup, and even that chicken dish she only made for special occasions. She even gave us some cooking tips. You know, the stuff she would always do that wasn’t in the recipes? She wrote it all down here in the margins. This is fantastic! You just need to help me put it together.”

You continued perusing the contents of the container and noticed some irregularities in the organization. Your grandmother was a culinary genius, but keeping things neat and in order was not one of her strong suits.

“I think we’re missing a page, Jinnie,” you pouted. “I can’t find the second half of this cookie recipe. I wanted to make some for dessert tonight. Help me find it.”

You both began digging through the dozens of pages of notes in the container, and it was proving to be quite the task. Seokjin frantically filtered through several sheets of paper seeking the page in question. With the copious collection of Post-it notes, sticky flags, and impromptu bookmarks, the coffee table was an absolute disaster area within minutes.

“I swear I just saw that page,” Seokjin grumbled. “It had a blue tab on it and it had a little whale scribbled in the corner of the page.”

“Is the one that you’re holding in your hand?” you quipped with a smile.

Seokjin examined the paper in his hand and his head fell back in defeat. You could barely control the giggle that was threatening to escape from your lips.

“Seriously?” Seokjin groaned. “We’ve been looking for this for like five minutes already.”

“It’s fine, gamja,” you assured him. “You know what they say, if you’re searching for something, take an apple with you.”

You gestured at yourself and Seokjin smiled.

“And why is that?” Seokjin mused.

“So that your search will be fruitful,” you grinned.

You both chuckled at your lame pun, and you could see Seokjin gearing up for one of his infamous cheesy jokes.

“We should’ve called you sagwa instead of goguma, y’know?” Seokjin suggested. “But grandma always said you were too soft and sweet to be an apple, even if your middle name is Eris.”

“I yam what I yam,” you gloated. “There’s no arguing with her logic.”

“Hey,” Seokjin chuckled. “Why do sweet potatoes make good detectives?”

“Why?” you smiled.

“Because they keep their eyes peeled,” Seokjin responded before exploding into a fit of squeaky laughter.

The two of you collected yourselves after the giggles calmed down and stacked the handwritten notes back into the pink container for safekeeping. Once you got the chance, you were going to begin typing everything up and creating a digital template for the cookbook. Your best friend/soulmate, Taehyung, was creating some dazzling layouts and original artwork that would be used to decorate the cookbook and commemorate your grandmother.

After rinsing the pink dye out of each other’s hair in the shower with your grandmother’s removable shower head, you and Seokjin dried your hair and styled it the best you could with your grandmother’s limited styling products. You wove your hair into a pair of French braid pigtails and the brilliant hues of pink peeking through your dark hair filled you with glee.

Perfect.

You turned to see Seokjin arranging his rosy bangs so that his forehead was still exposed when you had a brilliant idea.

“Want to help me make some of Grandma’s cookies, gamja?” you chirped. “We should make a double batch for everyone that’s coming.”

“I’m down,” Seokjin replied with a grin. “As long as we have this recipe, what could go wrong?”

30 MINUTES LATER

“This doesn’t look right, gamja,” you huffed while scanning the recipe ingredients on the page again. “The dough feels too wet. I think we did something wrong.”

Seokjin walked over and looked at the sticky mess coating your hands and then glanced back at the page you were still decoding.

“You’re right,” Seokjin agreed. “Something isn’t right.”

You wiped as much of the greasy dough back into the bowl as you could before walking over to the sink to wash your hands of the sticky substance. Whatever it was, it was definitely not cookies. You dried your hands on the flamingo print towel hanging from your pink ruffled apron and groaned at the unchanging list of ingredients on the page. You didn’t even notice when your cousin Sana wandered in and peeked over your shoulder.

“What is this?” she asked abruptly, nearly giving you a heart attack.

“Holy shit, Sana,” you gasped while clutching your chest. “Where the hell did you come from, you little ninja?”

“Your mom sent me inside to get tablecloths,” she griped. “Where are they, anyway?”

Seokjin opened a cabinet and pulled out a pile of folded pink patterned tablecloths and handed them to Sana. She gazed at his hair for a second too long and Seokjin took that as an invitation to strike a pose.

“You like it?” Seokjin prompted. “Looks good, huh?”

Sana’s sharp gaze cut across to your braids and she raised a judgmental eyebrow at the pink threaded in your dark hair.

“We did it for Grandma,” you explained. “Something to pay tribute to her memory.”

Sana’s countenance relaxed and she nodded with a smirk.

“Well, that’s ok then,” Sana murmured. “If you’re going to look ridiculous, at least it’s for a good cause.”

Both you and Seokjin gaped at her snarky remark and your eyes followed her as she made her way to the hallway. She paused for a moment and turned back with a huff.

“By the way,” Sana grumbled. “One of your friends is here.”

“Oh, is it Tae?” you hoped. “He’s supposed to be getting here today. His parents couldn’t drive him yesterday so he missed the funeral.”

“Ugh, no,” Sana snapped. “It’s not your idiot best friend. It’s some girl.”

“Soulmate, Sana, not idiot best friend,” you admonished playfully. “They may mean the same thing, but Tae is big on labels.”

“Whatever,” Sana rolled her eyes. “It’s not him. Just come outside and get your friend. I don’t know who she is, but she’s kinda annoying.”

“I’ll go out in a minute,” you replied while studying the recipe once again. “Jin-Jin and I are working on the cookies right now. We need to figure out what’s wrong with the recipe.”

Sana leaned in and looked at the dough in the mixing bowl and scowled.

“That dough looks like shit,” she growled. “What did you do to it?”

“Sana!” you exclaimed with a start. “Rude much?”

“What?” Sana argued. “It does! My dog’s shit looks like that if she eats too much fried food.”

“You know, she’s got a point, goguma,” Seokjin commented lightly. “Maybe we missed something in the recipe?”

“Just dry it out,” Sana suggested. “It looks too wet to be cookie dough.”

“Huh?” you recoiled. “How would you know that?”

“Trust me,” Sana smirked. “I’ve stolen a lot of cookie dough out of Grandma’s freezer. I know what it should look like.”

With the mischievous smirk still pulling her lips into a sneer, Sana turned and left the kitchen with a little hitch in her step.

“That little hellion,” Seokjin mused. “Should we tell her that Grandma knew about her thievery all along?”

“And ruin the illusion that she’s a sneaky little thief?” you giggled. “Nah, maybe later. I’m just surprised she paid so much attention to the texture of the dough. She’s one smart cookie after all.”

“I guess she’s a cookie dough expert,” Seokjin chuckled. “Do you know what they call a smart cookie?”

“What?” you smirked with anticipation.

“Academia nut,” Seokjin replied, then immediately fell into squeaky giggles.

You both enjoyed the lame pun and joke combo for a moment before looking back into the mixing bowl with frustration. You grabbed the ingredients page again and tried to puzzle out the mystery of the cookie recipe once again.

“Are you sure this is the right page to the cookie recipe, Jinnie?” you queried. “Maybe it was a different page.”

“Maybe?” Seokjin hummed. “Can you check the pink container again? Maybe we missed something.”

You took off your apron and placed it on a hook before walking back into the hall. You raced back to your grandmother’s room past the living room and shuffled through the box looking for the long lost cookie ingredient list. After flipping through a few pages, a loose piece of heavy cardstock fluttered to the ground. Upon further inspection, you immediately realized the problem with the recipe and you groaned loudly.

Grandma, you sneaky old lady!

You quickly headed back to the kitchen, but unfortunately, you didn’t get very far.

When you got back into the living room, a high pitched squeal assaulted your ears.

“HEY!” the voice bellowed. “THERE YOU ARE!”

Before you could trace the origin of the voice, a pair of arms enveloped you in a bear hug. You look past the wisps of caramel hair flapping in your eyes at your confused younger cousin Sana.

“She said she was here to see you,” Sana scowled. “I told her you were busy in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t listen. Friend of yours?”

“Well, of course she’s my friend,” the strange voice insisted. “We’ve been in the same class since second grade, haven’t we?”

As she pulled away to reveal her face, you nearly growled at the pair of pleading eyes belonging to the one and only Aeri. The same Aeri who once poured glitter glue into your pencil case, who was the sweetheart of your school, and who was infamous for going after all the popular, rich boys in town just to reap the benefits.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother,” Aeri squealed sadly. “I just wanted to come over and make sure you were doing ok.”

“I’m fine,” you said, suspicion etching little wrinkles around your eyes. “How did you know I was here?”

“Just a lucky guess,” she shrugged. “Your aunt said I could stay and help set up for the party as a sign of my condolences to your family. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, sure,” you commented, still unsure of her intentions. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you dyed your hair?” Aeri noted. “That’s an interesting color choice.”

“Grandma loved pink,” Sana explained. “Her and Seokjin decided to play salon together. It’s a tribute.”

You glared at the air quotes Sana was making when she said “tribute,” but you also noticed that Aeri’s eyes lit up with Sana said Seokjin’s name.

“Oh well, that’s wonderful,” Aeri cooed. “It looks great. I bet your cousin’s hair looks just as good. That’s so sweet that you guys did that for your grandmother.”

The air in the living room shifted uncomfortably with Aeri’s words and you cleared your throat before the moment got any more awkward.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat,” you muttered. “But I’m a little busy right now getting the dessert ready for tonight. Have fun setting up.”

You turned towards the kitchen, but not before hearing the beginning of Aeri and Sana’s conversation.

“Oh, I wonder if I should go help her in the kitchen,” Aeri proclaimed sweetly. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“No, she’s fine.” Sana grumbled. “She’s got Jin in there. We need your help outside setting up tables. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Aeri’s protests faded out the door and you scowled as you heard the screen door fall shut.

What is this bitch up to?

You didn’t have time to play detective, so you shelved those thoughts until after dessert was finished.

Seokjin was pulling out more ingredients from the cupboard as you entered and you noticed that the spices were piling up on the counter.

“What are you doing, gamja?” you asked. “What with the spices?”

“Just thinking of getting a little fancy,” he quipped playfully. “Grandma liked to play mad scientist in here. Why shouldn’t I?”

“If this is for the cookies, hold that thought,” you said while handing him the cardstock. “We need to fix the recipe before you do that.”

Seokjin took the card from your hand and tilted his head in confusion. After flipping the card over and then back, he looked at you with questions in his eyes.

“What am I supposed to be looking at, gamja?” Seokjin asked

“That is a label for a box of butter sticks,” you explained. “Actually, it’s for a box of half sticks.”

“Ok, but why am I looking at it?” Seokjin persisted. “What does this mean?”

“This is Grandma’s butter package,” you continued. “This is the only butter she buys. But they sell it in half sticks...they only sell it in half-sticks.”

Seokjin pondered that statement and then the light bulb flickered mockingly above his head.

“She only used half-sticks!” Seokjin exclaimed loudly. “We have to go in and adjust all her recipes now.”

“Yup,” you sighed. “Leave it to Grandma to write her recipes in code.”

“So, we just need to double all the ingredients and we should be good,” Seokjin concluded. “That’s why the dough feels so weird.”

“You grab the wet ingredients,” you commanded. “I’ll gather the dry and meet you at the mixer.”

You both high-fived and pounced into action. With a little teamwork, you managed to pull together a decent cookie dough out of the mess you’d made. Seokjin even took a little time to mix some freshly ground ginger to the mix for a little fresh and spicy kick.

“It will be like gingerbread,” Seokjin promised. “But without the dark flavor of the molasses.”

Once the cookies were done, you both filled a few platters and carried them out to the table that was set up in the backyard patio. People were just starting to arrive, and the two of you mingled around and welcomed everyone to the memorial dinner. Once or twice, you caught sight of Aeri mixed into the group talking to Seokjin, but you couldn’t get away to confront her. The way she was batting her eyelashes at him and touching his arm was making you bristle.

I don’t know what she’s playing at, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.

Once the dinner was over, the clean up crew was hustling and bustling inside to get your grandmother’s house cleaned before everyone left for the night.

You were just putting the vacuum back into the closet when a loud argument erupted from inside the kitchen. You and Seokjin rushed into the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.

“That glassware set is mine and I’m taking it,” cried your aunt. “Mom always said that I was going to be the one to inherit it after she passed.”

“You can’t just start taking things out of the house,” cried your other aunt. “We should give everyone a chance to claim something of their own. You weren’t the only one who was promised something, you know. Give the kids a chance to get something as well. Don’t be so selfish.”

The word “selfish” triggered another round of yelling and you and Seokjin decided to step in before things got out of hand. In the end, a running tab of claimed items was created and everyone settled down once the matter was put into writing. The emotional aunts wandered back into the living room, while you, Seokjin, and your mother stayed behind to finalize the list.

“Did you two already pick out something?” your mother asked. “I know a lot has already been claimed, but I’m sure there must be something you would want.”

“Not really, mom,” you sighed. “Seokjin and I already have the best part of Grandma: her recipes. I don’t think there is anything else that would rival that.”

Your mother nodded and then abruptly perked up. She walked over to one of the drawers and began digging through the silverware inside, seemingly searching for something specific. She pulled out a spoon and a fork and smiled widely when she held them in her hands. You and Seokjin were puzzled over her actions and your confusion increased when she placed the utensils on the countertop between you.

“This design was from Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding set,” she explained. “They received a full place setting, but these are the only two items left from the original set. The others were either damaged or lost along the way. I think you two should have them. That way you can always be connected to your grandparents and to each other. You two were the roses of your grandmother’s garden. She always held a special affection for you two that was different from your other cousins.”

With tears brimming in your eyes, you looked up at Seokjin and saw he wasn’t faring much better. Your mom sensed that this needed to be a private moment, so she placed her hand on both your cheeks for a moment and then gracefully exited the kitchen, leaving the two of you staring at the elaborate spoon and fork on the counter.

“So how do we decide who gets what?” you probed with a sniffle. “I don’t want to fight like our crazy aunts did. We’re way more civilized than that.”

“There’s only one answer to that question,” Seokjin said while wiping a tear from his eye. “Why did the sweet potato cross the road?”

“I don’t know, Jinnie,” you hiccuped. “Why?”

Seokjin slid the fork over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. This was a bittersweet moment for the two of you and you knew that his joke was the only thing keeping the two of you from breaking down into yet another round of tears.

“She saw a fork up ahead,” Seokjin croaked. “That’s why you should get the fork, goguma. I’ll take the spoon, yeah?”

“Makes sense, gamja,” you agreed. “You are always the one to scoop me up when I’m down. You’re always such a sweetheart, and I love you for that.”

“I love you too,” Seokjin mumbled while pulling you into a crushing hug. “Hey, speaking of sweetness, if you put sugar in tea, what do you put in sugar?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed into his shoulder. “What?”

“A spoon,” he chuckled while grabbing his spoon from the counter. “See, my jokes always make sense of everything.”

“I promise to keep this with me always,” you swore while holding your fork. “This random utensil will forever be my connection to you, gamja.”

“And this spoon is never leaving my sight, goguma,” Seokjin promised. “It will be a constant reminder that I have you and you have me.”

You embraced once again and a sharp throat clearing interrupted your heartfelt moment. You both turned to see your younger cousin Sana just inside the kitchen doorway, wearing her signature scowl and a bright blue Transformers T-shirt.

“Hey, Sana,” you called out while wiping away your tears yet again. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sana sighed. “We just finished cleaning up. Your friend Aeri just left. It took a while to get rid of her.”

“Oh, is she your friend, goguma?” Seokjin probed. “She mentioned something like that earlier.”

“No, not really,” you scowled. “She’s just a girl from school.”

“I think she liked me,” Seokjin bragged. “She said my hair reminded her of her favorite bubblegum.”

“It looks more like Pepto Bismol, if you ask me,” Sana interjected.

You released a loud cackle as Seokjin’s ego deflated slightly at Sana’s words, but he shook it off quickly and smiled.

“So how did you like the cookies after all, Sana?” Seokjin asked. “As good as Grandma’s?”

“They were pretty good,” Sana admitted. “A little different, but still good.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t have any left,” you sighed. “I wanted to take some home, but they were gone before I could.”

“So no cookie dough left either?” Sana hoped. “Maybe in the freezer?”

“No, you rascal,” Seokjin chuckled while rumpling her hair. “Nothing left for you to steal this time.”

"What makes you think I don't already have cookie dough at home?" Sana challenged.

"What cookie dough?" you asked. “What are you talking about?”

"Grandma's last bag,” Sana stated with a grin of Cheshire proportions. “I found it in the freezer the other day and took it."

"Sana!” you reprimanded. “You should share that with the family."

"Nope,” Sana boasted. “Mine now. But I might be willing to share if you can do me a favor."

“What kind of favor?” Seokjin wondered aloud. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it. We need an original sample to make sure we get the next batch of dough right.”

Sana shuffled forward and glanced between you and Seokjin. She was one of your stranger cousins, always dabbling in odd hobbies and adopting a style that was all her own. Both you and Seokjin felt protective of her unconventional personality, and despite her surly demeanor, Sana gravitated to the two of you more than any of your other relatives.

“I was wondering,” Sana began softly. “If maybe you could teach me how to cook. I want to learn how to make cookies.”

“I think you mean bake,” Seokjin corrected her gently. “And we’d love to teach you how to make cookies. We have grandma’s cookie recipe now. Want to help us make some?”

“No,” Sana replied. “I want those peanut butter cookies that you guys made for Halloween. Those are my favorite.”

“We can do that,” you beamed. “Let’s get our aprons on and then we can show you how to make those cookies.”

Once you all had on aprons, with Sana opting for a plain white apron while you and Seokjin donned frilly pink ones, you all started pulling out ingredients for the cookies. As you waited for the butter to soften, you started regaling Sana with recipes from your grandmother’s cookbook.

“So there’s also candy recipes?” Sana asked. “Are you going to share those with everybody?”

“Absolutely,” you replied. “It’s a family cookbook. It wouldn’t be fair if we kept it all to ourselves.”

“I didn’t know you were so interested in cooking, Sana,” Seokjin commented while showing her how to mix the dry ingredients. “It’s a valuable skill to have, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sana smirked. “I’m sure I can put those recipes to good use.”

The three of you continued to work on the cookies while you and Seokjin gave Sana instructions on each step of the recipe. A comforting air settled in the kitchen and you couldn’t help but wonder if your grandmother’s spirit was sitting in the corner on her stool, fondly watching as her kitchen was brought to life once again.

Author's Note: I finally got around to finishing this drabble. Work is really putting me through the ringer. I hope you all enjoy this little slice of family time with the one and only Kim Seokjin. These potato heads are so lovable and it did make sad to put them through such an angsty memory, but it all worked out in the end. Thank you to my Beta @xxxille-girlxxx for being an amazing soulmate and reading my drafts. Your suggestions brought this whole drabble to a whole other level. I'm going to be working on my collab fic that is due next month, so I will return to these drabbles and my other fic Peripheral after I finish that. Stay safe, everyone!

MAP OF THE SOUL MASTERLIST

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma's MASTERLIST

#kim seokjin #map of the soul bts #bts fanfic #bts au fanfic #bts drabble #bts fluff #bangtan sonyeondan #goguma #gamja #pink hair seokjin

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elowynlavellan · 5 years

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You Were Friends Once Before, But It’s Not Like That Anymore

Part 2/4

Word count: 4023

Warnings: Still a lot of fucking swearing

If you missed Part One...

The first few weeks of tutoring Lip was awkward, to say the least. And kind of scary. You would practically run to their door as soon as you stepped off the train and usually Carl or Debbie would be the ones to let you in. They knew you were concerned about visiting the South Side, everyone who saw you in your uniform (which you kept wearing) knew exactly who you were. News traveled fast.

One day after school, on one of the tutoring days, you stepped off the train like usual, avoiding looking anyone in the eye. You clutched your bag close to you and made your way off the platform and down the steps, it had been one of those days. You were keen to just get this tutoring over and done with. It wasn’t like you disliked Lip, he had grown on you – pretty quickly, too. And his family, although uncertain of you still, were kind of welcoming nevertheless, except Frank. He always went on about how prissy and snobby you were even though you never snobbed anyone. It’d been a couple of weeks since you started with Lip and with every session you could tell more and more that he really didn’t need your help, at all. But you didn’t know what to do about it.

You stepped off the last step and began to make your way over to the Gallagher’s house when you spotted the blue-eyed boy waiting for you not too far from the stairway. He had a comical shirt on and his hair was overgrown and messy, a cigarette stuck behind his ear. He looked tired and a little frustrated, but his eyes lit up when he saw you.

He nodded at you and you followed him in silence to his house. You felt a little better walking with Lip through the neighborhood rather than walking by yourself. It wasn’t like it was a far walk, but you had to admit, everyone and their grandma looked sketchy. Or at least to you.

Lip opened the back door, “Home sweet home.” You walked in and heard Carl shouting at Debbie again.

Ian said hello as he came down the stairs, and then he delved into the kitchen pantry looking for food.

When you reached the dinner table, Lip sat himself down in a chair with absolutely no homework in front of him and you paused.

He rested his legs on top of the table and looked up at you, awaiting orders like usual. Except most days you when you came around, he had some kind of test to study for or an essay to write. You would just go through the study with him until most of it was finished and by then you would be ready to go home. You didn’t really want to stay after dark, especially after dark. This time, there was nothing, except for his smug face and his legs on the table.

You sat down into the chair opposite him, “No homework?”

He shrugged, “We’ve pretty much covered it all for this week.” Lip knew he didn’t need your help, but he figured it was better than hanging out with his siblings. And he needed a break from hanging out with Karen, especially when she got a little more psycho than usual.

“Look…” You sighed, “You don’t even need a tutor.”

“I know,” he nodded his head as he replied.

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, of course he knew. “So, why didn’t you say anything? Why not tell me to go find some other student?”

He shrugged, “Got used to you coming over, I guess. Besides, you’re more interesting than my homework.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he just smugly smiled at you. You knew this game, he played it often. He liked to confuse you. Or at least, he enjoyed flirting just for the sake of flirting. It was kind of like a sport to him. Especially when it ended in him banging someone.

You weren’t going to respond to that last comment, “I don’t get it. Why didn’t your school tell you? If you’d known, then maybe you could have told them to pick somebody else.”

Suddenly Fiona came around the corner from the stairway, her hair was a little messy, but her voice amused. “He didn’t know about it because Lip here never opened his letter.” She chucked it onto the table, “It came a few weeks ago.” She went behind the kitchen counter and poured herself a cup of coffee.

You took the letter into your hands briefly. You stared at his school's logo and his name printed neatly on the envelope and when you turned the letter over in your hands, you saw that it had in fact, not been opened. You looked up at him, “Seriously?”

He just shrugged again, “How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe if you opened it.”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t need this shit right now.” He swung his feet off the table and he averted his stare to the floor.

“Someone’s in a mood," you said, feeling a little tired yourself. It wasn’t like you ever wanted this either. And coming all this way wasn’t easy. Besides, if he was going to start acting like a dick then you weren’t going to just put up with it.

“Maybe you should just go home,” he said as he eyed you nonchalantly.

You swallowed and ignored the look Fiona gave Lip and ignored his stare too. You pushed the chair out from underneath you and stood to your feet. You began shoving your stuff back into your bag, “Fine.” Then you added, somewhat pissed, but you weren’t exactly sure why, “I’ll get my school to rearrange it, you won’t be seeing me anymore.”

At first, he frowned at you, but you were too busy focusing on your bag. “Good,” he muttered, and suddenly jumped out of his chair. He headed to the fridge and pulled out a cold beer, “I don’t want to have to worry about your Catholic ass saying something stupid to the neighbors and getting yourself killed, anyway.” He knew it was a pathetic jab, but he did it nevertheless, he wasn’t sure why either, all he knew was that he was pissed at you. And confused.

“Well, my Catholic ass can handle it. I’m not some idiot.” You grabbed up your bag and turned in a hurry towards the front door, but Ian came around the corner of the kitchen counter with the pot of coffee. You bumped into him all too quickly and he spilled the pot – most of it soaked you.

“Fuck!” Ian said, managing to rescue half of what was left in the pot, or less.

You stood there, raised arms, your school, button-up shirt completely soaked through with coffee. Thankfully it wasn’t too hot. The others only stared, but what did it was Lip, he stared at you and then started laughing. You were already annoyed at him for being such a dick that day so to be laughed at was just cruel.

But he was only laughing at how much of a klutz you had been.

You glared at him and hid the oncoming tears by rushing out of the back door and onto the street. You weren’t sure how you were going to explain it to your parents, you guessed you would just have to say something about running into someone or whatever. But the tears, you weren’t sure how you’d explain them.

“Y/N!” Lip called as he rushed out of the house to follow you. He immediately felt bad for laughing, especially when he saw your face fall. It was true he was in a bad mood and he let it spoil the time you had together, so when he saw you wide-eyed and embarrassed, he just couldn’t help himself, he’d been sulking all day so when you did something stupid it just made him laugh without even thinking.

You didn’t turn around or stop walking, instead you flipped him off without even looking at him in the eyes.

“There’s no train for a while, you know. You’re just gonna be up there waiting.”

“Better than being near you!” You shouted as you began to climb the stairs, you were absolutely furious at him. You weren’t entirely sure what it was about him, but he was easy to be angry at.

He grabbed onto your arm and you stopped walking. You wiped your face before turning back to look at him. His eyes were softer than before which caught you off guard completely.

“You can’t jut sit out here with coffee all over your shirt.” He said it kindly, unlike the teasing tone he had before. He knew you’d been crying, he could tell by the way you quickly wiped your face before even looking at him. That, and the fact that your eyes were still a little watery.

You sighed, “Thought you didn’t want to have to worry about my Catholic ass anymore.”

He shrugged, “I kinda like to.” He paused before he continued, “And even though I’m a smartass, I need you to motivate me to actually do my homework.”

You rolled your eyes, “Pretty sure you could just finish it within like twenty minutes before handing it in. And still get a high score.”

“Well then, maybe I can teach you my ways instead.”

You shook your head and laughed, “I’m supposed to be teaching you.”

He held your eyes and you hated how his blue eyes always melted your heart a little. “Can you come back?” He paused and then tried to bargain with you, “We can throw your shirt into the wash and it’ll be good as new.”

You stared at him in silence first, wanting to draw it out as much as possible. Smelling like coffee on the train ride home would suck and your mom would definitely pester you for ruining your shirt. “Can you even wash coffee out of it?”

“Hey,” he said, leading you away from the stairs as you both began to walk back to his house, “We know all the secrets. We’re Southside. Besides, I’m pretty sure Fiona knows how. She practically raised us, and we’ve all come home a complete mess too many times to count.”

You didn’t mind waiting for your shirt to dry. Especially when it meant eating cold pizza and taking secret mouthfuls of beer from Lip’s drink. Only a few times, to be truthful, you’d never been drunk before, so a little was enough. You got to see the Gallagher’s house in the night, when the kids would run-a-muck running around the house and Fiona dished out whatever food she could find in time to go on her date with Steve. Lip promised to look after everyone while she was out, and Fiona said she already asked Kev and V to check on you all anyway. And you got to wear one of Lip’s shirts. Something about that night made you strangely content.

It wasn’t always easy being friends with Lip, but over the year you quickly became close. The school no longer required you to tutor him, but you still went by their house when you could.

One day though, he looked pretty pissed. And you dared to ask why.

“It’s nothing,” he said, as he sat down on the front steps while the sun began to drop closer to the horizon. He pulled the cigarette out from behind his ear and lit it.

The orange flame lasted only a second.

You leaned on the railing, “There’s nothing wrong with just talking about it.”

“I said it’s nothing,” he blew smoke out as he replied, his eyes on the cigarette in his hand.

You looked at him and he looked at you, and you just had this look on your face that said, bullshit. And he knew it. He shook his head and smiled a little, “You got ESP?”

“Maybe.”

He took another drag and blew out the smoke while sighing, “Just Karen, you know? She’s fucking confusing.”

“Right…”

He raised his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes and sat down beside him, “You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah…” He shrugged, “The sex is great though.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Of course you’d say that,” you smacked him against the shoulder with the back of your hand. “You know, you’re kind of a slut, right?”

“The biggest.”

You only rolled your eyes.

“You jealous?” He challenged, his eyes alight and his smile cheeky. He loved toying with you, and you knew that. You quickly grew used to when he was teasing you. You kind of loved it, but sometimes it got to you. Sometimes it was more than you bargained for.

“No.” You said plainly, “I just don’t get you sometimes.”

He didn’t think you’d say anything else than no. At first you would stutter and argue, then he just got used to one-word answers whenever he tried to push your buttons. But this was different, he could tell by the sound of your voice. He kept his eyes on you, “What do you mean?”

You tilted your head a little and refused to look at him in the eyes. “Doesn’t matter.” You shook your head, your voice abrupt.

He searched your eyes when you finally met them and neither of you said anything. In a way, in that moment, you felt like he knew. You felt as though he could just look into your eyes and read them as plain as day, figure out exactly what you were feeling.

He felt the same, as though you could tell that he fucking cared about you more than anyone he’d ever known.

But all you knew was that he liked to fuck around with people, and even though he had a caring heart, you never thought it would be for you. You stood up all of a sudden, you were both too close for comfort, and it freaked you. You didn’t know what he was thinking but whatever it was it made you nervous, you’d never really seen him look that intensely at you before.

He wished he could have kissed you before you left. But instead, he walked you to the train and watched as it left the station.

Years went by and Lip always thought about that night you both shared on the front porch, but another night was on his mind even more frequently.

You of course came by the Gallagher’s house on your last night in town. You already had dressed up nicely for your parents and went out to dinner to celebrate your leaving and graduation. The only time they bothered to give you any attention was to celebrate you going away for college, how ironic.

So, when you came to their house, saw the lights on and heard the trashy music, you knew it was going to be a night of getting absolutely fucked. You weren’t that much of a drinker and you never took any drugs, but there had been a few times that you got drunk since meeting the Gallaghers. It was kind of a thing. You rushed up the stairs and didn’t bother knocking before entering, and everyone inside cheered at you when you entered.

“Hey! It��s the other soon-to-be college student!” Fiona cried, raising her glass at you. She wanted to celebrate Lip going to college and figured that you should be celebrated too, especially since she knew that your parents would never let you have a party of your own.

Lip immediately poured you a drink, with a lot more vodka than soda, and passed it to you as you came into the living room. He smiled at you, all knowing. He knew you wanted to get trashed, pissed, smashed—whatever, and he was definitely on board. Especially since this was your last night together before venturing off into the world of adulthood in different college campuses.

You smiled back at him and took a mouthful of the stuff, Fiona didn’t mind as much by now, especially at parties. You danced to the loud music and hooted at Kev who managed a slut-drop for V. Ian had Mickey over and they danced together, already pissed.

Lip pulled you over to him unexpectedly and danced with you, and you laughed your ass off. It was probably the alcohol, but you couldn’t help giggling like a schoolgirl. He twirled you around him stupidly and you couldn’t look away from his eyes.

You drank more and more and danced more and more, and both you and Lip loved every second of it.

Songs flew past, and soon you saw Fiona switch the music. She eyed you momentarily before putting on a slow song and she smiled at the two of you before stumbling into the kitchen with Kev and V. You looked at Lip who looked at you, but the alcohol and the excitement of graduating just took over and you were both slow-dancing in the living room with no one else around. Ian and Mickey had already slinked off somewhere else and the younger kids were god knows where. You liked being close to Lip, and your drunk brain took full advantage of this moment.

He never held you like this and it had been a while since he was this nervous, even if he was a little drunk. His heart beat fast and the feel of you against him didn’t help. When he saw you walk in that night, he already knew you had that stupid dinner with your parents, you liked to complain about them sometimes, but he knew you loved them a lot. Even if they were too busy. So, when he saw you walk in with that dress on, he’d never felt more for anyone else. He didn’t know what it was that he felt, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew you weren’t just a friend, at least to him. You were more, god, so much more than that.

The music ended, completely. There were no more songs playing over the speakers. You figured it meant that the party was over, but when you tried to step away from Lip, he didn’t let you go. Not at first.

You met eyes with him, his brilliant blue ones looking into yours. Your arms were still around his neck and his hands still rested on your back. You remembered this moment all through college, at times in the night when you thought about who you were before. Who he made you to be. You were scared in this moment, you remembered your heart beating so fast that it was almost like you hadn’t a drop of alcohol at all.

“Lip…” You said, unsure. You didn’t know what you wanted to say, it was like you just had to say something to fill the air.

He knew that, too, he knew it was a thing you did whenever you were nervous. He just smiled at you, all-knowing.

You struggled for more words, “I can’t believe tomorrow we’ll be off to college.”

“Y/N,” he started, softly, “It’s going to be okay.”

You shook your head in a moment of sheer panic, “No, Lip, it won’t.” You bit your cheek before continuing, “How am I supposed to get through college without you?” You swallowed as your eyes glanced away from his, “God, I can’t even get through one week without you.”

“It will be okay, I promise.” He squeezed your shoulders in reassurance.

You sighed and closed your eyes, “Can I at least call you and whine about how annoying everyone is?”

He laughed at this, “Only if you promise to make some friends, too.”

You smiled, your eyes still shut tight, it was like you were closing off the world: closing off reality so you didn’t have to process how tomorrow, everything was going to change. “Teach me how to be calm about all of this.”

He shifted slightly and licked his lips, he brought you even closer to him so that your chin rested near his shoulder and he said, “Aren’t you supposed to be the teacher?”

“Hey, we all know that ship sailed a long time ago. Besides, I’m pretty sure I sucked as a tutor.”

“Well then,” he said, “I’m gonna suck too because I’m totally not calm about you leaving, at all.”

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him straight on, and you noticed his once calm features were not so calm anymore. His eyes were worried and sort of sad. “Lip?”

He leaned his face toward yours, your noses touched. Neither of you said anything, you just both closed your eyes and held each other for a moment. He held your face and for a moment, for one single moment, a thought of stupidity crossed your mind and you thought he might kiss you.

Lip thought about it, of course he did. He usually found himself thinking about you like that when he was alone or when he watched you disappear on the train. But he never could do it. Sometimes he thought you might want that but most of the time he thought you didn’t. You were so much more to him and so you deserved more than him, at least, that was his messy logic.

Lip breathed out slowly and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but a wild crash in the kitchen forced you both apart in seconds. Lip stared into the kitchen and then cursed under his breath as he headed towards Fiona who had accidentally dropped a bottle of alcohol, which shattered all over the kitchen floor.

You watched Lip run into the kitchen and heard him swearing at Fiona who only laughed at his attempt to help her. You stumbled toward the couch and collapsed into the cushioning, suddenly feeling a little too dizzy. You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol. You stretched out on your back and stared up at the ceiling as you heard the glass shards being thrown into the trash and Kev complain about having to vacuum up the rest.

When Lip was finished and came back into the living room, he saw you asleep on the couch. He looked at you softly and found a spare blanket for you. He tucked you in and he sat down on the end of the couch. He had so much on his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about the next day. But even though his anxious mind worried him so, sleep soon made him slip away too.

The next morning, you woke up on the Gallagher’s couch. Lip was curled up against you. Even though he’d fallen asleep on the end of the couch, he had managed to find his way into your arms through the course of the night. His arm was slung over your stomach and his head next to yours. He breathed quietly beside you. His hair a mess, his lips pursed sleepily. For a moment, you watched him breathe almost soundlessly beside you.

You’d fallen asleep near each other before, but never quite like this. Never so close, never together, and never after a night like that. It was a bit much and although you wanted to stay here with Lip and forget about the changes coming your way, you knew it would be for the best to leave and get this day done with.

You slowly moved Lip’s arm off your stomach and rolled off the couch. Lip felt your movement and sleepily turned, his hand grabbed your arm before you could go. He was half-asleep and practically unaware of what he was doing, he mumbled in his sleep and you couldn’t help but smile. You leaned in close to him and kissed his cheek softly, you let your lips linger just a moment longer as you silently said goodbye. You left him on the couch and walked toward the station, ignoring the ache in your heart.

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher/reader #shameless us #shameless #shameless lip gallagher #series #part two #writing

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gumnut-logic · 6 years

Text

The Subject of Virgil

Title: The Subject of Virgil

Sequel and epilogue to ‘Access Denied’

Author: Gumnut

25 - 31 Jul 2018

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015

Rating: Teen

Summary:

Gordon was in the kitchen getting himself a drink of water when there was an almighty yell, a loud crash, and something flew off the balcony above and into the pool.

He frowned, only to sag slightly as the piano stool floated gently back to the surface.

“Ah, hell.”

Word count: 8388

Spoilers & warnings: Season 2 in general. Occurs sometime before 2.07 Home on the Range. Possibly AU due to the time length involved. You can read this without reading ‘Access Denied’, but it would make more sense if you read the first fic first. Angst and a little whump.

Author's note: Apparently I was a little too mean to Virgil in the last fic and he demanded some reparations – that and I felt ‘Access Denied’ didn’t quite end the way it should have. Having said that, once again this fic ended up somewhere completely unplanned (there is an entire scene missing that I’ll have to use in another fic). Whether it is satisfactory to meet the demands of the first fic, I don’t know. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

Gordon was in the kitchen getting himself a drink of water when there was an almighty yell, a loud crash, and something flew off the balcony above and into the pool.

He frowned, only to sag slightly as the piano stool floated gently back to the surface.

“Ah, hell.”

He put the glass down and rubbed his eyes before wandering over to the main table and hitting the comms. “John, what is Scott’s status?”

“On his way back, ETA fifteen minutes.”

“Grandma and Alan?”

“Still in Sydney. Apparently, she has dragged him into The Rocks. We may not see them for a while.” Gordon smirked. Grandma was notoriously attached to craft markets and would, no doubt, arrive home dressed in tie-dye and sandals, sporting jars of homemade jams and pickles.

“Kayo still in Argentina?”

“No, Peru.” Gordon didn’t bother asking why Peru. Since the incident with Virgil’s exo-suit, she had hardly been home, scouring the planet for their nemesis. If she ever managed to get her hands on the Mechanic, they would likely no longer have a nemesis. Kayo was pissed. And Virgil was right, she was scary.

Fortunately or unfortunately, that left just Brains on the island with Gordon, and he was pretty much as irate as Kayo. Though his anger management tended to involve locking himself in his lab to conspire with physics and chemistry. Multiple cool new gadgets had been birthed just recently as a result.

Gordon’s sudden lack of conversation had John filling in the silence. “How’s Virgil?”

“The piano stool just landed in the pool.”

An exhale. “Ah, hell.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

There was another silence. “Well, you better go yank it out. Scott’s ETA is now five minutes.”

“Thanks, John.”

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

He managed to fish the stool out of the pool quite easily. It looked a little worse for wear and was soaked, but some time in the sun would fix that.

Looking up at the balcony revealed no sign of his second eldest brother. Gordon bit his lip. He loved his brother but be damned if he understood him.

He eyed his mother’s piano stool and sighed. Better go check that Virgil hadn’t done anything more stupid.

Climbing the stairs two at a time he entered the comms room and into the wake of his brother’s anger. Music sheets were scattered everywhere, the piano had been shoved almost to the far window and a glass, its former contents in halo, lay in pieces all over the hardwood floor.

Gordon would have said it was unlike his usually calm brother, that there was definitely something wrong, but that had already been clearly demonstrated earlier that day. No conclusions needed to be drawn as they were already known. This was just the result.

Perhaps it was a sign of Virgil’s calm personality. Gordon doubted the villa would still be standing if it had happened to him. As it was, he had the urge to destroy something anyway, preferably the Mechanic.

He couldn’t see his brother at first, but stepping further into the room, he spotted him sitting out on the floor of the balcony. Almost at the edge. His favourite flannel shirt was missing, hopefully not also a victim of this moment, just his grey undershirt hunched over in the late afternoon light. Gordon didn’t hesitate, just walked out the doors and sat down beside his brother.

“You know Scott is due in any minute. It’s going to get blustery out here.”

No answer.

Virgil had his head in his hands, one leg stuck out to the side awkwardly as if he had half fallen into position. Unsurprisingly he was wearing shorts, no doubt to keep the pressure off the large bandaged burn on his left thigh.

“I’m not going to ask if you are okay, as it is obvious that you’re not.”

No comment. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

“But I will ask if there is anything that we can do to help.”

Still no answer.

Another moment and the pool began to retract and a distant roar encroached on the sounds of the island.

“You sure you want to stay out here?”

If there was a response, it was lost in the roar of approaching Thunderbird.

A click and the large glass doors both behind them and beneath in the kitchen slid slowly closed, protecting the villa’s interior.

“Okay, but I’m borrowing your hairdryer this time.”

Thunderbird One had come to a vertical above the island and was dropping slowly, ever controlled by her pilot. The roar of approaching exhaust enveloped them, hot air swirling and catching his hair. Gordon held his breath, resistant to breathing the fumes, harmless though they were – after all Thunderbird One was hardly your typical rocket and the fuel it ran on, far more kind to its environment. Didn’t mean it didn’t have its own flavour, though. A cough and a splutter. Yes, he’d be scraping that out of the back of his throat for the next hour.

Then the exhaust was consumed by the hanger and the long, tall body of the rocket plane was slowly passing. The cockpit came into view and one exhausted, dirty and frowning Scott Tracy peered out at them momentarily before disappearing below the edge of the balcony.

“You know he’s going to be pissed.” But he could barely hear himself, and wouldn’t until the pool finally slid back into place.

Virgil hadn’t moved. His head still in his hands, but now his hair was whipped into a frenzy. Gordon had no doubt his was little different. He also needed another shower.

As the pool closed, the doors behind them retracted again and the island returned to its former idyllic tropicalness.

Of course, there was now a countdown in place. Scott would be here any moment.

Gordon sighed.

“I’m really sorry, Virgil. It sucks. Kayo will find him eventually and he will regret everything.”

Everything.

There was the sound of a sob. Gordon’s eyes widened and then his heart tore in two.

Virgil was crying.

He wrapped an arm around his brother, gently turning the bigger man into an awkward embrace, hampered by his leg. A hand ended up full of trembling dusty dark hair, and then Virgil was shaking against him, letting out not the anger, but the anguish behind it.

Hurried footsteps slowed behind them, and Gordon blinked away his own welling tears to look up at his eldest brother.

Scott was filthy. Soot and mud, the main contributors, almost hid the blue of his uniform. But it was the echoed horror in his eyes that marked his appearance more than anything.

In Gordon’s arms, Virgil was muttering between his sobs. “I’m sorry.” A harsh heaved in breath strangled by tears. “Sorry. Sorry. So-rry.” Gordon squeezed tighter, partly to reassure, partly to keep his own insides in place.

Scott crouched down, placing his hand on his shuddering brother’s back. “Not your fault, Virgil.”

A shuddering gasp. Virgil’s head shot up and Gordon saw his face for the first time since this morning. Pale skin and tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes screamed without sound. “But it is. I should never have been out there in the first place.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “If you hadn’t been there those people would have died.”

The anger returned as his brother pulled away. “If I hadn’t… she wouldn’t have gotten burnt!”

“She would have been dead, Virgil! You saved her life and the lives of her family.” Scott had fire in his eyes, determination, clarity and defence of his brother, but Gordon knew it was also fuelled by fear.

Fear of what this could mean.

“C’mon, Virg, you know he’s right. You did good today. Accidents happen. We’re not perfect. It’s gonna happen whether we like it or not.”

Those pain-filled brown eyes caught his. “How do I tell a ten-year-old girl that she is going to be scarred for life because her rescue operative froze in the middle of saving her. Literally held her over the flames, Gordon. Simply because he couldn’t keep it together.”

Gordon’s voice was quiet. “You did your best.”

“Well, I guess that is just not good enough anymore.” He pulled away, hands scrabbling at the decking as he struggled to stand. Scott straightened and reached down to help him. The moment Virgil was on his feet, he pulled away and limped back into the house.

Gordon stood up, watching Scott as his eyes followed his brother. A door slammed in the distance.

Blue eyes flickered back to his own.

“Damn.”

-o-o-o-

It hurt to walk, but Virgil didn’t care. Hobbling through the house, he stumbled out the back door and slammed it behind him.

His feet hit the gravel path and he was moving. Where, he wasn’t sure, he just had to move away. Get away. Be somewhere else.

The look in Scott’s eyes…it asked questions Virgil wasn’t ready to answer. He scrubbed a hand over his wet face, the fingers of his left hand complained loudly. A flinch and a flashback of memory.

This morning has been so normal. A situation, a spin down his chute, Gordon on his tail. Both Thunderbird One and Two attending a rockslide just north of Santiago in Chile. They had been pulling people to safety by the droves. The side of the mountain had collapsed on a small town. While Gordon had been manoeuvring the earthmoving pod, Virgil had donned his exo-suit and had been pulling people out of buildings who couldn’t get out by themselves.

He hadn’t even thought about it. It had been months since the incident. He and Scott had been down to the module bay every day, confronting any issues that popped up, which had been surprisingly few. If anything, Virgil had felt that Scott had been having more issues than he had. Apparently, it helped to hardly remember what happened when life screwed you over.

There had been nothing. If there had been, he would have pulled himself off active service. You don’t mess with psychological issues in this business, it wasn’t worth the risk.

But halfway through the morning, Virgil had had to tackle a house on fire. Probably a severed gas pipe, and he wasn’t wearing the fire exo-suit, but there were lives to save, so he jumped in feet first.

A couple of parents and two kids. He had three of them out and was carrying the last one, a young girl on his right arm, when some kind of burning debris fell across his left side.

There was pain and he whited out.

For a moment there was memory. Memory so painful, it outshone the physical burning of his uniform. Someone was screaming.

It was Scott’s shouting over the comms that snapped him out of it. But those precious moments had been lost. The girl in his arms was shrieking, her hair on fire.

He made it out of the building, stumbling to hand the girl to the paramedics. There were hands on him, but he brushed them away, staggering around the nearest building before falling to his knees. He only just managed to rip off his helmet before dumping his breakfast on the rocky ground in front of him.

Almost choking on his own breath, hands trembling, he disengaged the exo-suit, letting its weight fall off him, shoving it away. Free of its confines, he slowly tipped sideways, unable to support himself any longer.

He didn’t know how long he lay shivering on the rocks, but the next face he saw was Scott’s, his worried blue eyes frantically scanning him for injury.

There was a stretcher. There was Gordon.

There was the wonderful roar of Thunderbird Two’s engines.

And then there was sleep.

-o-o-o-

Tracy Island was a lump of volcanic rock in the middle of the Southern Pacific. It was a harsh environment, the rock geologically young, the elements having not yet quite had their way with it. Any and all paths around the island were steep and challenging and certainly not suited to an injured rescue operative just out of bed.

Virgil stumbled several times, the painkillers wearing off by the minute.

He’d woken back on the Island in the infirmary with Gordon hovering over him. Apparently, they’d both been dismissed from the rescue site. Scott was still there, finishing up with the local crews.

Virgil hadn’t been out long. Just long enough to have his injuries attended to and for the painkiller to kick in. There were bandages scattered all over the left side of his body. He rated burns in the second degree according to his brother.

All Virgil knew was that there was a great gaping hole in his chest. There hadn’t been words, so he hadn’t said anything. Eventually, having failed to get a peep out of his brother, Gordon excused himself for a moment.

Virgil took the opportunity to drag himself out of bed and head back to his room. The emptiness in his chest drove him towards solace. His rooms gave him familiarity, his clothes gave him comfort. He wrapped himself in his familiar grey t-shirt and he sought something to soothe his whirling thoughts.

He found himself in front of his piano. So he sought his solace in his music.

The fingers of his left hand were stiff and stunk of medicated cream, but he forced them to move. He needed to find the music, to find that place. A place of safety where his mind could hang suspended between the notes, held up by the rhythm and comforted by the melody.

But his injured fingers wouldn’t obey him. There was a spark of pain and he lost it. Just lost it. Everything hit him at once and he simply reacted in fury.

God, he hoped that piano stool had survived his weakness. Mom…

Fate broke that train of thought by placing a rock in just the wrong spot, causing him to stumble and knock the burn on his thigh. He gasped and grit his teeth.

No, just keep walking.

Walk, damn you.

And walk he did.

He wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings, so it was a surprise when the familiar sound of a jetpack zooming overhead was enveloped by the pink and orange sky of a sunset. He stopped on the path, his whole body throbbing and complaining. He looked around. Hell, he was all the way over on the other side of the island.

The blue figure in the sky circled once before dropping rapidly.

Great, he was going to get it now. Not that he didn’t deserve it, wandering off like this, but…

Aw, hell.

-o-o-o-

Scott had been frantic when they realised Virgil was no longer in the house. They had assumed the slammed door had belonged to his brother’s rooms, but an hour or so later when his meds came due, investigation had revealed his rooms to be empty.

By then Scott had showered and was in more comfortable clothing. He would have loved to have been sleeping, but he knew his brain would not let him. Not until he’d had a chance to speak with his brother. Speak properly. To reassure both Virgil and himself.

But now he was gone.

A quick word with Thunderbird Five had a lifesign pinpointed on the other side of the island. Shoving on a clean uniform, he grabbed a spare jetpack and took off.

Gordon was told to wait and answer any questions Grandma and Alan had as they had now been informed of the morning’s events and were due back any moment.

The sun was heading towards the horizon and the island was lit up in gold. The breeze was cooling against his bare fingertips and he shivered.

God, he was tired. More from emotional stress than physical. The sight of his brother curled up on his side, his uniform charred through to skin in places, practically non-responsive…

The Mechanic could rot in hell.

They’d both thought the worst was over. The pain had dulled somewhat. Scott had been processing his issues and Virgil had shown no signs of extended psychological damage.

Perhaps that should have been obvious.

Perhaps he should have forced him into that counselling he had refused.

Perhaps… He sighed. The ten-year-old had lost most of her hair. There would be some scarring, but she was alive. She had survived.

He wasn’t sure his brother would.

A whip around the area John indicated and he spotted the hunched over figure he was looking for. A glance up and he knew he had been spotted. A flick of his thumb and he was descending.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he touched down beside his brother. As expected, Virgil looked awful - cold and exhausted. Scott didn’t bother to ask why his brother was out here, he simply walked over to him, wrapped an arm around him and gently pulled him close.

“Time to come home.”

-o-o-o-

Days passed, then weeks. Burns healed, but Virgil’s heart didn’t.

He’d been pulled off active duty. Gordon and Alan now flew his beloved ‘Bird and Virgil did his best to ignore it. He stepped back into a supportive role, providing maintenance to the big machines. If it broke, he fixed it. One day might see him clambering up the side of Three, the next might have him under the belly of Two or buried in a module realigning pod equipment.

But he didn’t step a foot off Tracy Island. And he rescued no one.

He couldn’t risk it.

Scott was worried, he knew it. His big brother continued to try and corner him. To talk to him and bare his quivering soul. But Virgil didn’t want to share. He shut it all away and focussed on the here and now – the spanner in one hand, the power meter in the other and the job in front of him. Where he could do good, despite being broken inside.

And then the memories started to return. And they had to be memories, because he could not have imagined this amount of pain. It was as if the fire incident had been a trigger, a release, and bit by bit those forgotten moments had begun to return.

Flashes of the terrified look on Scott’s face. Skittering insect legs on his skin. Ice, goddamn, ice. He would be happy never to see any ice ever again. And the pain. He woke up screaming and twitching in the night, often a member of his family beside his bed worriedly shaking him awake.

It was humiliating. It was exhausting.

I wasn’t getting better, it was getting worse.

And he couldn’t function like this.

-o-o-o-

EOS knew something was wrong. John’s mood had been bad for the last week and while everyone was being civil, the under current of strain was slowly tearing their network apart.

John had mistakenly referred to the youngest one as Virgil earlier today, which was understandable for a human as Virgil was usually the pilot of Thunderbird Two. The fact that he had been ill for some weeks now didn’t immediately erase human habit of years. The silence that had followed the error had been filled with unspoken anguish and the expression on John’s face as he apologised had been equally painfilled.

The subject of Virgil was an ignition point for all sorts of arguments.

As for EOS herself, she had kept an eye on the engineer, following him through the system. He was an efficient worker, completing tasks accurately and at speed. Of course, he wasn’t John, he was Virgil and sometimes his actions were completely lost to her. John claimed it was his brother’s artistic streak. EOS was 87% sure it was just stubborn contrariousness.

But this made her no less surprised when one day Virgil just simply stopped working.

She had scooted down to the maintenance bays for her daily observations of the man only to find him absent. Further investigation and she found him in his bedroom lying on top of the bed, unshaven, shirtless, an arm over his eyes, but clearly not asleep.

An instinctive scan of his vitals found him healthy, though not at peak. There had been some weight loss due to his convalescence and his pale bare skin still sported the red remains of his burn injuries, but he was not making any attempt to rise for the day. He had a job list as long as his arm awaiting completion – she had checked, but he was making no move.

A quick query to John resulted in a sigh and a muttered ‘sick day’, so EOS had left the second eldest brother undisturbed.

But it happened again the next day. And the next. Why was he not addressing his duties? When asked, John had looked pained and told her to leave Virgil to himself.

So she did.

But he still didn’t attend to his duties. He ate. He slept. He managed the physical necessities of life, but little more. She watched as his family came to him in turn and attempted to cajole him into movement, but he refused them all. Even the eldest brother, who she had suspected would be the most successful, had ended up out in the hall, his back to the wall, hands running through his hair, desperation on his face.

So the subject of Virgil became very sensitive and she dare not mention it.

Until the day John got stuck in his bathroom.

EOS had access to all electronic equipment aboard the station, but there was a compliment of manual systems left so for safety reasons. The lock on the toilet door was one of them, and it broke. With John inside the small room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, John, but the mechanism is jammed. I am unable to help you.”

The astronaut let his head drop against the door. “I am never going to live this one down.”

“Chances are very small.” She let a smirk into her tone.

John sighed. “Who is available?” The question could have been phrased ‘Who gets to laugh at me first?’

“Virgil Tracy is currently on the Island.”

She could see him calculating variables. She really didn’t need to tell him who was available. He knew where everyone was. He was the one who sent them there. Thunderbird One was in Buenos Aries with the eldest, Thunderbird Two was in Bangladesh with the two youngest, Thunderbird S was in England and the Chief Engineer was in California for a conference. That left the Grandmother who would be needed to take over monitor duties…and Virgil. She waited.

A sigh. “Hail Tracy Island. Voice only.”

-o-o-o-

The days had begun to blur into a repetition of grey nothing. He’d originally taken a break to see if he could get his thoughts in order, but somewhere amongst it all he’d lost…something…maybe even himself. The nights wracked by nightmares, left the days only a little less so, and he lost the energy and motivation to do anything.

His family came. They talked, they badgered, and, in Scott’s case, there had been yelling. He knew he was hurting them, but he was hurting so much himself, he had no resources to spare. So he just focussed on the basics, getting from one day to the next and kept to himself.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed with a sketch pad and pencil, once again staring at a blank page that refused to absorb anything he attempted to throw at it, when John’s voice echoed through the room.

“Uh, Virgil, I need a favour.”

He blinked. “John?” A frown. “Are you okay?”

“Um, I need you to come up to the station.”

“Why?”

A sigh. “The locking mechanism to one of the bathroom cubicles is jammed.”

“Huh?”

“While I’m in it.”

It took a moment for his brain to do the math on that. “You’re stuck in the toilet?”

“Yes.”

Despite everything…everything…Virgil’s lips couldn’t help but smirk. “Really?”

“Yes, really. And I can’t get out. EOS has transferred monitor duties to Grandma, but I need your help to get out of this…predicament.”

“Gordon’s gonna love this.”

“Gordon isn’t going to find out about this, is he?” The glare made it across thousands of miles of space and atmosphere even without visuals.

“We’ll see. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Thanks, Virgil.” And John signed out.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile.

-o-o-o-

A misstep in the direction of his chute soon sobered him up. He swallowed and instead made for the uniform lockers. He didn’t let himself think as he put on his uniform on. Didn’t think as he buckled on his sash and tool belt. Grabbing his helmet and extra tools, he entered the access shaft for the space elevator that was just now connecting with its staging platform, no doubt sent by EOS.

He could count on one hand the number of times he has used the elevator. Out of all the team, he was the least likely to visit Thunderbird Five as he usually had his hands full down here with Thunderbird Two. There was a pang in his chest, but he ignored it. There was a job to be done. A brother to be saved.

From his bathroom.

The smirk appeared again.

Latching himself in the seat built for his younger brother, he leant back and forced himself to relax.

“Hello, Virgil.”

“Hello, EOS. Are we ready?”

“Finalising pre-launch now.”

He closed his eyes waiting for the subtle movement of release.

“Launching now.”

The craft shuddered just slightly, its boosters fired, and the pressure across his body increased as they accelerated up into the atmosphere.

“Thank you for coming to John’s assistance, Virgil.”

Virgil opened his eyes and peered to look up at the camera manifesting the AI. “No problem, EOS. Anytime.”

There was a silence, but Virgil felt she hadn’t left. “Do you have a question, EOS?”

“What is wrong?”

He blinked. “With what?”

“With you.”

A frown. “What do you mean, EOS?”

“For the past two weeks you have been functionally inoperative.”

“I’ve….I’ve been unwell.” He fidgeted. He did not want to talk about this.

“Incorrect. Your body has healed and you are fully capable of resuming at least the basic duties you were attending to prior to this fortnight. Why have you not returned to the hangers?”

“I-“

“Thunderbird Two’s performance has dropped 3%.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“The youngest brothers’ schedules are full. They have their responsibilities as well as yours to consider. Why are you not helping?”

Virgil sagged in his seat. “I needed the time.”

“We need you.”

His voice was small. “I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-“

“And John is worried.”

What could he say? He wasn’t sure she understood the half of it. When it was stated so simply, the answer seemed obvious. But it wasn’t so simple.

“EOS, do you dream?”

“I do not sleep.”

He sighed. “You have my envy.”

“Why?”

So young, so naïve at times, yet so powerful, EOS was amazing. His brother had created life, no matter how inadvertently. Did that make him an uncle? In any case, they all had a responsibility to assist with her education. EOS was family.

“EOS, it is complicated. Human health is not simply reliant on physical systems. Sometimes an event can have emotional connotations that can affect physical functioning.”

“You have injured your mental health?” She seemed surprised. “Why have you not sought medical assistance?”

“It’s complicated.”

“How?”

Well, this was turning out to be one of the longest eight minutes of his life. “John? How are you doing?”

“John is fully functional and sitting on the toilet.”

That was an image in itself. “EOS, why aren’t you letting me speak to him.”

“Because I want to speak to you.”

Okay, mini-tantrum in place. “EOS-“

“No, I want to understand why you aren’t looking after yourself. I miss our time together. If you are mentally ill, why not seek out treatment and get well? Then we can spend time together again. Don’t you miss me?”

Oh, god, this was getting into difficult territory. “Of course, I miss you, EOS.”

“Don’t you want to get well?”

“Of course, I do!”

“Then why have you not sought assistance?”

He wished he didn’t have his helmet on. Then he could rub his face with his hands and possibly gouge his own eyes out. As it was, it wasn’t worth the fingerprints on his faceplate. “I need time.”

“You’ve had time. You appear to have cut yourself off from all family aid. If I measure your health in relation to familial interactions, it is declining.” She paused. “You yelled at your eldest brother.”

Oh great, now she was accessing further information and checking the logs. “EOS-“

“You have rejected all the attempts of help offered by your family.��

“EOS!”

“Are you going to yell at me, too?”

He closed his eyes, squeezing his face shut, biting back everything. “No.” His voice was hoarse.

“Approaching dock. Stabilisers firing.”

The little craft shuddered and his stomach sank as momentum was shed. The clunk of the grapple was a very welcome sound.

“You may now depart. Thank you for flying with IR Elevators.”

Virgil simply stared up at the camera. What? But EOS didn’t say anything further.

He felt like he had been through an emotional wringer. Did the kid have any idea? He knew enough to not underestimate her.

A sigh and he clambered up out of the support chair and made his way onto the station.

-o-o-o-

This was humiliating.

John glared at the mechanism holding him for the bounty of his brothers’ laughter.

“Your brother has arrived and will be here shortly.”

“Thank you, EOS.” And thank goodness.

“John?”

“Yes, EOS?”

“Why is Virgil refusing to seek treatment for his mental illness?”

Mental illness? “EOS, what did you say to Virgil? I told you to let him be.”

“But it is not working. He is getting worse, not better.”

“EOS.”

“I miss him.”

“We all do.”

“Then why don’t we help him?”

There was a thud on the other side of the door and it was flung open. His brother hovered in front of him. “Hey, John.” There was the expected smirk.

But John didn’t return it. Virgil looked awful. He’d lost weight. He was pale. His uniform was baggy on him. His broad shoulders appeared stooped and where his quietly confident brother had once stood now hovered a shadow of his former self.

“Virgil?”

“So you like it so much in there, you want to stay?” At least there was a spark of humour in his eyes.

“Thank you for coming.”

A hand reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “Any time, bro.” Another smirk. “So what do I get for not telling Gordon?”

John pushed off and sailed past his brother. “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t think too long. Blackmail has an expiry date.”

“I’m sure it does.” He rolled his eyes, but worry was roiling in his stomach. He bit his lip. “I just need to go and check on Control. See you up there?”

“Sure. I’ll fix this and meet you there.”

“’Kay.” He turned and left.

-o-o-o-

The lock only took moments to fix. A bit of oil and a replacement tongue did the job, but he did make a note to log it with Brains. This could have become a serious situation and they didn’t need two pieces of poorly designed metal making their lives even harder.

Finishing up, he packed up his tools and headed for the ring. He had to admit it felt good to be away from home. He wouldn’t have thought it would, but it did. Stepping onto the glass of the gravity ring only made it better.

Far below him spun his planet. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had been in space, he was a Tracy after all, but having time to actually take a moment to just look and not have to rush to save a life? He wasn’t sure that had ever happened.

He found himself sitting down on the glass, tools discarded beside him, the gravity ring spinning slowly, Earth, then stars, Earth again, stars again, it was almost hypnotic. The monsoon crackled over northern Australia, a cyclone brewing to the far west. He could see the snow-capped peaks of New Zealand.

Soft footsteps found him and his brother folded himself down elegantly beside him. “It’s beautiful isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“Say, how long has it been since you’ve been up here?”

Virgil frowned. “At least six months.”

“Eight months and twenty-nine days.”

“Thank you, EOS.” His eyes darted back to Virgil. “Would you like to stay for a while?” A shrug. “I could do with some help with maintenance, if you need an excuse.”

Virgil looked up at his younger brother but saw no conniving demand to talk or need to help. John was…well, John. His honesty and directness came with the territory. “Sure.” A pause. “Thanks.”

“Great. I’ll ask Grandma to send up some of your stuff.” His brother unfolded smoothly to his feet.

Virgil stared down at the Pacific Ocean.

It was certainly a change of scenery.

-o-o-o-

It was unexpected, but it somehow helped. Virgil found his feet returning slowly to the ground now he was nowhere near it. At first, he was just a passenger. He spent his days sitting on the glass of the gravity ring simply watching. Thunderbird Five operated around him, emergency calls caught and handballed by his brother in the smooth flowing functionality that was International Rescue. But slowly, here, away from Thunderbird Two and the complications inherent, he was drawn into the flow. Soon calls to Thunderbird Five were also being answered by a deep baritone. Scott had stumbled over his words the first time but hadn’t commented. Gordon and Alan were just their usual amusing selves and they poked fun at him as they always had. For the first time in months he began to feel the cloud lifting. He found himself smiling.

John was quiet company. Simply there, often buried in reading or research. No demands to talk, no questions about his health. Simply there.

EOS was a challenge at times. Her questions were endless, but at some point John must have spoken to her and the torrent slowed.

Virgil finally found space to breathe.

There were still nightmares. He was pretty sure they were never going to leave. But they were fewer and he handled them better. In space EOS heard you scream. EOS got into the habit of telling him where he was, what time it was, where everyone else was and that he was okay.

It was a different world.

Apparently different helped.

Of course, he wasn’t John and it wasn’t long before he was thoroughly missing his family. Holograms couldn’t replace that hand on his shoulder or simply sharing physical space with a loved one. But he made do. For the first time in weeks, he finally felt like he was making progress. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

And then a building collapsed on his eldest brother.

-o-o-o-

“Scott!” Alan’s yell across the comms scraped bone.

“Alan, report!” Virgil floated beside his brother far above the planet and too damn far away.

“The supports are giving way! Scott, move it, damn you!”

The roar of concrete and masonry could be heard over the comms. Virgil flicked through scans, then logged directly into TB2’s external camera.

The six-storey building was coming down. He saw a flash of blue through a window before dust and rock obscured everything.

“Alan, report!” His voice roared over the comms.

“Virgil.” John’s calm voice, usually heard over the comms, was in his ear. “He’s okay.” His brother’s hand flicked up the readouts from Scott’s uniform. Virgil’s eyes skipped across the numbers, his paramedic training drawing a picture. But his own heart was pounding.

A touch quieter. “Scott? Scott, status?”

Alan finally cut in, coughing loudly. “Thunderbird Five, do you have him?”

John answered. “Scott’s vitals are stable. We are getting no response, but he is alive. Two life readings.” So whoever he had dived in for had survived as well. Virgil pulled up the scan of the situation, chunks of holographic masonry still settling above two life signs.

“I’m going down.” Virgil moved towards the door.

John intercepted him. “Virgil, you’ve been in space for weeks now. Are you sure you are up to this?”

He caught his brother’s eyes. “I better be.”

-o-o-o-

Alan was covered in concrete dust and he couldn’t stop coughing. Even after grabbing his helmet and upping the oxygen level. Scott was going to carve him a new one when he found out he’d removed it in the first place.

Well, once he answered his damn comms. “Scott?”

The woman whose child Scott had run into the building to save, was clinging to his sash, jabbering at him in what he assumed was Indonesian, tears running down her face.

“Virgil is on his way down.” John’s voice was firm.

“What?”

“ETA five minutes.”

Alan looked up at the clear sky but couldn’t see anything…yet. Oookay, maybe the carving would start earlier.

“John, can you give this woman some reassurance?” He needed to start moving.

John’s voice, speaking whatever, spouted over his external speaker. The woman finally let go and babbled back. “I’ve told her that her son is alive and that we will do our best to get them out.” Alan grabbed her shoulders with gentle hands and did his best to smile reassuringly. Her head bobbed in desperate gratitude.

He stepped away just as the hiss and roar of deceleration thrusters fired above him. Looking up, the elevator came into view. Not exactly the safest way to travel. Alan bit his lip with concern only to get another mouthful of concrete dust. He sputtered.

“John, can you see a point of access to reach him?”

“Scott and the child are caught in a space beneath a large section of wall. We’re going to need Thunderbird Two to lift it.”

Damn. That made it harder. It also explained why his brother had jumped ship. It would have taken him only moments to assess the rescue site.

The Space Elevator landed off to one side. Alan hurried over as the hatch opened and his brother climbed out, his feet hitting Earth in a little puff of more dust.

He turned…and tripped, falling on his face.

“Ow.”

It would have been absolutely hilarious in different circumstances. Alan reached his brother and gave him a hand up. “I guess you are never laughing at John again.”

Virgil glared at him. Alan couldn’t help but feel his heart lift at the sight of it. Virgil looked, well, better. Not one hundred percent, but his spark was there.

“Situation?” All business.

As the Elevator retracted into the sky, Alan reported the dot points of the lead into the collapse and the status of equipment available. His brother strode directly over to the towering Thunderbird Two, prodding his remote. She responded immediately, the pod bay door opening so fast he didn’t need to alter his stride to enter.

“Alan, take the pod, multi-claw and leg combination. We’re pick and throw initially. I’ll take the exo-suit.”

He shot his brother a look, but didn’t comment on that last, no matter how much he wanted to. “FAB.”

He busied himself setting up the pod, only the occasional glance in his brother’s direction. But he did watch as the man approached his suit.

No hesitation. He lent back, slipped his arms into the sleeves. The suit snapped on, attaching its support framework to his uniform. And Virgil was moving.

Alan jumped into the pod and slid the hatch closed. “John?”

“Alan?”

“Keep an eye on him.”

“Always do.”

-o-o-o-

It was a blur of concrete and dust. Manual labour, an old friend. Virgil grunted as he lifted a particularly heavy chunk of masonry, near the suit’s limits, an alarm sounded in his helmet.

Okay, I got the message. He lowered it and signalled to Alan to retrieve it.

His body ached. Space had made him soft.

Scott still hadn’t responded and despite John’s continued reassurance, Virgil’s heart was in a knot. They weren’t moving fast enough. They had to clear the rubble above the large section of wall to enable Thunderbird Two to get a good grip on it, and to make sure random rock didn’t then fall in on the trapped victims.

“A-alan?”

“Scott?!” Virgil paused.

“Virgil?”

“Scott, status?”

“I’m…I’m stuck. My head…augh.”

“Are you injured?” There wasn’t an immediate answer. “Scott?”

“My head…what are you doing here?”

Virgil swallowed and immediately started shifting masonry again. “Digging you out, dear brother.” He grunted as he threw away another large chunk of concrete.

“But…you’re sick. In space.”

That was worrying. Scott did not sound himself at all. “Well, apparently I don’t get to stay up there if my brother lets a building fall on him.” Another grunt of effort. “What is the status of the child you were attempting to save?”

“Can’t see.” Sounds of movement. “I think he’s unconscious.”

“Hold on, Scott, we are getting there.” The pod reached over him and lifted up a particularly large block and Virgil moved in to clear the smaller chunks left behind.

“Good…miss you…” His brother muttered unintelligibly, his voice going quiet.

“Scott! Stay awake. Talk to me.”

“Y-you didn’t want to talk to me. You left.”

Virgil didn’t have time for recriminations right now. However, the piece of rock he threw this time did land quite a bit further away than the last.

“I had to, Scott.”

“Why?”

“I needed time.”

“For what?”

To get better? To think? To hide? He threw another chunk of rock and there was a yelp from Alan. “I don’t know.”

“Wanted you to get better. Miss you.”

“I know.”

“Virgil, the slab is clear enough to excavate.” John.

“Copy that, Thunderbird Five.” He turned to Alan, looking up at the pod beside him. “Alan, you have Thunderbird Two. Use the grapple guns and secure the wall. Spread the weight as much as possible. “I’ll manage down here.”

Alan stared at him through the cockpit, but only for a second, and that was followed by a muttered, “FAB.” The pod stalked back to the module bay.

“Scott?”

“Vir-gl.”

“Stay with me, Scott. We’re about to get you out.” Behind him, the sweet, familiar sound of his ‘Bird’s VTOL firing up. A wave of dust and hot air swirled around him.

“Want to stay with you. Miss you.”

Just for a moment Virgil closed his eyes. Guilt and pain swirled around behind his eyelids. “I’m sorry, Scott.”

And then loud multiple thunks as Alan fired the grapple guns and secured the wall. Virgil stood ready to catch or steady anything they had missed. He could almost feel John’s eyes far above casing the scene, as Alan slowly elevated the concrete slab.

“To your left, Virgil.”

He grabbed the sliding rock and flung it away. “Keep it going, Alan. All steady here.” And finally, the masonry was lifted high enough for him to see his brother sprawled face down, a young boy held protectively beside him.

There was a groan over the comms and Scott struggled to roll over. “No, Scott. Stay still. We’re almost there.”

Thunderbird Two shifted the slab sideways and at last he could run over to his brother. He shed the suit in two steps. It clattered to the dust behind him, and he was on his knees.

“Hey, Virg…” Disoriented grey blue eyes smiled up at him as Scott twisted around to see him. They blinked away crusted red blood.

“Hey, hey, stay still.” Virgil reached out to cup his brother’s helmet. His fingers ran over a good solid dent in its side. Source of concussion found.

Scott grabbed his arm. “You stay?”

“Of course, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Scott visibly relaxed. “Don’ go’way.”

And then there were paramedics, vital signs and stretchers.

-o-o-o-

Scott had been lucky. Somehow, other than a doozy of a concussion, he was uninjured. The little boy had a milder concussion and a broken arm. Both had been so, so lucky.

The doctors wanted to keep his brother in hospital overnight, but Virgil knew Scott would hate every second of it and wouldn’t be able to relax properly, so he convinced them that as an International Rescue operative he had the skills needed to care for his brother – which he did.

Alan landed Thunderbird Two on the hospital helipad and, before the sun set, they were on their way home.

“Virgil?” John’s voice startled him as it echoed around the medical bay.

“Huh?” He lifted his head off his arms. His eyes automatically scanned Scott’s somnolent form on the same bed he was leaning on. Sleeping soundly.

“You’re exhausted, Virgil, you need to rest.”

“I’ll rest later. Need to keep an eye on Scott.”

“You’re practically dead on your feet. A zombie. You’re not doing him or yourself any good. Go and lie down. I will keep an eye on Scott.”

Virgil let his head drop onto his arms again. “Can’t, gotta stay.”

There was a soft muttering over the comms and only two words were clear enough to understand – ‘two’ and ‘blockheads’.

“What?” But then he decided he didn’t really care and let himself drift. “Gotta stay.”

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy woke with one hell of a headache. The first thing he saw was the ceiling of the infirmary. The second was his sleeping brother.

Virgil lay on the bed next to him, on his stomach, with his face smashed up against his pillow, snoring softly. Scott’s eyes automatically scanned him for injury but could find nothing obvious.

As to how either of them had ended up here...something must have happened on the last mission, but he was having trouble recalling exactly what the last mission was.

Virgil snuffled in his sleep, a frown briefly creasing his brow before settling again. Scott’s insides tensed. Sleep hadn’t been Virgil’s friend for some time. He silently wished for this moment to be quiet and undisturbed. It was relaxing to just share a room with the man.

He had missed Virgil. His youngest brothers were excellent rescue operatives and he loved them dearly, but Virgil...working with Virgil was seamless. They communicated without words, they knew each other so well, that they could anticipate exactly what was needed and when. And his quiet brother’s silent support was all he needed to face anything.

It had been like losing a limb when Virgil was injured. And he had been hobbled ever since.

“He refused to leave you.” John’s quiet voice startled him. When he shifted on the bed looking for a hologram and found John solid beside him instead, he was surprised even more.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

“Splitting headache.”

“That’s what you get when a building falls on you.”

“What about Virgil?”

“He’s fine. Just exhausted. He and Alan dug you out.”

Something twinged in his gut. “How?”

“Pod and the exo-suit.”

“He okay?”

John shrugged. “You needed him, he was there. I honestly don’t think there was anything else in the equation.” Green eyes shone at him. “You would have been proud.”

Quietly. “Always have been.” Of all of them. He looked back at his sleeping brother. “Thank you for taking him, John.”

John smirked. “If Gordon finds out about the bathroom incident, you are going down, big brother.”

A smile twisted Scott’s lips. “I’ll take it for the team.”

-o-o-o-

To say things got easier from that point on would simplify it all too much, but they did. Virgil got his feet back on the ground.

After space floppy muscles were toned back up into their original condition, once he started eating the diet of an active man, his uniform tightened up, his strength returned, and with it his spirit.

He would never be the same Virgil again - too much, far too much, had happened to not leave scars. There were touchy subjects and the nightmares still made visits, but according to EOS he was now ‘functionally operative’. And there was the occasional smile.

Scott healed quickly. He still claimed to remember pretty much nothing about the building collapse. Virgil had questioned him thoroughly on that on several occasions, but his story ran true. There was a building, possibly a child, then a complete blank until he woke up in the infirmary.

Having had a similar experience not so long ago, Virgil didn’t hesitate to drag his brother to a specialist on the Australian mainland, just in case. But the answers were once again inconclusive. Scott may remember some of it, may never recall any of it.

Rescues dropped off in number. With two operatives down, they were limited in any case, and Virgil suspected John was intercepting and delegating at a higher rate.

Virgil knew he was going to have to step back up to the plate at some point. He couldn’t hide much longer. And yes, ‘hide’ was the word he was using now. He was back in shape, he just needed to make that last step.

So, it was on a quiet afternoon while the comms room was empty that he approached his piano for the first time in months.

The stool had been lovingly cleaned and repaired. Apparently, Gordon had seen to that. Virgil ran his fingers across the soft material before sitting down. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the instrument. Someone had kept it clean in his neglect.

Ivory beckoned, so he reached out and played a note, another, and then a spritely little tune that spoke mischief as if he was sneaking to play his piano against the rules.

Virgil smiled and let go.

-o-o-o-

Down by the pool Scott looked up as if he could see the music in the air. Gordon surfaced from the water and he caught his brother’s eye grinning like a madman. Alan walked out of the kitchen, his neck straining to look above the balcony, so distracted he nearly joined Gordon in the pool.

Scott nudged a comm. “Hey, John, listen to this.”

There was no answer at first, but then, “Oh, thank god.”

Scott smiled.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #gumnutfic

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officialsailorscarlet · 7 years

Text

There was a Shooting at the Local Grocery Store [Part 6]

We jumped into the rental car and started moving. I just kept taking turns not sure where to head.

“Somebody want to tell me where I’m going?” I asked a little too loudly, I blame the adrenaline.

“Grandma, what the fuck is going on?”

“Head north, I have a safe place we can talk.” Grandma said calmly.

We drove in near silence, the only words spoken were directions to our safe place. As we moved outside of town and were surrounded by trees I started to calm down. I actually was feeling safer, maybe that was dangerous.

We wound through some dirt roads, lined with trees to make it to a small cabin.

“We should be alright for awhile here. Come inside, we have a lot to talk about.” Scarlet's grandmother held an extended hand towards the cabin.

I looked at Scarlet who I could tell was hesitant, we had wanted to meet her grandma somewhere public to get a good feel for where she stood on this whole thing. I wrapped my arm around her and gave a quick nod.

When we walked into the cabin it was a lot more inhabited than I had expected. There was already a fire started in the fireplace and it smelled like someone had been baking not long ago.

It was a pretty basic, open floor plan. The living room and kitchen were open to each other in the initial space inside the doorway and the only other rooms were the bathroom, the bedroom and a small closet. I know for sure because she let us look around before we got to talking.

After using the restroom briefly to throw some cold water on my face I headed back out to the living room and took a seat on the sofa next to Scarlet. She took my hand and squeezed lightly the same way she had when trying to reassure me before that we would figure things out.

“I hate to be blunt Grandma but how do we know we can trust you?” I blurted out. I was tired of waiting and we hadn’t made nearly as much progress as I wanted on what the fuck was going on.

“Would me saying yes really grant me your trust young man?”

“Probably not but some explanation of what is going on here might. Scarlet said you had no reaction to hearing about her mother and this man chasing us across the country, care to elaborate?” I legitimately had no fucks left to have any sort of etiquette and thought I was probably past trying to impress Scarlet's family.

“I had planned to offer refreshments first but I guess I will just get to it then, mister?”

“Connor is fine. I didn’t catch your name either, do you prefer grandma?” I chuckled.

“Rose is fine.” She smirked.

“Scarlet’s mother gave me a lot of trouble growing up, she was wild and constantly getting into trouble. Lily, her mother, was a too curious for her own good. I have never by any means been a religious woman and had vowed to remain open minded for my children but Lily found her way into some pretty obscure things.” She paused.

“Would you mind if I put on some tea?” Rose asked.

“Not at all grandma.” Scarlet piped up. I nodded along with her.

“Can I get you two anything?” She asked over her shoulder as she walked towards the stove.

“Just some water for me, please. Connor?”

“Water sounds fine.” I started to relax a bit, an entire twenty minutes without the sound of a fucking phone ringing. Maybe we would be alright for a minute.

Rose returned a few minutes later with a small mug of tea and some water.

“I have been out of the loop so long, this is a lot of excitement for me, I had never thought I would see you again.” Rose looked at Scarlet.

“Grandma, tell us what happened.”

“Lily never spent much time with kids her age, I remember the first time I met James, he was attending the community college and Lily was very impressed with him. She would go on and on about how smart he was and about how she wanted to be as educated. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, I figured if he was encouraging her to go to college I couldn’t be too upset about it.”

“Even if I had tried to keep her from seeing him she would have found a way.” Rose trailed off.

“Your mother and James started to spend a lot of time together, she started bringing home books and staying up all hours of the night reading. I was doing laundry one day when I noticed something stuffed under her bed. Candles, a few books I couldn’t make out the language of and some plants.”

“When I asked about the things I found Lily screamed at me and insisted on getting a lock for her door. No amount of explaining my concern for what she was spending her time with would console her fit. I started to pay more attention after that, I even called off work one day so that I could stay up all night and try to figure out what she was doing. At first I felt silly but then I heard chanting, it was low but I crept up to her door and could hear more than one voice chanting something.”

“I opened the door to find her there with James, her palm bleeding and a fabric circle on the floor. That was the day I lost it. I told her she would not be seeing him anymore and I took all the books I could fit in my arms and hid them.” She shook her head slowly.

“I’m not proud of it but I was not allowing her to start some weird ritual shit in my house. Maybe if i had asked more questions or tried to understand where she was coming from I would have been able to stop it.” Rose looked down for a long moment.

“I started watching her actions very closely. She fought me initially but after just a week or so she began spending more time at home and less time arguing. I thought we were finally get past this. It was only a few weeks later that she ran away. I reported it to the police, I went to the community college asking about James but I couldn’t get any answers.”

“The police never came up with much, I got little updates for the first few months but slowly stopped hearing from them at all. I had given up but comforted myself in believing she was alive just gone.” A few tears fell down Rose’s face.

“I didn’t see Lily again until you had already been born.” Rose reached a hand out and took Scarlets.

“I have learned to live without you but never wanted to.” Rose began to cry.

“Maybe we should take a break.” I rubbed Scarlet on the back.

“No, there is no time for that.” Rose raised her voice a bit. “Let me finish and you will understand why.

“Alright.” I nodded and looked to Scarlet, her eyes were glassy. I kissed her forehead and leaned back into the sofa.

“You were about two years old when your mother came home. She said she had been looking for me but had difficulty finding me safely, I had moved out of town to be closer to my sister.” She wiped the tears from her face.

“Lily explained that she had been wrapped up in James’ clan” Rose provided air quotes around the word clan.

“He had showed her many beautiful things and showed her a life she could have with him, if she wanted to join his family. He had told her that she did not have the gift but that there was a way to get it for her.” Rose looked nervously at Scarlet.

“If she were to sacrifice her first child.” Scarlet’s mouth dropped open and she tensed up. I wrapped an arm around her and held her close.

“Hold on now.” Rose noticed the change in posture.

“James had told her that he could give her a child that possessed ‘the gift’ and she would have to sacrifice the child to take it from them but when she had you she knew she could not do it. Lily came to me because she needed help getting away.” Scarlet relaxed a bit at that.

“So my father is not dead.”

Rose shook her head. “No but I wouldn’t necessarily call him alive either.”

“I helped Lily find a small town across the country that she would be able to lay low in. I paid for her moving expenses and got her set up before she got her job there. She kept in touch until James found me.” Rose’s expression went grim.

“James found you and your mother because of me.”

“Grandma..” Scarlet started.

“No, no. Let me finish sweetheart.” She shook her head.

“Luckily he didn’t have enough information to locate you two but it became very clear that I could no longer keep in contact. I started noticing people watching me and while I wasn’t scared for myself, I certainly had no intention of letting them get to you.”

“Things had been pretty quiet around here, I lived in the city and taught an art class and was generally doing well. I continued to be followed but no one ever tried to hurt me so I just kept living my life. That was until a few weeks ago..”

“I got a call from your mother that James had found her and she needed to get out of there. I had always kept this little place in case of emergency. I was careful to make sure I wasn’t followed and came straight out here and waited. You and your mother were supposed to be out on the next flight but I haven’t been able to get a hold of her since she called. I feared the worst..”

I found myself drifting a bit, I had been tired but I was fighting heavy eyelids at this point.

“Excuse me ladies.” I stood and stumbled a bit. I was having trouble finding my feet.

“I think something is.. “ I looked up to see Rose smiling.

“Connor, what’s wrong?” Scarlet tried to balance me but the room was spinning.

“Poor old grandma.” Rose began to cackle.

“Grandma?” Scarlet looked confused.

Rose’s face began to droop and slack, her skin twisting.

“Scarlet.” I reached out but fell hard.

“Scarlet baby! Mommy missed you!” The familiar sound of her mother's voice accompanied by a scream were the last things I heard.

I woke up in the dark, in the same spot I fell and a puddle of drool.

It didn’t take long to realize I was alone in the cabin. I got up slowly and looked around to see a few broken glasses on the floor and the door wide open. My keys were still in my pocket and miraculously the rental was still parked out front.

I don’t know what to think, somehow the person we were talking to was not Scarlet’s grandmother. Rose was gone and now I could only assume that Scarlet’s mother found her. I can’t just walk away, I need to find Scarlet and end this.

Looks like I need to go back home to where this all started.

#nosleep #horror #reddit #scary #writing #spooky #grandma

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kris10inger · 7 years

Text

Teal and Trent - Teaser

SEPTEMBER 28th 2017

Months after opening up his heart – and his past – Trent is looking forward to a future with his new bride and daughter. He’s recovered from the near-fatal shooting, hopes to purchase a farm for his beloved Teal, and is building a life free from the horrors of his past.

But the past has a bad habit of never staying buried, and now it’s coming after his entire family. Because Trent didn’t reveal all his secrets to Teal, and the deepest, darkest secret he’d always kept just out of reach is about to break the surface.

An old debt is being called in, one that will pull Trent back into the world of sex, lies, and murder he’s fought so hard to escape. And in the wake of devastating betrayals, he’ll discover who is truly loyal to him, as he agrees to pay that debt with an unforgivable crime.

Trent will stop at nothing to keep Teal and his daughter safe. Even if that means losing them forever.

Meet Ace, Gator, and Mutt from the First Sons of the Revolution MC, and enjoy the first chapter and first look at the spin-off featuring the badass, no-shit-taking men from Blackwater Rising!

Sensing Teal’s stress, he moved closer, wrapping her in his embrace as she pulled the phone to her ear and spoke. “Mother?” Her tone held no warmth, but the chilling air one would offer an unwanted guest or stranger. Though, behind the chill lay anger—sharp and deep-seated hate. Her ridged form melded easily into his, accepting the soothing embrace he offered.

Later, he’d ask why she still hadn’t told her mother the news about their marriage. Thinking on it now, it felt good to throw that in the woman’s face. Fuck, his mother-in-law was a straight up bitch.

His wife gripped the phone hard enough to crush it, her anxiety evident in her tense posture and attitude. Trent knew the fear a parent could wrought in a child. He knew the sense of fear his stepfather had placed in him with each swipe of the belt or cigarette burn. But for Teal, he sensed a different brand of fear. The kind of fear Trent had faced every day in his life—the fear of disappointing everyone around you.

Trent massaged her shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles. The acrid stench of entrenched mother-daughter dysfunction settled in the air.

She sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.” Her tone brokering not a hint of apology. “The condo has new occupants now. You cannot stay there.” Trent had never heard hide nor hair from Teal’s mother in the time they’d been together. Though he had no example of the actions of a good mother, Trent knew that a mother who gave at least one fuck about her kid would pick up the phone in a year.

Teal had promised to inform her mother about their nuptials, but it’d seemed she failed to do so.

“Now isn’t a good time. We have—”

Trent glanced down at her silence.

Teal pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “We don’t have room.” She stopped again, her body tensed.

Trent pulled back. Not even thinking to lower his voice, he asked, “What the hell does she want?” Annoyance flared to life when she ignored him and continued to speak, or rather be spoken to.

He recalled every memory of Teal’s references to her mother. Not a damned one of them gave him the cozy-grandma feel he’d hoped Emma Mae would experience. Between his own human incubator and Teal’s mother, Emma Mae didn’t stand a chance. But that was where he and Teal came in. It was their job to offer their daughter what no one had ever been able to offer them—unconditional love and protection.

Teal glanced up, ire burning bright in her eyes as her mother spoke, knowing whatever was being said would be something he’d loathe. What the fuck was going on in that conversation?

Teal shook her head. “Maybe for a day or two, but that’s all.”

Teal threw her head back and sighed. “Mother, I am not jobless—per se.” Her harsh tone withered, transforming into one of uncertainty. She bit her lip. Finally, sick of not being able to hear both sides of the conversation, Trent pulled the phone from Teal’s hands and place the call on speaker.

Preoccupied with the stress wrought by an overbearing mother, Teal didn’t complain. She merely sagged against the counter, her body shaking in anger as her mother spoke. “And, if you don’t have a job, it isn’t like you can’t accommodate your sister and I. Teal, always so damned head strong, even when you are in the wrong.” A strained sigh sounded through the line. “Despite our commonalties—”

“We couldn’t be more different.” Teal finished.

“Absolutely.”

Trent’s eyes narrowed at the woman’s words. He couldn’t have this nonsense in his house for a few reasons. The first being, Teal’s reaction to her mother’s phone call alone. It spoke volumes to the stress that having her in his home would cause his wife and child. Shit was already tense over that email and his endless hours of overtime.

Hell, he knew Teal wanted to take the job, even after her promise to stay at home with Emma for a year. He needed to nip this shit in the bud, and fast.

“I just don’t think it is a good time now,” Teal said. “I have too much going on, and with the baby—” She placed her head in her hands as if she’d already admitted defeat to the request.

A loud huff sounded. “You want to tell me what is really going on over there? And what damned baby are you talking about? Why is it Katie—a child who is not my own—the only one willing to talk to me about what is going on? Teal, what the hell have you done to your life?”

At that, Trent snatched the phone and ended the call. Thinking better of it, he turned the device off. He then turned and gripped the counter, using it to hold him up. “What the fuck was that about?” The anger he felt wasn’t directed at Teal, but at her mother.

Placing her head in her hands, she turned to him. “I haven’t told her anything about our life yet.” Sheepishly, she looked up at him.

Trent shrugged. “And why would you?”

Teal’s stressful gaze turned to one of confusion. Her dark eyes tracked over his face, no doubt in search of answers. Trent reached up and caressed her cheek. She leaned into him, causing his chest to expand at her acceptance of the comfort he had to offer. She always made his chest tighten with pride and his heart accelerate with need. Each touch felt more intense than the next.

He couldn’t let her feel bad about this. “Baby, since you’ve been with me, she’s called you how many times? She didn’t even know what was happening in your life until she needed a fucking place to stay.” He waited before he spoke again. Waited for the Teal he knew, the Teal she hid from the world to surface from behind that tough as nails exterior. “When you needed her most, where was she? You did shit on your own until you met me, and now we do things together, as a family.”

Teal nodded. “I know, but you know just as well as I do how a mother can fuck with your mind.”

He chuckled. “Don’t bring me into this.”

Teal slapped his chest. “You know what I mean, Trent.”

And he did, he just didn’t want to get in to the heavy why of it. His past and her present were far from his mind when Teal pulled back to stretch. Arms raised over her head, her chest thrust out, pushing her heavy breasts front and center. Trent started to reach out and she batted his hand away.

“Explain something to me?”

Trent cocked a brow. “What?”

“How do you . . .” She bit her lip, struggling with what she wanted to say. “How did you get over having shitty parents?”

Okay, that took him right out of the nice haze the sight of her breast had put him in. Cock soft and a churning feeling in his gut, Trent took a receding step back.

Teal reached for him. “Hey, sorry. I know we don’t talk about this. I just—I guess I am just wondering how you dealt with it.”

He sighed. This was what he loved and hated about Teal. She took from him, things he’d never offered a soul—the truth about how his past had molded him.

“My mother is a completely different beast than yours. Polar opposites to be exact.” The vault of long repressed memories opened and his head filled with the pain and suffering of the past. “Where your mother forced the importance of a good education on you, mine reminded me that I was the reason she’d dropped out of high school.”

Trent shrugged, as if learning his mother despising him hadn’t carved a valley in his heart. Teal’s soft hand on his cheek jolted him from his thoughts and he focused on forgetting the fear, the past, the anger, and the lies. And now, all that was left was Teal and Trent, two souls who’d crashed into one another leaving a maelstrom in their wake.

“My mother played a role,” Teal said. “She was cruel and kind. You never really knew which monster you’d wake up to in the morning.”

“But she offered you kindness?” Trent had wished his mother knew the definition of the word.

Teal shook her head. “Not in the way you think. I’d have preferred her cruelty.”

Confused, Trent lifted her chin to meet her gaze. “Why?” Was the only word he could speak. He’d known the cruelty of his mother and felt it at his father’s hands. He couldn’t fathom anyone wanting such pain and suffering in their lives.

“Because, at least then, I knew where I stood. The mood swings and the mind games fucked me up. Every morning my sister and I would sit at the breakfast table waiting for my mother to come around the corner.”

Trent placed his hands over Teal’s arms and caressed her smooth skin as she spoke.

“It was misery waiting. My stomach would be in knots and my head dizzy.”

“But she never beat you?” Trent asked.

“No. But sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if she had hit us. Physical wounds heal, but the mental breakdown she put us through . . .”

Trent felt the goosebumps on her skin, along with a shudder that rolled through her body. He eased her closer. If he could, he would protect her from her past and the pain that littered her memories. “Any kind of abuse can leave emotional scarring, Teal. I don’t wish that on you or anyone else. This is why we took Emma Mae.” Placing his hands on either side of her, he said, “Do you want your mother in your life?”

She peeked up at him. “I’ve worked very hard to keep her away from me.” She glanced away, and tears filled her eyes.

He hated her tears, but he told himself that he would be the only person who ever saw them, and the one person to always soothe them.

The room seemed to almost darken and center on her; the only illumination, a greenish glow from the overhead microwave clock. The wind danced around outside the house slapping against the shutters sending falling swirls of dust up and into the black night sky. Trent sensed all of this, knew it like the back of his hand.

#romance #interracial romance #indebted #teal&trent

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